Ever since reviving for the sixth time, coming back from the cold, inhuman grasp of death and not to forget- the horrifying pain and blood-curdling screams, that came with it.
Ever since going through even more mind-wrenching scenes, more horror than I would have imagined possible. Encountered horrifying supernatural creatures I would have doubted existed. Met with supernatural forces that defied all sense of logic and reasoning. And died in the worst of ways that man could deem possible.
I f-elt like I was slowly losing it.
I was tired.
Worn out.
Stressed beyond my limits.
I wanted nothing more than to lie down.
Nothing more than to rest in a families embrace.
I want to be loved.
Cared for.
And to have any of this.
I have to survive.
And I will survive.
No matter what it takes me.
I had vowed.
And there and then a strange darkness had risen in the horizon, promising darkness of untold magnitude... and hope beyond its depths.
...I started to think harder...I pondered more on the task at hand, on the supernatural forces haunting the very essence of this cursed land.
And plotted against its supernatural creatures.
Outsmarted malevolent forces that had lived for ages and I had lived to tell the tale- In a sense that's.
And the more I died, the more I pondered harder.
The faster I thought.
I counted every life as my last.
To me, this was the best thing to do. The smartest road to thread on. And with this new sense of reasoning, I lived longer.
I lived longer with each revival, though the cost was steep. My soul felt eroded, my mind fractured by the unending cycle of suffering.
And still, I pressed on.
Further down the line, when death always seemed so inevitable.
Its icy cold grasp always trying its best to crawl its way up to me. Always trying to pull me into t-hat never ending darkness.
I grew tired.
Exhausted.
I became frustrated.
I thought harder, my hair now dishevelled and my eyes- bloodshot.
I felt like I was on the verge of losing it all.
Hope.
Emotions.
Every single thing.
...I was on the verge of descending into profanity.
At the point where my body had long since given up, yet my mind had kept spinning.
Bloodshot eyes and fingers numb from clawing at the hardened floor, I fought to hold onto the faintest flicker of hope.
A thought had flashed through my subconsciousness, hitting the walls of my mind.
Hard and fast.
Brutal and unforgiving even.
And so did I get to work.
I created a map.
My only salvation from the cold, unrelentless pursuit of death, not to forget- the supernatural creatures and forces that haunted the very corners of this cursed land.
Making use of a sharp marble.
One which I had gotten after cracking and breaking apart most if not all of my fingernails.
I could still remember the pain.
The tears that had streaked down my misty blue eyes. Each dig into the cobblestones sent fresh waves of pain through my hands, but the pain was a comfort.
It meant I was still alive.
...And so, I had kept going.
I digged at the ground with the shards of glass I could get my hands on. My hand scraping the cobblestones beneath my feet. I had no idea what this cobblestone was made of.
B-ut...It was far harder, stronger, and more durable than a normal one.
How I knew about this.
I don't know.
It just seemed like the normal thing to know of.
***
Soon, I created on the map- what I termed the "Three Zones Of Salvation."
Based on the knowledge I had on the world I had found myself in. I had created the map.
Using the haunted house as the source of its beginning. I had drawn... stretching forth from the source. The map had slowly encroached deeper into the very essence of this cursed land.
The three zones:
The red zone being the zone I used to mark out places, lands, houses, every part of this cursed land that was of tremendous danger.
Perhaps just danger was an understatement to the extremity of this cursed lands.
...I had once ventured into one once, only to come face to face with something so beautiful.
So horrific, It had nearly driven me mad.
It wasn't a creature or a force- it was... something else. I couldn't describe it, but the memory of its presence sent shivers down my spine.
My body had disintegrated in mere seconds, yet it felt like a lifetime of agony had passed by.
I really never hope to encounter such a being again.
Never again!
And then came the blue zones:
Surprisingly, despite the dangers that lurk within every hidden corner of this land, they were still places that could be seen as some sort of safe zone. Most supernatural creatures wouldn't dare to enter this blue zones.
In this strange places, i usually found some strange oil, and various strange things. Things i suspected where responsible for keeping the supernatural forces at bay.
...Here, i could rest, though rest was relative. Each second was a gamble.
Nevertheless, it was better than the alternative.
Then there was the white zones- The Fluidity Zone:
These were the worst.
The rules of the cursed land didn't apply here. What was safe one day might kill you the next. I had learned this the hard way, and the unpredictability of these areas still haunts me more than any creature ever could. They were perhaps, the most dangerous of all.
Over time, I committed every inch of the land to memory. Each zone, each hidden danger was etched into my mind just as deeply as it was carved into the bloodstained floor.
I couldn't really remember how long it had taken me due to the sheer almost endless nature of the cursed land. And I suspected I'd barely scratched the surface of this cursed land.
This thought of mine always sent me shivering in fear.
In desperation.
I hoped it wasn't true.
I really hoped it was just my mind playing tricks on me.
But somewhere... somewhere deep down within me, I knew that wasn't the case.
And after what had felt like a lifetime, I had the map in my head just like I had it on the cold, blood stained floor.
And during one of my fifteen revivals.
I had seen weird things with various intricate designs on them. I had seen some with devilish, ominous designs on them and some with beautiful, enchanting design etched onto their surfaces.
I had dared to touch both and had lived to tell the tale.
...Though from my hypothesis.
I deduced these various things to be weapons of sort.
Arti...I can't really remember the name.
B-ut... it was certainly along that line.
I had tried my best to get my hands on them.
But I soon realized a cold and harsh truth:
Though it seemed the weapons of sort were inclined to be with me.
...I was too weak to use any one of them.
And for for the first time in what seemed like...ages ago.
I had laughed- a bitter hollow laughter at my pathetic self.
I had tried and tried multiple times.
Numerous times even.
But eventually I had to know when to give up.
***
In one of my reset- another name I gave to my revivals.
I had stumbled upon a blazing red fruit.
I knew it was weird, strange even to encounter something edible within this cursed land. But nonetheless, the hunger that gnawed and clawed at me was too much.
It was becoming unbearable.
Hence, I had taken a bite and had quickly regretted it.
I felt an horrifying pain.
Agony unlike never before tore through every fiber of my being.
I had basically clawed out my own intestine, screamed in horror and watched the fruit grow into a seed.
Eating me from the inside, chewing on my intestines, liver and then finally gnawing on my heart.
The fruit had really done some wonders on me.
Had made me scream my lungs out, cried to my hearts content.
...Had made me clawed at my tongue, and even my heart, in a desperate attempt.
A futile attempt to stop the pain.
...I would never forget that.
I couldn't.
And whenever I thought of the fruit- self infliction fruit- I had named it.
I always shivered instinctively, resisting the urge to dive into those hidden parts of my memory.
***
Worse, I had seen things I shouldn't see.
Supernatural forces.
And Supernatural creatures with indescribable bodies. Bodies that screamed of monstrosity and powers that yelled of impossibility.
I had lived and adventured through the cursed land and I had lived to tell the tale.
I outsmarted supernatural creatures, most notably the big bad wolf- a dark sense of humor that has served as a coping mechanism in this land of endless darkness and against the unrelentless pursuit from supernatural creatures and forces alike.
But it definitely wasn't an easy feat. It was a painful one to say the least.
And I still remember it with devilish clarity. Driven to desperation, I had torn one of my arm off my body, tears streaking down my eyes, muffled groans escaping my lips.
I had thrown it far into the distance.
Hiding to the best of my abilities behind a ruined house, a few feet away from the door- what I had previously seen as a beacon of hope.
As the dire wolf chased after the limb.
My eyes lit up in hope. I had made a run for it.
Running until my legs gave out.
Yet I scrambled to my feet and kept running.
...I ran like never before.
My lung hurts, and my legs felt heavy.
Worse, my body f-elt weak.
Yet I gave it my all.
Rolling on the ground, I had managed to avoid a dreadful strike to my ribs. Making use of that opportunity, I immediately leapt forward, tumbling into the room after smashing against a splinter of wood by the edge of the door.
I stared at the direwolf as it approached me, my heart pounding hard against my ribs.
Yet contrary to my worst nightmare. As blood flowed unceasingly from my ribs.
The direwolf didn't enter.
It never did.
Within the strange room, on the ground, and the walls, reflecting from the stained windows when viewed from certain angle which just happened to luckily be the angle which I was seated in while I struggled to stop the blood, the pain included.
I had managed to catch a glimpse of a set of word- Durakxis!
The word that meant Emotions in Duraks language.
How I knew of this.
I also didn't know.
But since there was no splitting headache, I guessed it was most likely something normal to know of.
And I had seen the same set of word scattered across the room.
Almost as though it was trying to warn someone about something.
Yet all this didn't shock nor scare me.
What horrified me was the fact that… it was written in my handwriting.
It was written by me!
On that day, I could remember with utmost clarity.
Shock had rippled through me. Spreading through every fiber of my being.
It was clear as day that it was written by me- The past me. And it was probably left behind for the current me.
Which left me bewildered.
What was the past me trying to pass across. It seemed to be a warning judging by the iksclamate sign behind each of the Durakxis.
But if it's indeed a warning, then what could the past me be warning him of. I had thought hard, pondered far harder than I could have imagined possible.
Yet all I got in response was...silence.
...A mind-wrenching silence.
A cold, frosty wind slowly crept into my bones.
And then
...Frustration soon gave way to despair.
Anger surged within me.
Why couldn't the past me be more specific.
Why couldn't he just say everything.
Who am I?
Where do I come from?
Who are my parents?
Why am I trapped here?
So many questions plauged the walls of my mind, yet I had answers to none. I had almost broken down, tears streaking down the corner of my eyes. Voice of defiance escaping my lips.
But eventually, I came to a cold realization.
None of that would help me.
Not now, not ever.
...I might only have myself.
B-ut...that is more than enough.
With renewed resolve and determination, I had risen to my feet. I would survive not because of hope, but because survival was all I had left.
And in this wretched and cursed land.
Survival was the only thing that mattered.
And from that day onwards, my back had been straighter than they could have ever been.
***
Throughout the fifteen revivals, I had read things I shouldn't read. Names that shouldn't be known. Names that shouldn't be called. One amongst the many i had seen was: Delphis- The Sunken Siren.
I had seen and read myths and tales. The most fascinating being the myth on the world tree. A tree rumoured to stretch beyond the heavens, its root deep within the soils of the earth. According to the myth, the world as we know it has sprang from this so called World Tree.
Of course, I had scoffed at the sight of this.
I didn't buy it one bit.
...Along with tales and myths, i had also found cryptic messages that spoke of a dark one of sort.
The Coming Of The Dark One was written in a language which i could strangely understand.
-When the aurora aligns with the crimson moon, and the blood of the innocent stains the earth, the Dark One shall rise. Bringing with him an era of endless darkness... and perhaps hope.-
From this, I was able to deduce they were other people. Somewhere beyond the depths of this cursed land.
They were others.
Others like me!
A strange feeling coursed through me, my eyes sparkling with hope, determination even.
***
And then
...The most fascinating of them all, also the most interesting was my ability to decipher codes- most of which were strangely easy to me.
It almost f-elt like i have been doing it for years.
I had made use of the simple substition method- replacing each letter in the plain text by a fixed number of positions. Most of them were in the 2's Aeger cipher with a shift of 3. A becomes D, B becomes E and so on.
There and then. I had found notes. And just as I'd expected, were written by me- the past me. And they were just as cryptic as always.
Often prompting me to curse the past me.
But upon thinking hard about it, for the past me to take such extreme measures just to hide the informations even to the extent of being so cryptic. Then, they must certainly have been a good reason for it. And I hoped I would be able to figure it out.
One way or another. No matter how long it takes. I will unravel them all.
...Not one less.
***
Written in Amaera language. I had read the message:
Ethereal Sea!!!
Ethereal Sea!!
Ethereal Sea!
It had repeated it over and over again. As though desperately trying to pass across a few set of information. I desperately tried to cling on to them, to somehow wrap my mind around them. Yet it proved futile, my efforts useless and not worth mentioning.
I had thought hard on it.
What exactly was I trying to jot down?
What was I trying to pass across?
What was I trying so desperately to pass on to my current self?
I thought hard and hard on it, yet the more I thought on it.
The more it slipped through my hands.
Slipping down my fingertips like grains as it slowly floated into darkness.
...An unreachable darkness.
Taking a deep breath, I rose to my feet.
...And with newfound resolve, I dashed into the endless darkness before me.