"What…?" Isaac croaked, his voice raspy and weak.
He stared blankly at the vast blue sky above, where a few gray clouds floated like smudges on a phone screen. The stillness was unnerving, broken only by the piercing cries of vultures circling high overhead, their shrill calls echoing ominously. The noise was sharp and grating, almost deafening in the otherwise dead silence.
"What in the living hell is happening?"
Isaac's mind swirled in confusion. He couldn't make sense of what had just occurred.
The events leading up to this moment were beyond comprehension—supernatural, even. This was no natural phenomenon; he was sure of that. Moments ago, he had been trapped in an abysmal void, subjected to unrelenting mental and physical torment. He could still feel the phantom pain in his chest and limbs from that endless black abyss. Yet now, here he was, staring up at the sky. The scene should have brought him comfort, but something about it felt… wrong. It was distant, detached.
"Shouldn't I be in a hospital? Why am I in the middle of nowhere? And where is Mia?"
Questions flooded his mind, spiraling chaotically as he focused intently on the sky. He tried to distract himself with the pale serenity of the clouds, the faint breeze brushing against his skin, and the warmth of the sun that was strangely unfamiliar. For a fleeting moment, he marveled at the ability to see, feel, and breathe freely. But if he had shifted his gaze even slightly, his fragile calm would have been obliterated.
Beside him lay a decaying corpse.
The body was grotesque, a vivid horror that mocked the serenity of the sky above. Maggots and parasites writhed through what remained of the flesh, tunneling and squirming in a horrifying display of life feeding on death. Half of the skin and muscle had been stripped away, leaving raw, red tissue glistening in the sunlight. Bones jutted out like broken branches, and dark crimson stains seeped into the dirt. Above, the vultures cawed greedily, swooping low to rip more from the mangled remains. Their beaks gleamed with gore, the sound of tearing flesh a sickening accompaniment to their cries.
The azure beauty of the sky was quickly eclipsed by the stench of death. The acrid, putrid smell of rotting flesh and blood hit his nostrils like a physical blow, making him gag and clutch his stomach. He staggered backward, dry heaving as his body reacted instinctively to the overwhelming odor. The gruesome scene before him only amplified his nausea.
"Holy fuck! What's this?!" Isaac jolted upright, his voice trembling with shock. His heart pounded violently as he stumbled to his feet. His eyes locked on the grotesque face of the corpse beside him.
Turning his head slightly, Isaac saw what could only be described as nature's horrifying masterpiece. The face, or what was left of it, was unrecognizable. One side had been hollowed out by vultures, leaving an eye dangling precariously by a thin thread of muscle. It swayed gently with each shift in the breeze, the sight more haunting than he could have imagined. The other side was riddled with tiny, wriggling maggots crawling in and out of holes burrowed into the flesh. It was a perverse mockery of life, a sickening display of decay and infestation.
The rest of the body was equally grotesque. Guts spilled out from the torn abdomen, chunks of flesh were missing, and patches of skin had been flayed entirely. Ribs poked out from the chest cavity like jagged, ivory teeth. The vultures feasted with ruthless efficiency, their wings flapping as they fought for dominance over the freshest scraps. Isaac stumbled back again, his stomach twisting violently, bile rising in his throat.
"Ah… somehow, I'm still intact… somehow," he muttered, his voice unsteady, shaking with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
Despite the horror around him, a strange relief washed over him. For some reason, neither the maggots nor the vultures had taken an interest in his body. Compared to the devastation surrounding him, he was… whole. Or at least, he seemed to be.
Struggling to his feet, Isaac's breath hitched as he took in the scene around him. His jaw dropped, his mind unable to comprehend the scope of the destruction.
Bodies.
Dead bodies stretched out in every direction, creating a sea of death with no end in sight.
There were no survivors. None. Just Isaac and the animals feasting on the remains.
Swordsmen lay lifeless, their blades still clutched in their hands. Spearmen were scattered like broken dolls. Cavalrymen and their horses had fallen together in heaps of bloodied flesh. Armor lay twisted and shattered, blood-soaked banners fluttering limply in the breeze. It was a massacre. A brutal, barbaric scene, reminiscent of a medieval battlefield. Isaac estimated there were at least ten thousand dead.
"This… this isn't Earth. Where the fuck am I?"
The sight was surreal, like something out of a history book about ancient wars. Swords, spears, and horses. No trace of modernity. It was primal and horrifying.
"This… isn't my body," Isaac muttered, his gaze falling to his hands. His skin was tanned, far darker than he remembered, and a prominent scar ran across his left palm. "My body wasn't this color… and I didn't have this scar…"
He stared at his hands in disbelief. None of it made sense. He had fallen unconscious, spent an eternity in that void, and now he was here, in the aftermath of a war that didn't belong to his world. He was the only one alive amidst thousands of the dead.
"What is this… a dream? No, it's too real. Dreams can be vivid, but not this vivid. And if it were a dream, something would be… off, glitching. Maybe I'm in a coma?" he pondered aloud, his voice thick with desperation.
"ARGH! What's happening?!" he screamed, clutching his head.
The entire situation felt absurd, like a fever dream, yet it was too visceral to be fake. The void, the torment, the overwhelming stench of decay—it was all too real.
"Fuck it… I can't make sense of this anymore," he sighed, his voice tinged with exhaustion. "All this science-defying crap… it's beyond me."
In the end, Isaac stopped trying to rationalize it. Whatever this was—dream, reality, or some twisted in-between—he decided to accept it as real, at least for as long as he remained there.
(End of Chapter)
*****
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