Content Warning: This chapter contains violence, gore, and intense themes. Reader discretion is advised.
I've completely overhauled this chapter.
What you're reading now is a more intense version than the one before.
The sharp prick of teeth snapped me awake.
Pain lanced up my arm, making me flinch and jerk backward instinctively. My head thudded against something hard—wooden and unforgiving—and for a moment, my vision swam. Blinking rapidly, I found myself staring into the wide, unblinking eyes of a horse. Its wet muzzle, dripping with saliva, hovered close to my face. Bits of hay clung to its lips as it sniffed at me curiously.
Another sharp pinch shot through my arm. My stomach twisted as I realized the damn thing had been trying to eat me.
I scrambled away, pressing my back against the splintered wood of the barn wall. The horse whinnied softly, dipping its head to nose at the hay scattered around me.
What the hell? Where am I?
The barn was dimly lit, shafts of sunlight slicing through the gaps between the wooden slats. Dust motes floated in the air, and the heavy smell of manure mingled with the damp earth beneath me. Uneven piles of hay dotted the corners, a rake and some rusted tools leaning haphazardly against one wall.
This wasn't Tokyo.
I ran my hand over my arm, wincing as my fingers brushed the spot where the horse had bitten me. It hadn't broken the skin, but the ache was sharp and insistent. My legs felt like jelly as I pushed myself upright, leaning against the wall for support.
Think. The last thing I remembered was the party—the neon lights, the laughter, the endless thrum of energy that made Tokyo what it was. And then… darkness.
My mind replayed the fragments like a shattered reel of film: the cold that seeped into my bones, the feeling of falling—endlessly falling—into a void that swallowed everything.
A shiver crawled up my spine.
This isn't a dream.
The faint creak of a door broke through my thoughts. My head snapped toward the sound.
"Who's in there?!"
The voice was rough, cutting through the relative quiet like a whip crack. My breath hitched, and I froze. Heavy footsteps crunched against the dirt outside, growing louder with every second. A shadow stretched across the barn floor, and then the figure stepped inside.
The man was broad and weathered, his skin bronzed from years under the sun. His graying hair stuck out beneath a battered straw hat, and his eyes—narrowed and suspicious—scanned the barn until they landed on me. He held a rusted pitchfork in one hand, the tines glinting menacingly in the dappled light.
"You stealing from me, boy?" he growled, taking a step closer.
"What?" My voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. I shook my head frantically. "No, I—I don't even know how I got here!"
"Bullshit," he spat, his grip tightening on the pitchfork. "Don't think I didn't notice my tools going missing last week. And now you're here, stinking up my barn like some damn vagrant? Think I'm stupid?"
I raised my hands, palms out. "I swear, I didn't take anything! Please, I just… I don't know what's going on!"
"Get the hell out of my barn before I gut you like a pig."
He didn't wait for a response. With a guttural shout, he lunged forward, swinging the pitchfork in an arc that would have caught my ribs if I hadn't stumbled out of the way. My legs moved before my brain could catch up, propelling me past him and out into the open air.
The sun hit me like a slap to the face, its brightness stinging my eyes. I didn't stop running until the barn was a distant speck behind me, swallowed by the forest.
The woods were a tangled mess of gnarled roots and towering trees. The air here was thick, humid, and cloying, carrying the sharp tang of moss and rotting vegetation. Every step felt precarious, the uneven ground threatening to trip me up.
I finally collapsed against the trunk of a massive tree, my chest heaving. Sweat dripped from my forehead, mingling with the dirt that clung to my skin.
What the hell is going on?
Two days. That's how long it had been since I woke up in this twisted, medieval nightmare. The cobblestone streets, the strange villagers who spoke in a language I barely understood… and the utter lack of anything that felt like home.
No neon lights. No trains. No Tokyo.
I glanced around warily, my eyes scanning the shadows that pooled beneath the trees. The forest was eerily quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves. It felt like the trees themselves were watching me, their twisted branches reaching out like claws.
This place doesn't feel real. But the ache in my muscles, the sting of that damn horse bite… they were too vivid to be a dream.
A sharp crack echoed through the trees, jolting me from my thoughts. My breath caught in my throat as I turned toward the sound, every nerve in my body screaming at me to run.
A figure emerged from the undergrowth, its movements jerky and unnatural.
No. Not a figure.
A goblin.
It was no taller than my chest, its greenish skin glistening with a sickly sheen. Wiry muscles rippled beneath its mottled flesh, and its jagged teeth gleamed as it sneered. Its eyes—small, dark, and filled with malice—locked onto me like a predator sizing up its prey.
In its clawed hand, it held a crude dagger. The blade was chipped and uneven, but it shimmered with a dark, oily substance that made my stomach churn.
I blinked at the dark, oozing substance on the dagger. Is that… poison?
The goblin hissed, crouching low like a coiled spring. My heart pounded so loudly it drowned out everything else.
Stay back. Please, just stay back.
I took a shaky step backward, my hands raised in a gesture of surrender. "I don't want any trouble," I said, my voice trembling. "Just… leave me alone."
The goblin responded with a guttural screech, the sound sharp enough to send a shiver down my spine. Then it lunged.
The dagger plunged into my stomach.
Pain erupted, blinding and searing, like a firework detonating inside me. My body convulsed, every nerve screaming in protest. Blood oozed around the blade, hot and slick against my trembling hands.
This can't be real.
The thought clawed its way through my mind as I tried to push the goblin away. My arms felt weak, my fingers slipping uselessly on its slimy skin. Its jagged teeth gleamed as it snarled, the sound guttural and cruel.
I couldn't think. The edges of my vision blurred, the colors bleeding into each other. I gasped, desperate for air, but the sharp sting of iron filled my throat.
Am I dying?
The goblin twisted the dagger, and the pain jolted me back into the present. I screamed, my voice hoarse and raw, but it didn't stop. Its claws raked across my arms, tearing through my skin with ease.
Run. Get away. Fight.
The thoughts came in bursts, incoherent and panicked. My body refused to obey. I was pinned, the weight of the goblin pressing me into the dirt.
I don't want to die.
The goblin yanked the dagger free with a wet, sucking sound. Blood poured from the wound, soaking my shirt and pooling beneath me. I tried to press my hands against it, to stem the flow, but the goblin was relentless.
Its claws dug into my shoulders, and it slammed me back down. My head hit the ground, stars bursting across my vision. The taste of copper filled my mouth as blood dripped from my lips.
I don't want this.
The goblin's face loomed closer, its breath foul and hot against my skin. My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat. I turned my head away, but it grabbed my chin, forcing me to look into its beady, glinting eyes.
No. Please.
It snarled something in a language I couldn't understand, its voice sharp and guttural. Then its teeth sank into my throat.
The pain was a flash of white-hot agony. I gagged, choking on the blood that filled my mouth. My body spasmed, but I couldn't scream. My voice was gone, replaced by wet, gurgling sounds.
I'm going to die here.
The realization hit like a punch to the gut, more crushing than the pain itself. I'd die in this twisted, alien forest, surrounded by creatures that saw me as nothing more than meat.
No one will even know.
Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the blood and dirt. I thought of Tokyo—the lights, the noise, the life I'd taken for granted. It felt so far away now, like a dream I'd woken from too soon.
The goblin released me, its teeth slick with my blood. I coughed, each breath a struggle, and tried to crawl away. My hands slipped on the slick, muddy ground, my fingers digging uselessly into the earth.
Move. Just move.
But it was too late.
Clawed hands grabbed my ankles, dragging me backward. My nails scraped against the dirt, leaving ragged trails. I twisted, kicking wildly, but the goblin was stronger.
I'm not ready for this.
It pulled me into the shadows of the forest, my body scraping over roots and rocks. Each bump sent fresh waves of pain radiating through me. My mind reeled, trying to grasp the reality of what was happening.
I don't want to die.
The clearing was worse than I could have imagined. Bones littered the ground, some gnawed clean, others still clothed in scraps of rotting flesh. The stench hit me like a wall, thick and suffocating.
This is it.
The goblins gathered around, their beady eyes glinting with cruel amusement. They spoke in their guttural tongue, their voices high-pitched and sharp. Laughter echoed among them, harsh and mocking.
I don't want to be here.
They threw me onto the ground like a broken toy. My body landed with a sickening thud, the impact sending another jolt of pain through me. My arms wouldn't move, my legs felt like lead.
I can't fight them.
One goblin approached, its claws gleaming in the dim light. It crouched over me, its face inches from mine. I could see every jagged tooth, every wrinkle in its slimy skin.
Why is this happening?
Its claws tore into my stomach, sinking deep. The pain was distant now, dulled by the sheer intensity of it all. My vision blurred, the world tilting and spinning.
The goblin pulled something free—a glistening loop of intestines. It held the gore up like a prize, its lips curling into a sneer.
This isn't real. It can't be real.
Another goblin grabbed my arm, its claws digging into the flesh. It bit down, its teeth slicing through skin and muscle like paper.
My mind screamed, but my body was silent.
I don't want to die.
Their hands ripped and tore, peeling away pieces of me with sickening ease. Blood pooled beneath me, soaking into the dirt. My body was breaking, piece by piece.
And still, I was aware.
This is too much.
The forest blurred into darkness, the muted greens and browns fading into black. My breaths came in shallow gasps, each one more ragged than the last.
Please. Make it stop.
The last thing I saw was a goblin's leering face, its bloodstained teeth gleaming as it ripped into my chest. The pain overwhelmed everything else, searing and raw, until even that began to fade. My vision blurred, narrowing into a tunnel of darkness, and then, just like that, it was gone.
Everything went black.
In the darkness, I was falling.
It wasn't like before when I'd felt the weight of my body tumbling downward. This time, it was deeper, heavier, as though I were sinking into an ocean of shadows. The cold was biting, sharper than any winter wind, coiling around me like chains. My chest tightened with every breath, though the air seemed thin, as if it didn't want to be inhaled. Panic clawed at me, rising in my throat like a scream that refused to come out.
There was no up, no down, no sense of direction—just the endless, suffocating descent.
This wasn't falling. This was being dragged.
A sound pierced the silence, so faint at first that I thought I imagined it. A whisper. Soft and low, curling through the void like smoke.
"How did you end up like that, my dear Natao?"
The words pressed against me, not like a shout but with a weight that settled deep into my chest. The voice was familiar, but the familiarity only made it worse. It felt as if I should know who it belonged to, as if the answer was right there on the edge of my mind, but trying to grasp it was like reaching for smoke.
"This isn't the end, Natao. You know this. You felt it, didn't you? The break, the fracture, the change."
The question hung in the air, twisting around me. The fall slowed. The shadows felt thicker now, clinging to my skin like oil. The weight of the question pressed harder, insistent, demanding an answer. Stronger? Was I stronger? What did that even mean anymore?
The memories clawed their way back, unbidden and cruel. The party. The endless fall. The forest. The goblins. The pain. All of it felt so distant now, as though it had happened to someone else.
But that wasn't true. It was me. That thing on the ground, bleeding out, torn apart—that was me.
The whisper curled closer, brushing against my ears like a breath. The air felt alive, shifting, tightening. My whole body tensed as if something unseen was moving toward me, unseen but undeniable.
I don't understand. I don't understand any of this.
A laugh—low and cold, stripped of warmth. Not mocking, but knowing.
"Don't play with me, Natao. You know. Deep down, you know."
I didn't know. Or did I? There was something there, buried beneath the panic and confusion. A truth I didn't want to look at. I shivered, my skin crawling as the darkness around me grew heavier, pressing against every inch of me. It wasn't empty. It wasn't still. It moved, shifting like it was alive, curling and twisting, touching me with an icy caress.
My breath caught as the pressure deepened, as though I were sinking into the dark itself, merging with it.
"Let me fix you."
The words jolted through me, sharp and electric. They didn't feel like a question or a suggestion—they were a promise, a demand, wrapped in silk and steel. My lips moved, but no sound came out. I wanted to ask what that meant, what it wanted, but my voice felt trapped in my throat.
The air thickened, pulling tighter around me. It wasn't just pressing against my skin anymore; it was inside me, wrapping around my lungs, my heart, my thoughts.
"Let me pull you back together."
…
Status:
• Name: Naoto Kurotsuki
• Age: 22
• Title: Unknown
• Magic: Unknown
• Abilities: Unknown
• Species: Human
• Location: Forest near Eldaroth
• Condition: Severely wounded, Lost, Struggling with blood loss, and disoriented from trauma
• Equipment: Modern casual clothes, bloodstained and torn from goblin bites
• Mental State: Confused, Uneasy, Sensing a voided presence attempting to piece him together
• Physical State: Exhausted, Bleeding from goblin bites and stab wounds, sore, weakened from blood loss, feeling something stir within