******
Previous Rolling Back Detected…
Returning to Original Request…
View Additional Secondary Point of View?
> No.
Continuing Simulation?
> Yes.
Loading Environment…
Loading Environment States…
Loading Actors…
Loading Actors States…
Loading Actors Memories…
Simulation Ready.
Simulation Starting in:
3
2
1
******
The sun was already at its peak, yet, both Tristia and Umbra still lay motionless.
Then, Umbra’s finger twitched. A brief grunt escaped from his throat.
His eyelids opened, but a protective membrane layer—thicker than those of the Mountain People’s—stayed and covered his eyes.
He could barely even see, even his ears were ringing loudly, making him dizzy. Almost like a habit, he rolled to the side, accidentally putting pressure into his broken leg.
The pain woke him up in a jolt.
“GH! Ah… w-w-what…” he could barely control his tongue. His mind slowed down. His balance, too, was awfully off, with a lighter right side.
He rubbed his eyes, but somehow, he could not feel his right arm brushing against his right eye.
The membrane retracted and joined his eyelids.
Slowly, his vision returned. What greeted him was the jagged bone and flesh of his right arm. “M-My… a-a… KGH!” his memory returned alongside a splitting headache. He clenched his temple and something vibrated with the sudden move. At first, he ignored it, but soon, he noticed it was not caused by the dizziness. It was the bolt that stuck in his forehead. “Hah… gh…”
Worse, he could feel his body was asking to rest. However, he knew it was not asking for rest, his body was shutting down.
He looked around in panic, his face twitched with the sudden dizziness that struck. He needed something to stop the major bleeding in his arm immediately.
A burning charcoal, what remained of the fire he started, still had its ember despite the long night.
He shot his arm and tails forward then dragged his body. His eyes grew heavier but the pain from his broken leg grinding against the uneven terrain forced him to wake up. “Ugh! D-Don’t… s-sleep… n…” he grabbed a firewood and put it in his jaws. “N-Not… n-n-now…” he pressed his stump to the burning charcoal. “UUGGHHH” the scream of pain muffled.
The wood splintered under his jaws, then snapped.
“UGH… ARRGGGHHH!” his scream escaped. “Gh… kgh… hah…” his consciousness drifted in and out as he laid down, panting as hot vapor emitted from his nose and mouth.
Would it be enough for now? It would be a while to know, but… he did not have the time for a while.
Umbra clenched his fist. His brain might be slowed down, but he knew, he had to move. That scream would certainly attract a lot of attention.
“Grh… gh…” he grabbed two parts of the broken spear—the spearhead was already cut and looted—then tore some of the clothes from the dead. “C-Come… on…”
With only one arm, it was not easy task.
“URGH!” he tightened the rags to his broken leg with the broken spears as splint. “M-Move… d-don’t… stop… m-moving…”
He crawled to the dead, hoping to find anything left behind.
As he rummaged through Tristia’s clothes, she was still oddly warm. He placed his shaking hand to her chest. Her heart was still beating despite her caved-in sternum.
Should he carry her with him? If so, why? They were, after all, mercenaries. For them, death was simply the undesired outcome, yet an outcome nonetheless.
He remembered that she was trying to help him… but, wasn’t it because that they were targeted together? Would she appreciate the thought of being saved? Or would she simply wish to end her life? Once again, he thought to himself: who was he to decide her fate?
Yet, despite his doubt, he started to drag her to the diminishing charcoal. That was after all his only option to permanently stop her bleeding and to let blood-depraved legs breathed. At least, if she tried to survive, he would do her right. However, if she wished to die, he would simply leave her behind.
With some difficulty, Umbra managed to dress her, at least to shield her from the element. He had to use his jaws as a clamp with two of his tails just to tie her up to his back.
As he was about to leave, his eyes caught his own severed arm. His brain took some time to notice that his body was dragging itself towards the limb.
The arm laid untouched, even the passing ants simply sniffed and immediately avoided it.
A large fly then landed on top of it, seemingly started to eat it.
The fly stuck its long sharp mouth in it. It seemed alright at first. However, as the sharp mouth pierced at his flesh, it suddenly froze and lost its footing. The fly fall to the ground, its curling legs twitching.
Umbra then shifted his attention to the corpses and Tristia’s severed legs. Similar to his arm, no insects dare to even touch her legs. They mostly just headed straight to the other mercenaries.
Umbra looked at Tristia. If her flesh, too, was poisonous, would she able to digest the most rancid meat like him? No… that worry was for later. He shifted his eyes to the corpses again. How repulsive and wrong it might sound, all living beings were made of flesh and bones. He might not be able to harvest all of them, but… if it was only their limbs. He might have the time.
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
Umbra spent little time to rip the limbs of the mercenaries’ bodies. His jaws tore and broken through the flesh and bones. He twitched as he bit into a Mountain People’s shoulder. Their blood numbed his mouth, but he knew his iron stomach would hold on.
Using clothes tied up together as a makeshift sack, he put all of the limbs into it. He lifted up his body for a few seconds with his arm to look around. He was quite sure that he was on the right way.
With Tristia and a sack full of limbs on his back, he started the crawl with one arm and tails. His tail then coiled around one of the limbs and placed it on his mouth. He just started ripping into it. The blood and flesh would nourish his broken body. He would survive… no, he had to survive.
The smells of dirt, the rustling of the grass was dizzying… or was it his own head? Often times, his body started to slow down, his mind, too, was hard to navigate. He did not even know if he headed to the right direction… or did he just crawl deeper into the forest?
When everything just hit at the same time, he just stopped on his track. His body exhausted, his mind could not even think… he just shut down.
As he lowered his head, the bolt hit the ground, sending a jolt of pain. “Gh! N-No… n-not… now… m-move…” he grabbed one of the limbs from the sack and ate it. It would at least help to keep his mind occupied.
However, traveling with his eyes on the ground level was difficult. While he was practically invisible in the tall foliage, he, too, was almost blind.
He could lift up his body with his tails for several seconds, but… would it be safe? Should he wait till his tails recovered? Or for Tristia to be awaken? No, it would take too long… they were still in the middle of nowhere.
A small crack echoed from far away.
Umbra froze. Was it his ear? Or was it from the ground?
Then faint footsteps followed.
He knew that the more time wasted on listening, the longer it would take for them to reach safety. Those footsteps… reminded him of the mercenaries that maimed him. Why didn’t they take the both of them? It did not make any sense.
As his mind continued to think, a dark thought appeared. Perhaps… would it be better if they are enslaved? He did not have to crawl, he did not have to worry about food and water. Would it be better to just approach them? Would Tristia mind a live being owned by someone else? Or would she be mad at him? No… they might not even worth the shackle.
Hours passed by.
Umbra kept crawling away.
At least, the smell of animal piss and feces started to fade.
He was heading the right way, or at least to a safer place. However, he might have headed to another form of danger.
Faraway footsteps rumbled, dozens of them.
Umbra stopped and listened.
There was rhythm, almost like… a back and forth followed by loud thud. It also did not seem to move closer to him.
Was that loud thud footsteps… a stomp, perhaps?
He closed his eyes, focusing entire on his ears.
Was it… steel clashing?
Umbra crawled towards the source as then the clashed stopped, replaced by soft footsteps and rattling of metal.
The battle was over.
It was lunacy, but this might be one-in-a-million chance for some basic kits, or just anything that the victor left behind.
The scent of iron tickled his nose.
He stopped quite far from the clearing where the road was visible, and waited.
Soon, the rattling was gone, replaced by footsteps that were moving away from him.
He stabbed his tails on the ground and tensed his left arm and right leg, then took a deep breath.
He grunted, lifting his torso, just barely enough to peek.
There it was: at least a dozen of dead people. All have been stripped of all their belongings, but perhaps, there would be still something that he could use.
A rhythmic rumbling trembled through the ground.
Umbra immediately dropped down, winching in pain.
The rumbling, heavy, almost like a staccato, quickly became unbearable. For those in the normal height, it might be annoying, but for Umbra, it was akin to non-stop thunder.
Dozens, if not a hundred of soldiers marched as one.
Umbra immediately untied Tristia from his back and laid her down next to him to lower their posture even more.
As the sound become more intense, there was several distinct footsteps, like a very loud ticking.
Umbra did not even dare to move, nor even breath.
Then, a carriage, made of the finest oak wood and gold, appeared, being pulled by four horses. Surrounding it was dozens of soldiers, marching as one.
It was deafening for most close.
But for Umbra whose ears was close to the ground, it was similar to a thundering earthquake.
He wanted to scream, but he could not. His ears were hurting, but he had to endure. He could just hope for whoever in the carriage did not notice two bodies laying nearby.
After seemingly hours, the carriage eventually passed.
Umbra coughed, unaware that he held his breath almost the entire time. “Rgh…” he raised his body to check one more time.
His ears were still ringing, but his vision was still alright.
He did not spot anything.
Moving swiftly, he dragged himself alongside Tristia across the path and into more foliage. “KGH!” his broken leg bumped into a rock in the middle of the road. “Gh… m-move… d-don’t stop… i-i-ignore… p-pain…”
Umbra continued to crawl and rested briefly as he was sure that both of them were covered by the foliage again. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down his breathing then he crawled again.
Finally, he saw them clearly.
Fifteen dead bodies, already stripped of their valuables. Judging by their condition and little to no fat, they were probably rebels.
As he approached them, his mind reminded him of the dead mercenaries before. He grunted, already regretted that his mind did not have the capacity to rummage around their gears several hours ago. Yet, perhaps, he could find more here.
He approached closer. His eyes squinted, could not believe what he just saw. Slowly, he made his way to one dead rebels.
A large waterskin laid near. It was intact and near-full.
His trembling hand popped open the cork and he sipped the water.
Drinkable.
His body would not need it, but water is essential for everything.
He lowered his hand and put the cork back, ignoring the demands of his throat. Then, he eyed the rebel who was still wearing a worn-out leather long coat.
He moved his right arm forward, unaware that it was already gone. At first, he looked confused and stretched his stump forward. But as he gazed at his shoulder, he sighed. He traced the leather with his left hand.
It was so thin that it felt like a thick fabric instead. No wonder that the soldiers did not want it. However, for him, it was useful.
Umbra stripped down every rebels naked.
All waterskins.
Any tools or any objects left was bundled up inside the leather coat.
It was so many that he had to tied them all up together with more clothing.
“Gh… rgh…”
As he continued to move, his body stared to lag behind. His hand could even barely moved without straining his mind. With the fog on his mind grew denser and his brain started slugging, he knew he had to do something.
Just something to make him remember… a direction, an order… anything. He looked to Tristia…
No… he couldn’t depend on her… not now.
He looked to his left arm then to his serrated tails… perhaps, he could leave a message to himself?
******
Research Log 5.
Agent: Creep. Class: [REDACTED]
Reminder to whoever run this simulation in the future. Do not forget to set the audio to ‘Auto’ if you don’t want your eardrums to burst. Fuck me… my ears are still ringing—
(Door open)
Sorry for the noise… I will—
(Panic scream)
What? I can’t hear you…
(Panic murmur)
My ears? Oh… oh… I think… I need some medical help.
***
Research Log 5-2.
Agent: Creep. Class: [REDACTED]
It has been three days since the last session, and I have watched the entire recorded simulation… again… with the audio in ‘Auto’.
Permission to get another Subjects was accepted by [REDACTED]. However, I have to wait till both Subject 0 and Subject 1 expire…
Okay… to the simulation…
Now… what I found odd is the carriage.
Judging by the map, the carriage were taking a long detour via the beach… instead of the shorter mountain path. I dearly hope the simulator have a reason for this…
(Grunting)
To the subjects.
I have expected cannibalism for Subject 0. Demonoid, after all, is not human by nature. It may be interesting to see how Subject 1 will react when she wakes up…
However, I still don’t think Subject 0 will survive. His brain, same theory as previous one, is a mush… or partial mush.
Once the secondary brain injury hit, the swelling will crumple his brain entirely… in my language, what inside his head is just a brain gruel waiting for the right moment to just fall apart.
But, I have noticed something odd as well about Subject 1. Our version of Rubber People does not have the poisonous flesh or blood.
Some sub-races of Demonoid do have that traits, but Rubber People normally do not have that trait…
Wait… since even flies was killed by them… does that mean they have innate antimicrobial properties?
Huh… Noted.
(Paper rustling)
My current hypothesis is the Mountain People came from a region at the simulator called the Bone Mountain which was rich in sulfur and many dangerous reactive agents, and somehow, the simulator managed to incorporate that detail and weave it into the Mountain People’s traits.
Or… perhaps, Subject 1’s heritage is not purely Mountain People? Or was she a pure Mountain People?
Another note for future self or Agent.
******
---?rima?y t?au??ti?▓□?ai?n inj??r▓---
