Astel felt the freezing wind assault his body as he walked through the dangerous weather.
'I really hate this…' he thought, covering his face with as much fabric as he could spare.
The storm showed no signs of stopping even after close to an hour of walking. He tried his best to inspect his surroundings, but he could barely see the ground in front of him. His throat was dry, and his body was shivering.
Then he spotted something. A dark shape hidden by the raging snowstorm.
He fought his way toward his new target, which only seemed to distance itself.
'Argh! What the hell is this? Could this thing stop running?'
Then Astel noticed another shape in the distance. And then another, and another. Slowly, more shapes outlined themselves through the thick haze. He immediately started salivating at the prospect of potential food… and battle.
The closer he approached, the clearer they became. Until finally, he could see them fully. Standing almost head-to-head with what looked like a woolly pig, he crouched.
The animal was large—larger than him. It had two long tusks protruding out from near its jaws. On the other side of it was a small, curled tail.
He kept close to the ground, half buried in the snow as he moved around, planning his attack.
He judged that they didn't pose much of a threat since the voices in his head were mostly quiet. But he also knew that he wasn't in his best state. He tried clenching his fist, but it felt slow, almost muddy.
After following them for a few minutes, figuring out their numbers and predicting their weak spots and likely actions, he finally decided to attack.
Summoning his spear, he leapt into the air… or at least tried to. The deep snow prevented him from jumping too high. But for him, it was enough.
For his first target, he chose the slowest-looking of the pigs. Landing on its side, he grabbed hold of its fur and stabbed with his shortened weapon. His attacks were aimed at the neck in hopes of making it bleed out if it somehow got away.
With a loud squeal, the pig thrashed around, picking up speed and alerting the others.
Not wasting any time, he climbed onto the bleeding pig's back and launched himself toward the second one.
It was still hard to see, but he managed to grab its short tail as it kicked through the snow. He caught hold of its nearly frozen hide and yanked himself forward—toward its head.
The violent wind assaulted his eyelids, making it hard to see. His face was beginning to freeze. Even still, he raised his spear with one hand and struck deep into its flesh.
The animal cried out loudly before falling to the ground.
Astel tried to look for another one, but with the wind picking up and raising an even thicker haze, he couldn't see where it ran off to.
'Damn it!'
He angrily yanked his spear out of the dead animal.
Not sparing any time, he began to butcher his latest kill. After all, the only reason he was here doing this was so that the others could survive. It wasn't how he imagined being a hero, but it was how the original him would act. And he needed the cover.
The adrenaline slowly settled as he was cutting into the pig's flesh. Then he began to realize that he couldn't feel his face.
'Shit.'
He quickly raised his hands to inspect it but felt nothing. His fingers were frozen and already turning black at the fingertips. His heart skipped a beat.
He didn't have much time. He had to do something.
Stumbling around, he quickly brought his spear back down toward the dead animal and carved a large hole in its stomach.
Immediately, he was hit with a terrible smell.
'Ugh… no chance.'
He almost threw up, barely managing to hold it in. He knew, however, that with the wind starting to pick back up, it was too risky to stay outside.
He looked around before taking a deep breath and swallowing nervously. Then he removed as much of its insides as he could before climbing inside the still warm stomach.
He tore out the steaming innards with trembling hands, the heat scalding compared to the frost eating his skin. The stench hit him like a wall—bile, blood, and rot clawing at his throat. He gagged hard, forcing it back down, before shoving himself into the slick cavity.
'Ew… If I don't die from the frost, I'll die from this stench.'
His face curled into a deep frown. The stomach was covered in a thick, slimy liquid that stuck to its sides. It was dark and warm.
Astel was just starting to feel proud of this idea until something started feeling weird. His arms felt stiff, his face itched all over.
It could've just been the frost. No, Astel knew that wasn't it. He noticed that the only parts of his body that felt wrong were those that came in contact with the odd stomach ooze.
Then he realized it. His skin was slowly drying out.
'Fuck, is it absorbing moisture? Is that how they live in these conditions?'
He shook his head; there was no time to think. He would freeze to death if he climbed back out, but he would dry out if he stayed inside. He had to come up with a solution fast.
In a moment of desperation, he pulled out the small bag the other him had been carrying around since meeting Sev.
'Let's hope that idiot's toy actually proves useful.'
He hesitated, thinking he had lost his mind. Despite that, he reached inside the bag and pulled out a palm-sized chunk of transparent sludge.
He quickly rubbed it onto his skin without noticing any changes.
'Am I actually going to die?'
He thought as a drop of sweat slowly rolled down from his forehead.
'Sweat?'
Confused, he quickly came to the realization that he must be near the mountains, where different rules probably applied.
Hope.
He slowly sank deeper into the mucus-laced stomach, not knowing what else he could do.
Seconds passed, then minutes, but his skin wasn't any drier.
'Did it actually work?'
He thought, inspecting his still cold, but smooth skin.
"YES!" he yelled out.
The ecstasy of the moment quickly faded away. He breathed slowly, feeling his chest rise and fall. His heartbeat slowed down, and the adrenaline once again washed out.
He was still alone, in the dark, covered by a disgusting, badly smelling ooze. But he was alive, and that mattered.
He believed that the sludge was a worthless thing to carry around and often berated the original Astel because of it. But right now, it had saved his life.
He thought about the other him and shook his head.
'As if, that dumbass probably carried it around for fun.'
He paused, thinking. He almost felt… thankful?
'Foolish. I'm the better me.'
He thought proudly.
Hours slowly passed. From time to time, Astel would peek outside, always shivering when he did. He didn't want to leave now that he was relatively comfortable. But the insides were starting to get cold.
He still waited, at least until the wind slowed down a little.
Eventually, the body was as cold as the outside, so he had no choice but to climb out.
His breaths came out as white clouds, his body shivered.
He looked around for the other body, but it wasn't there anymore.
As if swept up by the storm—or worse, taken by something.
Astel swallowed roughly, every nerve in his body tensing. The storm howled louder, but for the first time, it wasn't the cold that made him shiver.