The rain was heavy. Mist and fog wrapped around everything, and then—he appeared. On the floor, panting, dazed, and horrified, he sat up. His hands shot to his face.
Where the hell am I? One second I was walking down the street, and the next I'm here. What the hell's happening?
He looked down and froze. His nails were longer, his eyes were dry, and something else he noticed: he was eerily calm despite his situation. Then he saw the blood. One leg of his pants was stained dark red. Panic hit him.
Think, dammit, think. I can't see anything. I've got blood on me, but I don't feel any pain. None of this makes sense, and if anything… I feel a little hungry. Not much to see; the fog is making that impossible. I could shout—maybe someone else is here? Screw it, I'm shouting, good idea or not.
As he stood up to shout, he paused for a moment to get a feel for things. His body felt cold, somewhat dead even—but what was he to do, other than first affirm his surroundings?
"Hello? Anybody there?"
Then, suddenly, a woman's voice echoed through the fog.
"I can hear you! I just can't see you! Do you know what's happening? I was at home cooking dinner for my kids—then all of a sudden, I was here!"
Her voice was hoarse, like someone who had been screaming for hours on end.
"I was going to ask the same thing! I was walking home, and then I just—ended up here! I don't know what's happening to us, but maybe we can figure this out together?"
Then, the woman fell silent.
Why isn't she answering?
"Hello!? Are you still there?"
The young man couldn't finish his sentence. As he was shouting, a monstrous sound echoed from the direction of the woman—something not human. Something demonic, inhuman. Completely unlike anything he had ever heard before.
Shit, that scared the hell out of me. What was that?! Did it hear me?!
Then he froze as that same monstrous sound echoed through the fog again. Then—lightning struck. For a split second, the world lit up, just enough for him to see it. Reptilian skin, canine, feral, an almost crazed look in its face, and four protruding tails—all locked on him.
"What the fuck—"
He bolted, heart pounding. His thoughts scrambled as his legs moved on instinct.
What the hell was that? That wasn't human—that was a monster. Fuck. I don't want to die. Please—just let me run fast enough to get away!
As he ran, he looked back to see whether he was being followed, but all he could see was fog.
Should I stop running now? Am I in the clear—
He didn't get to finish the thought. He was struck. Its monstrous size crushed his arm, ripping a bit of flesh clean off.
Shit, that hurt! What am I supposed to do in such a ridiculous situation? I don't even know where I am!
As his thoughts raced, he saw his wound begin to heal. Not only that, but the pain from his broken bones began to fade.
W-what? Shit, what does that matter now? I have to run.
As he tried to get to his feet, one of the beast's tails hit his legs, knocking him back down. It loomed over him, saliva dripping. A successful hunt deserved a celebration, and it roared—a violent, deafening roar.
Is this it for me? Am I going to die here?
One by one, thoughts raced: a growing hatred, a fateful death, a meaningless death—as the beast lowered itself. Its mouth opened to reveal an arm strung on its teeth, with a wedding ring on the hand.
Is that her arm? Did this monster kill her? What did she do to deserve that? She had kids—kids who'll never see their mother again!
In his anger and confusion, he hadn't noticed the beast slowly backing away. Its head shook violently, and its body lost footing. And as his anger subsided, he stood and looked at the beast. For some reason, he ignored the instinct to run.
"What the—?"
As he approached, the beast's body weakened further. Then it suddenly stopped, regaining its footing. It looked at him, almost afraid, but hunger motivated everything. It lunged with its teeth, which he barely avoided. Its tail struck his legs, knocking him down again.
Dammit, I thought I had the upper hand for a second. What the hell am I supposed to do here? I have nothing.
He attempted to run once more, but it was futile. The beast's talons struck his chest, one breaking off and lodging inside him, pinning him. Barely able to breathe, losing consciousness, he made a final plea.
"Please… just let me go. Please… I don't want to die…"
As his vision blurred, a flash of lightning illuminated a figure approaching.
A man. Dashing, composed—blood-red hair and attire far too regal for this nightmare. He began to speak.
"Watching you from afar really affirms my stance on you otherworlders. Honestly… who actually dies from something like this?"
As soon as he had finished those words, he disappeared. He was already kneeling beside the young man, his face alternating from disdain to a smile, then laughter.
"Couldn't you have hit him somewhere else? These fragile otherworlders… always so prone to death. Ah, what am I doing? Talking to a beast as if it even understands a word I'm saying."
The beast struck with its tail again, but it was useless.
Prone to death? Of course they're prone to death; everyone is! I need to work on my lines. It didn't sound nearly as cool as I thought. Rather, it was silly.
That was what he thought while the beast flailed behind him, desperate, trying to eat the young man on the floor.
"Hey, you can't do that; I need him in order to make my quota! Regardless, what are you supposed to do when I already have this?"
The beast's head dangled like a trophy in his grip. Roland didn't flinch, still talking as if it understood. Its body thrashed behind him—headless, yet terrifying.
Did that sound cool, though? God, I wish I had an audience for this. Sadly, I have to suffice with this dead guy over here.
Phew. "Sorry about that; I just got a little sidetracked playing with the beast."
I don't even see the point in talking to a dead guy, but… it feels good to apologize. So, I'm grateful. Anyway, that broken claw looks bad. Might as well remove it and—
At that moment, the red-haired man saw the gaping wound begin to close, leaving a hole in the clothes of this dead "guy."
Was he alive then? Could I slap him to wake him? Ah… who cares?
Slap after slap, the red-haired man gave, each confirming the beating heart beneath. However, that heartbeat was slow, to the point it felt as if he was still slapping a dead body.
What does it matter? I just have to take him back, and after that, it's out of my hands. Should I tell him my name? Probably not, but then again… there's really no harm in telling him.
"Hey, otherworlder, my name is Roland. Rooolllaaannnddd."
He didn't expect a reply. He got one, though, and it scared him.
"R-r-Ryan… My name is Ryan."
"Ahhhhhhh. What the hell, man? Weren't you in a coma or something? Why wake up now? You scared the living shit out of me!"
Regardless, Roland grinned as he hauled Ryan onto his back and moved.
Damn, I didn't expect otherworlders to be so heavy. I don't have anything to make him feel light. Hm, I do have that, but that'll kill him, so that's a no-go. If he's still awake, why not ask him to walk? No, I can't do that. He's injured—wait a damn minute, injured my ass. He healed! I saw it with my own eyes!
"Ah, whatever. You owe me for this, man. I don't care what it'll be, but do know that you had the great, magnificent Roland Esperanza carry you!"