I rose up from my slumber, hair strands covering my face, the bed in shambles, a wall missing from my "home".
I stared outside the new exit. People were fighting a creature. A giant creature. I just stared outside, annoyance replacing the initial confusion. I lost my "homes" three times now. And apparently, the "third time's a charm" saying was a lie the whole time. Which made me even more annoyed. Glaring at the creature and people fighting, I picked up my torn blanket, covering myself I went to sleep.
Suddenly, I was shaken awake. I didn't even know how much time had passed. Over me stood a man, a frown on his face, a cigarette between his lips, his face covered with blood, his body littered with wounds. The best description I could give the man was
"You look like shit man".
The man barked a laugh, although his eyes remained cold.
"I know kid, I know, now get up, it isn't safe here".
I frowned, but listened to the man, grabbing black jeans with a black hoodie, I quickly dressed myself in my nicer clothes. My shoes were a different matter, the bottom torn, the coloring dulled by time and wear. They looked like something a homeless man would wear. Which was technically correct, considering my home's wall situation.
Then I followed the man, I saw the creature still alive, now bodies littered the ground, awakened and mundane alike were thrown around. Body parts missing, some still screaming in agony, some already long dead, their dead lifeless eyes staring towards the sky. I wasn't shaken; it hadn't been my first time seeing death.
The man weaved between the alleyways, being faster, but noticeably lost on the layout. I was keeping up with him. I had no problem following the man, I knew the places around here like the back of my hand. I noticed that it was slightly bloodied when the man grabbed my hand. I summarized that he was heavily injured. I looked back, seeing other awakened retreating as well. Some behind us, some on the rooftops of half-ruined buildings. It was quite interesting to see the "heroes" running for their lives, of course, I knew what most of the so-called heroes were actually like. Most only saved people for wealth and fame. Yet the live channels and media sources lied. Portraying them as good, benevolent heroes who saved people for the sake of saving them.
I soon brushed away that thought when a giant claw-like tentacle shot through several buildings, impaling a man straight through, the man barely able to scream before he died. Well shit, that was horrific, like from a horror movie or something. Not that I've actually seen a movie before.
For no reason whatsoever, I decided to step to the side, only for my eyes to widen, as another claw shot past me, tearing through the man who woke me up.
I actually felt sad for a moment, looking at the dead man; he seemed to be an actual good person, but self-preservation soon caught up to me, and I started running again.
I watched as one by one, the awakened fell, my eyes dulling with each death. I realized that it was quite hopeless to run from what seemed to be at least a Tyrant.
I sighed, jumped inside a building through a window, rolled up into a standing position, and ran again. Then again, I stepped to the side, noticing a broken floorboard. Another claw shot past me, this time, I actually brushed against it.
The previously lifeless dark eyes of mine widened, horror filling my very soul. I knew what it meant to touch a creature as a mundane. An almost guaranteed infection by the spell, if you survived the creature that is.
Actuall, fear now filled my body, I climbed to the second floor of the building and stopped. I didn't breathe, didn't blink, didn't even flinch as a claw shot through the stairs I just climbed. I was banking on a single thing, the creature followed by sound or movement. If not, I was dead either way. A few minutes passed, I exhaled and inhaled as quietly as possible, then I blinked. Nothing happened, and I remained like this for fifteen minutes or so. Then I relaxed, I actually chuckled, baffled by my raw luck. I didn't fool myself into believing I was spared, or knew what I was doing, I knew it was luck.
Then I bolted, I rushed through the alleyways, staying out of sight, making as little noise as possible. I ran and ran and ran, my lungs burned, my legs ached, my throat felt as cold as ice, I didn't care, I had to run. And that I did, I ran for what felt like hours, lost a shoe? Fuck the shoe, I took off the other one as well, my pace slowed, and I was thankful it wasn't raining.
Then I stopped, hands on my knees, gulping down air as if it were a Divine gift. I looked around, my eyes widened. This was the outskirt's outskirts. Long abandoned, creatures roamed here as if it were never a city. Buildings turned to rubble, growls, screeches, and giant footsteps coalesced into one constant hum of noise. It was horrendous, yet beautiful, it was Unholy yet Divine. The monsters looked different as well, their forms moving slightly in rhythm, yet not the same movement forced by a Tyrant that I've seen before. They didn't attack each other. Then one turned its head towards me, my breath hitching, heart pounding in my ears. Then the creature looked away, my breath steadied, heart slowing, fear turning into confusion, then terror. What had just happened? Didn't it see me? It ignored me? I backed away, running into a ruined building. I collapsed into a corner, eyes still wide, heart pounding louder than ever, my brain trying to understand what had happened. Going through scenarios, first the dodges of the claw-like tentacles, a product of pure luck. Then what felt like the endless stamina to run. I knew how far these parts were from where I lived, it was dozens of kilometers away. And now creatures are ignoring me? It was too many things, it couldn't just be pure luck. Coincidences? Two perhaps, three suspicious, four a sign of a format, a correlation between the events and my own actions. Finally, my adrenaline failed, my form collapsing into the sweet embrace of sleep.
***
I woke up, my mind immediately alert, and I shot up, only to fall on the wooden floor. My body finally registered the soreness, exhaustion, and pain. Even if I forced my body to run, I still needed energy; I needed sustenance my body didn't have, my malnourished form did not have any fat to draw upon for emergency energy moments.
I clenched my teeth, holding back a scream. I couldn't afford to make noise in such a place, it would be a death sentence. And so I endured, I counted every second, every minute, it turned into an hour, then two, then three, and then I lost count. Finally exhausted, my body shut down.
***
Then I woke up, and the second time I didn't make the same mistake. Instead, I slowly propped myself against a wall, then I tensed my legs and stood up without a problem.
I looked around, confused as hell. I stretched, no aches, no pains, nothing. I felt rejuvenated.
Then I slowly looked around, making sure that no creatures lurked nearby. I climbed the second floor of the ruined house, only to see a whole wall missing, the roof holding on by a shred. Then I looked around, ruins lay everywhere, and each house was a death counter in my mind. Each house had four lives, a depressing thought, yet in my eyes it was necessary to think about the bad, to survive the outskirts, yet alone the old ones. There were reclaim attempts on the lands. Once, never again. Awakened were butchered, masters slaughtered, and even a few saints have died in these ruined lands. At least that's how the stories went; no one on the outskirts actually knew anything significant about history.
I surmised my situation in two simple words.
"I'm fucked." I wasn't dramatic, humorous, or sarcastic. In my eyes, it was a fact. An undeniable truth, which I truly believed in. There was no way I could go back; I would need to wait at least a few weeks until the gate crisis was taken care of. Which was assuming they would even try to do such a thing. Which meant only one thing, I had to stay around these parts, parts perhaps even more dangerous than the creature lurking near my home. Yet, going back was not an option, it was guaranteed death.
Here? Here I could perhaps salvage, hide, and sleep, sleep as much as possible. And so goals were set.
First would be to obtain any half-decent food, then sleep, then eat and sleep, and repeat. I would try to survive on scraps and sleep alone for a month at most. At that point, even if I survived, the creature should be dead.
A sigh left my lips, "If it won't be dead, I will be dead", a simple truth, uttered by a fourteen-year-old. A fourteen-year-old who didn't know his name, or reason to keep on living.
The teen who took his first step outside the ruined building and started to scavenge.
I let out a laugh in my mind at my inner monologue, a depressing yet fun way to cheer myself up. One that worked.
***
And so, I scavenged, slowly walking around the alleyways, listening for every growl, every step that wasn't mine, every breath. I would not be careless, did I have anything to live for? No, I would live just to spite the world.
Thanks for reading!