Creak…creak…

‘Alright, breathe in, breathe out. That could have gone much worse…’ Glenn thought as he hung dangerously above the ground, his body swaying left to right as his hand struggled to keep a hold of the branch he had managed to grab at the last second.

‘That was close…’ He grunted and balanced himself to grab the branch with his other hand, stabilizing himself. He heaved as silently as he could as he extended his right foot toward a nearby branch. He sighed in relief, having succeeded in making himself steady once again.

Glenn wiped the sweat off his forehead.

‘I have no idea of how I managed to pull that off. Survival instincts, perhaps?’

He glanced at the ground a few meters down, failing to see anything that could have captured a huge ass wolf; but then, it could be just lingering in the darkness, waiting for his prey to drop down so it could hunt him.

Creak…

‘...That’s quite the predicament, isn’t it?’ Glenn thought sarcastically, before gritting his teeth and dropping down. He would’ve landed graciously if it wasn’t for a nasty, slippery rock that happened to find its way under his right foot. He grumbled as he pushed himself up, freezing when his hand touched something strange. Something stiff, and yet soft, like a pelt…

Glenn slowly turned his head, paling as he discovered the remains of the wolf’s ear, bleeding slightly. The gnawed end made him recall the important fact that, no, he wasn’t safe right now. He pulled his hand away from the wolf's ear and stood up. He turned in the mountain’s direction, his clothes sticking to his skin with either blood or sweat, it was more or the same at that point.

Glenn took a first step, stealthily, his heartbeat accelerating with each passing second. The more steps he took, the faster he was taking them, and soon enough, he was running away from the scene.

His sword bounced in his back, forcing him to try and tighten the belt.

Thump!

Suddenly, he heard a dull noise of something falling, alongside broken branches and ruffled leaves.

As if something big had landed nearby.

Glenn gulped and hurriedly turned away, running in the mountain’s direction. Beads of sweat pearled down his forehead, but the he couldn’t care less about them at this moment. With a bit of luck, the…thing coming after him was territorial and would give up once he arrived at the mountain. Hopefully. Glenn could hardly see himself fighting a damn wolf, so something that captured a wolf like it was nothing?

He wasn’t going to die right after being isekaied, right?

‘Shit, shit, shit…!’ Glenn cursed repeatedly as he jumped above roots and ducked under branches. The tall, dark oak trees seemed to lean over him, covering him in darkness. The crimson moonlight bathed the forest into a bloody veil, in a manner that was both ominous and beautiful.

The thick vegetation oppressed him, as if nature itself was trying to stop him in his escape; trying to trap him to get him ready for whatever horrible predator was coming after him, working hand in hand with the monster.

Because Glenn did not doubt that the thing hunting him wasn’t some damned wolf. No, monsters existed in this world, corpse-eating ones at that. No way that shit behind him wasn’t some monstrous stuff too.

Glenn huffed and puffed, struggling to breathe. His poor stamina wasn’t doing him any favors, but still kept on running, for stopping would mean dying. Probably. He’d rather not risk it.

“Where’s the…huff…damn…mountain?” Glenn muttered desperately as he threw a terrified look behind him. It was getting closer; the distance between him and the mountain didn’t seem to have decreased. He knew he was running in the right direction, but how long would he have to run?

He hid behind a tree and took a deep, ragged inspiration. He leaned on his knees, catching his breath, when he realized the ground had changed slightly. It was previously muddy or dry dirt, with leaves and bushes, but now, it was getting much more rocky, with green moss growing in cracks and rifts.

Glenn’s eyes lit up; he was getting closer to the mountain. Only a small percentage of the ground was rocky, though, which meant he wasn’t there yet. But he was getting closer. That realization pumped hope and adrenaline into his heart, and he darted forward, ignoring his burning lungs.

Breathing was overrated anyway; he’ll just do that later.

He dove into a bush, gritting his teeth as the thorns and the branches scratched his face and ripped his clothes, but he kept on going. A snake-like hissing sound echoed in the forest behind him, making him accelerate to heights he never knew was possible.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck—’ Glenn’s desperate thoughts were interrupted when, thanks to his hurry and the forest’s overall darkness, he failed to notice a massive root protruding out of the ground on his way. His right foot was caught in the root, and Glenn flew head-first toward the ground, rolling down for a few meters. He was about to get mad and curse the evil root’s whole lineage when his eyes caught a red flash shooting right where he previously was. His body bounced off a few stumps and trees like a pinball before finally stopping. He grunted painfully and pushed himself up with difficulty.

'Holy shit. Holy root, thank you! I swear I'll build you a shrine to your, uh, name...' Glenn quickly thanked his savior, his eyes widening as the red lightning flashed again, landing at his feet this time. It was planted in the stone and had missed Glenn's ankle by a few centimeters.

Glenn paled and jumped back, struggling to pull his sword out of his sheath.

‘Fuck, who had the good idea of inventing back sheathes!’ He cursed, watching what looked like a red, rotten tongue dart back the way it came from. It smelled of carrion and putrid meat, but Glenn had a doubt whether the “tongue” could smell so bad, or if it wasn’t just his imagination playing tricks on him.

He finally managed to get his sword out of its sheath and held it firmly in front of him. He couldn’t flee anymore, that much was clear. So he had to fight whatever that was. But how could he? It was the first time that he ever held a sword in his hands!

The sound of something rumbling through the trees and coming near intensified. Glenn gulped, holding his sword as straight as he could. The weapon’s steel was barely gleaming, still tainted by the corpse-eating monster's blood. Red moonlight pierced through the canopy and landed upon him, making him feel as if he was watched by the two moons in the sky.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

He could approximate where the thing was coming from thanks to the numerous branches it was breaking on the way. Whatever it was, it was huge, and both the trees and the bushes trembled with its approach. Glenn squinted, failing to see anything in the darkness. He faced what he hoped was the right direction, he did his best not to faint, his wobbly legs threatening to collapse at any moment.

Glenn’s throat was dry, and he was a hair away from gagging and puking in fear. Luckily for him, his bladder was empty, saving him the embarrassment of dying soiled with his own piss.

‘It’s kill or die Glenn,’ he thought as he drew a deep breath, forcing his sword to stop shaking, ‘...I already managed to kill that ghoul-thing back then, another larger one is no problem!’

He tried to cheer himself up, but his hands only shook harder and his face paled even more, white like chalk. A tree collapsed to the side and the bushes opened up, revealing the monster hunting him.

It wore a black, unusually large clergyman’s robe, hunched over as it got closer to Glenn. The creature was the size of a small car, and each step it took was heavy and made the surroundings shake. Glenn, despite his fear, tried to peek under the robe but failed to notice any recognizable body parts or head, or anything even remotely similar to a face. Only shifting, thick darkness that fueled his fear as it walked with agonizingly slow movements.

Its robe trembled, something squirming under the cover of the dark fabric, like a massive worm running around the creature’s body. The scarlet moonlight shone brightly for a second, letting Glenn see a black, oozing tentacle stealthily pulled back under the robe. He felt his heart stop as it began talking, muttering something in a raspy, inhuman voice. The closer he got to Glenn, the louder it spoke. At first, Glenn couldn’t recognize the language, but the more he listened to it, the more he could understand, deciphering bits and pieces.

It wasn’t English, nor any language from Earth that he had ever heard of. He never listened to something like that, and yet, strangely, he could still understand it. The foreign words were automatically translated into his mind in a mysterious, magical process. Glenn wasn’t going to complain; it sure was convenient after all.

"Ilif im... My son… I... Ettimrep em... Let me… Let me..! Ni enimon suie... In His name..." The creature hissed, a black, dry, and scrawny arm extending out of the dark clergy robe. Glenn took a step back, his eyes wide open and his lips sealed in fear. He gulped with difficulty and strengthened his grip on the hilt, his knuckles whitening from how tight he was clenching.

Glenn wanted to do something, anything, but couldn’t, frozen in fear. Be it fleeing, attacking, or even screaming, he couldn’t, petrified.

As the creature kept on approaching and continued to spit more nonsense, Glenn realized he would have actually preferred not to understand its language.

Because now, it was clear that this disgusting creature was once human, or something close to that.

This thing was human once.

Tense, Glenn could only wait, unable to move a muscle. Each breath he took was laborious, and his eyes were watering because he couldn’t blink. His heart was beating loudly in his ears, each step echoing loudly alongside the raspy, ragged breathing. The forest, the twin moons, and all of his surroundings disappeared, letting him see only a single thing; the monster’s slow advance.

Even thinking was a struggle. Each meter the creature gained on Glenn made him feel like Death’s embrace was closing up, coming to reap its due, unstoppable. His grim adventure in this hellish world had barely begun, and he was already going to die a horrible death. His eyes were glued to the creature, and he finally managed to gaze upon what was hidden under the black robe. Something that, for the well-being of any sane humans, should have remained hidden.

The shifting “darkness” he had noticed earlier was a mass of black tentacles, each moving with their own volitions. Short and long feelers moved lazily, oozing with a black-purple substance dripping down under the creature. Barely hidden under the tentacles was a dark, purple deformed skin riddled with scars and holes, revealing bones and rotten flesh.

As if it had noticed Glenn’s horrified gaze, the creature suddenly stopped and stood up on two skeletal legs covered in nests of thousand worms eating their way around what little flesh remained of the limbs.

The creature opened three arms widely, as if to hug him, each covered by even more of that disgusting, strange dark substance, and each arm bore two hands, all with more than six fingers. The creature’s belly, if it could be named as such, had a massive mouth gaping there in a most illogical placement, tentacles and feelers acting as the beard for said mouth. It salivated at Glenn’s sight, the dark, thick liquid dripping and gleaming under the crimson’s moonlight.

"My son… Maediv et suiporp…Let me see… See you closer…Oge, retap… I, Father Albenas… I, I must… " The creature spoke, raising his arms toward the sky. Father Albenas, by its name, continued its slow yet pressuring advance. The two fragile legs moved as he kept on muttering unintelligible words. For each of the creature’s steps, Glenn took two steps back. Suddenly, in his retreat, his back touched something. A thick, dark oak tree was blocking his way out, towering over him.

There was no escape.

Father Albenas suddenly stopped and fell back on all four, blowing the dust and leaves away into a small cloud. The creature waited silently for a few seconds, unmoving and unbreathing, the silence suffocating Glenn.

Finally, it spoke with a raspy, but surprisingly clear voice:

"I… shall give thou, my son, His blessing! Come, so that thou… can be freed too!"

As soon as Father Albenas was done talking, his red, rotten tongue flashed out from under his belly and wrapped itself around Glenn’s waist. Glenn screamed, cursing every god and name he knew for he couldn’t move nor fight back. The air in his lungs was violently expelled as the tongue tightly clenched around his chest. His hands and arms were stuck in the same position he had been in since earlier, his sword in front of him stuck in both of his hands, pointed at the creature. Glenn knew he had to do something, but it was too late. Father Albenas’ tongue was restricting him entirely, stopping him from moving with incredible strength.

When Glenn felt his body getting pulled over, he knew it was game over for him. In an instant, he flew in Father Albenas black arms—tentacles. A mixed smell of sulfur and blood assaulted his nose, making him retch as his heart thumped in his ears.

Instinctively, in the face of Death, Glenn closed his eyes tightly, refusing to see it coming. He awaited the painful, horrible death that was sure to come.

…

…

One second…

Two seconds…

…?

Nothing happened. Nothing painful, anyway. Glenn hesitantly opened an eye, then another. He was still tightly restrained by the monster’s red tongue, but the creature’s ragged breathing had gone silent. It didn’t feel like it was moving either. Glenn squinted through the thick mixture covering his eyes, flinching when saw the gigantic mouth filled with sharp, shark-rotten teeth, a one-meter-wide gap that could probably swallow anything. Glenn tensed up, expecting the mouth to close down on him, but that didn’t happen.

Glenn was covered in tentacles dripping with saliva, alongside the remains of the creature’s previous meals; meat, fur, skin, and bones were all stuck in the gigantic jaw, probably what was left of the wolf and other victims. Still terrified, Glenn nudged the creature by moving his waist, unable to comprehend why he was still alive, and not an already digested snack. Glenn wiped his eyes on his shoulder, gaining back more of his sight, to discover that both of his hands were still tightly wrapped around his sword’s hilt. The weapon’s blade was stabbing deeply into the creature’s disgusting belly, purple, sticky blood gushing out of the wound.

Glenn blinked, unable to contain nervous laughter as he realized what just happened. The young man, when pulled into Father Albenas’ embrace, was armed with the momentum that allowed an easy penetration into the monster’s skin.

And since Glenn was holding his sword so firmly, it remained motionless and stabbed the monster, right at a vital point.

Ironically, Father Albenas kind of killed himself.