Himura Satō

With what little energy I have left, I stood up. I put my switchblade back in my pocket after cleaning it, took the spear blade and placed it in my belt, and I stole his staff as well.

Using the broken sword, I start to carefully take out the gem. Since it was made of wood, I chopped the branches which surrounded the gem and soon, I pulled it out. The gem looked mediocre but for some reason, aside from his hands, lightning was shooting out of it.

I try to focus and intent into it, imagining a javelin made out of lightning but unsurprisingly, no crackling sounds were heard and the gem did not glow. I tried again, this time speaking the words that he spoke in a low tone.

“Eigh-ecte-ini-inge…”I spoke crudely, of course, nothing happened. The man spoke it as if it was one word and to put it simply, their language is not very kind to my tongue. I gave up and placed the gem inside my bag instead.

I threw the sword to the pile of bones at my feet and headed into another tunnel away from the group as they were starting to approach me. I would rather not talk to any of them and if they were approaching to fight me, I was very underequipped.

As I approach the tunnel, I see an armored skeleton beside the entrance. Before looking at anything, I took his long sword. Pulling it out, I could feel its weight. It had the same design as the previous sword but it was slightly heavier and longer, about 90 centimeters in length. Unlike the previous however, the scabbard for this one had a clamping device which allowed it to attach my belt.

The clamping mechanism has a circular section that could spin seamlessly even with the scabbard. The circular section had a triangular-shaped hole which allowed for the scabbard to be placed in.

Putting the sword back in, I moved the sheath up and down and it moved smoothly. The compartment allowed me to draw the sword in various vertical angles however it made the horizontal movement very limited and due to that fact, I can only draw the sword vertically facing as any horizontally or diagonally facing draws was practically impossible.

I kneel back down and check on the armored skeleton. The chin was more smooth, meaning that this one was female. There is still some flesh attached to her cheek, a single maggot was wiggling around it.

Her armor bore an unfamiliar insignia, a barrel in the middle and two swords piercing through it diagonally. I tried to look further but I felt a finger touching my left shoulder. Turning my head, I see the knife-eared woman with a light smile, slightly kneeling.

I stand up, she says something I can not comprehend. “...” I stare at her blankly. “Welp, I can’t run away anymore, it's best to act natural. Now then, what is she speaking about? Her tone is light, it’s a bit too early for any banter so she must be thanking me or something.”

“Hmm…” I nod slightly, she seems satisfied with my response. The rest of the group approaches me. They all spoke to me and the way they spoke was similar to the knife-eared woman so I just nodded to all of it. The man with the axe however extended his hand to me, it was probably a handshake so I shook it.

Their gaze turned to the tunnel, I stood behind them as they approached it. The old man lights a torch revealing what was hidden in the darkness. A single wooden door at the end of the tunnel, looking at the wall, there were sconces. The man with the spear took the torch and lit each and every sconce as we approached the door.

The old man, after a few seconds of hesitation, opened the door. The exaggerated creak made me feel paranoid but as the light entered the room, it revealed a small bedroom of sorts.

Dilapidated bookshelves surrounded the walls yet the books in them showed no decay. They were in good condition and inspecting their covers showed a particular set of scribbles, they were not connected and had equal space in between. Chances are, each individual scribble holds some sort of value that when connected would give meaning. Since there were a lot of scribbles, I feel that it would be unlikely that each scribble would hold their own meaning.

I encountered a particular book as the rest of the group were rummaging around. The cover was filled with the same nonsense scribbles but it had what I can describe as a magical circle. There were two circles, one outer and inner and in between them were some sort of runes. Some more inside the inner circle and oddly, they seem to not resemble any pattern, it feels like everything in this magical circle has an actual meaning.

I put it inside my bag for later, maybe I could even use it to decipher their language. To make sure that happens, I needed a way to compare different writings so I can recognize some sort of pattern. I turned my eyes to the notebook on the nightstand beside the bed which weirdly was in the middle of the room.

I took it discreetly, the owner was probably him. And just for the sake of it, I took another random book without them seeing. I did this because I did not know how they would react to me casually taking these books.

On a table near the bed, there was a hammer, dusty and bloody. The head was rectangular shaped, wedged in a well-designed handle. The side of the head was another one of those magical circles though this one was more complex. Looking deeper, each line was precise which was impressive considering how small the entire thing was.

I stood next to the door since nothing was of my interest anymore, fiddling with my long sword as the old man slowly becomes irritated about something.

After a minute, I let go of my sword and let it drop to its scabbard. Looking back up, I see that every single bookshelf was destroyed after they pushed it aside. Each of them was looking at the wall for a reason. I doubt that this was all there in here and so I also approached a wall.

I grab the hammer, I strike the wall lightly which gives a thunking sound moving to the right, I keep doing it and as I approach the knife-ear woman who was putting her ear on the wall, I hit a particular spot in the wall which gives more of a lighter thunking sound.

I look at her and she moves away, giving me the honor. I wind up and hit the wall, the hammer’s magical circle glows a black color before the impact and the wall crumbles exaggeratedly revealing a set of stairs going down.

I put the hammer back in my bag as they approached the stairs. They try to discuss something but the old man hurries in a somewhat irritated tone. I follow behind them, lightly massaging my right forearm with my left.

Dark, damp, and rot is detected by each of my senses. Evil was done in this place, the severity of it? That I do not know. But it seems I would be forced to find out as with a simple push of the door, the horror of what that man…that thing has done was seen.

I stayed expressionless while the rest looked at the scene, shocked. Even with a lack of expression, the matter of the fact is that each of my senses was assaulted. A purpose to kill that man awakens but I already did kill him but I did so for my own selfish reason.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Hooked bodies laid in suspense in the air, their skins peeled perfectly and thrown aside. I approach a barrel on the side of this large room, am I that masochistic that I would make this situation worse?

“Probably.” I conclude, opening the barrel, the knife-eared woman looked on in absolute horror. The barrel was filled with exactly one body which was then infested with an ungodly amount of maggots, perfectly taking the flesh off the bones.

It was perfect, a system that utilizes the gluttony of maggots yet the only thing that remains a mystery is how he can perfectly peel off the skin.

I shake my head, in this morbid scene, I choose to be impressed instead of being shocked or angry. “How cruel can you get?” I ask, reprimanding myself but in the end, I know that this means nothing. I only did this to pretend that I made myself feel better.

The old man searches among the hanging bodies. The lady with the staff vomits in the corner, supported by the man with the axe. The knife-eared woman held back a vomit while the man with the spear guarded the entrance with a grim expression.

Back to the old man, he seems to be looking for a specific body but looking at the bodies, without their skin, they practically looked the same. At the corner, I could see stingers, wings, and more. Connecting the strings, I know that these were probably mutated parts of these people.

The old man looks on in despair, despite my earlier observation, it seems I was wrong. He looks on at a specific body deep into the room.

The despair made his knees weak and he dropped to the floor. Approaching him, I looked at the body he was so devastated at. He was muscular, it was obvious that he did a lot of physical work, looking like an old man, even at his age, he was also muscular.

Brothers perhaps or maybe a coworker. But no man would despair to this degree if he was just a mere coworker so he has to be someone close. Relatives…family…or maybe lovers. I could probably make an accurate guess if I can actually understand what he was murmuring.

He looks down, holding himself back to scream but his eyes, which as they say is the door to the soul, convey his true feelings as his tears clash with the dirty floor.

Those clear tears, corrupted by the sins that have happened. The mood is sad, that was a fact yet I feel nothing for him. Why would I? It is not like I can understand him anyway.

He tried to stay tough, looking down to hide his tears but he was severely failing at it. How annoying, my lack of understanding of their language was proving to be more problematic than I thought but even so I need to convey my condolences.

I patted his shoulder and gave him space. As I do so I wondered whether I was doing this to fulfill my selfish objective or to simply be supportive.

“What a stupid question.” I know for a fact that I am not supportive of him, my previous thoughts already proves that. A minute or two passes, and he says something to the lady with the staff.

In response, she nods, tearing the hooks off of the ceiling and placing the body to the middle of the room, she then crushes to the barrel, spreading the wood, maggots, and bone around.

The knife-eared woman, with slight disgust approaches the mountain of mass. She poured something into the mass but she also took an arrow and dipped it in the same liquid.

It was a flammable oil, as when she put the arrow into the torch, it was lit on fire. We leave the room quickly, wanting not to get caught by the smoke and cooking flesh.

Nothing more was said, we left and started heading for the city, the same city that I was before. Before we saw the wall, I silently split it up with them though I caught the gaze of the knife-eared woman as I left.

Through the hole and finally back to the city, I body relaxed, ignoring the gazes of the slum’s residents, I found a secluded corner and silently, I threw up a bit. How disgusting, that horrifying scene now trapped into the crevices of my mind, I start to wonder if I would be able to sleep at all.

This place, to put it simply, is crude, disgusting, and now, savage. Ignoring the wonders that they can do, I see them as people who clearly need to take regular showers. Seriously, if some lady could make some stuff float mysteriously, why has nobody thought of making water extremely accessible? It was even more off-putting when it came from those ladies, they were beautiful, sure but their stench is nearly indistinguishable with the guys.

I clear my head, now is not the time to think, my scheme has not bore fruit yet. I stood up and ran towards the gate. Gasping heavily, I walk calmly as I approach the opening gates and meet the same group, the knife-eared woman in particular seems to be leering at the guard.

Thank goodness that I actually know social cues and whatnot because if not they would have immediately known that I cannot understand them. The man with the spear raises a hand slightly, greeting me and the other’s gazes fall on me.

I followed them listening to the tone of their gibberish. The knife-eared woman often speaks in a joking tone, some mocking, and some ironic. The lady with the staff seems to be the calmer one, often speaking in an exasperated tone at every squabble that the knife-eared woman and the man with the axe has.

Speaking of, he speaks confidently and strong, standing up for every statement he has even if those statements were responded with laughter. The man with the spear did not like me so we stayed at the back, silently listening.

The old man led the group and assuming that the gate they went through was at the north, we would now be in the south-east part of the walled city. A sizable rocky building was in front of me, the old man entered the house and lit the torches at the corners before compelling us to go in.

On the right side were racks on racks of the same weapon, the same sword that I have. Although varying lengths, the design was the same and at the wall of the same side were glass displays where there were weapons of a more intricate design.

On the left side was a giant grindstone. Analyzing it tells me that a mechanism near the floor could be pushed with your foot which would then spin the stone, allowing you to grind your weapons. At the far corner was the forge, messy and unclean, it was marked with years of usage of it.

As the old man went inside the backroom, the rest of the groups looked at the weapons displayed while I approached the grindstone. I spun the wheel and the water at the bottom made the stone wet. Sitting on the chair, I look beside me to see the leather for wiping your weapons.

I stopped the wheel and pulled out my switchblade and started grinding. I took my time, it was precise and well-practiced. The group gazes on my switchblade. The handle had an ornate design but I did not think that it was worthy of attention.

Ignoring the weird gazes, I wipe it with the leather before moving on with my long blade. This time, I let the wheel spin and using my experience of sharpening my switchblade, I grind away, removing all of the chipping.

As I do so, a thought occurs, “That sign–” I glance at the sign– “The hammer has the exact same symbol even down to the small precise writings inside those circles.” As I conclude, another scheme comes to mind.

The backdoor opens as I finish grinding and an old man puts a tray full of coins and multiple pouches on the table near the door. The group approaches and I follow them. There were coins of brown, silver, and gold but there were also coins in between, such as brown coins with a silver trim and silver coins with gold trim.

The old man put the same amount in every pouch and gave them to the group leaving me with nothing. The old man, seemingly somber, speaks in gibberish and with little coin left, he grabs all of it and placed them inside a smaller pouch and handed it to me.

He continues his gibberish by pointing at the racks of weapons. The group looks at me expectantly. I have no clue what they want me to do so I begin speculating quickly. His tone can’t be trusted but it has something to do with weapons. Since I did gain the same amount of coins and the fact that I made it look like they would not have survived without me earlier, it would be safe to assume that he wants me to pick an additional reward.

Rejecting the additional reward is not an option that I would pick so I approached the rack but I stopped and pondered. There was a bit of guilt so instead of picking up more weapons, I approached the shelves, opposite of the grindstone.

The old man seems to be selling some miscellaneous stuff as well such as bandages, leather strips, and a bit of armor. I take some bandages and leather strips then I try to back away but the old man speaks in an insisting tone. It does not take much time to know what he was trying to tell me.

I began pondering even more, looking back and forth at the racks and shelves. I stop thinking about the weapons, there is no point of getting another at this time and as my gaze begins to move I glance at the knife-eared woman. No protection on her torso and hips yet her entire legs and arms were.

I look at gauntlets on the shelf. “I would be slow and easily tired with this long blade and combine it with the weight of the gauntlets…well let us just say that even a 12 year old me would win against me with these conditions.

I say that yet I took it, wrapping it with my arm. This would serve as training equipment as well as armor. I breathe out. “Hey,” I say to the old man, obviously he could not have understood what I said but he turns to me after hearing me speak. By the time he looks at me, I toss the hammer towards him and with surprised expression, he catches it and at the same time, with my other arm, I take the shin guards,

He holds the hammer, staring at the exquisite engraving, his fingers run through the crevices and as another second passes, an overwhelming feeling overcomes him, it seems as his shoulders start to shake. “ᎷᎩ ᏰᏒᎧᏖᏂᏋᏒ!”

I turn to the door, lifting my leg to turn the handle. There is a feeling of unbearable emotion of guilt mixed with something else. The knife-eared woman stares at me and smiles as I leave. “Don’t look at me so kindly, it's unbearable”. The group approaches the old man by the time I kick the door to close it.

I sigh and look at the streets, different creatures walking around, barely anyone that even resembles a human. Almost all of them had glowing eyes, looking at the buildings, the ones open before were closed and the ones that were close were now open. I look up into the bright moon. The night is not young for this city does not rest.