Discord in Exodus (3)
[3RD PERSON] Action music recommended
Vane kicked open the rotting wooden doors, sending them crumbling.
As they rushed inside, splashes of black liquid marked them, and occasional webs caught them amid the clutter of wood and stones.
Exhausted, their pace slowed. The potion's effects faded, shifting Vane from an amateur novice to peak mortal stage.
His muscles, strained by unnatural strength, left him more vulnerable than before.
Right now, his body was flooded with adrenaline and endorphins, providing sustenance to his tearing body.
"HOW DO WE ESCAPE NOW!?" Vargos shouted, incurring wind resistance as they ran beyond the speed of a top athlete back in Vane's world.
Vane had no answer, however, his plan revolved around escaping through the abandoned bases, left alone due to age or destruction.
A team of soldiers had navigated the tunnels under his command, finding one such base he could escape through after examining it with magic.
Alas, their crude magic, which detected only movement and mana, did not pick up the ghoul spawn which couldn't use mana.
The final nail in the coffin was the selfish bunch, who dared to disturb the lair, awakening the hibernating monsters within;
Now, they faced a grim fate; turned into mincemeat or ghoul spawn, their strength enhanced but their intellect diminished.
As an avid reader of 'The Reincarnated Hero,' Vane knew this fact, and he also knew the peril that awaited him.
The ghoul spawn were monsters that the novel's protagonist would encounter later in the story, a formidable foe that would require at least an adept to face.
He knew that, and despite knowing that, what could he do? All he could do was run, and that's precisely what he did.
- - - - -
There was once a base that stood within the forest, a proud resource of the attack corps, serving to collect mana cores from the monsters.
Their service lasted for many decades until a fateful encounter led them to face ghouls, who had infected many, causing them to hastily quarantine the fort.
They managed to kill the ghouls after losing battalions, but the infected ones overwhelmed them, and they decided to shut off the base altogether.
Due to its stigma, it caused many to avoid it, wearing out the reinforcements by age, but it was fine as it never posed a threat—until now.
The soldiers in front of the barricaded door retreated at the sight of the bloody hands sticking out from the door slit.
A decision that would settle as their greatest folly, as the demonic army forced themselves through the makeshift reinforcements.
"Ah, we are fucked," the leader of the sentinels muttered, despair evident in his face, as he paused.
As a man who had witnessed the terrors of ghoul spawn in one of his missions he recognised the peculiar black fluid.
It was none other than the blood of the infected—the ghoul spawn, or as Vane would know it; zombies.
He stood there, holding his sword to his neck—he knew there was no fighting them, but he wanted to die with honour at least.
The rest of them, unwitting spectators to this spectacle, fled, unknowing of the horrors that would unfold.
GRAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH
GURAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH
CRACK CRACK
CRACK CRUMBLE
The rusted metal dug into the monsters' bodies, as the reinforcements soon gave out, and the mushed mob in front was trampled upon by the ones behind.
One could see flesh littering the ground, while the creatures had mounds of muscles torn off, showing arteries and bones, splurging blackish-red blood.
Their pupils were dilated, with a distinct reddish-black sclera from the torn blood vessels, and blood flowing from their noses.
The blood accumulated in their mouth, mixing with saliva and splurting it as they tore open their mouths wide-open to scream.
SLICE
The sentinel leader chopped off his head, his expression; lifeless, and he died valiantly as he wished.
Yet, his death ended in the mouths of the zombies, chewing away at his body down to the viscera, regardless of the filth.
It was merely a momentary distraction, as their dirty mouths aimed for their next prey—the retreating soldiers.
"W-WHAT ARE THOSE?"
"THEY'RE COMING HERE!"
"RUN FASTER YOU IDIOT!"
"N—UGHK!"
"WHY AR—GUH!"
"PLEASE STOP, I BEG YOU!"
"FUCK OFF!" The 'mighty' guard corps abandoned pride, using the 'trash' as bait to escape.
Fleeing for their lives, fear outweighed pride in their desperate retreat.
THUD THUD THUD THUD
"MOM I'M SOR—KUAAARGHHH!"
"HAHA, THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS IF Y—GURGH KUAAAGH!"
The escapees were eaten alive, the zombies chewing their flesh, but their lives weren't in vain, however, buying time for the sentinels;
"CONTACT THE FORTS, GET REINFORCEMENTS!" they strategised.
"OKAY, YOU GO THAT WAY AND I'LL GO THIS WAY," they split up, consequently splitting the zombies behind them.
The group of 8 entered the worn doors, zombies on their tails, and in one certain passage, the resounding screams reached Vane.
- - - - -
GRAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH
THUD THUD THUD THUD
Vane shuddered at the screams, yet he held on, as did Vargos, a man in the peak-mortal stage.
"TELL SOMETHIN' MARCO! AND DON'CHA DARE SAY WAIT AGAIN," Vargos demanded, his gruff voice held immense irritation.
Vane narrowed his eyes, he did not have a plausible solution and nor could he ask Vargos to wait anymore.
The approaching zombies and creeping exhaustion clouded his thoughts and drowned him in indecision, but he had to reply.
"FIND A PLACE TO HIDE FOR NOW!" Vane told, and Vargos clicked his tongue, irritated at the ambiguous odds.
Vane couldn't help it, he was afraid, and he did not know what to do—he wanted to scream, ask someone to help him, but none could.
To add to the problems, the door led to a passage that was similarly out of commission, and light was unavailable.
He could navigate using the compass, but the darkness had eluded it, and they did not have torches to illuminate it either.
"RUN FASTER YOU FUCKER!"
"STOP PUSHI—KUARGH!"
"NO—NOOO—URGHAAAA!" the sentinels were too weak, as the enhanced strength of the zombies allowed them to catch up.
"MARCO!" Vargos screamed again—the footsteps were growing louder, and every time they stumbled, the zombies gained land over them.
Vane's mind screamed to say, 'I DON'T KNOW,' but he couldn't, or rather, he shouldn't. He couldn't do this without Vargos.
"VARGOS, I NEED YOU TO DO SOMETHING," Vane asked, It had been on his mind for a while now—he couldn't escape like this, he needed help.
"WHAT IS IT?" Vargos' desperation seeped through his voice, as he asked Vane, clinging onto any hope.
"CUT OFF MY LEFT WRIST," Vane screamed, his voice hasty, as if to let it out before he lost his resolve.
"WHAT!?" Vargos, baffled, asked with furrowed brows—he didn't think Marco would say such a stupid thing right now.
Vane halted, and so did Vargos; who looked at Marco with a scowl, on the verge of hitting him to bring him back to his senses.
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YA SAYIN' RIGHT NOW!? ARE YA OUTTA YER GODDA—!"
"DO IT!" Vane asked screaming through a heavy lump in his throat, holding out his left wrist.
Vargos furrowed his brows deeper, he couldn't see the bracelet, let alone understand why Marco had asked him this and nor did Vane want to explain.
"KID, WE'RE GONNA DIE, AND YA DO THIS!?" Vargos reprimanded, irritated at Marco's 'silly' proposition.
GRAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH
THUD THUD THUD THUD
The zombies were nearing, and both Vargos and Vane instinctively knew from the screams—they couldn't fight them.
"VARGOS, DO YOU WANT TO SURVIVE?"
"HELL YEA', THAT'S WHY I FOLLOWED YA KID!"
"DO YOU HEAR THOSE SOUNDS?"
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YA ASKI—!?"
"THEN SLICE IT OFF!"
"WHY!?"
"I KNOW SOMETHING THAT WILL HELP US!"
"WHAT I—!?"
"I SAID DO IT!"
"ARGHH! FUCK IT—I'LL DO IT," Vargos surrendered, but found it had to slice off Marco's wrist.
He still had his morals, a man who was devoted to being a good person.
"DO IT!"
"COUNT TIL'—!"
"GO!"
"AGH—DAMN IT!" Vargos had narrowed his eyes and slashed his trembling sword at Vane's wrist above his bracelet.
SLICE SPLURT SPLURT
"GAAAAAHHHHHHHH! FUCK, FUCK URGHAA!" Vane screamed in agony, his torn arteries splurted warm blood onto Vargos, causing him to flinch.
"HEY YOU ALRIGHT KID!?"
"ARGHHAAAAA—HAA—HAA—HAA—URGH!"
"SIT DOWN, SIT DOWN," Vargos suggested hastily, his heart had pounded at the realisation of what he had done. Tearing a piece of cloth from Vane's trousers, he patched up Vane's stub, eliciting screams as he tightened the cloth.
"JUST REST FOR A WHILE!" Vargos said, with haste in his voice, he stood by Vane's side.
Vane felt a surging cold, feeling dizzy, unable to even stand, he fell on the ground, and the black fluid splurged onto his body and his stub as he sat.
"HAA—HAA—HAA," he was breathing through his mouth, his airway felt dry, his vision blackened, and his body went limp as he was losing blood continuously.
In the dark tunnel, the putrid stench of dark blood wafted into Vane's nose, the resounding thuds of zombies resonated with his core.
Every second, every moment, he wanted to give up. It was too painful, and his heart beat faster to compensate for the loss of blood flow, wasting even more blood.
His face grew paler, his brain lost the resources required to think, losing all feeling in his body, succumbing to weakness.
It was agonising, and he felt his body losing everything he built. Tears flooded from his eyes at the unbearable pain.
"MARCO, YOU ALRIGHT KID?" Vargos had watched him, hoping Marco would perform a miracle and heal, but seeing how he was, he gave up on any hope.
"MARCO, C'MON!" he screamed, yet, he received no reply and watched as Marco's sobs grew weaker, panging his heart at the realisation of what he had done.
"HOLD ON KID!" Vargos told, turning backwards and holding Vane under his arms, rising simultaneously, carrying Vane's limp body on his back.
Vargos trudged heavily through exhaustion, fresh blood from Vane's stub continuously splattering onto him through the cloth.
"It's alright, kid. Don't worry," he pacified gently and held Vane tightly.
He felt sorrow for the young man who had met his end without leading a happy life, writhing in such agony in this filthy place.
Seconds trickled by and the footsteps grew louder and louder, while the screams shook them to the core.
Vargos' chin quivered, and tears formed—he had lived on for too long in this hell, he wanted to rest, that's why he followed Marco.
He wanted to find solace, something this world had denied him, and when the opportunity arose, he took it, uncaring if he died.
GRAAAAAAHHHHHHH
However, despite his resolve, his efforts merely ended in his impending demise, making a mockery out of him.
"I'm sorry I couldn't come, Ma," Vargos muttered, scoffing at his pathetic attempt to escape, and sobbed silently, reminiscing his life.
However, Vane had found relief amidst the torment, his body warmed in a last-ditch effort as he heard a familiar voice call out.