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The Transmigrator's Mistake

Julian, the charismatic hero who blessed us with his presence as his soul traversed from another world, ain't what he seems. We were close 'til he and his heroic posse threw me to the abyss, blamin' me for something I never did. I swore vengeance and made a pact with a Demon. Armed and burning for retribution, I navigate through blood and magic, shattered bonds, and survival in shadows darker than midnight. No hero, just a soul teetering on the edge. When the dust settles, who wins? Me or the abyss?

Hazy_0832 · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
15 Chs

The Soundless Person

A towering figure of just over 2 meters tall and 4 meters wide... Hairs all over and a black chitin-like material all over him. That thing didn't have venom. Unlike the leaping spiders, that thing didn't need venom to hunt efficiently.

'I feel like I am about to faint.'

'All nerves in my body are telling me to run. It isn't a feeling I am not familiar with... But this is strange. I don't remember the last time I felt this way. Even when battling the Apostles who were worlds stronger than this small-fry...'

'Battling the Apostles', how laughable. I'll say that after I skewered each and every one of them...'

'The fucker's started running. It doesn't feel like the spider is running at its full capacity, despite it being fast... Too fast for me to outrun it in my current state. That thing... It wants a chase. It wants the thrill of the hunt.

'Oh, that cunt's gonna get a thrill for himself, alright.'

The spider closed its distance to D1 who was half-foot in the grave... Oddly enough, though... He felt clearer. His eyes had gotten used to the darkness, even if only by a little. Just being able to see that spider and its environment gave D1 more confidence to make a move.

The spider was right before the rugged and beaten D1. It wasn't even going to use its white fangs or legs to swing at him. Nay, it was going to pummel him against the tree again. D1 waited patiently until it drew as near as possible. Just before it hit D1, with a determined gaze, he jumped to the left - the spider hit itself against the tree.

SPLASH!

D1 hit the water as he rolled to the side from the monster's attack, he was entirely soaked, but that roughly mattered - as he rose up from the mud while the spider was stunned.

'The sides of the spiders. A stalker or not, an F rank or an S rank... All spiders are completely vulnerable from the side. The rank merely dictates how difficult it is to land a hit... But if you land it right...!' D1 stabbed Broken Moon into the spider's leftmost part of its abdomen as he injected a bit of [FORCE] into his muscles.

The spider's blueish-dark blood gushed out of its abdomen as it screeched in pain and swiftly backed away with its remaining strength as it turned its front to D1. That thing backed away so quickly, D1 couldn't even see it move.

'NOT GOOD AT ALL. It alerts the nearby leaping spiders to come and assist it!' The Stalker Spider is not placed at a higher rank than a leaping spider because of its physical prowess. The two are the same in that matter.

But that thing can think. It can strategize and play with its food - alongside forcing leaping spiders to get along and do its bidding... Out of all C-rank monsters... This one definitely stood at the top in terms of intelligence and survivability.

This forest was their natural habitat. The leaping spiders that left a bit ago would be here in no time.

'I have to hurry. At the very least I have to kill this fucker.' He rushed towards the wounded spider as the noise of several branches snapping echoed in the forest alongside the giant trees rumbling. Either way, he was going to die in this place... At the very least, he'd take down this spider before his backup arrives.

'I refuse... To die like a fucking dog... A SECOND TIME... MOTHER FUCKER!!!' Through the mud. Through the water, through the insects and poisonous and foul environment - he ran. Ignoring the pain. At the very least, he would take down one scoundrel that made a fool out of him. JUST ONE. JUST ONCE BEFORE DYING.

He accepted his death, but he would die on his own terms... A winner...

The spider was hurting. It couldn't move. The chance to strike the killing blow was now! His broken blade was an arm's length away from the injured spider. D1 swung the sharp, and broken edge of his sword at the spider's eye.

D1: "DIEEEE!!!!!" He roared as drove the blade with all of his might at the spider.

But, after all, luck is indeed not on his side.

Boom.

A leaping spider tackled D1 with its body, sending him flying in the other direction - his body slammed against a tree... The forest might have been too dark for D1, despite adjusting to it slightly. It might have been too dense and too foul for him to notice the spiders nearby... It was too foul and too hazardous for him to avoid getting a fever and rashes and stings and bites and broken bones.

He was losing consciousness fairly quickly.

2 more leaping spiders showed up in addition to the one who tackled him, surrounding and defending the Stalker Spider.

In his final moments of lucidity as he was slowly closing his eyes, watching the scene of The Wounded Stalker Spider... He laughed. He inflicted a fairly deep wound to the spider's stomach after all.

'Hehe... Looks like... I'll see you, bastard... In hell-'

But D1 had a habit of raising his expectations a bit too high. And old habits die hard.

Before his eyes, another betrayal was unfolding. Another betrayal. Another blow to his ego and trust. This time... Coming from his Broken Moon itself.

'No... No... Noooo... You... You can't do that... Stop...'

He thought as he saw the leaping spider shooting webs at the wound D1 inflicted on the Stalker Spider, staunching the bleeding entirely.

Yes.

D1's blow only delayed the inevitable.

The inevitable that he would die in this forest... Without any heroic tales, or fearsome foes, to take with him to the next world, whatsoever... He closed his eyes, shedding a single tear as he gasped...

The fight was over in an instant. Glory? Justification? A Reason for existing or leaving a mark? Gone.

'Again...?' The final thought crossed his head.

And then...

Blackness.

Loss of senses and of time.

-----

The creak of old wood, the sounds of still wind, and the damp and still air within a cold, rotting environment. He was sitting on the table, looking down at the small cracks between the wood with his little brown eyes wide open as he played with the sawdust hidden in between the bigger cracks with his rough and small fingers. Every sound of the fireplace, every chirp of a rat roaming around the house alerted him and made him curl up into a ball and close his eyes as he sat on the table...

To that 6-year-old boy, it wasn't the darkness that frightened him, nor was it wraiths that could haunt his dreams. It wasn't fire, nor was it any demon from the stories he'd heard that lay beyond The Dark Forest...

To that boy, the most terrifying thing in the world of Aqualia was the sound of a metal lock awkwardly opening and disengaging, followed by the slow creak of a wooden door opening... And the soundless person, standing in the corner without moving a muscle as she looked down in shame and fright. His body would freeze. His mind would be racing and his heart was about to explode every single time he heard that noise...

Just like now.

The rough, heavy sound of leather hitting strongly against a weak wooden floor; it was footsteps. Just two, for now, stopping in place. The wooden door creaked once more, closing. The metal lock was placed on the door from the inside now. And the door was sealed...

The footsteps resumed. One step. Two steps. Three... Their sound amplified every time another step was taken in the boy's direction. The youth heard that rhythm enough so; he had memorized the number of steps he has to hear before stopping entirely... Setting the stage for another sound... Nay, a bitter melody of sound to play.

Twelve steps... Thirteen.

It had stopped there. Same as always. Same as ever... Thirteen steps from the door to the boy's position on the table as he tried his hardest to hide his shivering body, looking downward as blankly as he could, focusing on the individual pieces of sawdust on the wooden table. Latching onto his rags as hard as he could with his free hand.

SMASH.

The sound of an empty glass bottle echoed throughout that space as it clashed against the boy's head.

"What, in the Goddess' accursed name, did I tell you?! Have I not taught you anything other than how to waste my hard-earned money on your useless self?" The man of the footsteps screamed into the boy's ears as he fell off of his chair from the strike.

Tiny shards of glass pierced his forehead and scalp... He learned not to scream, nor did he weep. He just focused on the small droplets of blood dripping from his head... The steady sound of the fluid hitting the cold wooden floor gave him reason. Gave him a routine to concentrate on as the melody kept playing...

"This is my house, you should be cleaning and making sure everything is ready for me when I get back from work, not sitting at the table looking at nothing like a little BITCH!! MY SON, DARES TO ACT LIKE A LITTLE BITCH IN FRONT OF ME!!"

A burping noise... A sound of uneven footsteps. The person is almost in the climax of their melody.

"GOOD-FOR-NOTHING TRASH!" He kicked the child in the gut as hard as he could with his hard leather boot. He puked on the wooden-planked floor as he held his tiny stomach, trying to breathe as hard as he could after spilling his guts.

"I give you food, MY FOOD, MY CLOTHES, AND MY HOUSE, AND *BURP* THIS IS HOW YOU THANK ME FOR IT!? BY BEING THE BIGGEST WASTE OF SEED IN THE HOUSE!?" Another kick was sent flying at his face as he was gasping for air. He was flown backward and did a small flip on the floor from the force.

The man giggled as he burped while watching the child get tossed and flipped.

A stench of cheap liquor exuded from his mouth as the soundless person in the corner found their own unique noise as they sprinted to the child, shielding him partially using her hands as she raised his head, so he wouldn't choke on his blood or vomit.

"STOP IT, HONEY! HE KNOWS HE WAS WRONG!! HE SEEMED TIRED SO, I LET HIM-"

SMACK.

A backhand was clumsily sent flying at the woman's face as she cried while holding her agonized kid.

"SHUT... UP... YOU WHORE. I picked you off the streets *burp* and you dare give birth to pig shits? My shit is smellier than this... But my shit..." The man forcefully grabbed the woman's hand and pinned her against the floor as he lay on top of her; pushing the boy away with another kick as he was coughing, and breathing at last...

However little.

"My shit... never broke me a bottle... How in the shit... Are you planning to make it up to me..." The man uttered as he pinned her body against the ground... Nibbling and kissing her neck... Another melody began playing. A melody of a different nature, yet of the same one.

"Dear... L-let me first... Take him t-to his room *moan*" She uttered with a smile as she shed a tear; briefly glancing at the child, who learned to cough silently...

"Shut up.. Whore... Make it up to me first..." He uttered as he began undoing her dirty dress and skirt, almost ripping them off in the process... As he grunted... Adding more sounds to this melody.

The child, in time, also learned to look at the sawdust hidden in the cracks of the wooden-planked floor... Since the melody of his father couldn't be affected. Couldn't be turned off. No matter how hard they'd try...

So the young boy tried to move himself to his bedroom on his own, blood-stained lonesome...

"YOU."

The man uttered as he halted his crude actions on the woman and glared at the boy who froze in place.

"STAY HERE. AND WATCH. If you want to be a man... Hng!" He resumed, looking at the mother... Who tried to become soundless once more... To no avail.

"You gotta learn..!! How to make 'em scream like that...!!"

A moan... A groan... A moan... A groan...

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The boy didn't get up. He looked carefully as he listened to the melody the two parents created as he lay on his side on the wooden floor right next to them, placing his head back into the pool of blood he created, the pool of blood that kept expanding... He gradually felt more and more tired by the minute... Perhaps it was time... To finally nod off... This was a melody he was very much used to, after all...

He started closing his eyes as the man increased his focus at the task laid before him...

He was feeling...

... Really tired, after all...

???: "Get up..."

Everything stopped. The environment became darker... The pool of blood stopped its conquest of the wooden floor.

???: "Your time of dying isn't supposed to be here, my sweet Apostle..."

-----------

D1: "Mother...!" He whispered as he gasped awake...

He felt around himself...

'... Cobwebs?'