He watched in disbelief, the expression carved into his face, as flesh was torn apart and blood spilled. His body was nothing more than scraps of meat barely held together, like a destroyed puppet. Blood dripped from his form like the sand from an old, cracked hourglass.
He felt his head being pounded with every moment, the sound echoing in his ears. He could see his chest rise and fall with each breath… until it no longer moved. There was only silence and stillness; for an instant, everything lost its meaning.
He didn't know why, but even in that state, all he could do was stare at the blood that was once his—now spilled like something worthless. Something as valuable as life itself, trampled as if it meant nothing at all.
Emotions—rage, despair, helplessness—swirled within him with a force no one should be able to withstand.
But that didn't matter much. Death had already sunk its claws into him, and everything faded into the darkness of the dream's veil.
…
The cold, indifferent breeze of a new place flooded his senses. The cold—unlike that of death—was oddly comforting after so long. Though it was still unlike anything one would feel in the human world, it was icy, as if trying to slowly strip away everything you are. But everything has an end.
The eyes that were once closed slowly opened, revealing a gaze more akin to something ancient than anything one would expect from a human.
Two bottomless abysses swirled with impossible shapes, absorbing all light unfortunate enough to touch them. If you weren't afraid to stare into the abyss, you would see… beings struggling for their lives within. All of them stopped their power struggles for a moment as those beyond the veil became aware of his existence.
He touched his body—the same body that had once been nothing more than a mass of bleeding cuts. His form, once shattered, was now simply... whole.
It all felt like a nightmare he had just awakened from… but something deep in his mind whispered otherwise. That all those wounds had been real, once—but no longer.
…
Before he could even process the implications of his situation, something in the shadows set its gaze upon him for a brief moment, assessing how dangerous he was. Then it decided he'd be its next meal on the menu.
The beast advanced slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible—but the sound of bones cracking was all the bipedal creature needed for his gaze to meet its own. Two red orbs stared back at him.
It lunged, realizing the element of surprise was gone. In one leap, it was already in front of the bipedal being, its claws aiming to slash his throat—but this prey wasn't as defenseless as it seemed. He reacted quickly enough to dodge the attack.
The red-eyed creature shielded itself with one of its upper limbs, while the bipedal figure tried to counter by slashing low. The beast extended a clawed leg like a whip, delivering a strike that cut the red-eyed creature. A few drops of blood fell swiftly from it, but as it retracted its leg for another strike, the bipedal one grabbed it before it could move.
He was yanked forcefully, and he felt something crush his mind. The last thing he saw was blood dripping down black metal.
…
He touched the wound. It wasn't deep. Just a cut. He placed his hand over it to stop the bleeding. Then looked at the monster—or whatever that thing had been.
It looked like a mutant cassowary. Though smaller. Long legs—very long when fully stretched. Medium-sized wings, maybe enough to glide. Its head… well, it no longer had one. He had smashed it. But that wasn't the strangest part.
On his right arm was a black metal gauntlet, with a red gem embedded in it. The gem shimmered faintly. Something strange moved inside.
This was all complete bullshit.
He didn't know where he was, but it clearly wasn't Earth. Unless Australia had turned into this after a nuclear war.
Jokes aside, the landscape was weird. Barren, cold. And there were no stars in the sky. Just darkness. The only thing breaking the void was a faint ray of light on the horizon.
The gauntlet on his arm. The strength he had shown. The speed he'd reacted with. None of it made sense. He didn't have that kind of power. Or those reflexes. Yet here he was. Alive. And the mutant cassowary wasn't.
His gaze drifted to the blood and viscera staining the gauntlet. The blood drew his attention—the crimson sheen and torn red muscle were strangely beautiful. He remained mesmerized for several minutes. His body moved on its own, driven by a desire that wasn't natural. He tasted the blood and flesh on his fingers.
It didn't taste good—it was disgusting in many ways. The innards had the taste of bland raw meat, and the blood tasted like iron rust. Yet despite that, he liked it. Like a guilty pleasure, if you could call it that.
Then, when he finally realized what he was doing, there was no trace of blood left on the gauntlet.
His gaze disconnected for a moment and turned toward the corpse of the mutant bird. His mind began to plan—since he didn't know where he was, he would have to find civilization or at least somewhere he could think clearly.
Everything looked the same: rocks and sand in gray tones. So, using the only reference he had, he headed toward the horizon—toward the barely visible ray of light.