"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" Quagmire anguished in pain as he resisted the bite of the ghoul.
His face was pale as a porcelain glass, and his breath was becoming irregular and heavy. The infection was setting in as the fear of death dominated his mind and heart. Sweat was dripping like the leaves on an autumn day. The foul stench assaulted his sense of smell, and his vision became blurry as time passed by.
The ghoul had pinned him down; in fact, it was the only ghoul left all around him—those from earlier were now mere corpses. He had gotten his confidence back, but now it was gone again because of one simple failure or strategic oversight.
His body was aching all over, and this pain caused him an even greater deal of anguish; he was pissed and scared at the same time. Although it was now midnight, he was not sure how long it would take for daybreak, as he did not have reliable information. His watch that got transferred was broken, and he was not sure if it was acclimated to the time of this world.
Nevertheless, the prospect of turning as soon as he got into this world, and not even a day had passed by, pissed him off and gripped his heart with fear. It only meant this world was dangerous—that a slight oversight could get you killed. He used to just order men to their deaths in war, but it seemed like he had long forgotten what it truly meant to be on the battlefield, especially on the frontline.
Anyhow, he needed to move; there wasn't really much time to just think, as concurrently, a ghoul was tightly biting his arm. Thinking on it, he must not let it bite him further so as to slow down the infection and to bid for daybreak to come.
Thus, firstly, he must not black out. So, despite the extreme pain, he heaved a deep breath, and when his vision was slightly clearer, he immediately looked around and tried to find the knife. It had fallen when he got bitten by the ghoul.
Luckily, the knife was on the side of the arm that had not been bitten, so he grabbed it and attempted to plunge the knife into the ghoul. However, the ghoul, as if sensing something, tore the part of the flesh it was biting.
"Agh!!!" The pain was excruciating. Unfortunately, he did not have the time to think all about it as he forced himself to stand despite the blood that was gushing out of his arm with the piece that was bitten off.
"Fuck! Now an intelligent ghoul?! Curses!" Quagmire, with his body leaning to the side, one of his eyes half closed as he resisted the pain, lamented what he had just encountered and cursed his fortune.
The ghoul that had just torn his flesh was now a few meters away from him. It seemed that the ghoul was really intelligent. Then that would mean the ones he encountered earlier were retarded? He couldn't be bothered to think about it, as it was really getting painful—the wound had started to throb and rise in temperature.
The ghoul looked at him and growled, its expression that of anger despite looking dead and rotten at the same time. With a swift movement, it leaped toward Quagmire and swung its nails, attempting to scratch and further injure him.
Sensing extreme danger, he moved one step back and then sideways, which briefly saved him from scratches and injury. However, the injuries were taking a toll on him. After he dodged sideways, he fell backward and landed on his buttocks.
Good thing he was still tightly holding onto his knife, because if he lost it, it would be really problematic. After landing, he did not let himself dilly-dally and countered. Unfortunately, his senses were tingling again, and instead, he rolled over onto the side.
Thankfully, he just did that, as he was tunnel-visioned and was only able to see the lower part of the ghoul; he did not see that the ghoul was already attacking him.
Just after rolling to the side, Quagmire felt the splashing of dirt and a loud thud that reverberated from behind him. Even if what he did was already painful to his battered body, he was still thankful for the instincts and senses that he had developed over time in the military.
He immediately faced the ghoul and saw that its hands were stuck in the ground or were in the process of pulling back up. With all his might, he forced himself to stand and face the ghoul; by then, its hands were already out.
With his hands firmly on the knife, he prepared himself. This time, he knew he was at the disadvantage of its offense, as the ghoul had some intelligence; thus, he decided to be on the defense, as that was the most rational choice he could think of. He was already battered and beaten—it didn't make sense to go on the offense.
The ghoul made strides and leaped toward Quagmire with its hands stretched out. He saw the attack and prepared to counter it; however, he had an idea.
The ghoul leaped toward him—that's what it did—then that would mean it could not change direction fast enough; therefore, if he just dodged it in time and did not fall, he could immediately counter it and finish it off from behind.
Quagmire slightly moved to the side and leaned backward, and when the ghoul passed by him, he immediately turned his foot and had his knife come hurling down toward the ghoul's head.
The ghoul was stabbed in the head, blood came gushing out, and the smell of rotten flesh permeated the knife. He pulled his knife, and the ghoul fell to the ground lifelessly.
Quagmire stared at his surroundings; corpses were littered all around him, and blood was splattered all over, including his clothes and face. It was his baptism of fire in this world. His breath was heavy and pain was present all over. His vision was getting blurry, and so, with the little time he had left, he moved over into the cave and sat down beside the entrance; he no longer cared. He had no place to hide, so he simply sat down to hold out the remaining time of the night.
Hoping to survive the night was his thought as he drifted away into his subconsciousness.