The night is too quiet.
Too still.
Even the crackling of the firewood feels unnatural, like a voice trying to whisper but held back by trembling lips. I sit near the campfire with the merchants, the shadows of the flames dancing on their nervous faces. My hands are clammy, my throat dry. I can't get the images out of my head—the corpses we found in the forest. The pale flesh, the twisted limbs, the lifeless eyes staring upward into nothing.
Everyone here knows something is wrong. They don't say it, but I can feel it in the air, in the way they grip the sticks of wood burning at their ends as if those flimsy torches could keep death at bay.
I hear it again—the rustling of the bushes. My breath hitches. All eyes turn toward the sound. For a moment, the forest looks like an ocean of black leaves swaying together. Then… something steps out.
At first, I think it's a man. Its silhouette is human—two legs, two arms, a body. But as the firelight flickers across its skin, my heart freezes. Its flesh is grey, patchy, like rotting bark peeling from a dying tree. Its eyes are hollow pits, glowing faintly with a sickly green light. Its mouth is too wide, too sharp, and when it opens, it does not breathe—it hungers.
"The cursed ones…" one of the merchants whispers, voice cracking. His torch wavers.
The thing moves forward, slow but deliberate, dragging its clawed hands across the earth. Then more of them emerge, crawling out from the shadows, one by one, like predators answering a call.
My chest tightens. My body screams at me to run, but my legs refuse. I can't move.
"Fight!" someone shouts, and suddenly chaos erupts.
The merchants swing their torches wildly, slamming them against the cursed creatures. The flames lick their decaying flesh, but the monsters do not scream. They do not retreat. They push forward, stronger, hungrier, shoving into the men who try to stop them.
The first scream tears through the night. One of the cursed grabs a man by the shoulder and sinks its jagged teeth into his neck. The sound of flesh ripping, bones crunching—it echoes in my skull. Blood gushes out, spraying across the dirt as the man thrashes, choking.
I stagger backward, my legs finally moving, my stomach twisting. I want to vomit, but there is no time. The firelight flickers across dozens of the creatures now, each one slouching forward, hands twitching, jaws drooling with anticipation.
My heart pounds so loud I can barely hear anything else.
Someone pushes past me—a man in a coat, his hand gripping a rifle. His face is grim, resolute. He raises the gun, and the sharp crack of gunfire splits the night. The bullet pierces one of the monsters, and for the first time, I see one stumble backward, a hole blown through its chest.
Hope surges. If they can bleed, they can be killed.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The man fires again and again, his bullets tearing through the cursed ones. Each shot echoes like a thunderclap, but it's not enough. For every monster that falls, two more take its place, crawling, clawing, gnashing their teeth.
Suddenly, one of them lunges from the side, too fast to stop. It grabs the man's arm, claws sinking into his flesh, tearing through his sleeve. He screams, dropping the rifle. Blood runs down his arm in a crimson stream.
"No!" I shout before I even realize it. My legs move on instinct. I grab the nearest thing—one of the burnings sticks the merchants left behind—and swing it with all the strength I can muster.
The wood cracks against the monster's head. Sparks fly. Its rotten flesh smolders, the fire clinging to its face. It lets go of the man and turns to me, hissing, its teeth dripping with saliva.
Fear paralyzes me, but I force my arm to swing again. I slam the torch into its chest. Flames erupt across its body, and the creature screeches, writhing as it collapses.
My lungs burn. My hands shake. I drag the wounded man away, my shoulder screaming in protest as I haul his weight toward the camp. His face is pale, his teeth clenched against the pain.
When I look back, I wish I hadn't.
The camp is a slaughterhouse. Blood spills across the dirt like a river of red. Limbs torn apart. Merchants screaming, their cries silenced as the cursed ones devour them like wolves tearing meat from bone. Torches flicker and die, leaving only the glow of firelight reflecting in the monsters' eyes.
The stench of iron fills my nose. My stomach churns. I want to shut my eyes, but I can't. I can't look away.
Another cursed one charges at me. My body moves before my mind catches up. I drop the injured man, grab the rifle from the ground, and fire.
Bang.
The recoil slams against my shoulder, but the bullet drives straight through its skull. The creature collapses.
Bang.
Another drops.
Bang.
A third staggers, gurgling as blood oozes from its throat.
The gun clicks. Empty.
"No…" My voice cracks. My hands shake as I stare at the useless weapon.
The monsters close in.
I grip the rifle like a club, swinging it wildly. The wood cracks against one of their heads, buying me a second. But only a second. Another grabs me from behind, its claws tearing into my leg. Pain explodes through me. I scream, slamming the rifle butt into its face, again and again until it lets go. Blood pours down my leg, warm and sticky.
I stumble, nearly collapsing. My breath is ragged. My vision swims.
Is this it? Is this how I die?
No. Not like this. Not running. Not cowering.
I force myself to stand, leg screaming in agony, and raise the rifle once more. My arms tremble. My whole body feels like it's about to collapse. But I won't stop.
The cursed ones surround me; their glowing eyes fixed on me like wolves circling prey. Their claws glint in the firelight. Their teeth gnash in anticipation.
I grit my teeth, sweat dripping into my eyes, heart pounding like a war drum.
If this is my end, I'll face it. I'll fight until the last breath leaves my body.
One lunges. I swing. Another grabs my arm. I slam the rifle into its face. My leg buckles, blood soaking the dirt beneath me. Pain roars through my body, but I push forward, desperate, furious.
I kill one. Then another. But there are too many.
My vision blurs. My body weakens. My leg gives out.
I fall to the ground, dirt and blood smearing across my hands. The cursed one's tower over me, their shadows stretching long in the firelight.
I can't move. I can't fight anymore. My strength is gone.
This is it.
The end.
The nearest monster opens its mouth wide, its jagged teeth dripping as it lunges down at me—
And the world turns black.
Chapter 11 end