" Return available in 2h 12min "
"The time to return to my world has increased," Ezkiel thought, the mental timer glowing in his consciousness. "It must have started at three hours. But that doesn't matter now. I can't go back until I leave this body in a safe place, and I have no idea how long that will take."
Luckily, the return wasn't automatic. The end of the timer just made the exit door available.
Ezkiel crept through the alleys of the ancient ruined city, Markshal, heading east, the same way the acolytes had come. He needed to see the Death Zone with his own eyes, to assess any chance of escape. His thoughts ran along with his stealthy steps.
"Even if I manage to get out of the city, I need supplies, but I have no idea where to get them. The meat I ate at Lavia's house seemed to be salted for easy storage, but I haven't seen any creatures so far, only the Others."
In the middle of the alley, Ezkiel stopped walking. The intrusive thought of having eaten the flesh of a being that was once human was so repulsive in his mind that he couldn't entertain the idea that this was the food for the entire population of the Bell Tower, even if there weren't many of them.
"There must be some animal around here. It's not possible. That's one of the things to look for on my way to the east of the city. My second objective is simpler, but more dangerous."
Venturing into the narrower alleys, flanked by houses that looked like collapsed slums, a reddish figure caught his attention. The creature was squeezing itself, trying to pass through a narrow hole in the wall of a dilapidated shack.
He knew this area was more dangerous. It would be better to walk through the central streets of the city, from where the Others had fled upon the carriage's arrival, however, he could easily be seen by groups of explorers and even by the acolytes themselves. At least in these alleys, the horses wouldn't be able to pass.
And, in turn, it would be easier to find one of these creatures. Ezkiel stared at the reddish mass stuck in the narrow structure. It wasn't even possible to see its shape, only ruby-red flesh tentacles that squeezed like slimes, without success. Some sharp elements, which the prisoner believed were bones, seemed to be the cause of such a horrendous scene.
He slowly controlled his breathing. He was afraid of the creature before him. Ezkiel was not a fighter; he had never been interested in combat. The most he knew about these things was what his father told him during his hunting days when he was younger. However, all the teachings had to do with a firearm and a great distance from the target, which was the opposite of his current situation. Ezkiel only had an old dagger and would have to fight hand-to-hand with a creature several times more bloodthirsty than a deer. However, he wasn't there to fight, but he would fight if necessary. He wanted to test one of his abilities.
"Dreamer Analysis."
The creature stopped moving. The mass of flesh retracted with a grinding of bones, but it remained stuck.
Name: —
Race: Blood Defiled
Form: Humanoid Deformity
Class: —
Stage: Soulless
Rank: —
Talents: —
Dreams Detected: None
Possible Information: None
"So it works... But it shows almost no information. At least I can understand better. Their race is Blood Defiled and they have several different forms. Since I'm a Dream Collector, maybe there are Dream Collectors of other races? That makes much more sense."
However, the most important revelation was that he couldn't gain new dreams by killing the Blood Defiled; after all, they didn't dream. This was horrible news for Ezkiel, who had planned to get dreams this way.
The creature was freeing itself more and more from the wood, returning to the alley where Ezkiel was. The sun was approaching its peak, making all the shadows smaller in the forgotten environment of the city. The Other didn't seem weakened by the sun's rays, nor did it care about such a thing.
Ezkiel took a few steps back. He was still in doubt about engaging in combat. He didn't want to fight, but he felt he had to. His own body responded, filling him with adrenaline and other hormones for the fight. In some introspective way, he knew, along with his instincts, that he had no choice. He would have to break this barrier of cowardice soon. He wouldn't have a quiet life in this dream; there was no such choice for a person like him. The fight would come to his door, and if he wasn't prepared, he would die. Of course, Ezkiel feared this, his mind wavered and every idea that came to him was that he shouldn't do this, but, on the other hand, unlike all the other people who would be in this state, his body didn't freeze. His instincts pulsed for him to go forward. He might be nervous, but his body didn't tremble.
The dagger remained erect, pointing forward. His five senses sharpened, pulling in as much information as possible. His breathing didn't become ragged, but controlled. It seemed as if his own body was reaffirming this to the boy. Asking for his trust. Begging him not to give up. He wanted to survive. He would fight to the end. No matter the pain. No matter the torture. He would resist. Ezkiel just needed to trust in that will.
The wall where the creature was stuck cracked up to the ceiling; a part of it collapsed inwards, making it scream in pain as it freed itself. The ruby-red body emerged, similar to a deflated balloon, with dozens of loose layers at the corners of its skin, leaking a reddish liquid. Bones protruded from its body, disorderly, giving it a limp posture. Its resemblance to humans had been lost long ago, but between the layers, one could see parts of darkened skin and scraps of cloth. Near its head, the Other had an open, crooked mouth, like a hole with saws, and that alone made it look like a thumb.
Even without eyes, the creature noticed Ezkiel's presence. The horrible being began to move forward at a much greater speed than should be possible for its body formation. The reddish layers shifted among themselves and two wide tentacles transformed into its arms.
"He's very different from the previous ones I've seen. Shit!"
The prisoner took another deep breath. Accepting his fate, he ran forward with all his speed. At that moment, he felt that his bruised and weak body from lack of food moved much better than he expected. His speed was not below his in the real world and, somehow, he had more explosive power in his legs than he imagined. It seemed he used the little energy he had to give his best. A body control he had never seen before in his life.
However, when he approached the creature, which was extending its tentacles upwards, prepared for an attack, he didn't know what to do. What was the point of having the will to fight if he didn't know what to do with it? After all, Ezkiel had never been a combatant, and his body could only follow the actions he ordered.
With his right hand, he took the dagger and thrust it into the creature's belly. In the ordinary attack, the blade entered the mucous flesh with some rigidity. Crimson blood leaked between Ezkiel's fingers, and the smell of spices intensified in the air.
The creature gave a slight growl of pain, lowering its left tentacle with speed. The giant mass moved, prepared to crush the prisoner in front of it as if he were nothing. Desperate inside, Ezkiel moved his left arm forward, full of fear. However, his body completed the service with its instinct: it strengthened the muscles and positioned the chains on his forearm against the blow while steadying the foundations of his legs.
The impact was brutal. An absurd pain ran through his entire body. His left forearm burned as if it were about to break from the impact. Ezkiel tried to pull the dagger out to escape, but couldn't. The second tentacle came in his direction. He threw himself to the right, like he used to do in American football to escape the Quarterback.
The blow hit the ground, crushing pieces of dirt and stone from the floor.
"Fuck! He's so strong. How did I withstand that blow?"
His mind was thinking a thousand things at once. He noticed that his left arm could still move. Bruises were appearing on his skin, but it wasn't broken as he had expected. The chains were truly indestructible and could be used as a defense. However, his arm wouldn't last forever.
Feeling the immense sharp pains in his left arm, Ezkiel positioned both arms in front of him. It was better to injure his arms than to receive a blow like that to his head or torso.
The creature turned its head; the mouth surrounded by disordered teeth chewed the air with rage. It retracted its tentacles back into its body again. Ezkiel could feel the creature's will to kill him, but its body didn't respond, it was too slow.
The tentacles were slowly returning to its body, while its bloodlust increased. He couldn't waste any more time; he had to attack it in this open gap. His body responded voraciously. In a quick charge, he threw his shoulder against the creature's chest and pulled the dagger with all his might.
The tentacles had already disappeared from the ground, increasing their mass between the layers of protrusions that stuck out. The viscous mucus leaked from the wound, bathing his hands and the entire blade with the smell of iron and spices. Realizing that the next attack would come soon and that Ezkiel was in the center of the contact area, he charged forward again, thrusting the dagger with all the strength he had into the creature's chest. If he were a little taller, he would try to stab it in the face, but the misshapen humanoid in front of him seemed like a giant, 2 meters tall.
The blade entered again, gushing blood. Unlike the last time, seeing the shadow of the blow approaching him, he threw both feet against the creature while pushing himself to pull the dagger out.
The scene looked slightly comical and clumsy for a skilled warrior. After all, Ezkiel could only cut the creature's flesh by throwing the full weight of his charge into the dagger. And he needed extreme strength to pull it out of the being's flesh. However, it seemed to be effective, because before the next blow hit the ground, he was already in a safe area with the blade in hand.
A cold sweat ran down his body, and he was tired in a few seconds. However, watching the blow hit the ground and him not being hit was very satisfying.
A smile appeared on his face as he saw the creature's blood gush to the ground. The second tentacle was approaching to hit the ground, the same standard vertical attack, and by the vector of the movement, it couldn't be stopped. The prisoner was preparing to jump again towards the creature's belly as soon as the blow was fully executed. However, when he was close to approaching the ground, the tentacle shot forward, increasing its attack area and hitting Ezkiel squarely in the chest.
The blow was so fast and devastating that he felt one of his right ribs crack. The chains on his chest tinkled. His body didn't respond in time, and the boy was thrown 5 meters, falling in the middle of the alley. His breathing was ragged, and the happy smile of combat disappeared in a few seconds. The excitement of injuring the enemy vanished, and the spirit of combat turned into determination and survival. The small beginner's mistake about the enemy had cost him a serious injury.
Suffocated, he tried to get up, but the Other was faster. The creature threw itself on him, initiating a series of smashes against the ground. Ezkiel's only defense was to cross his arms, the chains receiving the punishment.
The blows did not cease. They crushed. Thinking was impossible. There was only pain, a red tide that was drowning him. The metallic and rancid taste of his own blood filled his mouth. Rage began to bubble up, mixed with the despair of feeling his bones protesting under the metal bindings. But he noticed something. The blows were getting slower. The creature was getting tired.
He just had to endure. An opening would appear. His eyes, bathed in blood, burned with hatred, waiting for that moment.