The One Inside the Shack
Zack stared at his shack with open wariness.
His senses were stretched taut, every nerve alert and his grip tightening around the wooden cane in his hand. The nauseating stench of blood grew stronger with every passing second, thick enough to cling to the air.
His corruptive double at his side, of course, did not miss this opportunity.
"Hahahahaha—!"
The provoking laughter rang out through the silence with a loud and grating tone.
"Twice this week," it continued gleefully. "Man, can your luck get any worse than this?"
"Hahaha! Hahahaha!"
Zack felt the familiar urge surge up—to turn around and smash his cane straight into that infuriating face.
He restrained himself.
Experience had taught him better.
Even if he tried, all it would earn him were a few bruises and a mocking lecture afterward. The gap between their strength was not something rage could bridge.
He forced his attention back to the problem at hand.
"Twice this week…" he muttered under his breath.
This wasn't the first intruder.
And it definitely wouldn't be the last.
In the year he had spent on this island, a handful of monsters had managed to discover his concealed shack. Every single one of them had been bizarre, powerful creatures—things far beyond anything Zack could fight.
Most of them had posed a direct threat to his life.
And the only reason he was still alive was because those creatures had attacked him by surprise. In those moments, when death came too suddenly and too unfairly, his unreasonably powerful double had been forced to intervene before things escalated.
This time was different.
"Hahahahaha!"
The double's laughter grew even louder, as if savoring the situation.
And then, as if rubbing salt into the wound, it added,
"You know, if you're hoping I'll save you this time, you can forget it."
Zack's jaw tightened.
"Those times were exceptions," the double continued casually. "They attacked you without warning. But this?"
It gestured toward the shack.
"If you choose to walk in there, it'll be no different from committing suicide."
A grin spread across its identical face.
"And just so you know the fellow inside is stronger than the previous guest you encountered. You stand no chance."
"Hahahahaha!"
Zack muttered a string of barely audible curses.
He was trapped.
If he entered the shack, the monster inside could kill him.
If he stayed outside, the night certainly would.
The island did not forgive hesitation.
"Damn it…" Zack cursed again.
No matter which choice he made, it felt like suicide.
That was probably why his double was enjoying this so much.
"Fu—my life."
He took a slow, sharp inhale.
Then made his decision.
Surviving the night without concealment was impossible.
And building a new shelter, let alone one reinforced with proper runes would take days that he didn't have.
That left only one option.
He would confront whatever was inside.
And maybe with a bit of smiles from lady luck he could drive it away.
His double was laughing so hard now that Zack briefly wondered if the noise would alert the unwanted guest.
If it does, he thought grimly, then you've just assisted in my death.
And if Zack died to a monster wouldn't that mean the double had indirectly caused his death? Wouldn't that go against its nature?
Zack dismissed the thought immediately.
If there was one thing he'd learned, it was this:
His double never made mistakes.
If it was laughing, then it was confident nothing would interfere with its twisted rules.
While lost in thought, Zack's body was already moving.
He knelt beside the shack and brushed away loose soil a few centimeters from the wall. His fingers closed around a familiar shape.
The moment he felt the durable texture of the object he was searching , he pulled it free.
And from the soil emerged a white crudely shaped and short born sword.
The blade was thick, chalk-white, and crudely carved—barely deserving to be called a sword. It had been shaped from the remains of powerful creatures, monsters that had died at the hands of his double.
Zack had simply… recycled them.
The grip fit his hand perfectly.
He steadied his breathing, and then with bone sword in one hand and the wooden cane in his left hand, Zack proceeded foward.
Years on the island had honed his instincts to a formidable level. Fear was still there but it no longer ruled him, so despite being terrified, he still approached the shack like a skilled hunter.
His corruptive double stepped back, giving him space, its eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"Try to make it entertaining," it said.
Zack ignored it.
With steps as light as falling ash, he approached the shack. The door was aleady half-open partly revealing the few items inside.
And since it was close to nightfall, the shadows in the tent had gone deeper making it hard for him to discern anything.
To get a better look it seemed he had to step a bit closer.
As he approached the entrance, Zack's eyes narrowed.
He scanned the ground and at first, he saw nothing unusual—just dirt, scattered stones, and dead grass. Then he noticed it.
A dark stain soaking into the earth near the entrance of the shack.
Zack's heart skipped.
Slowly, he limped closer. With each step, the scent intensified until it was almost suffocating. The stain widened into a trail irregular and smeared, as if something had been dragged.
Dragged toward his shack.
He then paused at the entrance and then leaned forward just enough to peer inside.
The shack was already relatively empty. Only consisting of a crudely crafted wooden chair and a table. There was a bed constructed by piling up wooden logs and smearing soft leaves at the surface.
Since the items inside were only few, it didn't take long for Zack to lock on to his target.
At the far corner of the room sat a humanoid silhouette whose features were barely observable due to the dim lighting.
Zack didn't wait to identify what kind of monster it was.
He released an explosive strength to his feet lunging himself towards his target.
The bone sword slashed forward, aimed straight for what he suspected to be its neck.
"—WAIT!"
The voice that echoed was strangely human, which forced Zack to abandon his attack.
Twisting in mid-motion, he forced the blade to go off course. It skimmed past the figure's shoulder and buried itself into the wooden wall with a dull crack.
The figure screamed and scrambled backward.
"DON'T—PLEASE—!"
Zack froze.
The shack fell into silence, broken only by ragged breathing.
The person in front of him raised their hands slowly.
And what appeared was a blonde-haired teenage girl, with brown eyes.
The girl was donning a blood stained silver armour that looked like it had been forged by the greatest craftsmen using the strongest materials.
As soon as his gaze landed on the girl, he saw her brown eyes shift color, suddenly turning scarlet red.
At the same time a sinister smile slowly curved up on the girl's face.
At the background he heard the amused laughter of his double, followed by mocking words.
"You truly are a idiot aren't you?"
As he heard that, Zack only had one thought in his mind.
"Fu***"