Argh…

  Was the takeout from yesterday too much? Who can resist the temptation of a delicious three-meat taco? Damn, my stomach hurts like hell.

  Wait a minute. That means I can call in absent today? Haha! In your face, Italian test! I didn’t want to go to university anyway.

  Crunch, slurp…

  Who the hell is eating in my ear? I can’t even sleep peacefully!

  The first thing Glenn saw through his bleary eyes was a bald head covered in sickly black spots. The repulsive figure trembled as it shoved handfuls of unidentified food into its mouth.

  I know I partied hard last night, but damn. Where the hell did I wake up? Don’t… Don’t tell me I went to bed with that?!

  As his senses returned ever so slowly, Glenn tried unsuccessfully to separate from the revolting head. This was a terrible hangover, even more so considering there was a particularly disgusting taste in his mouth. It was metallic. He reached for his face with a trembling hand, finding a warm, viscous liquid in a deep red color… Blood?

  Did I get into a fight?

  An acute pain from his belly shook his entire soul. Glenn bit down on his lips, his eyes bloodshot as he endured this awful suffering. Before he could complain, he felt a loud thump in his ears, drowning every other sound under a rhythmic beat. It took him a few seconds to realize that the noise came from his heart trying desperately to pump blood back into his body.

  Beyond this dull beating were distant voices crying in anguish—trailing from far, far away. The cawing of crows accompanied the death rattles with a grotesque melody.

  I… What? Shit, I’d rather take the fucking test than endure this crap! Fucking nightmare! Let me wake up!

  Glenn forced a glance downwards. He discovered two things that his mind struggled to comprehend.

  First, a long, wooden spear was piercing his chest. And second, the bald figure was rummaging through his insides in search of tasty treats, devouring him like a butcher taking cuts from a pig. Trying to—no, eating him alive. Glenn’s pupils dilated as a primordial fear entered his mind. The creature ripped off a bone covered in flesh, helping itself to the bloodiest rib—his rib.

  Crunch, gulp…

  And the worst of it? He wasn’t waking up anytime soon.

  What the hell is that?! What the fuck? Argh!

  Glenn’s face contorted in pain. He tried to scream, but due to blood accumulating in his throat, the result had been more of a gurgle—similar to a murloc. He knew he was dying. Well, that he should be dying. Because, strangely, he didn’t sense his life slipping away.

  Each breath was the source of agony; the air scratched his insides as if it was barbed wire. He instinctively coughed, accidentally shooting the sludge over his assailant’s bald head and painting it crimson with mounds of green snot.

  Glenn stopped breathing, his eyes freezing in horror as the monster paused its feast. It straightened up to show a chalk-white face—featureless except for the mouth full of sharp, pointed teeth. Shreds of flesh dangled from those dagger-like fangs, swaying with each of the monster’s raspy inhalations.

  It twisted closer. The damned creature wasn’t satisfied with his innards. Its teeth chattered, clicking and grating horribly. A guttural cry came from the otherworldly beast, its breath filled with rotten meat and death.

  “Ennon ut suutrom se? Non trefer, subic cuhda se!”

  Shit! What the fuck is this monster? I’m not a snack! Fuck off! Didn’t you have enough with half my stomach?

  Horrified, Glenn’s hand shot out in panic, patting the wet ground in search of a weapon until he felt a heavy weight. He caught the glint of metal, red light covering it like a mystical veil. In a desperate attempt to save himself, he pierced the sword straight through the wide-open mouth of the monster. The blade tore smoothly through its throat, poking out the other side. A cascade of black blood erupted, emitting a strange mixed scent of copper and rotten eggs.

  The monster writhed with a gurgling noise and fell, slowly sliding down the sword. Its jaw rattled, making Glenn drop the weapon in horror.

  Glenn’s gaze froze on the monster’s body, struggling to understand what had happened. He gasped for air, but nothing entered his lungs besides a lingering ache that forced him to come to his senses.

  Okay. I think it’s dead. It should be. Right? I need to get out of here and call the police. And go to the hospital. Damn, it hurts… Uh? Glenn winced as he prepared to check his injuries until a strange, soothing sensation calmed the agony. Wait, is it… Getting better?

  As he gawked at his open buffet of a stomach, the wound healed magically. His missing bones regrew, and tendrils of red flesh stretched over ruptured viscera. It didn’t take long to resolve the being-eaten-alive problem, but unfortunately for Glenn, his torture wasn’t over yet.

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  Since, well, he also had a spear skewering straight through his heart or lung. Truthfully, he had trouble remembering where the important organs were in his chest. The unrelenting pangs of pain and the lack of fresh air rendered it impossible for him to think about anything properly.

  How the fuck do I even pull it out? Shouldn’t I just wait for help?

  Glenn’s mind raced as he searched around for aid. It was only then that he came to the critical realization that help wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. The ground was damp, cold, and sticky—made of mud and gore, unlike his warm, cozy bed.

  Glenn glanced up, weakly raising his hands. They shivered, dripping a mixture of unidentified liquids. He looked beyond them, his eyes widening. Two colossal moons—the larger one scarlet and the other pristine white—bathed a dark field in crimson.

  Two moons? What? Glenn blinked.

  Corpses floating in pools of blood littered the plains. Vultures circled above, wondering whether Glenn was another body to feast on. He turned, only to discover the literal death stare of a soldier—his fractured head revealing his brain. Glenn shuddered.

  There were a dozen flesh-eating fiends, similar to the one he had killed, devouring their share of corpses. They were too focused on their feast to care about him, occasionally sniffing at the sky, as if trying to sense their surroundings. The sound of teeth and claws tearing meat was… not particularly pleasant, to say the least.

  Traumatizing was the best term to describe it.

  A flying organ crashed just a few meters from Glenn, spraying a mixture of blood, guts, and badly digested vegetables. No need to say that it smelled horrible. His eyes widened, watching as a small bit of… unspeakably vile things landed on his shoulders.

  Glenn’s first reflex was to gag, but the spear pierced the muscles involved—causing intense pain and ultimately stopping the retching process. One monster skulked towards the sound, making him freeze in fear. But the creature wasn’t going to abandon its current meal, a very well-fed specimen that might have been named Francis or Jack. Who knew? Glenn winced as he wiped the gore off his shoulder, holding his breath with repugnance.

  Argh, oh my god! Okay, okay. Pull yourself together. And while you’re there, pull that damn spear out!

  On those wise thoughts, Glenn grabbed the shaft and tried to pull it out, gritting his teeth through the pain. Sadly, it had been embedded firmly into the ground. His hands slipped on the splintered wood, weakness washing over him.

  I… I need to break it!

  Blood continued to flow from the hole in his chest. Death was looming, and he couldn’t afford to wait.

  Glenn glanced at the monster he had killed, wanting to retrieve the sword. But just the sight of it discouraged him from picking up the weapon.

  Coughing more bile, he tried to break the spear, pushing himself forwards for leverage, only to fail miserably and make him feel as if someone was wringing his guts.

  Luckily, Glenn was more afraid of death than the creature who was once feasting on him. He steadied himself and inched closer to the beast’s toothy abyss, his fingers wrapping around the hilt. A strange sucking noise filled the air as the blade slid through flesh, but Glenn focused on the task at hand.

  As he finally drew out the sword, the corpse crashed onto the ground, a puddle of blood growing under it. Glenn used it to saw through the handle, determination shining through his eyes while each back-and-forth slice inflicted unbearable suffering. After severing the pole, he dropped his weapon. The movements were painful, and he almost screamed. But he held back, so the other monsters would not notice him.

  Glenn didn’t need to test his skills against another horrible creature. Even more so considering he didn’t have any skills to test. He held back his shriek by biting his lips, causing them to bleed—which gifted him the appearance of a complete lunatic. As if the guts and gore already drenching him weren’t enough.

  He slipped off the spear skewering him and fell face first, coating himself in more mud. Blood gushed out from his abdomen, making him wonder just how many liters were left in his body. After a short but painful minute, the wound completely healed, and Glenn could finally take a breath without having to pay for it.

  Throwing his head back, his eyes fixated on the two foreign moons in the starry sky—a sky that wasn’t clouded by pollution or the blinking passage of a commercial airliner.

  I love… breathing. He gasped. Should I try to look for other survivors? Nope, can’t afford it. I don’t want to get eaten again!

  Glenn looked around, discovering a forest at the edge of the battlefield. It appeared like an oasis in this desert of blood and flesh. Behind him was the field of corpses with the same damned monsters. Flags adorned with unknown embroideries fluttered lightly in the rustling wind, acting as a guide away from this hell.

  Well, he didn’t have an actual choice.

  Picking up the sword again to defend himself, he knew his luck might not hold against the next monster. Not understanding how to wield it properly—or even how to fight—he planted the blade’s tip on the ground, using it to push himself up. His legs wobbled, and a dull sound rang in his ears.

  Glenn held his head, feeling like someone was drilling a hole inside it. After standing still for a few seconds, the aching calmed, leaving him free to escape to the woods.

  He proceeded with uncertain steps. The battlefield stretched several kilometers, and there were countless bodies, making it impossible to guess how many people died there. Red, blue, and gray tunics—all colors lost beneath the crimson liquid.

  Glenn shivered when he accidentally stepped on the broken thorax of a dead man, the bones yielding under his weight. He almost screamed when he caught his ankle on a hand stiff from rigor mortis.

  Cadavers on cadavers, horse carcasses, monsters eating the bodies… That wasn’t the worst part. No, the most disgusting was the swarms of flies laying astronomical quantities of eggs. Limbs twitched as maggots wriggled through flesh, devouring the corpses from the inside out.

  That was the last straw. Glenn puked his guts. Well, what remained of them. He took a few minutes to breathe in and out, trying to calm his racing heart. After wiping the vomit off his mouth, he stood back up.

  Glenn’s gaze fixed on the not-so-near woods. Perhaps thanks to the grace of God or his fucking pity, there were no monsters along the way. There were still the sempiternal rows of rotting corpses but nothing that looked like it would try to take a bite out of him. He steeled himself and crouched. The closer he got to the forest, the better he felt. But he restrained himself, proceeding with hushed steps.

  He didn’t want to stay another minute in this literal bloody mess, but not drawing any attention towards himself was even more important than running for dear life. After all, one wrong step and he might lose said life.

  He had to get out of here.