Unauthorized Dumping (3)
The Four Seasons Forest lets you enter however you please, but getting out? No dice. And even coming in is a crapshoot—no one knows where you'll pop up. Foreign invader Grills, not to mention Ludwig, were lucky cases by that metric. Some poor bastards start in the swamps and get chomped by swamp maws before they even get going. With starting points this random, luck decides everything. Meaning you could drop right into hell from the get-go.
"Cough! Cough!"
The pope—no, now a heinous criminal—Luis II hacked up a lung. He forced his eyes open through the stabbing pain in his chest, like needles jabbing his lungs.
Where... the hell... is this...?
The Four Seasons Forest was packed with every natural environment imaginable. Basic forests, plains, grasslands, deserts, snowy mountains, oceans—even volcanic zones. You could find those outside the forest too, so nothing special there. But where Luis had landed? That was different. An environment straight out of a nightmare, one he'd never read about in any book.
Gray and green... zone?
Gray and green. A jarring combo of colors that screamed wrong. The surroundings? No sand in this desert—just hard-packed earth and vast plains. Scattered withered trees only amplified the desolation.
Whatever else, that green glow... ain't good.
Glimmers of green light flickered across the gray wasteland. Just looking at it sent chills down his spine. No time to sit around, though—he needed cover. Drip. Drip. His wrist was still bleeding.
Right before the forced entry, Asella had coldly sliced it off.
Damn it. That wretched bitch.
Grimacing, he frantically rummaged through his pack. As a "final mercy," Asella had handed it to the criminals. Supposedly packed with useful stuff—his only hope. One-handed and awkward, Luis pawed through it anyway.
Dagger and jerky. Potion here, and this...
Next was a small vial. Purple liquid inside. Luis clenched his teeth at the sight.
Purple meant one thing.
"You fucking bitch!!!"
Crash! He hurled the vial with a roar. The purple solution seeped into the gray earth.
"How dare you... How dare you mock me to the end?! This your 'final mercy'?!"
Green or purple liquids usually symbolized poison. Better to end it clean than get eaten alive—a twisted kindness. The body would feed beasts either way, but at least with minimal suffering.
"Who the hell decides that for me? I won't give up! Never!"
Furious, Luis jammed his severed wrist back into place. He chugged the potion, desperately trying to fuse it. But potions weren't elixirs—their regen was weak. Flesh and muscle knit, but bones? No dice. It dangled loosely. Deeming it enough, he bound it tight with his pack cloth. Pure survival instinct burned in him.
I'll live, no matter what. All that power I built...!
Memories lingered. Lavish papal life, crushing any opposition on sight. Power's taste beat wealth or women. He couldn't let it go. He'd claw his way back.
Aris, grant me strength.
Praying to a god he'd ignored—ironic for a cleric. Aris would've scoffed. Gripping his dagger in his good hand, Luis staggered forward.
"Cough! Cough!"
Dusty wasteland? He covered his mouth, but felt wetness.
Th-this is...
Blood. Coughs brought up gobs of it. Prison had wrecked him. Should've sipped the potion first—too hasty.
Water. Water first.
Water was survival key three days max without. He hustled, scanning desperately. But only gray desolation. Puddles glowed green or stank like sludge.
"Cough! Cough! Cough!"
Coughs worsened oddly. And not just that.
"...Huh?"
His jury-rigged wrist. Green cracks spiderwebbed from the seam. Like plague-ridden flesh.
"Wh-what the...!"
Twitch!
Not just that. The reattached hand twitched on its own. No nerves connected—it shouldn't move.
Twitch! Twitch!
Twitches grew violent. The hand writhed like a living thing.
Crunch! Grind! Snap!
Worse now—grotesque. Fingers twisted like tentacles.
Pale-faced briefly, Luis acted fast. Good hand snatched the dagger.
"Aaaargh!"
Terror-screaming, he severed it again. Pain? Numb—nerves corrupted or fear overload. No sensation till it dropped.
Thud!
The hand hit dirt, still writhing grotesquely.
Splurt! Drip!
Blood dripped from the stump, but Luis ignored it.
"Die! Die, you monster!!!"
He stomped the thing. Once his hand, now possessed—evil clear. Wanted to burn it, but no fire.
[...Ow.]
"?!"
Stomping madly, he froze. A voice? From where?
[Ah... ow...]
"H-heck?!"
From the hand he crushed. Clear El Dorado tongue. Luis recoiled, legs buckling.
[Ah... ow... hurts...]
"Ah... aaa..."
He saw it. Crushed fingers sprouted tiny mouths. Speaking El Dorado.
Crack! Grind! Grind!
Not over. The hand, still after stomps, stirred. Grew. Skin peeled, bones/muscles exposed, reskinned—repeating, ballooning huge. Not just big—monstrous.
[Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.]
[Where? Where? Where?]
[#$%^. #@#$. @$%%.]
[Give it give it give it give it.]
Mouths everywhere on the hand. Gibbering. Noses, ears, eyes too. Fingers? Ten-plus sprouting. Hand? Monster.
One truth: Forest's fault.
"Aaa... aa..."
Clack clack clack! Teeth chattering, pants soaked—dignity gone. Anyone would've broken seeing that growth.
[Hahaha! Haha!]
[Fun! Fun!]
Nearby noise. Luis checked his stump. Green corruption on his arm now sported a mouth.
"A-Aris..."
[Aris? Aris? Aris?]
Mimicking him. Mind blanked. Then shadow loomed.
Head up, will broken. The hand-monster loomed, eyes/noses/ears/mouths fixated.
Eyes watched.
Noses sniffed.
Ears heard heartbeat, gasps.
Mouths...
[Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.]
[Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.]
[Hungry. Hungry. Hungry.]
[Wanna eat. Wanna eat. Wanna eat.]
[Eat. Eat. Eat. Eat.]
Drooling, deeming him prey. It closed in.
"Aa..."
Despair. If hell exists, is this it? Did my purged foes end like this? How'd Ludwig link with Grills?
Crunch!
It engulfed him.
Grind! Grind! Rip! Rip!
"Gaaargh! Aaaargh! AAAAAA!!!"
Luis devoured by his own hand. Screams echoed the wastes—unheard.
[Tasty. Tasty. Tasty.]
[Tastes bad. Tastes bad. Tastes bad.]
[More. More. More.]
By his hand alone.
*****
"Hey. Get over here."
"Wh-what?"
"Saw you steal sweet potatoes from the shed. Don't want your wrist chopped, hand 'em over."
"Uuu..."
This punk trying to swipe sweet potatoes? I scolded Kkobong, who'd snuck them from storage. Fine if he dug 'em himself, but not from my stash.
"Look. This is the seed. Plant it here. Got it?"
"Can I dig 'em up?"
"Don't pig out."
Showed him how to grow 'em. Incentives like sweet potatoes keep workers motivated. Kkobong looked surprised at my kindness, then dove in eagerly.
Summer's coming soon, huh.
Tomorrow or next—summer hits. Massive bug swarms incoming.
Wonder if sky whales show.
Maybe drop dragon-moth lure again. Kinda exciting. Anyway.
[Cheonma: Sorry about that. I wanted to take them all out, but I let some slip away.]
[YasaengGrill: How many came in?]
[Cheonma: Four of them. I'm worried they might trouble you.]
[YasaengGrill: Don't worry too much. I'll prep on my end.]
Time for uninvited guests. Won't be like Ludwig. She's the real Cheonma, huh? Bonus realization. Whatever. She's helping—ride it out.