The Hunter's Trophies
"Fuck... is that a person?"
The walls of what looked like a basement were lined with heads of every species imaginable, mounted like proud displays.
Hunting trophies.
The heads of quarry, taxidermied and hung for show.
The problem was that nestled among the wolves, tigers, bears, deer, and every other animal were human heads as well.
Those weren't mannequins... I was pretty sure of that.
Looks like I've gotten snagged by some freak with a sick hobby.
Normally when you make hunting trophies, taxidermy is the baseline. You have to, otherwise they just rot. But this basement reeked with a foul stench that hit like a physical wall.
Heads rotting in real time, halfway gone.
Heads with pus and blood dripping steadily from them.
Heads so vivid they looked like they had just drawn their last breath, packed so tight along the walls that I could almost hear their raw screams still echoing as they stared me down.
Basement. Hunting trophies. Hunter.
The entity here was kindly spelling out that it was a hunter.
But had it ever been on the receiving end of a hunt itself?
I pressed tight against a support pillar and quietly scanned the surroundings.
Where the hell was the thing?
The basement stayed dead silent. No movement at all.
Clearing the entity is probably the condition... but first I should map the layout and figure out what the gimmick is.
Truth was, there wasn't much of a layout to speak of.
No furniture. Just a long rectangular space. For a cabin basement it stretched farther than expected, with support pillars driven into the floor at intervals—the only real point of interest.
Toward the back I could see stairs leading up into the cabin proper.
That looked like the exact spot something would burst out from, so I shelved it for now.
Aside from that, there were nothing but the heads covering every surface and, here and there, the skinned torsos those heads had come from, piled in heaps of raw hide and muscle.
This bastard might manage taxidermy, but did it have zero concept of cleaning up after itself?
The air was so thick with rot I felt like just breathing it would give me some disease.
Even if I clear this place, I won't be able to use it for anything.
Nothing useful, and the "food" was all completely unusable.
I wondered what might be waiting if I took those stairs up and out.
But what was this feeling?
A weird itch at the back of my neck, cold and prickling.
Yeah—the sensation of someone staring at me.
The entity?
I drew both Vortex and Black Moon at once and spun around, but all I saw was a human head that had melted down the wall like runny wax.
What the hell? Was the entity one of these trophies?
Had its eyes always been open?
I locked gazes with a pair of eyes so cloudy the pupils were indistinguishable. I could have sworn every single head had its eyes shut a moment ago.
I checked the others. Still closed.
Only the one right in front of me was staring blankly back.
"You the entity?"
I advanced slowly with Black Moon held out in front.
"Uu... uh—guh……."
"Ah, shit... no way it's still alive?"
"Guuh... uuh……."
Through the hole where its jaw should have been, something that looked like a rotten jelly of a tongue slopped out as the human trophy worked its mouth.
Alive in this state?
Wasn't this basically an insult to the King of Hell himself?
No. There was no way it was alive.
It was just a corpse's head stuck to a wall.
It couldn't even make sound to begin with.
Everything below the neck was somewhere in that trash heap, so how the hell was the thing on the wall supposed to speak?
Rustle—
The pile of corpses heaved, and a body covered in nothing but raw red muscle—something you'd only see in a human anatomy exhibit—began to force its way free.
The headless thing shoved aside the other carcasses pinning it down, finally managed to stand, then started dragging its rotting body toward me.
"Fuck... even zombies die when you take the head off."
Faced with the sudden freak phenomenon I hesitated a second on what to do, then just wrecked the nearest head first.
Black Moon carved a groove through the wall and sent the rotten head tumbling to the floor a second time.
If it was an entity, it could die. If it was a person, rest in peace already!
The twice-headless torso collapsed with a wet slap and didn't move again.
So the head really was the weak point?
Then what if every single one of these heads...?
Just imagining every corpse in the place rising and charging me made my hair stand on end.
They didn't look strong, but the pure biological revulsion was brutal.
The visual hit hard enough to mess with your head.
Should I just mow down all the bodies first?
Why had only this one head woken up?
What's the gimmick here? No lantern reaction, so this one isn't the hunter.
Did I have to smash every head?
No. Something this simple couldn't be the whole entity.
Call it instinct forged from clearing a bunch of Backrooms already—the danger I was sensing was different.
When you actually face the core entity, you get this weird electric chill that goes all the way to the heart.
"They open their eyes if you get close."
As a test I stepped toward the head next to it. A wolf's eyes snapped open and glared at me with pure rage.
Some other bastard killed you, so why are you taking it out on me?
These head-things opened their eyes once you entered a certain range, and if you got any closer—
"Grrrrrr—"
Just like the human one, they started making noise.
The twitching corpses fell silent again the moment I backed up a few steps.
As long as I didn't approach, they weren't a threat. That was the gimmick.
So stay away from the walls?
I returned to where the human head had been and thumped the wall surface. Nothing but the solid thud of a completely sealed wall.
Hmm. Maybe I had to clear all of them before the hunter entity would show?
Let's try the stairs.
Skip the trash mobs and go meet the boss.
No need to poke non-aggressive mobs, right?
Besides, I was done breathing air that felt like it was rotting my lungs out.
"...But why is it so far?"
Visually it hadn't looked that distant, yet after walking quite a while the remaining distance felt exactly the same as when I started.
That couldn't be right.
The human head I had cut down was still visible behind me.
Even when I sprinted full-out, the visual distance never changed.
A strange sense of déjà vu pulled a deep sigh out of me.
Same thing if I go the other way, isn't it? Of course.
This time I walked in reverse, but the gap between me and the corpse rolling on the floor never closed either.
Not a loop... the space itself is warped.
I casually swiped a hunting trophy off the wall. The deer head dropped without even managing a reaction, eyes still half-open.
Using it as a marker, I strolled casually forward and back. Normal distance. It got farther and closer the way it should.
But once I walked a little farther—
"Doesn't matter if I mark both sides."
I ended up surrounded by heads and body piles again, unable to get any closer or farther in either direction.
Just how many trophies were there?
Or were more being created?
No. Pointless.
Expecting the Backrooms to make sense was the real crazy talk.
Easier to just accept that it was what it was.
Which means I can't even clear out these trash mobs completely.
Stairs unreachable. The dead-end wall behind me unreachable.
Even if I killed every trash mob in sight, the warped space would just keep generating more trophy zones.
"What if I just mow everything down as I go?"
I drove Vortex deep and spun up a storm.
Countless heads on the walls shredded into pieces.
I pushed straight ahead. Behind me stretched a long scar of storm damage following the wall.
Even so, I never reached the original marker.
Fucking hell, I'm trapped in a shitty place.
Fine. Time to change tactics.
I blasted the nearest corpse pile away with Vortex and stepped up to a human trophy close by.
Its cloudy eyes gained a faint spark the closer I got, focusing on me.
"Uooh……."
"Yeah, let's talk a bit. You got any consciousness left?"
"Yeeh... ee……."
Oh, conversation possible?
Mangled and hard to make out, but its mouth was clearly trying to form words.
Ah, right—when you're lost, ask the locals.
"Daa... yeeh—"
"Any idea how to get out of here? Or where the entity that did this to you is?"
"Eeda……."
"Tch... getting any closer than this is a problem."
The words grew clearer the nearer I got, so I had no choice but to close the distance further.
Its wild eyes rolled... ah, fuck, it actually fell off.
Hanging by a thin string, the man fixed me with one remaining eye and finally worked his mouth properly.
"Heeere……."
"Yeah. Where's the Backrooms entity bastard?"
"Eet's here! Heeere! Heeere eet eez!"
"Oh, fuck?"
The man's sudden bellow made me reflexively ram my dagger into his head.
The forehead-punctured man fell quiet, but right after that a heavy dragging sound started upstairs.
Something was coming. The entity?
"These heads were call buttons? Should've pressed one sooner."
I'd wasted energy just walking around for nothing.
But that was over now.
Once the entity showed, I'd hunt it and leave.
Vortex risks shredding any materials, so maybe just test with Black Moon first? Stabbing the head with a dagger should work fine too... please drop some good materials.
If the gallery guys heard me they'd call me insane again, but I was genuinely excited about whatever materials this entity might be carrying.
What could I craft this time?
Another A-rank piece of gear would be nice.
This time I wanted armor or something utility-focused instead of just another weapon.
Holding that anticipation, I waited for the entity. Soon the door at the top of the stairs slammed open and something dark and hulking came down into the basement.
Distance sense is off, but it looks like a big person.
The figure draped head-to-toe in every kind of hide was grotesque.
Beast pelts, reptile skins, even human leather.
It hadn't even processed the skins properly—rotting flesh hung in long strips. One look at that twisted taste and I knew this was the Hunter Entity.
One hand gripped an axe as it trudged closer.
"You're not some poor bastard dragged into the Backrooms, right?"
"……."
"No answer. Well, still looks crazy enough that I'm killing it anyway."
Apparently the distortion didn't affect it—it closed the gap fast.
Close enough for Vortex to reach.
Disgusted by its filthy appearance, I decided to end it quick and tight and gripped the spear hard.
Pierce.
Blow the head clean off and finish it neatly.
Vortex stretched with a sharp whoosh, aimed straight between its brows—
The hunter suddenly stepped back and slipped the spear tip by a hair's breadth.
"...Dodged?"
"Ghuh-huh—"
"...Laughing?"
This bastard just laughed at me?
I slammed a foot into the floor, lunged at the hunter again with Vortex, and spun up the storm.