"It's over," Samuel thought, the finality of those words echoing in his mind like a death knell.
"I did it," he whispered, his voice quivering with emotion, a mere shadow of the storm raging within him.
He collapsed to his knees, his body shaking with the force of his sobs as he gazed at the scene before him. His body, mutilated and drenched in blood, lay motionless. The sight filled him with an overwhelming sense of loss and desolation. His face, a mask of tears and sweat, was smeared with blood that trickled from his nose and mouth.
With great reluctance, Samuel turned his gaze towards Sophie. The thought of her small, frail body marred by horrific injuries was almost too much to bear. How could he reconcile the image of this brave, innocent girl with the brutal reality before him?
"I promised to protect her!" he cried out, his voice breaking with despair. "Why? Why did this have to happen? Who is doing this to us?"
His curses, directed at all that was holy and unholy, filled the air. He felt utterly useless, weak, and powerless.
Slowly, he moved towards Sophie, witnessing her condition for the first time since the savage attack. Her small hands, still twitching, bore the marks of brutality—several fingers severed. The sight filled him with a profound and immeasurable pain.
"You were not supposed to end up like this," he whispered, his tears now flowing freely and unrestrained.
Her arms, covered in deep wounds, exposed the bones beneath. Samuel's cries grew louder, his tears now a torrent cascading down his face.
When he reached her chest and face, he noticed she was still breathing. Her eyes, wide with terror, did not recognize him. Instead, they saw the face of the imp that had tormented her.
She was sobbing, each breath a struggle, her throat emitting gurgling sounds from the deep slash that marred it. Her body trembled with pain.
"Sophie! I'll help you! Stay with me, don't close your eyes, please!" Samuel pleaded, desperation evident in his voice.
He tried to apply pressure to her wounds, but it only increased her agony. She let out a heart-wrenching wail as he pressed on a particularly deep gash in her chest.
"I'm sorry, Sophie, I don't know what to do..." he cried out, his voice breaking under the weight of his helplessness.
Through her delirium, Sophie looked at him with utter confusion. She was still crying, her voice weak and trembling. "P-Please. I don't want to die... I need to find Dean..."
She glanced towards Samuel's actual body, her cries growing louder at the sight of his mutilated corpse.
Samuel was engulfed in despair. He could neither comfort nor help her. To her, he wore the face of her tormentor, the one who had effectively ended her life. As he desperately tried to think of a solution, he heard her wheezing for air, the sound alien and terrifying to him.
When he looked at her again, she was completely still. Her eyes and mouth were open, her face marked by tears and wounds. Her blond hair, now matted with blood, was a stark contrast to her once innocent appearance.
He couldn't take it anymore and screamed, his frustration and despair pouring out in an unending torrent.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! I HATE THIS!"
He continued to scream, thrashing around the room wildly. In a fit of rage, he kicked the corpse of the dead imp repeatedly.
"ROT IN HELL, YOU DEGENERATE PIECE OF TRASH!" he yelled, his voice raw and hoarse. He stomped on the imp's head with unrelenting fury, reducing it to a gruesome pulp. Amid his assault, something sharp stabbed into his foot, causing him to cry out in pain.
"AARGH, CURSE YOU! EVEN IN DEATH, YOU HAUNT ME!"
He squatted down, examining the source of his pain. Embedded halfway into his foot was a gray-colored object, resembling a gem.
"What the hell was this?" Samuel cursed
"What was this doing inside the Imps skull?" thought. But he couldn't focus on it now. He threw it away in frustration, then slumped against the mortuary chamber, his tears flowing once more.
He looked at his hands, noting their alien appearance. They were not his. Everything about this new body felt foreign and unsettling.
"What is happening to me? Am I still human?"
When he died, he felt a profound loss. Yet, when he decapitated the murderous imp, there was a strange sense of gain. His mind was a chaotic mess, struggling to make sense of these conflicting sensations.
In the span of a few hours, he had endured unimaginable experiences: his own death by choice, the claustrophobic ordeal inside the mortuary chamber, the ability to separate his soul from his body, the horrifying discovery of brutally murdered humans, the existence of demons or monsters, the internal battle between his conscience and fear, his decision to protect a young girl, and ultimately, his failure to do so leading to her untimely death.
The memory of the imp's dagger stabbing into him, slashing and cutting, filled him with a dread he never thought possible. Helplessly listening as Sophie endured the same terror was even worse. This powerlessness and fear ignited a rage within him—a pure, unbridled wrath and hatred.
He knew these emotions clouded his mind. He needed to control them. There was a time for mourning and a time for action. Now was the time to act. He needed to be rational, to find clues, and to formulate a survival plan. Even with this imp body, survival was not guaranteed. But he had many tasks to accomplish and might be running out of time. Were Ae-Sin and his family safe? What about his uncle, grandparents, and cousins? And what about himself? What about Sophie's brother?
Resolute, Samuel left his body and entered his soul state. In this form, his thoughts were clearer. He theorized that the imp's body might be prone to rage and anger, or perhaps the soul state was more resistant to such emotions.
Although he still felt anger, sorrow, and self-pity, they were not as overwhelming.
"Focus, Sam. You need to think about your next steps. If there are two imps here, there are bound to be more. And though these creatures are formidable, humans can kill them, as the burly man demonstrated. I may have escaped death twice, but each time I lost something, and who says I would not be killed the moment I step foot outside as an Imp and get surrounded by humans?"
After all, humans were still the rulers of this world. Guns and Bombs were bound to obliterate even the toughest of hellspawns.
He realized there were significant gaps in his memory. He couldn't recall the nickname his brother used to call him or the one he had for his brother. He couldn't remember his last job or his employer's name. This realization filled him with dread.
"What if I have lost these parts of myself forever? Am I even still the same person I used to be? Would I even notice if I weren't?"
The feeling of loss was profound. In contrast, killing the imp made him feel empowered, as if he had gained much more than what he had lost.
"What was that? Some kind of energy?" he wondered. He expanded his vision, taking in the scattered corpses and items around him. Calmer now, he noticed things he had previously overlooked. Various smartphones lay around the bodies. Some might have tried to call their families or record a video. He planned to check them out, hoping to find clues or contact his relatives.
Lastly, he focused on the gray gem. He had discarded it earlier, but it must be significant, coming from within a hellish creature.
Reaching this thought, he looked at the imp he had possessed. "Does it have one as well?"
although he was Tempted to investigate by cracking its skull open, he knew he needed a body. Something told him it wouldn't end well if he remained in his soul state without a body for too long.
"I should check the area next."
Resolving to do so, he left the room. The corridor was eerily empty. Thoroughly searching it, he found more corpses—some fresh, some decomposed. The nature of their wounds varied: some were cut or stabbed, others bludgeoned to death. He also found several larger, green imps with teeth and claws that could only be called blunt when compared to those of the imps.
Samuel began to think his world was under invasion by demons or monsters. "Are these goblins?" he wondered. They differed from the imps in several ways: no tail, no horns, and although the ears were pointy as well, they were so in a different manner.
In other rooms, he found more human and goblin corpses. The sheer number of bodies was overwhelming, and he felt sickened. Eventually, he sped up his pace, eager to leave the grim scene behind. Floating upward, he sought answers outside. Why was there no police presence?
At the top, he found his answer.
"It's over..." he thought. "Everyone..."
Fire and smoke filled the air, accompanied by the stench of blood and the weight of terror. Despair and sorrow were palpable. He heard screams of agony, death throes, gunshots, angry shrieks, and bestial roars.
"We are finished," he muttered, seeing the devastation. Helicopter crash sites dotted the landscape. People fled for their lives, chased by beasts, imps, and other creatures. The most shocking sight was humans turning on each other with savage ferocity.
"Why?" he whispered, unable to comprehend the chaos. "What happened in the couple of days I was gone?"
Floating above the roof, Samuel hovered motionless, absorbing the devastated panorama that sprawled out beneath him. The landscape was a grotesque caricature of the familiar, warped and twisted by the horrors that had unfolded. Though he recognized the area, it felt utterly alien, as if the essence of the place had been stolen, leaving behind a grim, hollow shell.
"I'm not far from home," he muttered in his mind, the cacophony of chaos that surrounded him almost drowning out his own thoughts.
Determined to return home, he resolved that flying would be the quickest way. Just as he prepared to set off, a deafening boom reverberated through the air. The sound was so powerful, that it felt as though it shook the very foundation of the continent itself. The earth quaked beneath the force of the repeated, rhythmic blasts, resembling the tolling of a colossal, divine bell.
Despite the ominous sound, Samuel decided to ignore it, feeling an even greater urgency to reach home. He soared towards his destination, his speed increasing with each passing second. Yet, as he moved mere meters away from the hospital, an inexplicable force yanked him back. He was dragged with increasing velocity, passing through humans, monsters, and any physical barrier in his path as if they were insubstantial.
Abruptly, he found himself back in his own body—his lifeless, mutilated body. Confusion and frustration overwhelmed him.
"What is the meaning of this?" Samuel pondered. "Am I unable to move far from my body? Or is this something that will happen regularly from now on? And what is that noise?"
The relentless ringing and shaking ceased the moment he re-entered his corpse. In the enveloping darkness, he could neither see nor hear anything.
Despite the mysteries multiplying around him, Samuel tried once more to leave his body, succeeding as usual. The earth was still quaking, and the bells were still tolling. He realized his dead body could not perceive these disturbances.
Suddenly, the shaking and the sounds ceased, replaced by an ominous, resonant voice that seemed to emanate from the very fabric of reality.
"NATIVES OF THE MORTAL REALMS! WE HAVE SEEN YOUR WEAKNESS, YOUR SUFFERING, AND DESPAIR, AND YOUR TREACHERY! DO NOT THINK OF US AS CRUEL, DO NOT MISTAKE YOUR PLIGHT FOR RANDOM VIOLENCE! IN OUR INFINITE WISDOM, WE HAVE DECIDED TO LET THE POWERS DESCEND UPON THE MORTAL REALMS TO SAVE YOUR SOULS! BUT YOUR KIND IS TOO FRAIL, TOO IGNORANT TO MAKE USE OF THESE POWERS! WE WILL GRANT THIS ONE FINAL ACT OF MERCY TOWARDS YOUR KIND, NOT BECAUSE WE FAVOR YOU, NOT BECAUSE YOU DESERVE IT, BUT BECAUSE WE PITY YOU! USE IT, AND USE IT WELL! DO NOT WASTE YOUR SOULS! THEY. ARE. NOT. YOURS. TO. WASTE!"
Samuel was stunned. The magnitude of what he was hearing was overwhelming. "Is that God? Gods? Was that the voice of a deity?" he thought, instinctively filled with awe. The reality of the situation was surreal, and he questioned its authenticity, though it felt undeniably real. Before he could delve deeper into his thoughts, the voice resumed.
"BE GRATEFUL, AS YOU HAVE BEEN GRANTED THE WISDOM OF DORAN'S GRIMOIRES AND THE GUIDANCE OF SENYAVI! THESE GIFTS WILL HELP YOU FIND YOUR PATH AND ARE THE LAST VESTIGES OF MERCY THE GODS HAVE LEFT FOR YOUR KIND!"
As the voice faded, Samuel felt himself pulled back into his body once more. This time, however, he could see. The moment he re-entered his body, he felt a significant drain of the energy he had acquired from the imp. His senses returned, along with the searing pain.
"Am I alive?" he wondered, bewildered by the return of sensation and pain. The agony, once a curse, now felt like a bizarre blessing—a confirmation of his living state.
"ARGHH! FUCK, IT HURTS!" he screamed, the sound of his own voice reinforcing his belief. His body, though still wounded, was undeniably alive. He could feel his heartbeat, the pain now a testament to his survival.
His entire body itched uncontrollably. He longed to escape the pain by leaving his body, but for the first time since his resurrection, he found himself trapped within it. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break free.
As if the situation wasn't confusing enough, a surge of foreign knowledge inundated his mind. He instinctively knew it wasn't his own.
"Senyavi's Guidance and Doran's Grimoires," Samuel thought. "These must be the gifts that voice mentioned. How magical. Is it truly a god, or some other supreme being?"
He decided it was pointless to dwell on the origin of the voice for now. More pressing matters required his attention.
Senyavi's Guidance seemed to refer to the teachings of someone named Senyavi, created to guide mortals and those ignorant of these so-called powers. Doran's Grimoires, on the other hand, were truly magical artifacts. Once acquired, they were sealed within one's soul and could be summoned at will. No matter how destroyed or stolen, they would always reappear within the soul, ready to be called forth once more.
The Grimoires contained various information about the holder, though the origin of this data was unknown. The knowledge was purportedly unerringly accurate. By meeting certain conditions or acquiring specific materials, one could use the Grimoire as a medium to enhance oneself or gain magical abilities.
"Is it like a status screen?" Samuel mused, his thoughts drifting to his gaming experiences.
He wanted to examine his Grimoire but realized it would be futile at the moment. Though he was alive, he was still bleeding and immobilized. The day's events and the newly gained knowledge had exhausted him mentally and physically. His body was in even worse condition.
Despite the fear of never waking up again, he felt a strange assurance that he would be safe. With this thought, Samuel Cromwell, burdened with countless tasks and urgent matters, succumbed to sleep.
Some might deem his slumber long overdue; others might consider it reckless. Samuel, however, simply did not think. He closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.