The rain here wasn't just falling water; it was a punishment.
The wind howled, carrying the foul stench of rotting leaves and earth that never dried. This storm wasn't natural. The sky was dark—not from the night, but from the black clouds clotting like a bruise across the heavens. Lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the twisted silhouettes of the trees. Their branches clawed at the sky, silent witnesses to entities enduring eternal torment.
The Trapped Souls.
That was what the history books called this place. A village lost in a single night, swallowed by a starving earth.
I took a step. The ground beneath my feet felt soft and muddy, as if I were walking on rotting flesh. The chill seeped through my clothes, but I let it be. Cold, at the very least, was a sensation.
Snap.
The sound of a breaking twig behind me. Not from the wind.
Even without turning, I knew. Three pairs of eyes, heavy breathing, the metallic stench of blood from gaping maws. A three-headed wolf.
They say destiny is pre-written. Was your death already recorded there, too?
"GRRAAA!!"
The growl shattered the sound of the rain. It lunged.
My body moved before my mind could issue a command. My right hand reached for the spear on my back. The motion was fluid, automatic, completely devoid of hesitation. I spun, using the momentum of the turn to amplify my thrust.
Whoosh!
The spear sailed through the air. It wasn't just a throw; it was a verdict.
Thwack!
There was no battle. No drama. The spearhead pierced the center of the creature's chest, silencing all three heads in a single heartbeat. The massive body collapsed, skidding across the mud before going completely still.
I walked over and yanked my spear free with a wet squelch. I drew my knife, extracted the crystal. Routine. Mechanical. Empty.
Then, the ground began to tremble.
Not a normal earthquake. This was the vibration of thousands of tiny feet racing just beneath the surface.
Squeak... squeak... squeak...
The sound started faintly, then swelled into a sickening wave of noise. The earth in front of me cracked open, and from the fissure, they vomited forth. Thousands of rats. A sea of black rats. A sea of black fur and red eyes. Among them, giant rats with glowing crystals on their foreheads led the tide of vermin.
I took a step back. Out of disgust, not fear.
"Hahaha..." The laugh slipped out on its own, dry and hollow.
I took aim at one of the giant rats. Whoosh! My spear launched forward, tearing through the ranks of smaller rats like wet paper before embedding itself dead center in the matriarch's chest.
One dead. Thousands to go.
I tightened my gloves. Drew the katana from my waist. Metal slid against the scabbard with a sharp, cold shing.