Chương 107: Interlude: The Blessing Of The Worm God (2)

"No""What do you-!" The man in front of him lets out a small laugh, a small huffing laugh before looking over his shoulders, to Murai customers being pushed back to give place to the man burly friends.

"What do you mean no?" Murai Taki has a problem. His hand comes down to wipe a sweaty and moist hand on his towel. His other hand, the left hand, is placed on his counter. Beside a jar of minced meat he prepared himself, took a shit ton of time to treat the worm god blessings. And he's not about to be stolen from again.

"I mean 'no'" his free hand comes up to point at the guy that just laughed. Pretty average height, a scar below the left eye that slide down toward his lip. He likes bragging that it came from a wolf he hunted himself. He's currently bracketed by a shit ton of people, at least, it looks like a shit ton of people in his shop. Murai heart beats into his chest, climbing up and lodging itself in his throat. He's scared. Nonetheless.

He hides his worry and project confidence, just like he'd need to do when facing a bear, unfortunately for him, the sight before him is much more intimidating than a bear. Bears don't hunt humans unless they're protecting their young, or are in extreme danger. Humans though? Five humans. One average height. Four way bigger and taller than the talking one, specifically picked for their intimidating size he's sure. The big ones aren't saying anything. They're just here.

Blocking the space, the people inside his shop already leaving as they smell the bullshit building. And there's another friend of them, a sixth one. Beside the entrance. Between the door like some kind of guard dog. Probably here to 'gently' make sure nobody enter his shop.

"Look Murai, I get it" the scarred man in front of him puts his hand over his chest "Really I get it, you don't wan-!"

"No" The man stops talking to squint his eyes at him. And murai points behind them, at the shop, at the entrance.

"No is no. Piss off. You're scaring away the customers" The scarred man wait for a good moment, leaning against his counter just like him and keeping up the stare. Murai right hand dangle close to his counter. To the bottom of his counter, where his work knife rests. He tangles with the wooden shaft. The scarred guy stares at him, before sighing and shrugging his shoulders.

"You really don't want to do that Murai, think about it, it's for you too" He almost want to spit on the ground but restrain himself. Nodding up toward the door instead.

"Yeah yeah, but no""Think about it Murai, bad things may happen if you keep going like that" Before letting Murai time to answer the team of five turn around at the scarred man lead, and they all leave the shop, the sixth man holding the door open for them until they're all gone and it swings close. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Leaving him alone in his shop.

Looking down at the ground and palming his bald head, Murai can't help but mutter curses under his breath.

"Fuck, fucking. For me yeah, you fucking bitches" he keeps insulting their entire lineage as he steps around his counter, and close his shop before any other customer can come. Murai Taki has a problem. Murai Taki has a big problem. He's successful, a bit too successful. Extremely successful. And the same people that never moved to help him want to cozy up with him now, forcefully or not. His hand doesn't leave his scalp as he paces around the roo-! A whistle reaches his ear.

His entire body snaps to the right like a trained dog, knowing damn well what this is..... the... worm god? His previously pretty heavy heartbeat starts beating. Harder. Faster. His eyes focused on his open door behind his counter, the one leading in his hallway. His.... His... menacingly red hallway. He rubs his eyes but it doesn't help. It's still there. On the small opening he left open, the entire hallway is bathed in a sickly red bloody light, as if a bloody mist was staining the air. His foot doesn't move.

Too focused on staring at the hallway. The light isn't uniform. It starts from the somewhere, with a heavy glowy red light like... like... like nothing he never saw before. It's the mix of a light from a fire and the color of blood and the glow of the fireball that exploded months ago. It's not a fire because the light makes him anxious, because the light is intense instead of warm. It's not blood because it expands everywhere and anywhere.

Not sticking to the wall but existing through the air, almost everywhere, as some places in his hallway are dark, shadowy, they only deserve a slight ting of red, a reflect from the main glow. The shadows make everything worse. It's not even the fireball because it's not dangerous it's... It's a color he never saw before, not in this place, not like that. What can make this kind of light!? The whistle appears again.

Leading him closer to the hallway, his breathing quickens, he steps forward, inside the hallway, inside the bloody dark hallway. And when he inches himself inside. He can see more. In his cold room. Where all his meat has been gathered. Where all his meat has been stocked. The door... is open. Barely open. A slight tilt of the door that invites him in as all the other doors around him apart from the hallway entrance are closed. The light comes from the cold room.

The entire hallway bloody light is just a reflection, a reflection of the light escaping the half-open door, half open door that lead to the cold room where carcasses of meat dangle in the middle of the bloody light, staring at him, their skin redder than flesh. Who could make such light? A whistle reaches him again. Who but a god could show him those impossible colors? Murai steps closer. And closer. Following the whistle, his sweaty palm rests against the cold door, and he opens it. Slowly.

His eyes widen as he sees the full extent of his cold room. Filled with meat of all kind. Carcasses. Dead butchered animals. Proof of the constant massacres the worm god has been committing, a proof of how dangerous the worm god is, proof shown and bathed in an intense bloody light. All carcasses stares back at him. Surrounding shadows. Surrounding a shadow. They are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. It is everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

Trailing the red ground, the redness not entering the depth of their darkness as if their body were made of ink. The red surrounds the shadows as they trail around and above the walls, hugging the corners and looming everywhere, above him, under him, at his right, at his left, behind a carcass, inside a carcass, in the shadow of a dead giant worm, changing the wormy shape and transforming itself in this looming shadowy shape. All of those shadows are nothing but a extension of his real form.

Plastered on the wall in front of him, as if it was slicking and sticking on the wall like the rules of gravity did not exist. A blurred shadow, one with a size he can't estimate, giant a moment when the blurs get bigger, or shorter when his eyes focus, which is hard to do when a pin prick of deadly red in the form of eyes stare back at him from the middle of the shadow. Then. Every sound stops. His ears buzz. The silence is unnatural. For three seconds.

He his forced still, forced to stare back into those red eyes. Then, a whistle, gentler than before. A gentle whistle emanating around the room, almost like a lullaby, it resonates all around him. Another sound comes to add itself to the lullaby. A creaky sound. The sound of a human, of something, of something wrong, something wrong imitating an human, bubbling right beneath the throat and creaking in a high and sickly tone, a mix of a growl, and the sound of a throat exploding, it pierces the ear. It hurts.

The same creaky sounds form a sound. Something. A voice. A sentence. It's saying something.

"Murai Taki" His name.