Chương 2: Simulation

I was frozen still. My mind didn't quite grasp the situation I was in. Yet, my body's survival mechanisms had already set in. My breath was fast and low, and my hands trembled. With my vision turning blurry and my ears pounding from the constant blood flow, I couldn't have possibly seen it coming. But I felt it. The cold touch of metal entered my left shoulder. A brief moment later my cries of pain followed as the weapon was removed again.

The warmth of my blood spread and poured down my arm, painting my already soaked tunic red. I clutched my wound. My vision returning as adrenaline pumped through my blood. The silver blade of the thin man was raised far above his head like an executioner. My executioner. He snickered. Then the weapon descended from above like the sword of judgment bringing me to justice. For a moment, I just watched, not knowing what to do, before my instincts took over. The weapon was danger. Danger meant death.

I rolled across the mud with a wet splash. Quickly jumping back on my feet caused a groan to escape my lips as pain coursed through my wounded shoulder. I stared at the thin man in front of me. He walked slowly, as if taking a stroll in the park. My breath hitched. The man was trying to kill me and he was closing the distance. With only a few feet away from me, fear made me take a step back. Just for me to bump into something soft and fleshy. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

With no other option, and dread taking control over my body, I pounced towards the thin man. I stabbed my sword forward in a clumsy manner. But him not expecting me to attack resulted in a late reaction and it, in turn, made my blade pierce his shoulder just before he could block. He cried like I did. But my moment of victory didn't last long. His yelp of pain was overshadowed by my scream of agony as the left part of my body suddenly felt lighter. The round man from behind had struck.

My cut-off arm fell into the mud next to me. It twitched a few times as if not understanding our connection had been severed. Blood pumped out of my shoulder and the shock made my body turn cold. Yet, I moved forward again despite the misery I was in. I knew that if I didn't, I would die. The round man behind me would make sure of that. So, I drove my sword forward, with the full momentum and weight of my body. The blade dug deeper into the thin man's shoulder, until his bone hit the crossguard of my weapon.

The remaining force pushed me into him and we both fell towards the ground. Knowing that I would die if I didn't, I let go of my weapon and dove to the side. I felt a wave of pressure pass over my head as I landed in the mud next to the crying, thin man. He still didn't regain his bearings.

"Come here, little boy!" the round man screamed, and I watched as he stepped closer. He, too, raised his hands into an overhand strike like the thin man. Being larger in general resulted in the man having longer limbs and therefore allowed me to react appropriately. That and my experience with freezing at the sight of shiny metal. I grabbed the sword that the thin man had dropped when we fell. With trembling hands and a mind that screamed at me for being an idiot, I dove forward towards the descending attack.

I stayed low, giving me even more time, and with luck, skill, or God's grace, my strike landed first. The tip of my blade pierced into his groin, tearing it apart. I took glee in his pain but didn't stay to watch him cry out. Instead, my momentum continued to take me forward, as I dodged his strike by staying close to him. With the only other option being slamming into the man's thick thigh, I let go of my second sword too and evaded his body.

I rolled a few times on the ground, thinking the man would go after me with a flurry of attacks fueled by the rage of a thousand perished generations. He didn't. He sat on the ground, pulled down his trousers, and checked out the wound. It was a bloody mess of tangled flesh. His hands rummaged across the messed-up area as he repeated the same words in a high-pitched voice.

"No, no, no, no, no. That can't be. No, no, no." It seemed that the shock had made him forget the pain. And me. It made him forget me. The man he tried to kill just a minute ago. Anger filled my heart. I glanced back towards the dark forest obscured by night. Then at the palm-sized rock next to me. I picked up the stone. I ran towards him, suppressing a scream, and simply sprinted forward, my hand far above my head. Hesitation flashed through my mind.

Then I remembered what it did to my left shoulder and, in turn, arm. I raised the rock as high as possible. The stone struck the back of the man's head. Then again. And again. On the third strike, a grueling crunch made me flinch. His skull split open. I didn't stop. Three more strikes and the stone broke. Pieces of it mixed with the man's brain matter splattered on the muddy ground below. I fell upon my buttocks, breathing wildly. A wave of pain shot through my missing arm.

Yet, that feeling was quickly washed over with relief. I had done it. Adrenaline began to slowly wear off, making me feel the exhaustion of my frail body. Burning lungs, a missing arm, a punctured left shoulder, and a scraped palm. It hurt like hell. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. Then, something rose behind the fat man in front of me. A shadow-like figure that mixed with the night and my blurry vision.

As if his soul was leaving his body and went wherever it went. But it wasn't his soul. It was the thin man. His face was pale. Blood spread across his body, but most importantly, his expression was twisted into rage. Fury glazed his eyes, and his chest heaved up and down. I had forgotten about him. The same way I had been forgotten about. I cursed myself for making such a dumb mistake. But I cut myself some slack. It was my first time murdering somebody.

Yet, it seemed to me that the dumbass in front of me was as bad at it as I was. He wasn't even holding the sword that I had pierced him with. Instead, it lay a couple of feet away. I made sure not to stare at it, only noticing it out of the periphery of my vision. My eyes were focused on him as I too rose to my feet, while grabbing a handful of mud, broken stone, and skull. He let me do that and simply stared me down like a menace—another of his mistakes. So, there we stood. Men of the same height.

One with a missing limb, the other with a useless one. The rain poured from above, and lightning flashed through the otherwise dark night. Despite the situation, I still counted the seconds it took for thunder to arrive. 3 kilometers away.

"You killed my–" I didn't let the thin man finish his word. Instead, I threw the mixture of his friend's bones, mud, and the thing that killed him at the raging man's face. It hit him like the truck did. I would know. He began coughing and spitting out the remains of his friend as fast as possible while raising his right hand, ready to engage in a fistfight. I was not that honorable. By now, I had reached the sword, picked it up, and was dashing towards the thin man. He cursed, then turned and ran. I gave chase.

Being lighter and hungry for blood, I reached him a few seconds later. He didn't have time to turn around before my blade pierced the left side of his chest, where I assumed the heart was. He fell face first into the mud. This time, I planted my feet deep into the ground and gripped the handle of my weapon tight. The wet tearing noise as his body removed itself from my blade would haunt me forever. Yet, I didn't stop. I stabbed him again, a little more to the right this time. And then again, more to the left.

Over and over again I stabbed him, making sure he was truly dead. There was no spectacular fight, no honorable death, no last words or pleas. Just the cold of metal meeting the warmth of flesh and leaving as the winner. This time, I had truly won. And this time, I made sure that nobody was around me to take that victory from me. Then, neon blue words formed right in front of my eyes. First Objective: Complete. More objectives unlocked.

Secondary objective: Save your neighbor's family Tertiary objective: Kill 10 bandits Note: All objectives are weighted the same. Complete all to receive full reward. The house in which the man blew out his candle glowed with a yellow light. It was soft, not glaring, but enough to turn my attention towards it. Nobody besides me could see it. I knew instinctively. I glanced at the corpses of the men I had killed. Each time lightning struck, they would be illuminated as if reminding and highlighting what I had done.

I took a deep breath. It didn't help. My hands shook. Fear? Guilt? I was not sure. Rationally, I shouldn't be afraid. I was alone and alive. Guilty? For what? They tried to kill me. And yet, I felt that pit inside my stomach. Fuck that. I turned and ran. I ran towards the forest in the distance in hope of leaving everything that was here behind me: the raid, the death, and the murdering. The last part I knew I would never escape.

In exhaustion, I had slept inside a tree burrow until early afternoon. Afterwards, I simply watched as the day passed, and kept quiet. Before that, I stuffed my stump with a few herbs I recognized and stopped the bleeding. These were the simulations, memories. Then I kept hidden, knowing that I would be much easier to spot while moving. It was uncomfortable, but so was dying. I managed to make it work before the evening came, followed by the night.

It was silent again, so calm and peaceful as if yesterday hadn't happened. But I knew it did. The battle kept replaying inside my mind the whole time, but every time it did, I would bury it deep into my memory. I didn't have the time now, I kept telling myself. But I knew this wasn't true. I was just afraid. Yet, despite that fear, despite the guilt and all it accompanied, I did something I never thought about doing. I stepped back towards the village. It wasn't far. And that was exactly the problem.

I heard the cries. The screams, full of terror and pain. They pleaded. They begged for mercy. But mercy was never given. And so, as the cries persisted from morning, all the way to the evening, and eventually turned younger and younger, something inside me just snapped. I couldn't bear it any longer and knew that there was only one thing that could appease those poor souls. Death. After crawling out of the tree burrow, I slowly made my way through the forest.

I used a small stick I had found to clear the path ahead of me of any twigs that could potentially snap. Luckily, because of the rain, none of the leaves left a crunch but rather just sank into the mud below when I stepped on them. I crouched low, trying to stay as small as possible. One would think that the darkness of the night would make one practically invisible, but that just wasn't true at all. The stars had returned. The moon shone in a bright white light.

Shadows were created, and with each movement, I broke some of these shadows. And if something, in an otherwise completely still environment, moved even the slightest bit, then you would notice. So, if any of those bandits were looking in my direction while I just strode casually through the forest while also making noise? I would be caught. I didn't know any of this this morning. Eventually, I reached the forest edge undetected, even if it took me hours. The cries, of course, persisted.

Makeshift camps were spread across the village. Campfires surrounded by drunk, cheering men. Some were arguing, others were fighting, and some were torturing a few of the villagers. It was a festive atmosphere. I had no memory of this place, just a few pieces of information about herbs and farming. Besides this, I was just a farmer. Yet, the amount of raiders shocked me. They were in the hundreds. I couldn't take them all on. Not now. Not in a hundred years.

So, I did what I thought was best and hid myself inside a bush. Right at the edge of the forest, and just far enough away to the point the little noise I would make wouldn't matter much. I didn't have to wait for long before my first target arrived. One of the men, with a scar across his face and a missing ear, stumbled towards bushes a dozen feet away from me. Knowing that he was drunk, I decided to be ballsy. I slowly moved towards where he was headed, making some noise in the process. He didn't notice.

Then he stopped right in front of me, pulled his pants down, and started peeing. I drove my sword into his throat. It stabbed through his neck, getting stuck in his spine before I pulled the blade back. He clutched his throat on instinct. Then he fell to the ground and began gurgling on his own blood. It was loud, but the cheers were louder. I dropped my sword and grabbed the man's ankle with my now free hand. He was heavy, so I used all of my body to pull him towards me and the bushes I was in.

By the time he was inside, he had already died. I hid his corpse beneath some undergrowth and went back towards the bushes. I stayed still for a moment. I had murdered a man in cold blood. The two bandits from before could be rationalized as self-defense. This couldn't. The pit inside my stomach grew. Yet, I knew I wouldn't stop. I couldn't. I looked at the place I had stabbed him. It was hard to make out, but blood was mixed with the ground, and if one looked carefully, they would notice.

Luckily, the mud was wet, so I began throwing dirt on the blood to conceal my traces. Then I made sure to use some of that mud to smear on my face. Half an hour later, the next drunk man came over to take a piss, again a few dozen feet towards another group of bushes. And again, the cries and cheers from the village hadn't stopped. I steeled my heart. My eyes went cold. It was time for round two.