Paul woke up.
His eyes slowly opened, but his vision was still blurry. The world around him seemed to spin. His head felt heavy, and a sharp ringing filled his ears. He lifted his hand and clutched his head, which felt like it had just been smashed by a hammer.
"Where... am I? Am I still alive?"
"Didn't I fall into the river?"
The surroundings were hazy, but one thing immediately caught his attention—he was lying right at the center of a massive magic circle. The glowing runes pulsed with energy, flowing through the air like veins of lightning coiling in intricate patterns. The circle was enormous; even the altar beneath him looked like an ancient stage made of old stone. Worn concrete slabs, gray and weathered by time, stretched beneath him. Symbols of light floated into the air, like a scene pulled straight from a fantasy movie.
"Is this the afterlife?" Paul wondered. "Or... another world?"
Suddenly—
"Thud."
Something round dropped right next to his hand. Still half-conscious, he reached for it. It felt soft, warm... and slick. His hand slipped—
"Bruk!"
His head slammed against the stone floor. He groaned in pain.
"Damn... what was that just now?" he muttered weakly. "Why did it feel... soft?"
As his vision began to clear, he finally saw what he'd touched. It was... a human head. His eyes widened. His mouth fell open. The pale face still wore an expression of horror, as if it had tried to scream—though the neck had long been severed.
"Huh...?" he whispered.
His hand, the one that had just touched the head, was now soaked in warm, thick blood.
"AHHHHHHHHH!!! SOMEBODY—"
"Slash!"
A sharp sound cut off his scream. Blood splattered. Paul froze. His breath caught in his throat. In front of him, a man—someone else who had just woken up—was sliced cleanly by something. Something that wasn't human.
The monster stepped out from the shadows.
Its body was hunched like a predator. At least two meters tall, covered in tough scales and bulging muscles. Its face was twisted and grotesque—a terrifying blend of beast and nightmare. Its jaws were lined with knife-like teeth, and a long tongue slithered out between them. Its glowing red eyes locked onto Paul. A whip-like tail swayed in the air, and sharp spines jutted from its back, as if it had been made purely to kill.
'I… I have to get out of here… 'Paul thought.
He bolted.
From where he had frozen, he ran toward the massive stairs of the altar—a towering structure, five stories high, with spiral staircases on each side. From above, the altar looked like a sacrificial platform for the gods. But today—it was a stage of slaughter.
As Paul ran, he heard the screams of those behind him—cries that echoed like the chorus of hell.
Sobs, pleas, desperate shouts—none of them mattered.
The monster didn't care.
It ripped through them one by one, tearing them apart like raw meat.
Paul kept running, blood from others splattering onto his clothes.
'I have to get out… I have to run… If I stop now, I'll just become another pile of flesh... I don't want to die. Not here. Not like this...'
His eyes caught the silhouette of massive trees in the distance—a forest. That forest was his only hope to hide. But from atop the altar, the monster—still drenched in blood—turned its gaze toward him. And began the chase.
Paul ran blindly.
He had never trained to run before. In fact, he'd hardly left his house. But now, he ran as if his life depended on it—because it did.
His steps were clumsy. His breath ragged. Cold sweat drenched him, even though the air felt unbearably thick.
The sound of pursuing footsteps grew fainter, but he didn't dare stop.
The forest ahead looked like a bottomless abyss. Branches curled like hands trying to claw the sky, the leaves above blocked out all light, and the narrow path sank into a low-hanging mist, making the place feel like a living nightmare.
Paul slipped behind the roots of an ancient tree, trying to hold his breath. His heartbeat pounded so hard it felt like it might burst through his chest.
"Haaah... Haah..."
Even the tremble of his own breath sent chills through his body. And then—
"GYAAAAAAHHH!!"
A piercing shriek echoed through the trees—monstrous and inhuman. Paul froze instantly. His breath caught. His knees gave out. That sound... didn't come from the monster chasing him earlier. Even the monsters had stopped, they were scared. It looked toward the forest and then turned back. It ran away, heading back toward the altar.
"A-Am I... safe?" Paul whispered, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
But deep down, he knew—If even the monster is afraid of this forest...,then whatever's inside is far more dangerous. But the altar wasn't an option. Going back meant certain death. Paul gritted his teeth, trying to hold back the rising panic.
"So the only way... is forward, huh?"
He stepped deeper in.
The farther he went, the darker everything became. No birdsong. No wind. Only fog and shadows that moved too fast to be natural. Pale light filtered through the canopy, casting skeletal silhouettes of the trees.Then, from behind a bush...Paul saw a group of people—disheveled, bloodstained, and wide-eyed.
They froze. So did Paul. A tense silence lingered until one man broke it. A crew-cut young man with sharp eyes asked in a hesitant, anxious voice,
"Y-You came from the altar too?"
Paul was stunned.
A young man with a battered face stood before him, followed by a woman in torn clothing and a large man gripping a makeshift wooden weapon.
They all looked terrified—but alert.
"W-We thought we were the only ones who made it out..." the woman said.
Paul didn't get the chance to respond.
A strange sound came from the direction of a small river cutting through the forest.
"Crack. Crack. Crack."
The sound of bones... or joints grinding. Then, something emerged.
That thing...
Its skin was pale like a long-dead corpse, stretched tight over a skeletal frame. Its ribs jutted out like metal spikes. Its mouth was torn wide from cheek to cheek, with blood dripping from its jaw. It crawled along a fallen tree, its eyes empty, yet starving for flesh. Its long fingers dug into the wood like claws. Below, bones lay scattered—some still dressed in shredded clothes.
"...A ghoul," one of them whispered. "We need to run—now!"
The creature let out a chilling, guttural sound, a mixture of laughter and hungry groans. In an instant, it leapt down, its claws sharp as knives, ready to tear through flesh.
"Gyaaaaahhh!"
The creature's roar split the air, echoing through the suffocating forest. In a flash, it lunged toward Paul. Its sharp claws swiped, narrowly missing Paul's face—a thin scratch marked his cheek as his body was thrown to the ground.
Immediately, the people who had been speaking with him earlier turned and ran without hesitation.
"What about him?" a woman screamed from the group, her voice filled with anxiety.
"D-Damn it... we don't have a choice!" someone yelled back. "If we don't run now, we die too!"
Paul heard it. His eyes widened. His breathing turned frantic. They left him.
'N-No... No... Damn it... It's not supposed to be like this...' He thought.
He watched their shadows vanish into the mist and trees. As he tried to rise from the ground, the creature swung its claws toward Paul's head again. But Paul, with a survival instinct igniting within him, immediately ducked. The claw missed and embedded itself deeply into the tree trunk behind him.
"Craaaack!"
The ghoul struggled to pull its claw free, but got stuck in the fibers of the tree. Paul seized the opportunity. He pushed himself up, even though his knees were trembling.
But the ghoul wasn't done.
One of its hands slid quickly, slashing Paul's left calf. A sharp pain spread throughout his body. The wound wasn't deep, but it was enough to throw off his balance.
'Endure... Keep going... Stay strong... Paul Fulhart.'
With the last of his strength, Paul stumbled forward, no longer caring about the direction. He chose the path opposite to where the group was—away from the ghoul chasing him, as far as he could go.
Blood dripped from his wounds, leaving faint traces on the moss-covered ground. Sweat and blood mixed on his body. The fog in the forest seemed to grow thicker, obscuring all shapes and sounds.
Finally, he collapsed beneath the large tree. His body could no longer support him.
He gasped for breath, his hands trembling as they touched the wound on his leg.
"Hhh... haaah... aahhh—" His breath was ragged.
His eyes looked up at the sky, barely visible through the dark canopy.
"Hah... hahahaha..." A bitter laugh escaped.
"So this... is what it feels like to barely survive death..."
He bowed his head. Pain and cold seeped into him like poison.
In rhythm with his body. The pain spread from his calf to the rest of his body, burning through his nerves every time he tried to move.
In the distance, the ghoul that had wounded him was still roaming. Its movements were erratic, pacing as it crept closer. It sniffed the scent of blood among the trees and the earth, slowly approaching Paul.
'Is this the end? Am I really going to die here…?' thought Paul, his eyes half-open, his body beginning to lose strength.
'Wouldn't it be easier if I just died? What's the point of staying alive… in a world that feels like hell?'
But deep down, he knew. That voice—the one that spoke of giving up—was not his own.
He didn't want to die. Even if his body was broken, even if the world rejected him, the deepest part of him still screamed… to live.
And that was enough.
Paul raised his head. The night sky above was tinged with a crimson hue, like an open wound in the heavens. A sky that didn't belong to any normal world. With a quiet groan, he began to lift his body. His knees trembled, his breath still ragged. Every movement felt like it was tearing his wounds open deeper. But he stood. The ghoul saw Paul, then howled in the distance, slashing through trees with its razor-sharp claws, accompanied by an ear-piercing, terrifying scream.
"GYAAAAHHHHH!!"
Paul didn't look back. There was no time. His vision blurred, but his eyes stayed forward. With one hand, he grabbed a broken piece of wood—a stick that might serve as support. His leg dragged, his steps faltering, but he kept moving. Slowly, he made his way deeper into the heart of the forest, blending with the darkness and fog that consumed everything.
Paul didn't waste the rare moment when the fog thickened, obscuring his vision until even the step in front of him was nearly invisible. With his body stumbling and blood still flowing from his calf, he moved slowly, pushing through the mist towards the gap between the towering trees. His breath was heavy, almost choked by the pain and the overwhelming fear that gripped him.
He finally leaned against the thick trunk of a tree, enveloped in dense fog, blending himself with the silence that cloaked the night. The fog around him was so thick that even the shadows of the trees appeared like alien beings, standing still and motionless.
"The fog... this should be enough to hide me..." he thought, holding his wooden stick tightly, holding his breath. He sat still, his body pressed firmly against the cold, damp tree trunk, hoping the ghoul would lose his trail.
However, that sound returned.
"GYAHHHHHHHHH!!!"
The terrifying scream echoed between the trees, shaking Paul's chest like a powerful blow. The surrounding trees swayed, and some even fell as the ghoul began to tear down everything in its path. Paul could hear the crack of wood, the sound of uprooted roots, and the furious roar of the creature hunting its prey—hunting him.
"Please... please... stay away from me... go away... damn monster..." Paul thought, his mouth trembling without making a sound. His heart was pounding so loudly it felt like it would explode from his chest.
The ghoul's steps grew closer. Its heavy breathing was clearly audible. The tree where Paul was hiding began to tremble—the ghoul was truly about to find him.
But then...Something appeared in the midst of the fog. Not a sound, not a step, just... a presence.
The figure slowly emerged from the dense fog. A form that could hardly be called human—this creature was dancing.
Its body was tall and thin, with pale, grayish skin, like a preserved corpse, covered in scars and old tears. It moved gracefully, as if performing a ballet.
Its arms stretched out as if embracing the air, its fingers long and sharp, dancing in the poisoned atmosphere. It had no eyes. Only a mass of flesh resembling hands where a face should have been, to see the world. But that smile—wide, terrifying, and filled with sharp teeth—remained, never fading, as if it reveled in the suffering it created.
Its body was much taller than the ghoul, its form terrifying, and the aura emanating from it froze the air around them. The monster stood before the ghoul like a ruler descending from hell.
The ghoul, which had been rampaging, suddenly froze in place. GYAHHH— Before the threatening scream could finish, the ghoul's head was severed in an instant. Paul didn't have time to see the movement—he only… knew that in the next moment, the head was in the grasp of the new creature, held like a fragile, lifeless object.
Paul held his breath. His body trembled, not only from the wounds and the cold but from a fear so deep it gripped his soul.
The monster gazed at the ghoul's head in its hand... then crushed it into pieces. Fragments of bone and blood splattered onto the fog-covered ground.
Then, the monster slowly turned its gaze toward Paul.
And smiled.
That smile was not of a human. Nor of a creature with mercy. That smile carried a message, one that whispered,
'I know you're there.'
Paul held back a scream. His body went rigid, and his mouth couldn't make a sound, frozen by the terrifying gaze and smile.
But the monster... simply turned away.
Without a word, without quickening its pace, it walked slowly away... in the same direction Paul had come from—the path leading to the mysterious altar hidden behind the forest.
As the figure vanished into the fog, Paul collapsed to his knees. His breath came in frantic gasps, his heart racing as if he had just escaped death's embrace. He couldn't think, all he could hear was the chaotic pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears.
And for the first time that night, Paul cried in silence.
After a while of sitting in stillness, Paul looked down at the wound on his calf, still bleeding.
"Damn... it hurts even more now. If I leave it like this, it could get seriously infected."
Without much thought, he tore the bottom part of his thin jacket that clung to his body. The fabric tore easily, giving Paul just enough material to loosely bandage the wound. Though the pain intensified, he forced himself to stand, a soft groan of agony escaping his lips.
With faltering steps, Paul continued his journey through the dense forest. Tall trees blocked the light, and broken branches scattered across the ground. At several points, he saw dried bloodstains... but couldn't find the source. There were also some strange plants, but Paul only glanced at them from a distance.
"I don't know what that is... I just hope I don't step wrong and get poisoned," he muttered cautiously.
Time passed, and as the sky began to turn gray, Paul's gaze caught the silhouette of a small building behind the bushes.
An old cottage.
He stopped for a moment.
"Is that... a place to stay?" he whispered uncertainly, then swallowed. "I hope it's not a monster's den."
He began to approach the cottage slowly, his body tense, wary of whatever might be waiting inside.