Online In Another World

As he looked around, trying to gather as much information as he could before delving into the belly of the beast that was Larundog, the blatant display of death from those tasked to protect the city made it clear that whatever lurked within its walls was something extraordinarily lethal.

"Ghh…"

There was a disorder felt secondary to the state of his body; a new magical signature was felt, completely different from that just outside of the gates. It was dark, cold, and malignant.

…What is this? He thought, I need to see the city…something isn't about this sensation.

As he moved towards the door on the opposing side of the interior of the gate, his fingertips grasped the handle before slowly prying it open.

"--"

It was beyond any of his expectations; what met his eyes was a scenery that made him question whether or not he had stepped into a separate space.

The sky was a soft orange representative of sunset before he had entered the gate, but the sky he saw now, hanging over the city, was similar to that of a total solar eclipse.

It was crimson; clouds took the form of distorted faces that held anguished expressions, sailing over the city.

"...What is this…?" He questioned.

Death was present on each corner of the city; bodies laid on the streets, blood painted houses and shops alike, and all the while, the human-face-shaped clouds groaned.

This is an S-rank quest…? He questioned, No…if Vandread knew it would be like this, he wouldn't have done it. He's too careful.

Simply, it was a nightmare; a nightmare that was without a doubt, reality.

There was no time to assess the hellscape as the sound of heavy stomps caused his gaze to spin around, finding an entity approaching from the west street.

It was a lumbering giant, roughly twice his height; pale and built with thick limbs and an even thicker neck, though it seemed to lack eyes and possessed a body covered in holes. A soft whistle emitted from its body as air passed through the many holes embedded in its flesh.

"What the…? Is that thing the entity responsible for this?" He mumbled, raising his staff.

The sight of it was a stomach-churning endeavor; it groaned as it approached slowly, carrying a hatchet in its left hand.

Fighting with the frail body of his past self wasn't an idea he was fond of, but it seemed that his "Draconic Constitution" skill at least allowed him to function normally, albeit with the usual pain and demerits.

"I'm not in a great mood, so I'm going to be a bit rough," he said as a quiet warning to the approaching, grotesque giant.

With a wave of his wooden staff, the pale stone from the street was manipulated to spawn quickly-rising spikes that honed in on the hole-filled figure.

There was no attempt to dodge or counterattack from the sluggish giant of pale, snow-white skin as the spikes stabbed into its blubbery body.

Fwoooo…

The sound of air passing through the dozens of holes across its body left a nauseating sound which made Emilio cover one of his ears, wincing.

That noise…it's grating, he thought.

The eyeless entity was silent itself before it began to move, or at least it tried to, though it was detained through the stone pikes that skewered it. From its natural holes, the whistle of air continued to pelt his ears with an unnatural melody that felt as though it was gnawing at his sanity.

"...I'll finish this…" He said, covering one of his ears still.

Swiping his staff, he manipulated the spikes to multiply in their form, causing more of the stone weapons to birth themselves from within the giant's body. It was an instantaneous kill; the spikes skewered it from the inside out.

However, no blood left its newly-made wounds.

"...?" He looked on.

It wasn't as swift a finish as he had hoped for; the grotesque mound of flesh that was the featureless giant, like a canvas of muscle not given a form, began vibrating.

What is it doing…? He thought.

Suddenly, it exploded: chunks of chalky flesh propelled in every direction like bullets. He quickly created a wall in front of himself to block the incoming chunks, though its stability was degraded by the swift casting time.

"What the…?!"

The flesh of the eyeless giant began to stretch itself over the wall of stone, seizing it and coalescing as the chunks gathered at the single location.

It's taking over my wall?! He realized.

Attempting to stop the assimilation of the stone, he used his staff to create spikes across the wall, but his command over the object was null.

"Huh–?"

There was no effect when he tried manipulating the wall; it was now completely absorbed by the chalky flesh of the entity before it broke down, beginning to shape itself into a new form once again.

What is this thing…?! Is it using the mana from the wall to sustain itself? He thought.

Before he could decide on his next course of action, a coughing fit erupted as he clutched his chest, heaving from his strained throat. It felt as though there was little right with his body; it was hardly responsive and unable to keep up with most of his actions.

This body, it's not used to this…He realized.

Though his mana itself and knowledge on how to wield it was still there, it seemed the body of 'Ethan' wasn't adjusted to magecraft.

Even so, there was no choice but to move as the creature that assimilated the wall had reshaped itself into a new form, this time taking a more lanky, humanoid shape with dozens of holes through its body, but this time with empty eye sockets.

…I need to retreat for now and prepare! He planned.

As he turned the other way, he ran down the blood-painted street of Larundog, through the desolate marketplace and around the corner.

Even with Draconic Constitution, running was difficult for his malnourished, sickly body as he was deprived of oxygen from the short-lived sprint. He was forced to duck into one of the empty shops, which luckily had its door just slightly open.

"...Phew…"

He breathed out after shutting the door behind him, finding himself in a wrecked shop full of mostly destroyed pottery.

The floorboards creaked beneath each of his steps as the planks were rotting from some substance that had moistened the material.

It really is destroyed, he thought, this whole city and its people.

There was too much that was still unknown to him: why he had now taken the appearance of his previous self, the nature of the eclipse hanging over the city, but more importantly, the morphing creature.

…Part of me wants to turn tail and run, but…I know deep down, that's not possible. I know I should've easily blown that door away earlier, but it didn't budge, he thought, the impervious door, the completely different atmosphere…I'm starting to think this city is a trapped space.

Faced with the inevitability of having to fight in the hellscape of a city, he instead turned his thoughts towards how to surmount the monster lurking the street. He could hear its footsteps; they were lighter now, but denser in dread. Against the asphalt, its steps resounded like an augury of death.

Skewering it didn't do anything…If anything, it gave it something to absorb into itself, he thought, does that mean all physical attacks are meaningless? I doubt wind would make much of a difference. Maybe water of fire though…

As he went through the possibilities in his head, hiding behind the counter of the destroyed store, which was absent of light and filled with clingy shadows, the footsteps ascended the steps to the store's porch.

Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.

It was eerily silent; everything except those steps. As they stopped, moments followed, absolutely deprived of noise before–

SLAM.

Something hit the door with a loud bang, hitting it a few more times, but not opening the door as the noises came to a stop. He stayed seated on the ground behind the counter, out of sight and clutching his staff.

The urge to cough arose, but he clutched his own throat to stifle it, opting to try and make the entity leave.

After the banging stop, a peculiar whistle sounded out. It wasn't any normal chime; air was sharpened, pointed into a tune that mimicked the utterances of vocal chords.

"...Help…me…"

The voice that said such words sounded like a sharp wind, passing like a breeze, though it was haunting.

"--!" Emilio silently sat up to peek over the counter.

Did it…talk? He realized.

As he slowly peeked over the counter, which was dirtied with shards of broken glass, the screeching of flesh scraping against a window met his ears.

It was a chilling sight; the humanoid, white-fleshed creature was standing behind the window, scraping its palm against the glass as it stared through with its absent eyes.

"...Please don't…help me…I'll do anything…"

As the entity emitted words, it didn't produce the sound with its lips, but through the many holes throughout its body, which manipulated the air that passed through its body, contracting the holes as if it were an instrument.

Those words…is it mimicking…people it's killed? He realized.