A Monster!

Harry's gaze lingered on the mother and daughter before him, a swirl of confusion clouding his thoughts. Just moments ago, he had been pondering the source of the simulation energy he had accumulated. But now, as he watched the scene unfold, a wild and absurd idea flickered in his mind.

Could it be that the energy he had harnessed was somehow tied to these two? The notion seemed ludicrous, yet the connection intrigued him enough to explore it.

He stepped forward, the air around him thick with tension. Silence fell like a heavy blanket, the villagers halting their accusations as they turned to him. After the chaos of the previous night, Harry's standing had shifted dramatically. Even the village chief and the elders paused, uncertainty etched on their faces as they regarded him.

"Listen," Harry began, his voice calm but firm. "This has gone on long enough. Bullying two defenseless women won't bring back those we've lost. Let's not become the very monsters we despise."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. "You want to take them away?" someone challenged, disbelief threading their voice. "But what if the bandits return?"

Their eyes were wide, apprehensive. They had relied on Harry's strength to fend off the last attack. "Without you, who will protect us?"

"That's your problem, not mine," Harry replied, an edge creeping into his tone. "Now step aside."

For a moment, hesitation flickered in the eyes of the villagers. But under Harry's unwavering gaze, the man blocking his path faltered, finally giving way. They lacked the courage to oppose him; his reputation as a fierce warrior now loomed large in their minds.

With determination, Harry walked out of the village, the mother and daughter trailing behind him. As they crossed the threshold, a familiar pulse surged through him, the Simulation Coin within him reacted, and he felt the energy begin to rise.

"It's working," he muttered, a flicker of excitement igniting within him. He turned back to glance at the two women. The mother held her daughter tightly, their expressions a mix of relief and gratitude.

The little girl peeked out from her mother's embrace, her wide eyes filled with curiosity and fear as they met Harry's gaze. He sensed the weight of their unspoken thanks and the complexity of their emotions swirling around them.

With a slight shake of his head, Harry refocused. This village, battered and broken, could no longer sustain them. It was time to move on. "I'll take you both to Center City," he said, his voice steadier now. "You'll be safe there."

The mother nodded, her expression softening as she took a deep breath, and Harry felt a renewed sense of purpose. Together, they would find a way forward, leaving the shadows of the past behind.

Harry had planned to leave the village eventually, but now he found himself departing even sooner than he anticipated.

"Let's go," he said firmly, gesturing for the mother and daughter to follow him as he strode forward.

The journey from the village to Center City would typically take a day, but he usually covered that distance in half the time. Now, with the added weight of two extra lives relying on him, the trek felt infinitely more challenging.

The threats were all too real; bandits were hot on their heels, a relentless wave of trouble that Harry had to fend off. They encountered small groups of marauders, typically numbering around a dozen, and while Harry was more than capable of handling them, each skirmish delayed their progress, gnawing at his patience and resolve.

As night fell, Harry finally led the mother and daughter to a secluded area at the edge of a dense forest. There, nestled among the trees, stood a small, weathered wooden cabin, his old hunting base. It had seen better days, but it would serve its purpose well for the night.

"Let's take a break here," Harry said, his voice softer now. "We can reach Center City by dawn."

Silence hung in the air as he looked back, expecting a response. But instead, he heard a sharp intake of breath behind him.

Harry's instincts kicked in, a chill racing down his spine. Something was off.

He turned just in time to see a massive hand swing toward him.

"Watch out!" he barely had time to shout before the impact hit him square in the chest.

The force of the blow knocked him off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground with a resounding thud. Pain shot through his body, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood, the metallic taste overwhelming him.

As he struggled to push himself up, his eyes widened in disbelief. The woman who had been holding the little girl was transforming right before him. Her features twisted into something grotesque, her skin stretching and bulging as if something monstrous lurked within her, desperate to escape.

Her eyes glowed a furious red, and the veins on her skin throbbed violently, threatening to burst. Gone was the weary mother; now she resembled a creature straight out of a nightmare.

Harry shook off the shock, regaining his composure. "So, you're not what you seemed," he murmured, standing tall despite the pain radiating through his body.

He extended his right hand, drawing his sword from its sheath with a quiet determination. The blade glinted under the moonlight, still stained with the blood from the earlier battle.

With a firm grip on the hilt, Harry faced the transformed woman, ready to defend himself and the innocent girl who still cowered behind her mother-turned-monster.

Roar!

A massive hand crashed down, creating a deep crater in the ground where Harry had just been standing. But he was quick, his body darted to the side, and in an instant, he lunged forward, sword raised high.

The blade sliced through the air with a sharp hiss, plunging deep into the creature's side. Blood sprayed forth, a vivid crimson geyser that splattered onto the ground, where it hissed and sizzled upon contact with the grass, leaving patches of withered earth in its wake.

Harry's heart raced as he stepped back, aware of the danger. This blood was not just life-giving; it was highly corrosive. If even a drop landed on him, it could spell disaster. He had to be careful.

Determined to gain the upper hand, Harry attempted to maneuver around the monstrous figure, aiming for its flank. But the creature was quicker than he had anticipated. With terrifying agility, it swatted at him again, sending him hurtling through the air.

He crashed against the wooden house, the impact nearly toppling it over. Pain radiated through his body; he was beginning to feel the toll of the fight. As an apprentice knight, he was strong, but against this abomination, he felt like a mere mortal facing a storm.

"This is it," he thought, the strength draining from his limbs. He dropped his sword, no longer willing to struggle against the inevitable. He stood there, breathless and battered, watching as the creature approached.

Yet, instead of striking him down, the monster hesitated. It paused, its grotesque features flickering, as if battling an internal struggle.

"No, no…"

The voice that emerged was a haunting mix of the woman's and the monster's, echoing with desperation. The creature's eyes, once filled with primal fury, now shimmered with a hint of humanity.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" The words tumbled from her lips, almost a frantic plea. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I really didn't want this."

As Harry watched in astonishment, the monstrous form began to transform. The hideous features softened, shifting back to those of a frightened woman, her skin regaining its color. Within moments, she stood before him, a beautiful woman who had been caught in an unimaginable horror.

Her expression was one of sheer terror, as she gazed at Harry with wide eyes, searching for understanding. "Please… forgive me," she murmured, her voice trembling. "I didn't want to become… this."

In that moment, the line between monster and human blurred, leaving Harry to grapple with the complex reality before him.

Looking at Harry's battered form, the woman's expression shifted. Memories flooded back; painful, haunting moments that made her tremble uncontrollably. She began to mutter under her breath, the weight of her past threatening to overwhelm her once more.

Then, a disturbing transformation began again. Her fair skin was marred as blood vessels swelled beneath the surface, threatening to erupt into chaos. Harry sensed the change and acted quickly, stepping forward to embrace her.

"It's okay," he murmured softly, wrapping his arms around her. His warmth and reassurance seemed to momentarily quell the storm brewing within her. He offered a gentle smile, his hand stroking her hair as he whispered calming words. "You're safe now."

"Don't you blame me?" she asked, her voice shaking as disbelief flickered in her eyes. "I almost killed you…"

"It's alright," Harry replied, his tone steady and soothing. "You and I both know that wasn't your intention. If that's the case, what is there to blame?"

The woman searched his face, struggling to comprehend his kindness. "But… I hurt you," she insisted, her voice barely a whisper.

"Even if I had died by your hand, I wouldn't blame you. It was never your choice," he said, his eyes twinkling with sincerity. "Besides, a beautiful lady like you? I'd consider it an honor to be a part of your story, however tragic."

Tears welled in her eyes, touched by his compassion. "You're so kind," she choked out, her emotions bubbling to the surface.

"Get some rest now," he encouraged gently, his voice wrapping around her like a soft blanket. "You deserve it."

With his soothing words echoing in her ears, the woman slowly closed her eyes, surrendering to exhaustion. She nestled into his arms, her body finally allowing itself to relax after the turmoil.

But then, a soft thump broke the stillness. Harry felt the weight shift as her head dropped, hitting the ground with a faint thud. He looked down, his expression calm, despite the sword still stained with blood in his hand.

He carefully pushed her lifeless body away, setting it aside with a heavy heart.

Turning, he surveyed the area, his gaze falling on the little girl who had been silently watching. She stood there, eerily composed, having witnessed her mother's transformation and subsequent demise without a sound. There was a stillness about her that suggested this was not her first brush with tragedy.

When their eyes met, the girl's voice broke the silence. "Sir, are you going to kill me?"

Her tone was clear and innocent, with an almost haunting curiosity that tugged at Harry's heart. In that moment, he understood the weight of her question.