Chapter 4:Iam Death Itself  

As I walked for about ten minutes, I heard a disturbing noise. I wasn't surprised—this place was full of unexpected shit. I kept yelling, hoping to attract any lurking assholes.

Out of the blue, two grotesque motherfuckers materialized right in front of me. One brandished a crowbar, while the other gripped a fucking knife.

I smirked at them and taunted, "Come to papa!"

Without hesitation, I lunged toward them, my trusty machete in hand. The one with the knife made a move, lunging at me, aiming to strike. But I dodged his attack with a swift sidestep, swiftly redirecting my machete towards his goddamn head.

The other motherfucker swung his crowbar at me, but I barely had time to react. I instinctively raised my left arm to shield myself, but the impact sent a searing pain through my fucking arm as the crowbar pierced it.

"Gahh!" I gritted my teeth against the agony, but I didn't let it stop me. With sheer determination, I ignored the pain and focused on the motherfucker with the knife. With a swift motion, I swung my machete at him, aiming directly for his shit head.

"Die, you fucker!" I roared as my machete sliced through the air, severing his head from his fucking body. My machete was no ordinary blade; it cut through flesh like butter, especially against an opponent with such weak-ass durability like that knife-wielding bastard.

Meanwhile, the motherfucker with the crowbar looked on in horror as his comrade's head rolled on the ground. He began babbling in some gibberish language, but I paid him no mind.

"Fuck you, I don't even know what you're saying!" I shouted back, my rage boiling over. With the crowbar still lodged in my arm, I raised my machete once again, aiming straight for his head.

As he yanked the crowbar from my arm, he aimed it at my head, but I swiftly dodged, narrowly avoiding a fatal blow. Instead, the crowbar sliced across my neck, tearing through the skin, and sending a wave of excruciating pain coursing through me. I clenched my teeth, blood pulsing from the wound, but I refused to let it hinder me.

I yelled, "'Die, you motherfucker!'" My voice was full of rage as I swung my machete at his head. Even though his skull was tough, I kept hitting him hard, driven by my burning need for revenge. Each strike felt good, like chopping down a tree.

In retaliation, He fought back by scraping his crowbar across my neck, making the pain even worse. We were locked in a fierce struggle, each of us hell-bent on killing the other.

"Fuck you, you son of a bitch!" I spat, my words dripping with venom as I stared into his hateful eyes.

He spat out a bunch of nonsense curses, words that meant nothing to me in the heat of our fight.

Despite my nonstop attacks, I realized I was in trouble. My neck was shredded, and I could feel the life draining from me with each passing moment

Then with one final, desperate effort, I brought my machete down with all my remaining strength, severing his head from his body. But as his lifeless form crumpled to the ground, I knew it was too late for me. My vision blurred, darkness closing in as the world faded away.

"Host, you are revived again." the system's voice echoed in my mind.

I awoke once more in the same room where my first revival had occurred. Determination burned within me as I clenched my fists.

"Time to go again," I declared, ready to face whatever challenges awaited me outside.

....

Meanwhile

As the trio—Jonathan, Diane, and Jacob—pressed on through the eerie corridors, their footsteps echoing in the silence, Jonathan's senses heightened. His ears twitched at the faintest hint of a sound, a whisper carried by the stale air of the abandoned building.

"Wait, did you hear that sound?" Jonathan halted abruptly, his hand raised for silence as he strained to catch the elusive noise once more.

Diane, her demeanor as stoic as ever, glanced at Jonathan, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What sounds?"

"It feels like Adam," Jonathan's voice was barely a whisper, uncertainty tainting his words.

Jacob, ever the rational one, considered Jonathan's observation carefully. "Then we should head in that direction. Perhaps Adam is there," he suggested, his voice steady despite the gravity of their situation.

The trio exchanged nods of agreement, a silent pact forged in the shared determination to find their missing friend, no matter the cost.

"Alright, let's move," Jonathan's voice regained its determination as they continued forward.

As the trio reached the location, they were met with a horrifying scene: two disfigured bodies, heads grotesquely severed from their necks, lying in a pool of congealed blood. Jonathan, Diane, and Jacob struggled to contain their disgust, their stomachs churning with the sickening sight.

Jonathan couldn't hold back a disgusted burp, his nerves on edge. "What's going on? Fuck, fuck," he muttered, wiping his mouth in a futile attempt to rid himself of the taste of his own burp.

Jacob, his face contorted with disgust, fought to hold back his own burp, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "This is fucked up, this is murder," he declared, his voice carrying a sense of moral outrage.

Diane, her normally stoic demeanor faltering in the face of such brutality, struggled to keep her composure. "It looks like they were killed by someone, not by each other," she observed, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Jacob's brow furrowed as he considered Diane's words. "And who is that?" he questioned, the weight of the situation pressing down on him like a heavy burden.

Diane shook her head, her frustration evident. "I don't know, maybe the police?" she suggested, her voice laced with doubt.

Jonathan, his anger simmering just beneath the surface, clenched his fists in frustration. "Well, I don't know who killed these bastards, but one thing I do know is they had it coming. They're murderers, after all," he spat, his words filled with a mixture of anger and grim satisfaction.

[Suddenly they heard a sounds shouting at them]

As they looked towards the sound, fear surged through them when they saw two disfigured figures. One held an axe, the other a machete. The two fuck up faces figures were Shocked to see their comrades' heads nearby. The disfigured figures screamed angrily in a gibberish words they couldn't understand.

Diane's voice trembled with urgency. "Shit, they think we're the ones who killed their comrades. Run!"

Without hesitation, Jonathan and Jacob bolted, the adrenaline pumping through their veins. Jonathan's mind raced. "What do we do?"

Jacob's response was swift. "We can't take them on with weapons. We just run!"

Diane quickly spotted a hiding spot and beckoned the others to follow. They hurried towards the room, their hearts pounding with fear.

As the disfigured figures pursued them, confusion washed over their faces as they searched for their targets in vain.

"Arg!!!!!!!" they shouted in frustration, their voices echoing through the empty space.

Jonathan exchanged a silent glance with Diane and Jacob, gesturing for silence to avoid being detected. They held their breath, praying that their hiding spot would keep them safe.

Jonathan, Diane, and Jacob breathed a collective sigh of relief as the disfigured figures vanished, the disfigured figures attention drawn elsewhere by another sound.

Jonathan's thoughts turned to Adam, a flicker of hope mingling with his worry. "Please be safe, Adam," he whispered under his breath, a silent plea for the safety of their friend amidst the chaos they found themselves in.

[Meanwhile Adam]

As I walked, I shouted to make sure any bad guys could hear me. ""I'm here, you motherfucker!" I yelled, getting ready with my big knife.

I froze as I heard footsteps nearby, a chill running down my spine. They were close. Three distorted figures emerged from the darkness, their grotesque shapes outlined by the faint light

As I readied myself for the confrontation, two of them gripped knives, while the third held a crude crowbow. "You scared me with those ugly faces!" I taunted, feeling the rush of adrenaline as I braced for the fight ahead.

I eyed the trio, assessing them. They appeared smaller and less menacing than the those fucker I'd encountered previously. "These should be easy," I mumbled to myself. With a quiet resolve, I braced myself for the battle ahead.

As the two disfigured figures laughed menacingly and lunged towards me, their knives aimed at my chest, I made a split-second decision. Instead of dodging, I allowed their blades to pierce my flesh, gritting my teeth against the searing pain.

In one quick motion, I swung my machete with all my might, cleaving through the skull of one attacker. "Take that, you fucker!" I roared triumphantly as his lifeless body slumped to the ground.

But my victory was short-lived! as the other attacker kept coming at me, not backing down even with my wounds or even as blood gathered around my feet and pain screamed through me, I stayed strong. I didn't let the pain weaken me. I didn't care about the agony, nor did I fear death, for I was the embodiment of death itself.

"Die, you piece of shit!" I screamed, my voice dripping with fury as I delivered a fatal blow to the second assailant. His head rolled across the ground, a gruesome testament to my unyielding resolve.

Just as I was about to enjoy my victory, an arrow hit me in the head, ending my life once more. Darkness closed in, but before I faded away, I told the system to save my weapon in the inventory for the next fight.

"Host, you revive once more," echoed the system's voice in my mind, signaling the beginning of another cycle of death and rebirth.

To be continued