From hunter to prey(1)

Night had fallen over Citadel 13.

By now, everyone had gone home to rest for the next day, and the only lights were the few scattered torches and the halo produced by the moon. Even so, a figure could be seen moving agilely, sticking to the darkest areas.

The figure quickly reached the base of the walls and began to climb effortlessly. Once on top, he checked to ensure no guards were nearby. Satisfied, he jumped down the other side and started running towards the canyon, engulfed in darkness.

The figure, Mark, ran swiftly through the challenging and dark environment with confidence, as it wasn't his first time doing so.

With Vincent constantly following him during the day, the only time Mark could move freely was at night. For others, venturing into the canyon at that hour would be madness, but with Mark's strength and support from the Guide, he faced no obstacles.

'Here we are. With the moon tonight, visibility is better.'

Mark's nocturnal escapades weren't just for training; they served a deeper purpose. At the bottom of a rocky valley, he spotted a breach in the walls guarded by several goblins. It wouldn't have been unusual if not for the fact that they were equipped like those who had attacked the citadel.

'Just to confirm, are you certain the monster is there?'

[Positive. The fragment's presence emanates from there.]

Mark grimaced.

From his point of view, he could only imagine the inside of the cave, and he doubted it would be spacious enough to make a confrontation easy.

'This complicates things.'

Mark couldn't face this alone, given the countless unknowns. Despite his increased strength and the hobgoblin's injury, he knew there was still a gap in their power. Plus, there were potentially many other goblins and hobgoblins to contend with.

'There are no alternatives; I just hope my plan works. Time is running short.'

The time Mark referred to was his escape from the citadel with the others, and here's why.

Citadel 13 was located in an extremely problematic geographical area. Heading north meant venturing towards the center of the canyon and facing the emerging miasma. Traveling east would mean months of travel in a difficult terrain unsuitable for carriages. To the south lay the Beol Mountains, home to level 4 monsters.

The only viable route was west towards the 12th citadel, a week-long journey by carriage, but no one attempted it for several reasons.

First, there was no map for navigation. Second, all carriages were strictly guarded. Lastly, dangerous areas needed crossing.

To reach the 12th citadel, one had to traverse a long stretch of the canyon, a perilous area inhabited by various level 3 monsters known as rock golems.

Mark didn't believe he could face a level 3 monster, but a recent event had changed the dynamics in the canyon: the monster wave. The increased monster activity led to territorial battles, leaving many weakened.

'At most, another two weeks.'

Mark had given himself this deadline to find the fragment. Waiting longer would make leaving significantly harder. So, he had to convince Narak to face the hobgoblin or become strong enough that he wouldn't need help. Unfortunately, the latter seemed impossible; his growth had slowed since reaching 50% of the ring formation.

"Let's go."

Mark decided to head back and ensure the next day's events proceeded smoothly.

(The next day.)

Twenty-eighth day since Mark's reincarnation.

It was a special day marking one month since Mark appeared in this strange world. For Mark, though, it was far from special; he had too much on his mind, especially with one month less to find the other fragments.

As on previous days, he and Vincent were in the canyon for various missions, but today was the last. Contrary to expectations, Vincent didn't seem pleased.

He had deep circles under his eyes, and his usually neat appearance was nowhere to be seen. Even his perfect handlebar mustache was drooping.

The reason for his condition was a terrible itch. For several days, he couldn't stop scratching, preventing him from sleeping at night. His body was covered in blisters and scratches from the relentless itching. Despite seeking help from various doctors in the citadel, none had a remedy.

Watching him out of the corner of his eye, Mark was aware of Vincent's predicament, as he was the cause of it.

'Let's hope everything goes well.'

It was showtime.

In the afternoon, the two decided to rest in the shade of a rock, and as usual, Mark offered a drink, which Vincent accepted out of habit.

"Sorry to ask, but are you okay? You look terrible." -Mark asked, appearing concerned.

"...I want to die... this itch is unbearable." -Vincent replied weakly.

"I see... wait, now that I think about it, I remember reading something similar." -Mark said as if trying to recall.

"Yeah..."

Vincent didn't have high hopes. Despite changing his opinion of Mark during their time together, he doubted an orphan would know something the doctors didn't.

"Yes, I think I remember. It described a disease causing a terrible itch, and it mentioned... Yes! It said purple spots appeared on the skin."

When Mark said that, Vincent's eyes widened, because they were the same symptoms he had had before the situation escalated.

"O-Oh, w-what else did it say?" -Vincent asked, trying to control his anxiety.

"Hmm... I'm struggling to remember." -Mark said apologetically.

"Come on, boy, you're young, how do you not remember!" -Vincent exclaimed in desperation.

After a few seconds of silence, during which Mark pretended to try and remember, he spoke.

"Perhaps I remember something because it was a very peculiar disease. The first stage was the purple spots, followed by itching and blisters, and finally the final stage..."

"F-Final?" -Vincent asked, anticipating something grim.

"Yeah, the disease penetrates the muscles and organs. You'll feel the itch coming from inside, leading you to scratch harder and harder until you've practically torn yourself apart."

When Mark finished speaking, he glanced at poor Vincent, pale with terror at what lay ahead.

"There must be a cure!" -Vincent cried desperately.

"A cure? Yes, there is one, and it's not even difficult to gather the ingredients and make it."

Of course, Mark had fabricated everything. Over their time together, he had been administering a small dose of poison taught by the Guide. The effects were severe, evident in Vincent's condition, but without daily administration, they'd vanish within a day.

"So, you know the cure?!"

"Yes."

"Give it to me!" -Vincent grabbed Mark's shoulders as if he were his last hope.

"...Why should I?"

Mark had steered the conversation to his liking.

There was a moment of silence where Vincent seemed to misunderstand, but upon seeing Mark's indifferent gaze, his eyes filled with rage. He drew his dual axes and held them like scissors around Mark's neck.

"Listen, kid, I won't say it again. If you don't want your head to roll, give me the damn cure!"

"Really? Then do it."

With a defiant smile, Mark stepped towards the blades. Vincent quickly retreated, horrified by the madness before him.

"Are you crazy?! Do you realize how sharp these blades are?!" -Vincent yelled hysterically.

"Let's be serious. You've likely seen every doctor, but I doubt any know what you have."

Mark held the upper hand, thanks to 'insight' and even if things went awry, he didn't believe Vincent was stronger.

"What do you want?! Money? Credits? Hell, I'll even be your slave, just give me that damn cure!"

"Well, there's something I want."

"Hah, finally. Tell me." -Vincent sighed with relief.

"I want you to persuade Narak to do something."

"...Hah, hahaHAHAHAHAHAH! IS YOUR BRAIN ROTTEN?! IF YOU WANT ME DEAD, JUST SAY IT! DO YOU WANT ME CONVINCE THAT DELUSIONAL PSYCHOPATHIC FREAK TO DO SOMETHING?!"

Vincent shouted at the top of his lungs, then quickly checked his surroundings to ensure no one had heard him. However, he soon realized someone was staring at him with his mouth agape.

"This... This is unexpected."

Mark never imagined both he and Vincent viewed Narak the same way.

"Phew... listen, ask me for anything else, but convincing that monster is impossible." -Vincent said after calming down.

"I thought you were his right-hand man?" -Mark asked, confused.

"Right-hand man, my ass. To Narak, we're no different from slaves."

"Then-"

"Enough games." -Vincent said coldly.

"You indeed have a weakness of mine in your grasp, but I know your weakness too, the orphanage."

"...Follow me. I'm sure you'll change your mind."

Without another word, Mark began walking away.

Vincent didn't know what to do but eventually followed him, unable to shake off how Mark had looked at him for a split second. He didn't understand why, but his instinct told him that that situation was extremely dangerous.

The two continued in silence. Vincent had a strange feeling about Mark, but he made sure no monsters attacked him; Mark was his only hope.

"Take a look."

Vincent followed Mark's lead and peeked over the ledge they were on, quickly ducking back down.

"Shit."

He saw a dozen goblins, armed and guarding a breach in the canyon wall. It didn't take a genius to figure out the type of goblins they were.

"I don't think they need any explanation, but here's the problem. I saw them transporting a large number of magic stones inside. I believe they are giving them to that hobgoblin Narak fought to heal it."

That theory had been suggested by the Guide and Mark was simply reporting it.

"But it doesn't make sense... monsters aren't that intelligent."

"Remember how organized they were during the attack and all the strange behaviors they exhibited that night."

"...Anyway, how did you find this place?" -Vincent asked skeptically, given they had been together all day the past days.

"I sneak out at night to earn a little extra."

"You're crazy."

To Vincent, the idea of someone going out at night was suicidal, but now he had something more problematic to think about.

"Is this why you made your request?"

"Yes. You may not have noticed, but that monster is smarter than we expected. It showed a clear sign of resentment before fleeing; so, I doubt it will attack immediately once healed. No, it will wait to become stronger so that no one can stop it."

"Those are just suppositions, and even if they are true, we have Narak."

"The same Narak who was about to die?"

"..." -Vincent fell silent at Mark's cold comment.

"As you said, my words are just suppositions, but there's a hint of truth. If we attack it now with all our forces while it's weakened, we can eliminate all doubts."

"Then just tell Karak."

"Really? He'll probably send others to handle it, they'll fail, the monster will hide better, and when it comes out, we'll all be dead." -Mark concluded.

Vincent buried his face in his hands, thinking. Mark's hypothesis was crazy, but when he thought back on everything, it wasn't so far-fetched. Plus, as Mark had said, if they confronted the monster now while it was weakened, their chances would be much higher.

"Okay, I'll try to convince him, but I want the cure first." -Vincent said, unwilling to negotiate further.

"The cure is a month-long process where you'll need to take the medicine every day, or it won't be effective. Before you say anything, the itching sensation will drastically decrease during those days until it disappears completely. Deal?"

Mark extended his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Vincent shook it.

"For you."

Mark handed him the magical cure, which was actually the same poison but in smaller quantities.

"Did you have the cure all this time? What a big piece of shit you are."

"Thanks for the compliment, so do you want it or not?"

Vincent briefly looked at the medicine before quickly swallowing it. Maybe he was imagining it, but he already felt a bit better.

"When we get back, I'll try to convince Narak, but I can't promise anything... and about earlier, when I threatened you with the orphanage, I wasn't serious. I can get angry with someone, but I wouldn't stoop so low as to involve innocent people." -He said, slightly embarrassed.

"You're lucky because I know that."

"?"

With those words, Mark walked away, leaving Vincent confused and unaware that if Mark hadn't detected any lies in his words, Vincent would have found a blade buried in his chest.