Episode 17

1

They were running, but where to? Seriously, where were they even going? It wasn't like they could lose sight of it or hide somewhere.

With that mammoth size and the dozen tentacles, that monster could rip the mansion (or any other building) to shreds like a child's toy. Besides, he had a vague feeling that he couldn't hide from the creature, wherever he went, whatever he did, anyway.

That the thing was drawn to him, as he was to the bell and whatever was on the other side of the road.

In any case, he had to make a decision and act. Soon. Before that monster took the choice out of his hands.

Jonathan put his other foot against the ground, testing it. It had already regenerated. He could run without the woman's help, or at least the severed foot wouldn't be what would hinder his movement, but the pain, the fatigue and the bell.

He stopped suddenly.

And pushed Elizabeth away from him. She looked back at him, wide-eyed. Confused, naturally. It couldn't make sense to her.

"Move."

"What do you think you're doing?" But there was still more confusion than anger in her voice. She was processing it.

"If you stay here, you're dead."

"And if you don't kill the Count, I'm dead too! What the hell is wrong with you, have you given up?"

There it was. The rage that was to be expected. It seemed to Jonathan that what he was saying made sense, naturally, but to her it just had to be the last thing she needed at a time like this.

More headaches. Complications.

Running away was what really only complicated things. More so, running away together. He shouldn't have let himself be led away in the first place. He had to make things right. Right.

Well, she had been screaming from the start, but that had to be because of the destruction the sea creature was causing in its pursuit.

After all, it was too big to simply surround houses.

And even if its size wasn't a hindrance, it would have simply followed the shortest path, as it did now. A straight line, in other words.

Jonathan couldn't be sure. The ringing of the bell was blocking out even the sounds of destruction from him.

He had to answer.

He blinked as if coming out of a dream.

"No. No. No, but... Running or trying to hide was futile."

It was a stark reality.

Jonathan turned around to face this monster from the depths of the sea. What was he thinking? Did he have some kind of plan that would make this madness worthwhile?

Well, no.

Actually, he wasn't thinking about anything.

Nothing except that things couldn't go on like this. Evidently they couldn't go on like this.

Everything would be easier if he couldn't hear that bell.

Shortly thereafter, the sea monster burst through the building directly in front of him. It flew out at him, surrounded by the debris of the building, its tentacles flailing from side to side and its mouth wide open, ready to engulf. It was a vision of hell itself.

The only place someone like him deserved to go, after all he had done.

It was as if time had slowed down, as the jaws of that monster descended upon him like the bars of a prison.

Yes. He would end up in hell.

But... not so soon. He couldn't give up yet.

Jonathan leapt backward, covering ten meters in an instant. The tentacles shook the earth like a small earthquake. The impact zone was filled with cracks and dust. It seemed as if the whole world might collapse under the weight of this monster.

He had escaped. Just barely, but he had escaped.

Elizabeth started to run and not in the direction of the enemy.

Maybe because she had listened to him. Maybe because she had a plan. He couldn't care less, and he couldn't waste time thinking about unnecessary things anyway.

Everything would be easier if that damn bell would just shut up for once.

On the other hand, it was a beneficial thing.

He should be scared to death, but it was difficult. Unable to hear anything but the tolling of the bell, despite the scale of destruction before his eyes, he felt like he was in a dream.

If only it was all nothing more than a nightmare from which he would soon awaken. Alone, Jonathan resisted with all his might. Dodging the tentacles, jumping over them, desperately.

It was a big target, so his attacks always reached it. But they didn't always have an effect.

And when they did, the wounds closed soon after.

It was really starting to look like there was nothing he could do. Not at this level, with this equipment. Not all alone. If he had his old crew on his side, then things might have been different. His Red Eagle could perhaps have fought this beast one on one, in the middle of the sea, their territory.

But he couldn't think of those traitors. That past was gone, dead and buried.

He had failed to bury that past and his brother with his own hands, he had let the opportunity slip away, sadly. But it was only a matter of time before he rectified his mistake.

In any case, he was on his own.

He couldn't even really depend on Elizabeth. That woman had her own interests. And she had left to begin with.

Just as he had wanted, just as he had asked.

But she had left.

That meant a lot.

He had to think, but he couldn't even hear his own thoughts. What could one man do against this gigantic monstrosity, straight out of a nightmare? He couldn't run away. He couldn't hide. But neither could he fight. His efforts were doing no good.

At this rate, he would keep fighting until he was exhausted and ended up in the monster's mouth as easy prey.

Anything but that.

If he had to die, he at least wanted to die fighting. He had no right to give up when he wasn't fighting for himself.

The last thing he wanted was to give up with no results to show for it.

Another tentacle was coming for him, the tangle wouldn't stop, it was like a tidal wave. That thing could tear houses apart in a matter of seconds. Whereas he couldn't bring down a house, even if he had hours to do it.

The difference between them was too obvious.

Therefore, he could only dodge.

There was no way he could stop, let alone repel the attack. No way, really.

But he couldn't dodge either.

Suddenly he knew. He wasn't going to be able to do anything in time. At the speed the tentacle was going, it would take just a graze to make his insides explode. He was doomed.

Jonathan didn't dodge the attack.

But he didn't receive it either.

Instead of hitting him full on, it fell to the side of him, against the ground. But even that was enough. The resulting shockwave lifted him like a leaf in the wind. He went flying backwards, arms and legs flailing, looking for grip.

Jonathan found it.

A restaurant sign. In purple letters, it said, Bob's Grill. But the restaurant was dark and empty, like the rest of town, and Bob was far away, if he hadn't died before he left town. Jonathan registered this as if he had nothing better to think about.

An instant later, he and the sign fell to the ground. His weight was too much, ripping it off the wall.

At least he wasn't dead.

For the moment.

Jonathan got to his feet, not without some difficulty.

Holding the fallen sign. As if it were some sort of weapon, or shield. He looked at the sign, then at the monster. He let out a cry of rage and frustration, but first of all the sign itself.

It flew away.

It hit the sea creature, sinking into its stomach.

He expected the damage to regenerate in a moment, as usual. But the wound wasn't closing. At first, Jonathan felt like laughing. It was ridiculous, his sword obviously had better stats, but then he realized that it had nothing to do with that. That it seemed nonsensical, but in reality it was the most normal thing in the world.

The sign was plunged into the monster's body. Blocking, slowing down the healing process.

So far, Jonathan had only slashed, not stabbed, for fear of not being able to get the weapon out in time. For fear of losing his weapon, even though it might as well be a toothpick considering the damage it was doing to this thing, ha.

Becoming aware of this wasn't going to help him.

The monster regenerated damage anyway, just a little slower. Besides, he was on his own. He was relying on a sword and nothing else. If he could throw a shower of swords, bury them all over its body, maybe he'd get somewhere with that. But he couldn't. He had lost the skill Spectral Sword Rain along with so many others when he was revived in the waters of that cursed and godforsaken island.

Bottom line. It wasn't the way to fight he was expecting.

Perhaps there was no way to deal with this abomination.

With two tentacles, the creature ripped some lampposts out of the ground at the same time. Jonathan's eyes went wide. Looks like this son of a bitch....

One of the lampposts was hurled at high speed, straight at him.

I've given him an idea.

Jonathan slammed his sword into the lamppost, stopping it in mid-air. It landed at his feet, slightly bent. Like his legs. His legs were shaking from the force of the impact. But...

There was another one. The abomination had thrown the second lamppost shortly after instead of at the same time, as if to trick him.Was it smart?

Holy shit.

That was all he could think as the second lamppost hit him squarely in the chest, sending him flying backwards again.

This time he didn't get very far. His back hit a wall right away. The wall of that fucking restaurant?

Now his legs weren't the only thing shaking. Jonathan's vision, too.

This is bad. This is really bad.

Jonathan shook the lamppost off.

Even as he watched it roll away, he felt as if it was still on his chest, crushing him. He put his hand to his heart. He had broken some ribs, no doubt about it. And to think that not so long ago his biggest worry had been the explosion assassin.

Jonathan smiled.

As he did, he noticed the blood in his throat. He coughed a couple of times, spitting it out. The creature dropped to the ground and charged back with great speed, as it had when it had emerged from the waters. In contrast, Jonathan was struggling even just to get up.

What a bad joke. From the beginning, I never stood a chance.

Jonathan resisted, of course, so that at least it couldn't be said that he hadn't tried

(so what? There's no one watching)

(Not now, not ever)

but there was no point.

The monster caught him using three tentacles. One grabbed him by the shoulders, another by the legs, and the third wrapped around his chest. For a moment, Jonathan thought the thing would pull his frail body in all directions, snapping him like a rag doll. But instead...

It flung him upward.

A scream escaped him, of surprise more than anything else. Horror mingled in his voice as he looked down. At the sight of that monster's jaws wide open, ready to receive him. There was nothing he could do. It was all over since the thing had grabbed him. How was he supposed to change direction in mid-air?

Jonathan landed in the open mouth, rolled down into the throat, onto a scaly tongue. He tried to control himself, if only to slow his descent. His hands searched for a grip and found nothing.

The sword. He hadn't dropped the sword, thank goodness.

He stuck the sword in time, left dangling between the tongue and a dark, unfathomable throat. If he tried hard enough, he was sure he'd be able to climb up high and out where he'd come in.

But nothing about his situation would have changed. He would return to the same hopeless struggle.

"Maybe it was a mistake to stop the fall," Jonathan muttered, thinking aloud. Panic wanted to make him reject that idea immediately, unceremoniously, but it wasn't a rational thing to do. If something didn't change, he was lost anyway. From the inside, things could change.

From the inside, maybe he would be able to kill this thing.

He gripped the sword with his other hand.

Pulling. Tearing it away.

The long fall began then. Maybe, if he'd held on a little longer, Elizabeth would have come back to help him, knowing better than to let him die. Maybe. But it didn't matter now. It was too late now.

He swallowed a scream.

2

Buried in darkness, Jonathan opened his eyes.

The first thing he thought of was that he could no longer hear the ringing of the bell, and he wasn't sure if it made him feel frightened by what it might mean or relieved.

In any case, he wouldn't be forced to find out. For it was a mistake.

The bell was still audible, only distant. Now, for some reason, it was greatly attenuated, no longer that constant, overpowering presence For some reason?

Jonathan remembered what had happened.

What he had done.

He put his hands to his head, which hurt horrendously. That abomination had swallowed him. So what was blocking the sound of the bell (though it didn't seem to be a real thing) was the walls of this thing's stomach.

Jonathan was fine. Sword in hand, still. He hadn't lost it along the way.

He had lost consciousness or died again during the fall, but now he was fine, armed, ready, where he needed to be.

Okay. What now?

He couldn't see shit.

Jonathan slowly got to his feet.

Okay, so what, he didn't need to see. The thing was, he hadn't been digested yet and he could move freely. He was inside the creature, so no matter where he attacked, it would hurt him.

Some damage, yes. But enough to kill it?

No. It would be more effective than his attacks on the outside, surely, but in the end... no. He should look for the heart. If it was a living thing, it had to have some kind of heart. One stab and it would all be over. He hoped.

He walked, approaching (he hoped) the walls of this thing's stomach.

Even if he got out of this one alive, the bell wouldn't let him rest. But it surely wouldn't take him very far. He had that feeling, though for no apparent reason, so then it would be almost all done.

Almost.

The road he had to travel stretched to the infinite horizon in front of his eyes. But...

He could do this.

One scream.

With a shout and both hands on the pommel, Jonathan put the full weight of his body behind one blow. He saw nothing, but heard his sword slice through flesh, and heard the blood gush out. A little splattered his boots, his pants.

Another scream. A twist and another blow.

He made a horizontal cut, this time. He imagined a kind of cross drawn by his sword on the beast's flesh. This time the blood flew up to his face, flew into his eyes, stuck his hair to his forehead.

Jonathan narrowed his eyes, gritted his teeth.

Preparing for a third attack. But there was no third attack.

Because something lunged at his back. It didn't fall on him. Even in this overpowering darkness, he could be sure of that difference.

Because, somehow, there were arms closing around his neck.

A human being or some humanoid creature trying to strangle. Here, in the stomach of the beast? If it had remained here, it wouldn't be human anymore, even if it had been born human. It would only be out for blood.

Even if he could communicate with it, he couldn't speak.

It made no sound, perhaps it had lost the ability to do so long ago. But Jonathan could feel the breath of his next opponent on the back of his neck. Swiftly, he fell back, smashing it against the wall. But the enemy still didn't let go. Its grip loosened, but it didn't let go of him entirely. Still.

Jonathan growled, elbowed him in the chest, again and again.

Until finally it did let go.

He turned around, swinging the sword into the fathomless darkness a third time. His weapon came to a halt soon after. But not as it struck the beast's flesh. No. His eyes saw nothing, but the rest of his senses made up for the shortcomings, giving him a complex enough picture.

The thing crawling in the darkness of this beast's entrails had parried its blade with its bare hands.

Now its blood ran down the blade, snaking slowly.

And that... screeching sound he was hearing. Fingernails. The thing that lived in this creature's stomach had long nails, with which it was clawing at the steel of his sword.

As he had said, a beast in every sense of the word. It didn't matter if it had been born human. It had lost its humanity long ago, and was already unrecognizable as such.

He didn't want to end up like that.

No way.

Although he wasn't very... human either. He never had been.

Jonathan tugged at the sword, tried to pull it off, and it was surprisingly easy. Another time. He could try a third time. He could see absolutely nothing in this oppressive darkness, but he could aim for where the neck should be, based on the thing's arms.

Based on sensations other than sight.

He could do it. He had to.

Jonathan's attack was parried again. This time not with its own hands, but with.... Its teeth? Had it grabbed the sword, holding it, with just its fucking teeth?

Not just grabbed.

Pulled the weapon out of his hands. Jonathan heard it go flying shortly after. Rolling across the ground, hitting something wet, splashing. Water? Close?

He had his other senses to try to compensate for the lack. But oh, what a lack.

You didn't realize how much you depended on anything until you lost it. Yes, really...

The beast was on top of him.

Throwing him to the ground.

It might be as thin as a skeleton, but it possessed incredible strength. Now he felt the breath even closer. Right on his neck. Not the face. The neck.

Was it going to... Was it going to bite him?

It did.

Indeed, it did.

The monster sank its fangs into his neck. Jonathan threw his head back, gritting his teeth. Hold on. Hold on. This was bad, he didn't have his sword, but he wasn't lost yet. He could handle it.

As it bit him, Jonathan grabbed the thing by the head. With both hands.

What difference did it make that he didn't have the sword?

Humans were born to fight. And that's exactly what he'd do. He would fight to his last breath. He couldn't wreck a house that fast, but what about a skull? Or better...

He reached for the eyes.

And there he dug his fingers in. Suddenly, with force.

He'd pierced its eyes, he felt it clearly, but even so the creature he was facing didn't make a sound. Had it lost its vocal cords? Had it lost, perhaps, its sense of pain?

It was possible that it would only have hunger left. And rage.

It didn't matter.

Jonathan squeezed harder and harder. Blood and other fluids ran between his fingers.

He squeezed until he reached the brain, until the monster stopped twitching. Only then did he pull his fingers out of the poor bastard's sockets, and push the corpse aside with his boot.

There was no time to rest. He had much to do before he was digested. Well, if that thing had survived inside, somehow, he supposed he didn't have much to worry about.

But, first of all, the sword, the sword, he couldn't do anything even if he got to the right place without his sword.

On all fours, he searched for his sword in the dark.

How long was it taking him?

He had heard it fall, it should be nearby, it should be around here somewhere. With every second that passed without finding anything, his heart pounded harder and harder. Painfully. Like the blows of a hammer.

A hammer against an anvil. Tempering steel, molding it into something better.

Yes. Fear didn't have to be a burden. There were people who ran away because they were afraid of dying or getting hurt, but there were more people, he believed or wanted to believe, who didn't run away. Who stood up to anything because they were afraid of losing more important things.

Fear could be a weapon. He just couldn't let it control him.

Finally, his hands brushed the pommel of the sword. In the water. Sure enough, he had heard a splash shortly after it stopped rolling. He pulled it out of the water. From the gastric juices of this monster or whatever the fuck it was.

He didn't feel pain, but that didn't mean it was safe to touch it for any length of time.

He stood up again, took a deep breath.

Jonathan's eyes weren't used to the darkness. His eyes were where they needed to be, they worked, but he just couldn't see shit. And that wasn't going to change.

Deep breath, again. Just had to focus. Where to now?

Where to?

The only thing he knew was that he had to go up. If he got close enough, and he figured it wouldn't take much, he'd start to hear it.

This creature's heartbeat.

He started walking in a random direction. He had to start somewhere. He was betting everything on this, but.... He had to start somewhere. That was the best he could do, pick a random direction and start walking, trying not to think too much. Because otherwise he wouldn't move an inch.

Something grabbed his ankle.

Grabbed it, definitely. It wasn't like he'd bumped or dragged on something.

His heart was rising up his throat.

That thing... Did it play dead?

Jonathan swung the sword down. Maybe it had played dead, but it wasn't quite okay. It had been crawling on the ground. Otherwise, it would have grabbed him in a better place. The leg, not the ankle. The neck. The chest. Anything but the ankle, really.

He heard a crack. The skull?

The thing was, he couldn't be sure, even if it looked like it had died. In fact, he should never have been so sure.

The thing had simply stopped moving. It had just stopped moving.

And yes, he hadn't felt it breathing, but it could have held it for a while. Nor that Jonathan had taken too long to make sure it was dead. He'd gotten going too fast.

Anyway, he-

He had to make sure he got it over with.

Jonathan struck the thing's skull over and over again. He didn't stop when the creature stopped again, of course, he wouldn't stumble over the same stone twice. But he didn't even stop when he seemed to have cracked the creature's skull in half.

Because he simply couldn't be sure.

If it wasn't human...

If it hadn't been human from the beginning, rather....

Then it was perfectly possible for it to survive with its head literally split in two.

Perhaps this was something new, something no one had ever seen before, or at least no one who had lived to tell the tale, just like the sea monster inside of which both of them were.

The hand that had closed over his ankle fell languidly to the ground.

A while later, still thrashing, blood splattering everywhere, Jonathan was satisfied. That it was dead. That it had to be dead, he couldn't have survived all that.

It was a mistake.

A tremendous mistake, but who wouldn't have made it? As soon as he turned around, the fangs closed around his neck again.