Burying The Body!

[Successfully eliminated the larvae of the lower-level independent race, known as the Eagles.]

[Clues obtained regarding the Old Ones +1. Progress: 2/50]

[Acquired Eagles' tentacles. Note: Can be cooked. Small chance of improving physical fitness. High chance of vomiting and diarrhea.]

"Seriously, who in their right mind would eat this?" Luther muttered under his breath, eyeing the tentacle with disgust. With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the limp, grotesque appendage onto the bed where a nearby zombie lay chained. The creature snarled, its yellowed eyes snapping open, reacting to the dead mass now beside it. Ignoring the creature's growls, Luther turned and approached Carol.

The sight that awaited him was chilling. Her abdomen had been violently torn open, yet instead of human organs, a twisted mass of dark, writhing, tentacle-like flesh filled the cavity. It was a grotesque mockery of life; a parasite masquerading within her.

Carol was gone.

Luther reached out, placing his fingers against her neck, but there was no pulse, no faint breath. She was a victim of something vile and unnatural. Even though he had eliminated one threat, there was no sense of victory. In fact, he felt a deep, uncomfortable nausea creeping in, a grim reminder of the twisted era he lived in.

This wasn't the world he remembered. In this new reality, humans were no longer just preyed upon by their own kind. No, now they faced creatures that burrowed into the bodies of the unsuspecting, consuming them from the inside out, transforming them into monsters. Luther knew this wasn't an isolated incident. The thought haunted him, gnawing at the edge of his sanity.

"Damn it!" he snarled, driving his fist into the cracked wall beside him. The impact sent a dull pain through his knuckles, but his gloves spared him any real injury. Frustration boiled over. "What a nightmare of a time to be alive."

But brooding wouldn't help him survive. Shaking off the lingering despair, he clenched his fists, his jaw set with determination. "This isn't the time to fall apart. I have to get stronger, fast."

Carol's death had solidified his resolve. If she had been carrying a mere larva, not even fully matured, what else might be lurking out there? What other monstrosities waited in the shadows, ready to strike?

He remembered the creature's tendrils, the way they coiled and writhed, even in death. If he hadn't managed a surprise attack, the outcome could have been very different. A fully developed version of that thing might have leveled the clinic, slaughtering everyone inside.

And then there was the matter of the girl.

"What about her?" Luther whispered, mulling over his options. "Should I just let her go? Or… dispose of her before she becomes a threat?" His mind raced through grim possibilities. "Cut out her tongue and leave her outside? End it swiftly?" It wasn't cruelty driving his thoughts; it was survival. In a world like this, trust was as fragile as the people in it. She knew too much, perhaps things she wasn't meant to know.

"Maybe I should just… ask her what she wants."

Deciding to deal with Carol's remains first, he turned back to her body, his expression hardening. There was one last thing he needed to do.

With steely precision, he performed the operation, removing the remains of the Eagles' larva from her body. The parasite was twisted and alien, about the size of a basketball. Satisfied that it was no longer a threat, he tossed it aside, where the zombie eagerly devoured it, tentacle and all. The creature's ravenous appetite spared him any further need to dispose of the corpse.

"Well, look at you, playing the part of a perfect trash compactor," he muttered at the zombie, which still glared at him with a hunger that could never be sated.

With a final sigh, Luther slung Carol's body over his shoulder, carrying her out of the dim, decrepit room. In this world of constant horror, her death was just another chapter. But for Luther, it was a stark reminder of the fragile line he walked between survival and succumbing to the darkness.

In this dark era, most people dealt with the dead in the simplest way they could; by burying them, finding patches of unclaimed land to lay bodies to rest. Outside the Town of Eternal Night, there was a cemetery specifically meant for this grim task, a designated resting place for those whose lives had been extinguished by disease, violence, or something worse.

The cemetery, however, was a good ten kilometers away from Joseph's clinic. Luther had made the journey before, but never under these circumstances. Now, as he stood beside Carol's body, he took a deep breath, steadying himself. She had been his friend, his only real ally in this harsh world. The thought was bitter as he realized that he was the one who'd have to bury her.

He carried her body outside the clinic, locking the door behind him with a final, resolute click. Walking over to the wooden shed on the west side of the clinic, he pulled out an old, creaking cart. The cart was loaded with a shovel, and a battered kerosene lamp hung from its handle, swaying slightly. It was the only source of light he'd have once night fell, which, at this pace, would surely catch up with him before he returned.

With a sigh, he pulled his hood up against the looming storm clouds. The sky was a dull, lifeless gray, blanketed in dark clouds that stretched toward the distant forest, swallowing up what little light remained. He hoisted Carol's body onto the cart and started the slow, steady walk toward the cemetery.

After what felt like hours, he reached the burial site. The ground was damp, the air thick with the smell of rain and decay. With his shovel in hand, Luther dug, each heavy thrust into the earth taking him deeper, carving out a grave about four meters long and three meters wide. His breath fogged in the chill, his face hidden beneath his hood, but his eyes never left the distant sky.

"It's going to rain soon," he murmured to himself, feeling the urgency of the coming storm. "I need to hurry."

Quickening his pace, he carefully lowered Carol's body into the freshly dug pit, arranging her as respectfully as he could. Then, without hesitation, he began to cover her with soil, each shovel of dirt landing with a soft, somber thud. Ten minutes later, the grave was level with the surrounding ground. He found a sturdy branch nearby and thrust it into the soft earth as a makeshift marker.

Standing over her final resting place, Luther took a steadying breath. "Dust to dust, ashes to ashes," he murmured, his voice carrying a rare tenderness. "If there's another world out there, I hope you find peace, Carol. A life far kinder than this one."

Carol had been his closest companion since he'd been thrown into this twisted reality. They had trained under Dr. Joseph together, learning the art of medicine in a world that seemed determined to undermine their every effort. Carol, quiet and thoughtful, had been the first to reach out to him, helping him navigate the unfamiliar and often brutal world they lived in. It was her friendship that had softened the harshness of this place for him, even if only a little.

But now… now she was gone. The reality of it weighed heavily on him, pressing against his heart. They had made plans once, dreamed of using their skills to heal rather than harm. They'd spoken of a future, however naive that was in a world like this. And in a single, horrifying moment, those dreams had been torn apart. She'd turned into a monster, something alien and twisted, and he'd been forced to end it.

He clenched his fists, anger simmering beneath his grief. "What a sick, twisted world!" he spat, the bitterness laced in every word.

As if echoing his fury, the sky finally opened up, releasing a heavy rain that poured down in torrents. Cold droplets mixed with the heat of his anger, drenching his face, his clothes, everything around him. It felt like the world was weeping with him, the rain mingling with the quiet tears he dared not shed.

Luther was not a hardened man, not naturally. He had feelings, emotions he'd long buried beneath a mask of stoicism, but Carol's death cut deep. In this relentless world, he'd taught himself to keep moving, to never show weakness, because even a moment's lapse could mean death. But here, alone in the rain, with only the dim glow of the kerosene lamp, the weight of it all was almost unbearable.

Fear crept in, insidious and cold. He was terrified. Afraid that he, too, would one day end up in a shallow grave, buried hastily by some other survivor. He wasn't ready to die. Memories surfaced, unbidden; the moment he'd lost his life in another world, a meaningless death in a hospital dispute. He'd only wanted to help, but misunderstanding and rage had ended his life in a split second.

The rain intensified, hammering down like bullets, soaking through his clothes, chilling him to the bone. Yet, in some twisted way, it felt cathartic, washing away a fraction of the grief, if only for a moment. He turned slowly, picking up the kerosene lamp, its weak light a small beacon against the endless darkness around him.

He took a deep, steadying breath. The burden was still there, but he felt a strange sense of clarity, an understanding of what he had to do. He couldn't afford to stop, to let grief or fear consume him. This world was unforgiving, a place where the weak were swallowed whole without a second thought. If he wanted to survive, he'd need to push harder, fight smarter, become stronger.

"This isn't the time to mourn," he murmured to himself, tightening his grip on the cart's handle. "If I stop, if I let my guard down… I'll end up just like her."

With one last look at Carol's grave, Luther turned and began the long walk back to the clinic. The rain poured down harder, drenching him, but he welcomed it. It felt like the final goodbye, the closure he needed.

In this world, survival was the only priority, and Luther was determined not to become another casualty.