Headed by a Snake

It was Soren. The half-man was still making the motions of laughter... insistently pointing beside him.

The Rat next to Benji had taken Soren's flintlock and swallowed the round... the hole in the back of his head was bigger than a fist. He could make out the fat spilled on the street that used to be the inside of the guy's skull.

That he couldn't hear didn't make any sense.

He heard the thump of the guy's head smacking the pavement.

...but he didn't hear the 'bang'. He couldn't hear how hard Soren was laughing. He couldn't hear himself pray to gods he didn't believe in.

The walls were vomiting bits and pieces of the people Benji called his family, fleshy parts slowly sliding down in trails of blood. Forearms and feet, torn faces and flaps of skin with blood-mucked hair-- everything got spit up, covered in viscera and bile.

The darkness couldn't stand the taste of thieves, extortionists, and murderers. And why would it?

Maybe that's why everyone else was laughing?

Maybe that was the big joke that flew over Benji's head?

There was something worse than dying, after all.

Even Luther was in on it. He was sitting up and holding his belly, even though his head lolled to the side atop a broken neck.

That man never laughed. He looked like a gods-damned idiot.

Benji wished he could've heard it. He might've found it funny, too.

Soren's hand had a vice-grip on his shoulder. Shaking him. Pointing at the punch line. Cursed to laugh, even if no one could hear him.

Doan.

It was f*cking Doan.

That guy never liked wizards. Wizards dealt with sh*t like what was happening... giant eyes in the walls that ate human flesh, thousand-tentacled trash cans, and the howling, f*cking dead.

Wizards were all f*cking mad.

Staring at the fat man's back, Benji finally formed some kind of shite plan in his head.

Whatever was happening-- Doan was the source. The fat f*ck still hadn't moved an ilm. Maybe he was immobilized or something... like he had to keep still or the nightmare would never end.

Benji threw Soren's hand off and rolled forward. Not a half-second later, something came out of the ground behind him.

He glanced back to see what almost got him. Black spikes that burst out of the ground-- and it got what was left of Soren. There was a hole burnt through on Benji's outer right calf... but it wasn't hurting just yet.

Didn't hear it. Didn't feel it.

Maybe Benji was the luckiest man in the Realm.

He drew his dagger and sprinted towards the fat man. He let his instincts take over-- not that he could think anything smart even if he wanted to.

His body told him to jump right, he jumped right. More shadow spikes-- these ones wearing the heads of some of the finest men he'd ever met.

His body told him to scream as he lunged towards Doan. He couldn't hear his own voice, but it gave him the extra push he needed to sink his dagger into the guy's kidney, "⌈Shadowtooth Strike!!⌋"

Benji hooked the back of Doan's neck and pulled down, twisting the knife deep.

Doan turned his fat f*cking head to grin at him. He didn't have a face, but he had teeth. Unnaturally white teeth. Unnaturally sharp teeth.

Benji let go. He pushed off. He left his one and only weapon stuck inside the thing that wasn't Doan.

If he hadn't, a swing from the shadowy bastard's greataxe would've cut his head clean off.

He felt blood drip down from a shallow cut on his neck.

Too close.

He'd almost died. It looked like he was about to die...

It didn't make sense.

It was just a normal job gone wrong.

He was... still in the gods-damned starter zone. There shouldn't have been *anything* in the starter zone as strong as he was facing.

The dreams told Benji that he was some kind of 'chosen one'... that, with the help of his System, he'd eventually be one of the strongest adventurers in the Realm.

...But when it came down to it, the promises of the Dragon God weren't worth shite.

He'd used his strongest skill... and it didn't do shite. He couldn't activate any more weapon skills because he'd just lost his only real weapon. Running wasn't an option-- nowhere was f*cking safe.

He had to stall... to look for some kind of way out... some kind of way to win.

"Who... or *what* are you?" Benji growled.

The fat shadow tilted its 'head', spinning it near upside down. The f*cker wasn't even trying to be human, anymore...

"Myyyy... nAaaame..."

Benji grabbed one of the shadowy spears stuck in the ground. It still had Luther's head on it, but there wasn't any time to unstick the chucklef*ck. Whatever the creature was... it was made out of the same kind of material.

He couldn't have been sure... but it just made sense to him.

The spear would be able to hurt it. The spear would be able to end the nightmare.

It had to.

"Well, if you can't remember, fatty, I'll go first," Benji grit his teeth, "I... am the heir of ash and--

'GUOHHHH!!!' Benji screamed as overwhelming pain coursed through his entire body.

He didn't hear himself, though.

Fear rose in his stomach as the ground gave from under him. He slammed his elbows hard on the pavement, hard enough that he felt the skin underneath his shirt split open.

He tried to pull himself up. His lower half had sunk into the road... just like Soren.

He couldn't feel his legs. He couldn't feel anything below his waist-- no pain... no numbness.

Just... darkness. Emptiness.

The thing that was supposed to be Doan was crouching over him... black shite dripping from between the sharply defined gapes of his too-white teeth.

Every drop felt like it was burning a hole into Benji's chest.

"CaAAaLL... mee... iShhh-MaAael..."