"Too hot!"
A pained, wrinkled expression appeared on a young boy's face as a large flame briefly licked his fragile, naive body. His eyes shot open, revealing a blur of blue.
Struggling to his feet, he looked around, his surroundings becoming clearer as sweat dripped down his forehead because of the high temperature.
"?"
A whirlwind of questions flooded his mind. According to his memory, his legs were cramped so he couldn't swim out of the river.
The cold, long river had swallowed him whole; nobody could rescue him in a damn place like that. It was impossible for him to survive. Unless... this was all just a dream? Even so, he quickly dismissed the thought. The searing pain in his hands from the fire was far too real to be an illusion.
Not yet, something strange had happened to him—his body became so hard to move, like it didn't belong to him.
But at this point, it no longer mattered.
"I'll figure it out later," he muttered, focusing on the path ahead.
In his eyes, dead bodies littered the ground everywhere, from the young to the elderly. The one thing they all shared was the same trait: they had perished only moments ago.
These corpses were still eerily fresh.
All around, the towering firewall raged through the area.
Even a small blaze beside him served as a clear example of its destructive power.
A few minutes later.
Quickly, he moved his frail legs, glancing around in fatigue to find an exit. Despite the countless questions swirling in his mind, demanding answers, survival took top priority.
Creak.
Creak.
Creak.
The roar of flames echoed everywhere, devouring everything in its path, leaving no bodies untouched. This place felt like a floor far beneath hell itself—a realm of death and agony.
"Where is the exit?" he wondered, frantically scanning his surroundings.
Seconds passed, and panic started to grip him. It all seemed hopeless. But just as he was about to give up, his persistence bore fruit.
"Thank you, God," he whispered, his face lighting up with sudden relief.
Before him, about 100 meters away, lay a path—a blackened patch that promised a way out. Though the distance wasn't far, it seemed like an insurmountable challenge for someone as weak as he was.
Step.
Step.
Step.
At last, he broke through the massive wall of fire. But even as he emerged from the blazing inferno, relief was short-lived. He knew he wasn't truly safe yet.
"I need to go somewhere," he muttered, glancing around for the next move in his escape. But all he saw were piles of corpses, stacked high in every direction.
It was nothing short of a nightmare.
By now, he truly believed that he was in hell, although his barely functioning brain insisted that this wasn't the case.
Probably, his remaining senses were right. He could still see the night sky, but it looked slightly different.
Although the sky was filled with endless darkness, it didn't bother him; he could see everything, from the nearest star to the most distant one.
"It might be my eyes, or maybe not," he muttered, stopping to look up at the sky before quickly running again.
Before long, he still couldn't find a way out, and that thought made him increasingly anxious until some noises echoed in the unfamiliar space.
"Finally!" The young boy smiled in satisfaction, but it didn't last more than half a second before his expression began to shift.
"Damn! Who knows who they are? What if they're the ones who collect corpses?"
The thoughts he had were completely grounded. If anyone were in his shoes, they would probably think the same.
Looking around at the mounds of bodies, he realized that if he had a fragile heart, he would have passed out immediately from fear.
But he was different. He was a doctor, someone who had seen countless dead bodies before.
"I need somewhere to hide!" he muttered, quickly glancing around in worry.
However, time wasn't on his side.
"Dammit!" he cursed.
Suddenly, two figures emerged from the corpse-filled wall just a short distance away.
"I want to sleep!" one of them groaned, yawning widely. He looked utterly exhausted.
Beside him stood a large goblin, who glanced at the man with a tired but slightly annoyed expression.
"Don't talk so much. How many times have you said that already? You should focus on retrieving Keith before it dies, or the master will kill us," the goblin said firmly.
The man nodded, yawning once more. "Don't worry. We have plenty of remains. That kind of grass will grow abundantly for us."
The goblin let out a deep sigh. "You don't understand. The master knows every corpse here, so don't do anything foolish."
"Now move quickly! If you don't, I'll report your intentions to the master!"
Hearing that, the man exhaled, showing no emotion.
"Fine."
A few seconds later, the sounds of the two gradually faded into the distance.From the nearby bodies, something began to stir.
"The grass is called Keith? What the hell? Wait, that man is with a goblin," the young boy grimaced as countless pieces of new information swirled in his mind.
"I need to check this," he muttered, struggling to get up from beneath the charred corpse he had been hiding under.
He had partially guessed what was happening around him, but there were still things he needed to confirm.
With his past knowledge and studies, he refused to let something absurd deceive him.He carefully shifted his small legs, ensuring they didn't make a single sound.
As time passed, he finally reached the area he had been observing. It wasn't much different from what he had initially seen.
"So, everything is true," he whispered with a sigh, his gaze fixed on the two figures plucking grass.
The grass in question, called Keith, was a rare component for healing potions. However, it only grew in the ashes of the dead.
Now, everything was clear.
This place was a factory—a grotesque production site for potions.
By now, he was certain: he had been reborn in the deranged world of a lunatic patient's novel."Damn it… not even my death was normal."
Then, after a pause, he added, "No… I think I should thank that ghost. Because of it, I've been given a second chance."A slow smile spread across his face. Perhaps it was the first smile he had worn in 15 years.
Countless thoughts began to sprout in his mind, ranging from stealing everything from the protagonist to marrying a beautiful wife. Yet, none of that mattered until he got out of here.
Creak.
"Huh? What was that sound?" The man harvesting grass froze and glanced around, searching for the source.
The young boy grimaced, silently cursing his own carelessness. His movements had accidentally caused a noise when he brushed against a nearby corpse.
For now, he remained perfectly still, pretending once again to be just another lifeless body.
***
"Hmm... Was that just a rat?" the man muttered, slowly stroking his chin in thought. Then he glanced at the large goblin.
"Hey! Did you hear that?"
The goblin gave a slight nod but said nothing, merely bending down to stuff more grass into his pack.
"Get on with it. Probably just a rat," he grumbled.
The man shrugged, his tone breezy, almost mocking.
"No. You're being careless. If it's a thief, the master will flay us both. He's already furious about someone stealing grass from the factory."
He gave the goblin a sly grin."Right?"
The goblin sighed deeply, clearly annoyed."You're right."
The man said nothing more, just kept smiling.
But the situation was far from amusing for the young boy.
"Damn it! Why did you trust that idiot goblin?" he cursed silently.
"Should I run? Or stay hidden?"
"No—I should've run the moment I heard them. Why the hell did I even think about following those two fools? I'm going to die again!"
His thoughts spiraled in a storm of panic and self-loathing. Overthinking—it had always been his worst habit.
If he moved, he would surely be seen. But staying meant gambling with luck. Either way, the risk was the same.
In the end, he chose to let fate decide. His body was far too weak to outrun either of them anyway.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The goblin slowly approached the source of the sound, the man trailing behind.
Kneeling down, the goblin began flipping over corpses one by one."Nothing."
But he didn't stop. He kept checking the others.
"Haha! Got the damn thief!" the man suddenly cried, laughter echoing through the field."Hey! Come here! I found the bastard!"
The goblin hesitated. His eyes narrowed with suspicion as he stepped closer."Why didn't the thief scream or try to run?"
"Haha! Are you doubting your best friend?" the man said with a grin. "Don't worry. I slit his throat before he could blink."
He laughed again and suddenly drove his blade into the corpse's belly for emphasis.
Still, something didn't sit right. The goblin approached the body, flipped it over...
"Hm!"
It was an old corpse—at least twenty days dead.
His eyes narrowed. He turned back toward the man, scowling."Idiot. That's not—"
Shhhk!
A flash of silver sliced through the air.
"A-aah..." The goblin dropped to his knees, choking, eyes wide with betrayal.
"W-why...?" he gurgled. Blood bubbled from the deep gash across his throat.
The man only smiled. Slowly, he licked the blade, savoring the metallic taste.
"Simple. I like blood."
He raised the knife high.
"Now die."
Slash!
Blood sprayed in all directions, drenching the corpses, the grass, and the man himself.
The goblin's head hit the ground with a heavy thud, rolling until it stopped right in front of the boy's frozen face.
The man looked down at the severed head and spat."Stupid. This place only has rats."
He gave one final glance around, then walked away, leaving behind a freshly watered patch of Keith grass.