He kept rolling down the hill, he became a piece of meat that was cut and beaten black and blue. Bugs clung to his skin, their remains felt like an unwelcomed presence.
"Ugh...Gravity is clearly a sore loser...definitely a single bitter man" He muttered under his breath, a whimper of pain escaping as he tried to get up from the ashy ground.
The growl kept ringing in his ear, it sounded like it was louder, the beast was getting closer.
He hastily jumped onto his feet and ran as fast as he could. He didn't know which way he ran, he just did it.
No time to think.
The dirty ground that was covered mostly in sharp rocks and grass, was like the head of a balding man.
The bald spots were the rocks, and the remaining hair, the grass.
The rocks prickled under his sole and the grass between his toes, got cut.
Not even a day passed and he was going to get killed.
He ran through the trees, his arms and legs felt like he had broken a bone, they kept grazing the sharp nubs of the vines that were covering every tree like a robe.
Cover.
Cover.
Where could he find Cover?
His eyes searched every spot intensively and thoroughly.
He noticed there were scratch marks on the trees, smaller and bigger one's, in the shape of claws.
There were monsters fighting somewhere, good thing he saw that or he might have gone that way.
He stopped in his tracks, an idea blooming into his head, the scratch marks and trees that were cut down were on the left side, if he could lure the beast that's following him there, he would be safe.
How was he going to do that though?
What could he use?
He looked at his options. Taking another look at his surroundings as his heartbeat sped up everytime his ears caught on a low-throaty growl.
Rocks, branches, vines, leaves, dirt, grass...yeah he doesn't have much but he could work with this.
He took some tree branches, tied them together with vines, and made something like a leaf pouch—the same way he made his crude leafy skirt.
He put everything together, now it seemed like a stick with a pouch at the back, it was a sling-style weapon.
Time for the rocks.
He cut the back of his hand with a sharp rock, collected some dirt into the pouch and held his bleeding hand over it.
As if mixing dough, he mixed the crimson liquid with the dirt—the way a Baker would mix milk with flour, making sure it smelt like his blood instead of the earthy scent dirt had.
He put the sharpest rocks, plus the dirt, into the leaf pouch.
The beast and the Monsters surely had a keen sense of smell. Since the rolling down the hill incident, he had spilt some blood, although shallow and small cuts, it was still blood.
The rumbling beneath his feet told him the beast was closing in.
All he had to do is throw blood mixed dirt with sharp rocks at the monsters, hopefully some dirt falls down, to spread the smell of his blood, luring the beast to the Monsters.
"I'm so smart, hehe..." He giggled smugly, his nose could reach the sky with how conceited he thought of himself.
The grounds rumbling began to get louder. The beast's hungry growling was getting closer. The shaking nearly made him lose his footing.
Now was the time to do the trap.
'There's no way this will go wrong, if it does, I'm grounded into beef.'
With that motivational thought, he took a step back, a foot was set in front of him and another at the back, he arched his back slightly, gripped the stick tightly—and swung it in the direction of the Monsters with all his might.
The dirt descended down the air like a bolt out of the blue, kissing the ground like a long lost lover.
And he took a run from it.
The adrenaline made his ears go numb for a second and the pain in his hand was like a forgotten memory, lingering but not coming.
He had bandaged his hand with leaves and wrapped some vines around it, to make sure his blood didn't drip down. The beast surely wouldn't follow him.
He went to hide himself, there were somewhere deep in the jungle weeping willow trees.
He went through it, his hands opening the leafy curtains apart.
As he hid himself, he heard a screeching growl— the kind that could make your ears bleed.
The trap had worked.
Then he heard something he hadn't expected—the beast whimpered like it was calling for its mother, the whimper twisted into a strangled Roar. Like it couldn't decide to kill or cry.
"It better decide, though" He muttered flatly. "It's not like your mom's going to come and save you."
A chorus of roars and dominating screams came from the Monsters. They snarled at the beast, stomping on the ground causing it to rumble.
The pleading-whining sounds from the beast were almost pitiful, but Mahua Xie couldn't care less, it was, after all, a kill-or-be-killed world.
He could pity the beast, it was only hunting
for food, trying to survive, but he too was trying to survive.
You couldn't pity another being when you're not in a good situation yourself.
A blood-curling scream entered his ears, taking his attention to itself. The scream gave his whole body a shower of goosebumps, his fingers trembled like he hit a hammer on them.
Leaves were rustling and shadows appeared in the sky, they were the wings of the birds flapping as they escaped the scene.
A loud thud echoed through the Jungle, trees fell victim to the beast's dead body and the sound of trunks breaking down from the sheer weight of it.
'If I'm lucky' he began, 'the Monsters will leave some of the beasts flesh and not devour it completely.' He looked in the direction of the scream, his ears still kept ringing, the scream became small echoes of the force it was once before.
He waited behind the leafy curtains for some time.
For the Monsters that still were there to leave and drink some water.
He was thirsty from all that running.
He opened the leafy curtains slightly, peeking his head out of it.
He couldn't see any monsters, the jungle seemed quiet in an eerie way, the growling sounds had stopped.
Should he leave?
The rumble of his stomach answered the question already.
"This better not kill me, stomach." He said seriously as he poked his stomach, his finger digging into the soft skin, he could nearly feel the rumbling sensation through his finger.
Well, he better go and see if the Monsters left any of the beast's remaining body parts there, it was after all a big one.
Using his sense of smell he walked in the direction where the smell of his blood was more potent.
After eating the beast he should find a cave, something that could shelter him from the dark, cold nights when monsters awake and hunt or the blooming mornings where beasts roam.
He also needs to get to know the jungle. There will be different types of poisonous fruits, insects, plants etc. That could get him killed, he's sure of that.
Tapping his finger on his chin, deeply in his thoughts. He should find a way to detect poison, that would cost him time and multiple experiments, he might also die, but it is worth a try.
When the smell of combined blood met his nostrils he had to scrunch his nose. Putting a hand to cover his nose hadn't worked much.
It smelt sickly, something that would be burned into your nose like a slave mark. The smell, he could almost taste it on his tongue.
It smelt like how he would imagine bugs being crushed and fried with urine as the seasoning sauce would smell like, with vomit sprinkled on top.
It smelt gods awful.
He turned his head around, his arm still covering his nose.
The smell was too much.
His hroat had closed up, causing him to let out mouthful of raspy and hoarse coughs, if he coughed more he would spit out blood with how dry his throat was, it felt as if an invisible hand was choking him.
Or an invisible smell. That fits the situation.
He looked down on his stomach as he tried to muffle his coughts and lessen the smell of the blood by pressing his nose deeply into his arm.
"So? Still hungry?" He asked blandly like unseasoned chicken, his face complexion was a sickly hue of green, disgust emitting from him.
The low demanding rumble of his stomach proved him wrong, it was still hungry, he was still hungry, even after smelling this nose crushing smell of blood—he was still hungry.
Clicking his tongue he turned back to the smelly deathly way.
How bad could he corpse look to produce such a smell?
As he made his way through the bushes and vine-y trees—nothing could have prepared him for this sight.
He froze in his spot in absolute petrifying stillness.
He was eye to eye with the head of a monster.
It looked hideous, it had ghastly features, the eyes were dicey, the color of it pitch black with red glowing spots, its head looked deformed, like a child playing with clay, deformed.
Its tail was split into two long needles, with the sharpness of a Cultivator's blade. Its fur was spikey, the tips of the spikes had a design that looked like spilt blood.
It was as ugly as sin. A demonic creature, a monster.
Liquid that was nearly solid fell on his check, rolling down his chin leaving the hotness behind before it cooled down into an icy, chilling stay.
The drool of this Monster absolutely disgusted him.
His pale, gravely complexion turned reddish with anger and disgust.
Before he could take a step back. The Monster—the drooly cur—swung at him!
The blow got him crashing into a tree, he held himself by the hanging vines, refusing to collapse.
He spit out blood, the metallic tang lingering on his tongue and wetting his dry throat.
"You piece of shit!" He spit out with rage as he ripped the vine from the tree that he had stabilised himself with.
The sharp numbs dug into his finger, warm blood welled up between his fingers, he tightly held the vine, causing the nubs to dig even deeper into his skin.
The vine hissed from where he's torn it off, The tree bark darkened, sap building up like it had been burned.
'...what the hell?' He thought with narrowed eyes, judging the tree and the vine, "you're also hurting me, stop whining." He uttered angrily, the throaty snarl of the drooly cur brought back his attention.
The drooly cur sprinted towards him with a hungry look in it's eyes.
He swung the vine horizontally like a whip, the sharp nubs hitting the drooly cur across the face, a loud keening cry escaped the drooly cur.
Blackish red blood gushed out of it's eye socket, dribbling down his face like spilled ink.
Mahua Xie let out a long shaky breath, seeing the drooly cur's condition, uplifted the corners of his mouth. Lips smeared with blood smiled.
"Ha! That's what you get!" He exclaimed with breath laughs, painting his bruised hand at him as he held his body weight with the hanging vines, trying not to stumble.
The drooly cur launched itself forward, it's needle tail rushed forward to stab his brains out. The sharp ends glinted in the sunlight.
Noticing what the beast intended he hurried to a different tree that was right across him, a vine on the ground made him trip—he fell down.
Using his upper body he scrambled himself behind the tree.
'Fuck, I might die.' He commented as he let out short exhaled breaths. 'Though I didn't want it to go this way.'
He muttered under his breath a curse and picked up dirt, he would threw this at the beast.
When he tried moving his arm to throw the dirt in his hand, he felt how something tightly gripped his lower body, it was sharp and felt spiky—it were the vines!
It was the vines of the tree, they curled themselves around him, not letting him move.
Seriously?! Even the nature is trying to kill him now? Perfect.
His frustration was justified—he'd been chased, beaten, and now even the jungle had turned completely against him.
The air around him grew unnaturally still, maybe that was his imagination?
He let out shaky short breaths, like the calm before the storm.
One...
Two...
Three.
He snapped.
He tore the vines with his bleeding fingers apart, the dirt in his hands he threw at the drooly cur, it's eyes stung and it out out a pained cry.
The dirt in his empty hurt like putting salt on a wound.
It thrashed it's head back, knocking a few trees off their roots by it's sluggish movement.
The moment some clarity took its vision, it surged forward with a roar that shook the air and rustled the leaves towards Mahua xie—who had tied the vine with a running noose, waiting for the drooly cur to come— calmly.
He stood there, taking calculated breaths, his eyes almost seemed dark.
Before the drooly cur could land a hit, Mahua Xie bolted besides it and threw the loop around the creature's head.
Like a dog on a leash, he directed the demonic beast where to go.
He stepped on its head and jumped—befrore it tried to bite him with its sharp teeth—across a bough and he pulled the Monster with all his might up, the sudden strength he gained didn't matter, he needed this Monsterdead.
The drooly cur choked, it was hanging over a bough.
The satisfaction the sight gave Mahua xie was none, there was no blood, just sounds of choking wasn't enough.
He tied the vine around another tree bark and tore another vine from it. The vine and tree could be hearing fuming with anger and malice, but trees couldn't talk, nor vines, so he didn't care.
He gave the drooly cur each part 20 lashes with it.
He saw every sensitive and weak spot.
The underbelly.
The sides.
The ankles.
The thighs.
But the most sensitive was—the Throat.
Mahua Xie kept swinging his vine-whip, it slashed into the soft uncovered skin, slicing through it, leaving a big horizontal mark.
The creature let out a high broken cry, thrashing in the air, the vine-rope dug into its throat deeper, choking out it's cries.
Slash—vines slithered towards his feet, coiling around his ankles—Slash—it tried to drag him backwards—Slash.
The deformed head fell down of the ground, blood like ink was splattered everywhere, some on his own face, like little moles.
The body was still hung in the air, the neck was binded by the vine-rope so tightly that the body couldn't collapse even after the head fell.
Now he felt satisfied.
Letting out a breath he calmed his senses completely.
"That's what you deserve, fucker." He exclaimed in delight, "You messed with the wrong amnesic guy."
Rumble....
...
He looked down on his stomach, the aching of his insides now catching up with him, he squated down holding his stomach. The rumbling got louder, his stomach demanded food.
He helplessly looked around, his gaze drifted to the hung body in front of him.
...
◇ ♤ ♧ ◇ ♤ ♧ ◇ ♤ ♧
Chomp
"Ugh, oomf- damn this actually doesn't taste so bad."
He took another bite of the meaty flesh, he let out a moan of delight. "Oh...oh...yeah, this is how food is supposed to taste like."
He ate the body of the drooly cur he had killed, he nearly ate everything of it.
Cleaning and making sure he wasn't getting poisonous was hard, he'd suspect that it would at least be poisonous by the colour of it's blood, but he was proven wrong.
Letting out a yawn he patted his belly.
Yeah...this was good.
Not the almost-getting-killed part, but the eating one.
He should find a place to stay, preferably in a cave.
He looked at the animal skin that he had cut off the Monster.
It was thick, and pretty stinky but it would keep him warm, he had no room to complain, this was all about survival.
He stopped the fire he lit on with the fire stones he was luckily to find and carried the furry skin over his shoulder and held the fire stones in his other hand.
He didn't know if there was an exit, but the jungle seemed to be not done with him yet.