A throbbing pain in the skull, as if something massive had been crushed on top of it. Then... cold.
Cold winds sweep over bare skin, and open veins, as if they take pleasure in its suffering.
The eyes barely open. Everything is blurry.
Then... clarity.
A gray, pale sky moves behind huge, black branches, stretched like twisted arms wanting to choke the world. The forest. A strange place, silent, with no bird sounds, no sounds of life... just the breath of trees.
Trying to move is in vain. Something holds it back. Something pins it down.
Looking down reveals the ugly truth:
The hands... each hand pierced by a rusty, long nail driven into the wood. The skin is torn, the bone exposed. Blood bleeds... slowly. The same with the feet. They are pinned to a giant plank — a log taller than the trees themselves.
The plank is not natural. It seems made specifically... for this.
Hundreds of old nails fill it, as if it had been used before. Some carry remnants of hair... bones... tattered human clothes.
The air is thick, full of the smell of iron, rot, and forgotten flesh.
What is happening? Where is the city? Where is the ruin it had walked through?
**
Memories return slowly...
Heavy footsteps dragging chains behind them. The sound of metal on stone. An unforgettable face — half of it a bare skull, the other half covered by bone as if a demon mask.
That thing... doesn't speak a comprehensible language. Its voice is like an echo from the depths of the earth. Yet, despite that, one thing is understood:
It didn't want to kill it. It wanted to hang it.
As a punishment? As a ritual? As a way to break the soul?
Who knows.
**
The pain doesn't lessen. The blood doesn't stop. The hunger is no longer a sensation... but has turned into an internal being, screaming, biting, digging from within.
And time... stops. The sun is barely visible, and the night swallows the day mercilessly.
No screaming. No crying.
Only two stiff eyes, staring at the horizon, trying to remember.
**
No one is coming. No creature in this world shows mercy. And hope... is a trivial word that died days ago.
But the desire for life, even if twisted... is still there, burning beneath the chest.
**
It will return. The monster will return. And there will be no thanks, no forgiveness, no happy ending.
But if there's one moment... one chance... it's not now.
Now... is the time for pain. Now... is the time for waiting.
...
How much time has passed? No one knows. The sky changed, the forest changed, but it is still there. Hanging, pinned, as if it were a forgotten page in a book that has ended.
The body started to cool, the blood stopped bleeding, not because the wound healed... but because the body surrendered.
And the mind? Empty. As if every thought, every feeling, had eroded, burned, and turned to ash inside a tired skull.
**
Then... something small happened.
A crow. Black, silent, perched on a nearby branch.
It looked at the hanging body with a gleaming eye, stretched, as if studying whether this thing was still alive... or cold flesh that could be torn apart.
Then the eyes moved. Those two different eyes, glassy, trembling. The left one blue, the right one green. They slowly lifted, with difficulty, and looked at the crow.
Just one glance.
**
The crow flinched. Its wings flapped powerfully and disappeared into the branches.
And the head remained raised, staring into the void... until the crow was completely gone.
Silence.
**
Nothing happened. Nothing moved.
Then... the gaze lowered to the hands. Hands covered in black, clotted blood... the skin torn around the rusty nails.
A moment passed.
Another.
Then... the mouth contracted. Slowly... as if its muscles had forgotten how to move.
A smile... twisted, crooked, full of rejection.
No... not crying. Not laughing.
Something else. Something as if the soul within it screamed at last: "Enough."
**
Then, in a hoarse, broken voice, the first words in days came out:
"...I'll kill him."
**
The voice was barely audible, but it was real.
"I'll tear him apart... that bastard... I'll make him wish for death..."
**
The body started to move.
Slowly. Slowly, disgustingly. The muscles screamed. The blood began to flow again... and the pain returned. As if the nails sank deeper with every movement.
But it didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
The screaming? Normal.
The pain? Expected.
Who will hear it? No one. It's in the heart of the forest, a place where even fear cannot reach.
**
It clenched its hand once. Then again.
Blood flowed again.
Then something broke.
And the first hand came out. Then the second... slowly, as the skin and flesh tore.
Then the feet.
It fell.
To the ground.
But it didn't die. It didn't lose consciousness.
It smiled.
**
From there, from between the roots, dampness, and mud... it rose as if something else lived in it. It was no longer that child. Something had transformed within it.
That monster... didn't kill it because it wanted a quick death. It wanted it to rot, to dissolve from hunger and pain.
But it failed.
And now... it will die.
That night, the darkness was thick, and the forest was silent like a forgotten tomb. The boy, who had slowly healed thanks to the ability granted by the old man, sat in front of a pile of dry branches. His eyes — blue and green, always immersed in pain — no longer trembled with fear, but glinted with a new light... the light of hunger, the light of hatred.
He lit the fire.
It wasn't just any fire; it was a huge, wild flame, like a beast exhaling its last breath. The flames spread high, black smoke rising, waving to the sky as if it were screaming: "I'm here, I'm alive, come and end me if you dare!"
He knew the monster would see that. Not because it cared... but because it didn't want the boy to die quickly. It wanted him to suffer. The agony. The pain. That was what satisfied that hideous creature.
And indeed, the sound of heavy steps was heard. Chains dragging behind it, clashing against rocks. The monster approached. That twisted being, with thick skin, a giant body, exposed face bones, and half a demon mask covering one side. A mouth full of sharp teeth, and black eyes that saw nothing of mercy.
The boy didn't wait.
With a swift step, he threw the stone — that red stone he had found long ago, thinking it was trivial. It exploded.
Flames, screams, the smell of burning flesh.
The monster let out an inhuman scream. Its hand — the hand that held its sword chained to it — flew off, shattered, and rolled on the ground like rotten meat. The fire consumed its side, turning its thick skin into a burnt black layer.
But it didn't die.
It stood, breathing like a wounded beast, its eyes boiling with rage.
And suddenly — a punch.
The boy was struck with a single blow, with unimaginable force. The boy didn't feel the punch... he felt the explosion in his face. His face filled with blood, his nose shattered, his lips torn, and his eyes... no longer saw anything but red. The blood vessels inside his eyes exploded from the pressure, and it seemed as though he had only one gaze: the gaze of death.
He fell to the ground.
But he didn't die.
His body trembled, his breath gasped, but his hand didn't move to surrender. He knew that if he didn't finish it now, there would be no other chance.
But the monster didn't attack again. It stood there, watching him, breathing heavily, as if the pain had momentarily thrown it off balance. It was a creature covered in pain and rage... but also — it was bleeding.
The boy... didn't smile.
But he was as close to laughing as he could be.
He remained on the ground, gasping. His face was destroyed, his eyes bloodshot, his skin cracked, and his hands trembling. But he understood one important thing: the monster was bleeding. For the first time... this thing had been hurt.
The boy remained silent, no screaming, no movement. It seemed as though he had died.
The monster stood in front of him, breathing slowly... slowly... then turned its back.
Mistake.
The boy, with great effort, crawled toward the wreckage. There was a weapon. Rusty, small, but sharp — a farming axe lying near an old corpse. It wasn't perfect, but the blood made his grip steady. He grabbed it, his heart beating hard.
He waited. Watched the monster retreat into the darkness.
Suddenly, he rose.
A scream of pain erupted from his chest. But he didn't care. He ran with all his strength — not to escape, but to kill. The axe in his hand, and his eyes seeing nothing but one point on the monster's body: the place where the arm was severed.
He struck with everything left of his soul.
A blow.
The monster screamed, not just from the pain, but from surprise. It hadn't expected this small creature to still fight.
Another blow.
The axe sank into the burnt part of its body. Smoke rose from the wound. The monster tried to strike him, but it was slower now... weaker.
The boy didn't stop. He struck again and again, the axe hitting bone, burning flesh. He screamed, cried, cursed, crawling over the monster like a rabid animal.
And in the end — the monster fell.
The sound of its impact with the ground was like the collapse of a mountain.
But the boy didn't celebrate.
He knelt beside it, gasping, blood covering his face and hands. He didn't know if the monster was dead... or just unconscious. But he didn't care.
He ripped the massive chain from the monster's weapon and tied it around his neck. Then he raised the axe, shaking, and looked directly into its black eyes:
And struck.
The boy remained kneeling on the monster's body, breathing like a beast himself, his face covered in blood, his hands trembling, and his tears mixing with his blood without him noticing. He didn't stop.
He struck the axe again, and again, and again.
Each blow seemed to tear at a dark past, a fear lived through endless nights, the pain of hunger, the humiliation, the feeling of weakness before merciless creatures.
The sound of bones breaking. The echo of mangled flesh tearing. The monster's face, once terrifying... now a mix of shattered bones, burned skin, and broken teeth. It was no longer a face. It was no longer even something recognizable.
But the boy didn't stop.
"This... because I was starved."
Strike.
"This... because I was scattered."
Strike.
"This... because you thought I... was weak."
Strike.
"And this..." A single thick, hot tear fell. "Because I am no longer a child."
Then he raised the axe high and struck directly into the monster's face, so hard that the skull shook, and black shards scattered in the air.
The monster did not move.
Its face had become something indescribable. A twisted mass of blood, bones, and shattered teeth. Even if it was alive... it could no longer see, scream, or threaten.
The boy remained silent, breathing heavily, then let the axe fall to the ground with a heavy sound. His hands trembled, his eyes were teary, but his gaze was no longer fearful. It was filled with madness... and rage.
He lifted his head toward the tall trees surrounding the place. The rain had stopped some time ago, and the sky was gray. A dreadful stillness enveloped the forest.
Then he murmured quietly:
"I'm not safe yet... but I'm not dead."
Then he slowly began dragging the heavy chain connected to the monster's weapon, slowly... with effort... moving away from the corpse.
In the stillness of the forest, where even the wind's breath had died down, his exhausted body lay on the cold earth. His skin covered in dried blood stains, his eyes barely open from fatigue, his heart beating with the remains of a will that had not completely died. He had lived... but he had lost something of himself.
Hours passed, or maybe days, he didn't know. His voice was gone. The fire he had lit had extinguished. And the monster was gone.
But he was still there... breathing. And that meant one thing: he had to continue.
With difficulty, he got up and walked through the trees aimlessly. He wasn't looking for food or water, just something he didn't know. Something that pushed him to keep going.
Then... he saw it.
An abandoned stone wall, hidden among the roots, as if the forest had tried to hide it. Not huge, but strange. It was covered in ancient carvings, slowly moving as if they were breathing. It didn't resemble any writing, any language, anything human. Just shapes... eyes, mouths, twisted circular lines. They stared at him without looking.
He approached.
And suddenly, amidst those carvings, he noticed something.
An... eye... real... open within the stone. Watching him.
He felt a shiver run down his spine. He took a step back. But his eyes never left the eye.
Then he began to feel something inside his head. Not a voice, but images, emotions, and strange scenes.
He saw himself walking in a burnt land. He saw creatures kneeling to this wall. He saw death in a way he'd never seen before.
Then, he realized the truth. Everything he had been through... all the pain, hunger, monsters, screaming... was just the limits of this place. This spot only.
But what was behind this wall... was something else. Something he couldn't even understand, let alone face.
"I... was in the safe part?" he whispered, barely able to believe it.
"The place I'm in, that almost killed me, is... the safe one?"
He collapsed to his knees, his eyes wide open, staring at nothing. Everything he had lived through, all he had fought, all the blood spilled... meant nothing compared to what lay behind this door.
But strangely... despite all the fear, there was curiosity in his heart. A deadly curiosity. And with every beat of his heart, he heard a faint whisper in his mind, not words, but a sensation: "You haven't seen anything yet."
He struggled to his feet and turned his back. He wouldn't open the door. Not now. But the thought... remained. The thought that this world was deeper than he had imagined.
And so, he headed south, toward the dark horizon, searching for an exit, a sea, an escape...
But he was no longer the same. He had changed... and the darkness in his heart began to stir.
End of the "Gor'Sekra" Chapter.
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It means "The Depths of Fear".