Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#007Reader Mode

#007

Seojun felt as though he was trapped in a bizarre dream, where the familiar suddenly morphed into the peculiar. Was his mind playing tricks due to blood loss? He moved quietly, massaging his tense neck, with the notorious Hamon campsite looming ahead.

Is… this the right way?

His night vision was far from exceptional, and he wasn’t familiar with the area. Seojun eyed the fork in the road with skepticism. The dirt path cleverly split to the left and right, with the right seeming more well-trodden based on footprints.

“………”

Why is my gut feeling useless when I need it most?

His intuition was proving to be as useful as toe socks. With hesitant steps, Seojun chose the right path. But, in hindsight, his worry was unwarranted.

He hadn’t ventured far when a heap of discarded materials, seemingly placed there intentionally, blocked his way. Nearly tripping over the debris, Seojun hastily backtracked.

What a waste of time.

Back at the fork, frustration etched on his face, he chose the left path. Soon, the Hamon campsite came into view. As he pushed through the dense bushes, the campsite’s silhouette faintly appeared in the dim light.

Two buildings stood in a narrow clearing. Light leaked from the windows of one, which resembled a guard post. Seojun tried to recall the campsite’s layout from the movie. It was divided into four zones, with the central A-zone, the Campfire Ground, surrounded by zones B, C, and D.

Zone B had scattered huts and a lake, Zone C had a rare two-story cabin, and Zone D probably housed a dining area and the groundkeeper’s residence.

His recollections were patchy. After all, who memorizes a movie’s layout? He certainly didn’t. He only remembered the dining area because of a scene where a cheerleader and a football player flirted while eating.

Honestly, that scene had zero relevance to the plot. Seojun never understood why it was necessary to include a scene where a sexy cheerleader flirted while sitting on her boyfriend’s lap.

Moreover, the director’s strange personal taste in background music was obvious. Seojun had a burning desire to peek into the director’s brain. If there was anyone who admired that director, Seojun would’ve loved to meet them.

Another significant location was the lake in Zone B. The Black Lake was the cradle of the man-eating monster. And Seojun didn’t understand why the Black Lake was dubbed ‘Black’ until the movie’s end. It was a poorly crafted film.

And here I am, stuck in this damn cinematic disaster.

This realization made his heart constrict, and old fears clawed their way to the surface. His throat felt raw, and his mouth was dry. Seojun swallowed the saliva gathering under his tongue and stepped forward. Regardless of how surreal this reality seemed, it was brutally real for Seojun.

First, I need to find Christina.

Seojun systematically set his priorities. His main goal was to meet up with Christina and her group. Secondly, he aimed to find anything that could be used as a weapon. If he could also borrow a cellphone from Christina’s group to call the police, that would be ideal.

So, Christina, please be safe.

Seojun clung onto hope, pushing aside the grim odds of a regular student facing off against a man-eating monster.

If the monster was anything like its portrayal in the movie, Christina and her group might not only easily defeat it but even snap a few celebratory selfies. That’s how amateurish the monster’s makeup was in “The Murderer of the Bloody Lake.”

Sure, the design of Gas Mask in the movie was equally unimpressive. But the real-life version? His breath, heavy with the scent of blood, and his eerie, muffled sounds were far more sinister. This suggested the real-life man-eating monster might be even more horrifying and grotesque than its cinematic counterpart.

As these thoughts swirled in his mind, Seojun’s body instinctively moved forward. He wasn’t usually athletic, but facing death, his survival instincts kicked in.

Gathering strength in his legs, Seojun burst through the foliage, only to skid to a stop, coming face to face with Gas Mask.

“……”

“……”

This couldn’t be real…. Why was Gas Mask right in front of him? Seojun blinked, struggling to process reality. Unfortunately, the figure didn’t disappear like a mirage. Instead, his distinct features, including the black trench coat, Hamon knife, and gas mask, became even more vivid.

Despite being clad in a stifling trench coat and gas mask on a summer day, this killer showed no signs of fatigue. It wasn’t surprising. Horror movie killers typically possess immense stamina and terrifying strength, a trope Seojun was well aware of.

Oh, come on! Wasn’t he way behind me?

Seojun mustered his remaining energy and bolted. Despite his earlier misjudgment causing a delay, he thought he had reached the Hamon campsite ahead of Gas Mask.

But, as if mocking his assumption, Gas Mask subtly raised his Hamon knife, which gleamed menacingly.

“Holy sh*t!”

Recognizing the all-too-familiar face, Seojun cursed and made a beeline for a larger building, bypassing the smaller outpost the killer had emerged from. Bursting through the door, he was greeted by a quaint sign reading “Restaurant.”

“Ugh!”

Pain shot through his injured arm as he collided with something inside. But he couldn’t stop, not even for a second. Hesitation now would be a death sentence.

Perhaps Gas Mask hadn’t anticipated Seojun’s reckless sprint, because his reaction was slow. Slamming the door behind him, Seojun’s feet barely touched the ground as he raced on.

From the outside, the restaurant appeared as a simple rectangular building. Inside, it was quite dark, with only slivers of light filtering through the windows, just enough for Seojun to make out shapes.

Gas Mask, realizing his prey was slipping away, began his chase. His breathing, rough and heavy, resonated eerily through the mask with every step.

Seojun darted between the neatly arranged tables and chairs. His slender frame, nimble as a cat, allowed him to weave around the obstacles effortlessly.

Meanwhile, the hulking killer wasn’t as graceful, bumping into tables and chairs. Seojun desperately shoved chairs in his way, trying to slow him down.

But while Seojun might’ve been as slender as a twig, Gas Mask was built like a tank. Those flimsy chairs barely phased him. He bulldozed through with reckless abandon, the chairs screeching in protest against the floor.

“Ah!”

In his frantic escape, Seojun, too focused on the terror behind him, took a predictable tumble. A chair leg tripped him up, sending him crashing to the floor, his cheek, shoulder, and knee taking the brunt of the fall.

“Ugh…”

It was the second time that day he’d been betrayed by his own clumsiness. ‘Am I really this accident-prone?’ he thought, the answer painfully obvious.

But Seojun didn’t have time to berate himself. An icy dread prickled at the back of his neck, and without looking back, he instinctively jerked his head to the side. The Hamon knife sailed past, narrowly missing its mark.

“Uh, ack!”

Gask Mask had aimed for Seojun’s neck. His breath hitched at the close call. Heat radiated from the killer’s body, making the air feel oppressively hot and humid.

Was it the nearby lake causing this humidity? It was a fleeting, strange thought. The silent forest, the cool metal under his grip, and the foggy condensation building up on the killer’s mask all converged in Seojun’s mind, prompting an impulsive action.

Locking eyes with where he presumed the killer’s eyes to be, he swung his improvised weapon with all his might. Thwack! The metal chair collided with the Gas Mask’s chin.

But to Seojun’s dismay, all he achieved was a slight tilt of the gas mask. Muttering a swift curse, he didn’t even pause to nurse his aching wrist from the awkward swing.

Still, Seojun had managed a small victory. If he could distract Gas Mask, even briefly, he’d take it. Drawing from a place of raw determination, Seojun unleashed a primal scream.

“AAAAHHH!”

Twisting his fallen body and using the ground for leverage, he coiled his legs and then thrust them forward with a force that belied his slender frame. Gas Mask, seemingly unshakeable, wobbled from the impact.

Seojun might not have been versed in martial arts, but he knew that the strongest part of his frail body was his legs. That kick, fueled by sheer desperation, caused the killer to lose his grip on the knife and stagger backward.

Had the heavens been moved by Seojun’s desperation? Even without muscle, his height lent enough power to his desperate kick to make an impact.

[Hmph!]

A groan reverberated hollowly through the gas mask. Seojun, after a fleeting glance at his adversary, clumsily rose, adrenaline coursing through him.

Without adjusting his stance, he sprinted forward like a racehorse. Thankfully, he had the sense not to look back at the killer this time.

Bursting through the opposite door, he slammed it shut, the sound echoing in his ears.

Luckily, his Hamon knife got stuck in the floor.

In the midst of this terrifying day, a small stroke of luck had finally come his way. The delay in the killer’s pursuit wasn’t solely due to Seojun’s feeble resistance.

True to classic horror movie killers, Gas Mask was obsessed with his signature weapon. Instead of pursuing Seojun immediately, he wrestled with the Hamon knife, attempting to pry it from the floor. The unsettling sound of metal scraping against wood lingered hauntingly in Seojun’s ears.

Hold on, this can’t be… luck?

Gas Mask’s actions implied a singular truth: the moment Seojun was caught, he was doomed to become a dinner ham. As this chilling thought settled in, his chest, slick with sweat, heaved with heavy breaths.

Anxiety gnawing at him, Seojun willed his heavy legs to move, striving to put more distance between himself and the restaurant. Although he felt he had escaped, in truth, he had merely sidestepped immediate death. His life was still precariously balanced on a thin thread.

Ugh!

Seojun winced, reevaluating his own metaphor. Tightrope walking? It was a distasteful analogy for someone who generally shied away from physical exertion. After a swift scan of his surroundings, Seojun dashed towards a narrow pathway.

If I can just get through here, the campfire site and camping grounds should be close.

With a bit of luck, he might stumble upon Christina and the others. Gritting his teeth, Seojun slapped his burning thighs. As he moved, the injuries from his fall and the awkwardly swung wrist pulsated with pain. The fight had only brought him injuries. Without realizing it, he bit down on his lip, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth.

His plans had been completely derailed after encountering Gas Mask. Initially, he had imagined himself skulking around, as unnoticeable as a worm or as silent as an owl in the dark of night.

But alas, Seojun was no stealthy night creature, just a regular guy who now wished he’d snatched a kitchen knife or something from the restaurant. Glancing at his wristwatch, it displayed 8:50. The day was far from over, and he was already drained.

Me when Seojun did the cliche horror movie fall Lol: