Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

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#009

Stepping out from the dense forest path, Seojun was immediately assaulted by a pungent, acrid odor.

What is that?

Gripping his axe tightly, Seojun momentarily halted his frantic pace. He narrowed his eyes, scanning his surroundings.

The first thing to catch his eye was a three-story wooden building, standing alone in a relatively small clearing and exuding an antiquated charm. While much of Hamon Campground possessed an aged aura, this building seemed particularly musty and decayed.

In front of the decaying structure lay a swamp, a murky amalgamation of dark water and mud. A sinking sensation enveloped Seojun. It wasn’t the lake, but a swamp. He realized he had veered off course. He was in Zone C.

Wasn’t this supposed to be just a two-story building?

Seojun frowned, staring at the lodge that seemed taller than he recalled. But, uncertain of his memories, whether from the movie or his past life, he shrugged it off.

More pressing was the nauseating smell. Unable to cover his nose due to the axe in his hand, Seojun could only grimace in disgust.

He approached the open space between the lodge and the swamp, the overpowering stench nearly numbing his other senses.

“This smell…”

It seemed to originate more from the swamp than the building. It was a scent that had become all too familiar to Seojun that day: a mixture of blood and decay wafting from the earth.

After ensuring Gas Mask wasn’t lurking nearby, Seojun crouched down for a closer look. The soil was a deep shade of red. Even with the moon hidden behind the clouds, he could tell. It was a deep red.

Blood was splattered haphazardly around the swamp’s edge. Flat stones, marred with knife marks, were soaked in fresh blood. The sight of blood seeping between the knife marks was gruesomely vivid.

Not daring to touch it with his bare hands, Seojun lightly touched it with the blade of his axe. The fresh blood on the blade indicated it hadn’t been there long.

A fleeting look of horror crossed his delicate, porcelain-like face.

Who else was in the Hamon Campground? Christina, Johan, William, Airi, Bobby. Could this be their blood? He had thought he was Gas Mask’s first target. But had the killer already finished his bloody work?

Seojun shivered, his teeth chattering. His muscles spasmed, and a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him. He didn’t want to believe he had come to die in vain. He nearly dropped the axe he was clutching so tightly.  And just as panic threatened to consume him, the night air was sliced by a sound.

Whoosh. An arrow sliced through the air, embedding itself mere inches from Seojun’s feet.

“Ah!”

Seojun froze for a heartbeat, the sudden assault momentarily stunning him. But that brief hesitation also ensured his axe stayed securely in his grip, allowing him to swiftly regain his bearings. His eyes snapped to the lodge’s third-floor window, the launch point of the arrow.

A brief glimpse of a crossbow was all he caught. Seojun’s eyes flicked to the arrow at his feet. No, not an arrow—a bolt. The shadowy figure on the third floor was undoubtedly the assailant. As quickly as it had appeared, the crossbow vanished from the window.

“What the hell was that?!”

While Seojun was still reeling, the crossbow reappeared, cocked and loaded. Without hesitation, another bolt was released. Thud! It narrowly missed him.

“Ah, damn it!”

Seojun realized that had he not moved his foot in time, the bolt could have shattered it, slicing through skin and bone. Evading this fate, he sprinted without a second thought. He didn’t have the luxury to ponder why Gas Mask wasn’t also using a crossbow. After all, throwing his axe with pinpoint accuracy from three stories high wasn’t within his capabilities.

Behind him lurked Gas Mask, to his left an unidentified archer, and to his right, an expansive swamp. Fortunately, he didn’t need to deliberate on which direction to take.

Seojun charged straight ahead, plunging into the pitch-black forest. A grim realization dawned on him: even the act of choosing was a luxury he couldn’t afford.

“Ugh, gasp, wheeze…”

Each breath was a painful rasp, tears stinging his eyes. His lungs felt on the verge of bursting. Yet, through the pain, he clung to his axe, navigating through the forest. Every tree seemed eerily familiar. The potent scent of pine needles clouded his thoughts. Had he ever truly escaped?

Upon leaving Zone C, Seojun had found a path. But, in a cruel twist, the path was obstructed by debris. The irony made him laugh, momentarily distracting him from his perilous situation.

The path he had previously avoided was the very one leading to Zone C. With resolve, Seojun veered off his current route.

However, navigating through the mountains by moonlight without a compass or flashlight was predictably treacherous. Even for someone with a deep affinity for mountains and forests, the journey was daunting. Seojun’s frail wrists and ankles proved to be of little help.

Despite his best efforts, his body screamed in protest, energy draining with every step. He began to fear that he might not meet his end at the hands of Gas Mask, but rather succumb to sheer exhaustion.

No, pull yourself together.

Rubbing his blurry eyes, Seojun took a determined step, only to stumble.

“What the-?”

Seojun’s waning strength betrayed him, causing his foot to snag on a tree root. He flailed helplessly, his head smacking against the ground and his unarmed hand crashing into a rock.

A sharp crack resonated in his ears. His wristwatch, perpetually stuck at 9:20, flickered before his eyes, the digits stubbornly immobile. Clinging to his axe, consciousness began to slip away.

In the distance, a deranged voice echoed, “Everyone ignores me now, but they’ll see. I was a model, you know. I bet even Phillip Lee will be sending me a friend request soon.”

A pain so intense, it felt as though his brain was being impaled, jolted Seojun back to awareness. Was this what it felt like to have one’s eyeballs explode?

Seojun writhed on the ground, feeling as if his bones were being crushed. A sharp, choking pain momentarily stifled him.

“…Gasp!”

His heart hammered in his chest as his eyes flew open. He drew a ragged breath, feeling sweat bead on his chilled skin. His own breathing sounded hauntingly loud in his ears, amplifying his disorientation. The whispering rustle of leaves seemed to mock him: it’s just a summer’s night. A random thought amidst the chaos.

The mysterious pain receded, replaced by a warm breeze carrying the scent of lush grass and the metallic tang of blood. Seojun blinked, his fingertips twitching. The delayed return of sensation was a stark reminder of the pain of reality.

“Ugh…”

For a moment, he feared he had gone blind. Fortunately, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the faint outlines of objects gradually became clear.

With his limbs groaning in protest, Seojun leaned against a nearby tree and sat down. Impressively, he still held the axe in his right hand. The fact that he hadn’t let it go, even while unconscious, brought a fleeting sense of pride.

Ignoring the sting in his palms, Seojun surveyed his surroundings. Fortunately, he seemed unharmed, and there was no sign of Gas Mask. However, relief eluded him. Rubbing his throbbing forehead with his left hand, he gritted his teeth.

The crossbow… who shot it? I don’t recall anyone in the movie using one…Or was there?

He tried to recall, but all that surfaced were images of killers with basic masks and grotesque monsters. Nothing seemed to fit.

Eventually, Seojun, while clutching his throbbing head, used the axe as a makeshift cane to stand. His clothes and shoes were a mess. Thanks to his earlier escapade near the swamp, his shoes were stained with muddy water. Seojun resolved to discard them once the day was over.

Then, a voice—frivolous, mocking, boisterous, and light—reached his ears. Initially fearing Gas Mask’s return, he tightened his grip on the axe. But soon, he recognized the voice’s owner.

With a mix of bewilderment, Seojun followed the sound, finding Bobby, seated and mumbling to himself.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

With Bobby leading the way, the journey became somewhat smoother. As they made their way toward the mountain, Seojun borrowed a map from Bobby. Although he asked politely, Bobby’s eyes flickered with a hint of violation. Seojun, naturally, paid it no mind.

Examining the map without a lantern was challenging, but his eyes had adjusted enough. Tracing his path with his finger, Seojun sighed softly.

Had I moved from Zone C to the back of the lodge, I would’ve reached the lake and the mountain directly. Instead, I ended up lost in the forest.

According to the map, moving directly from Zone C to Zone B was an impossibility without first passing through the campsite in Zone A.

However, even if the path wasn’t marked on the map, one could still navigate through by pushing through the underbrush. The distance was surprisingly short.

Unknowingly, Seojun had wandered the periphery of the Hamon Campground and accidentally found the lake. Had Bobby’s voice not reached him, he might still be wandering without direction.

Why are there so many swamps near the forest? I could’ve ended up in the Jordan River¹T/N: “Jordan River” is a biblical reference, symbolizing a boundary or a point of no return. In this context, it’s used humorously to mean “meeting one’s end.” if I wasn’t careful, and not because of Gas Mask.

Seojun occasionally cast glances at Bobby, who was nervously scanning their surroundings. The back of Bobby’s head, under Seojun’s gaze, was far from the image of a savior. Annoyed, Seojun turned his attention back to the map.

Hamon production area… So, Gas Mask’s ‘workshop’ isn’t marked either.

Of course, it wasn’t. The map, officially distributed by the Hamon Campground, wouldn’t blatantly reveal the killer’s lair. Even so, Seojun felt a twinge of disappointment. His eyes then landed on three red circles on the map: the forest next to Zone B’s lake, the lodge in Zone C, and finally, the swampy forest below the campsite in Zone A.

At least Zones B and C were located within the Hamon Campground. However, the last circle, indicating the swamp, was an area devoid of any notable buildings or attractions. It was an odd marking.

Seojun scratched the back of his neck, just beneath where the axe handle rested. His arm soon began to feel numb, prompting him to stop.

“Hey, Bobby.”

“If you mess with me, my friends won’t let it slide!”

Bobby, perhaps misunderstanding something, stopped abruptly and shouted sharply at Seojun’s call. Even while raising his voice, he seemed to remember Seojun’s warning, keeping his tone somewhat subdued.

Touched by Bobby’s cautious behavior, Seojun, far from being intimidated by the mention of his friends, spoke soothingly in a low voice, “Bobby, walking in the dark without a light can lead to accidents. And I just happen to have an axe in my hand. What do you think will happen to the person ahead if I fall? I’d rather we never find out.”

“Eek!”

Kindness always yielded positive results. Whether or not Bobby understood Seojun’s gentle intent, he ceased his rambling and nervously shuffled his feet.