Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#032Reader Mode

#032

Gas Mask instinctively stepped back, his heel scraping the floor in a sound that seemed to echo loudly. His eyes landed on the thin, tangled mess of hair slipping through his gloved fingers. The damp strands were long like a rock star’s, clinging to his glove like strands of seaweed.

With each casual flick of his wrist, the straw-stuffed shell of Richard swayed like a disturbing puppet. Gas Mask, unfazed by the ghastly sight, tried to flick it away with the indifference one might show swatting at a pesky fly.

The sight of Richard, disgustingly stuffed with straw, was enough to make anyone faint. But Gas Mask, ever the seasoned psychopath, was used to handling mutilated corpses. He coolly raised his Hamon knife, ready to slice away the irritating hair tangled with his glove, as if he were merely trimming a bothersome thread.

But that was okay. This brief lapse of focus was exactly the moment Seojun had been waiting for.

“Gasp!”

Seojun inhaled sharply as the chilly night air hit his feverish neck, sending a ripple of goosebumps down his spine.

Dangling precariously upside down, he trusted the hands holding his legs and waist as he clumsily collided with the window frame, his shoulder absorbing the brunt of the impact with a muffled thump. Gas Mask’s predatory gaze, accentuated by the eerie glow of his mask, locked onto Seojun before he could even register the pain.

Through the open window, the killer saw an upside-down slender youth, illuminated by the dim moonlight. His hair moving wildly in the wind like some creature of the night. The veins on his pale, almost marble like forehead stood out sharply. The young man’s bloodstained mouth was now curling into a faint smirk.

In that surreal, upside-down moment, Seojun felt a rush of blood to his head, the pressure mounting in his eyes as he hung there, defying gravity. His hand reached out, a firm grip on the cold, indifferent metal.

This was his chance to show Gas Mask that disappearing after hearing that gunshot and choosing to take Bobby had been a grave mistake.

“Huff.”

Seojun inhaled deeply, the night air cold in his lungs. One didn’t need to be a trained soldier to have the advantage in close-range combat. The gun in his hand was impartial, ready to obey anyone with the resolve to pull the trigger. There was no time for taunts or sharp remarks; he and Gas Mask were far from acquaintances. The cool metal under his fingers sharpened his focus, preparing him for the imminent showdown.

Caught off guard, Gas Mask fumbled with his Hamon knife, his earlier intention to cut Richard’s hair leaving him unprepared for this new threat. Seojun capitalized on the moment, aimed carefully, pulled back the slide with a smooth motion, and fired. The bullet burst from the gun in a practiced, precise movement.

The sound of the gunshot was deafening, shaking Seojun’s already unstable balance and sending a jolt of recoil through his shoulder.

“Ugh!”

The bullet, small but deadly, hit its target without fail. Gas Mask’s Hamon knife and two of his fingers dropped to the floor, severed cleanly by the shot. Blood spurted wildly from the stumps of his thumb and index finger, painting a grim scene.

[……!]

A muffled scream echoed from behind Gas Mask’s mask, filling the tense atmosphere. Reeling from the impact, Gas Mask stumbled backward, his injured hand waving wildly in a dramatic but useless attempt to regain balance. Meanwhile, the previously motionless pile of straw sprang into action.

Johan wasn’t one to rely on a single trap, especially not for an experienced killer. He had cunningly hidden himself under the straw, using the soldier’s body as cover. There, he lay in wait, inhaling the acrid scent of blood and innards through a tiny opening, biding his time for the perfect strike.

His attack was swift and lethal, a stab as precise as a spearman’s thrust. With a cold, focused resolve, he drove his skewer towards Gas Mask’s waist, targeting the spine.

Johan knew how to use his imposing size to his advantage, sacrificing the reach of his skewer for the power of his full weight behind the attack. His muscles bulged, veins prominent on his tensed wrist.

In the cramped room, Gas Mask had little room to dodge. But he wasn’t one to be easily outdone. In a frenzied move, he lunged forward, his trench coat billowing, and crashed into the wardrobe. This sudden action caused Johan’s skewer to veer off target, piercing Gas Mask’s side instead of the intended fatal blow to the spine.

“Damn!”

Johan clicked his tongue as he saw Gas Mask narrowly dodge a potentially lethal injury.

But then, a new problem emerged. The old wardrobe, which had somehow remained upright, now ominously began to tip over. Seojun, being pulled back onto the roof by Christina and Airi, watched in horror.

“Johan, watch out!”

The teetering wardrobe, massive though empty, posed a serious threat. If it fell on Johan or trapped him, the injured and now partially fingerless Gas Mask wouldn’t just stand idly by.

As the wardrobe fell, Johan faced it head-on, stopping it with his left arm.

“Haha, this is heavier than I thought!”

Even in this a dangerous situation, Johan managed a cheerful smile, though the strain was visible in the red flush creeping up his neck.

Why didn’t he just dodge it?

Looking around, Seojun quickly realized Johan’s dilemma. To Johan’s right was Gas Mask, still reeling from his injury. To his left was a slippery trail of blood from Gas Mask’s severed fingers. Any misstep there could have sent Johan slipping. The risk, however slight, had forced him to hold his ground.

Of all places, it had to be right there…

Seojun’s head felt hot as his mind raced. They had laid multiple traps and even wounded their enemy. It should have been their moment of victory, yet the resilience of a horror movie serial killer was proving to be a tough challenge.

Seojun’s decision was quick. Having just reached the roof after being pulled up, he immediately jumped back down.

“Seojun, what are you doing?!”

Christina’s alarmed shout from the roof went unheeded. This time, he didn’t hang upside down. Instead, he clung to the eaves with one hand, his light body making the maneuver possible. His stiff muscles screamed in protest, but he pushed through. Seojun didn’t have time for pain or hesitation.

Holding the cold, unfamiliar gun, Seojun gritted his teeth. The pain in his torn, swollen lips reminded him of the stakes. The discomfort he felt now was nothing compared to the horror of being captured by Gas Mask. His arm, gripping the gun, shook uncontrollably.

“Don’t move!”

Gas Mask, who was still writhing in pain, slowly turned his head towards Seojun. His face was hidden behind the mask, but Seojun could feel a piercing, almost animalistic stare drilling into him.

This bastard doesn’t know I’m out of bullets.

Seojun bit down on the tender flesh inside his cheek. He was out of bullets, but Gas Mask didn’t know that. Seojun could lie as much as he needed.

Perilously hanging, Seojun’s nerves tightened when William, a whirlwind of muscle and determination, boldly charged into the room. He lunged at Gas Mask from behind, locking his forearm around the killer’s neck, his incredible muscles tightening like a vice.

[Ugh!]

Gas Mask jerked in surprise, but William’s build was also a force to be reckoned with, stubbornly gripping the killer’s neck with relentless pressure.

Good. Stay on him, William. Seojun silently cheered him on.

When Seojun was buying time earlier, William had cleverly re-entered the building, squeezing in through a window by the stairs after initially being on the roof.

Seojun breathed a silent sigh of relief. Directly facing Gas Mask was a losing battle for their wounded group. That’s why they had to dig numerous pits, trying to keep him off balance.

While Seojun and William stalled, Johan finally managed to shove the heavy wardrobe aside. The force shook the third floor, stirring up clouds of dust that made everyone grimace as it filled their nostrils and mouths.

“Hold on, William!” Johan shouted, now free from the wardrobe’s weight. He kicked aside Richard’s cumbersome remains and yanked the skewer out of Gas Mask’s side. Blood gushed forth as the killer thrashed in agony.

Unfazed, Johan readied himself for another stab. But Gas Mask, now free from the skewer, fought back with a renewed ferocity.

William, focused on strangling Gas Mask, was exposed. He couldn’t dodge Gas Mask’s sudden, vicious headbutt to his collarbone. It was a stroke of bad luck.

“Argh!” William’s pained grunt signaled his faltering hold, feeling as though his bones were splintering under the impact.

Gas Mask took advantage of William’s momentary weakness, lunging towards the window, his hand outstretched towards Seojun. Struggling to pull himself back on the roof, Seojun could only watch in horror as Gas Mask’s hand closed in.

“Ah!”

The sound of shattering glass filled the air, accompanied by a sharp, agonizing impact against Seojun’s stomach. Then, the disorienting sensation of falling took over, as the ground rushed up to meet him.