Reborn as a Prophet in a Horror Movie

#051Reader Mode

T/N: Trigger Warning: May contain scenes of violence that are graphically depicted, which may upset sensitive viewers.

#051

Seojun’s body betrayed him in the most unsettling ways as he fought for survival. His teeth chattered uncontrollably, each click sharper than the last, and a sudden icy chill swept through him as if he’d been plunged into an icy river. His hands and feet went numb, while his head burned with a feverish intensity that threatened to consume him. Was this the price he had to pay for survival?

A sea of red flooded his vision, and for a moment, he thought it was his own blood. But then he realized it was the deep red liquid gushing from the gaping wound in Johan’s palm.

The pain was so intense, it felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside out. He tried to clear his clouded mind by blinking rapidly, but the bolt lodged in his right eye kept his eyelid open, forcing him to witness the horror before him.

The sinister figure, clad in a gas mask, crept closer to his prey with each deliberate step, an embodiment of death with a weapon and an impeccable appearance. Seojun lay helpless on the ground, his heart pounding as he watched the figure loom closer. The crunching of leaves and twigs under the killer’s feet only heightened his terror.

Seojun’s voice trembled as he called out to Johan. “Johan… Johan, please… wake up…” His words were strained, and he could hear the desperation seeping into them. But there was no response. In his blurred vision, the bolt protruding from Johan’s chest stood out against the backdrop of the trees.

Instead of calling out again, Seojun clenched his jaw, biting down hard on his lip. The pain was excruciating, but it paled in comparison to the anguish he felt inside. Blood filled his mouth, and he could taste the metallic tang of it. His blood-soaked face contorted into a twisted mask of hatred, the blood smearing his features, transforming him into a blood-drenched demon.

Seojun’s remaining eye narrowed to a slit as he glared at the Gas Mask, his heart brimming with resentment and fury. The killer seemed at ease, almost serene, amidst the carnage that painted Seojun’s world red. With those reflective eyes, he really did look like a menacing killer from a spine-chilling horror movie.

However, Seojun dismissed this perception of the killer himself. If this twisted reality was real, then perhaps the clichéd horror movie tropes he had once scoffed at needed to be reconsidered. Even the most far-fetched events could have logical explanations.

First, there was the mystery of Gas Mask’s sudden and inexplicable appearance at the campsite. Initially, Seojun had assumed the killer must have used his bicycle to get there, but it turned out to be Golden, the drug addict, who had taken it for a spin.

So, how in the world did Gas Mask manage to beat him to the Hamon campsite?

The answer, as it turned out, was both deceptively simple and chillingly unnerving: there was more than one Gas Mask. The idea that the horror movie villain possessed superhuman strength and the ability to teleport instantly was just a misconception.

Seojun’s vision swam with hot, salty tears blurring his sight as he frantically clutched at Johan, pulling him with all his might, desperate to escape. Each twitch and jerk of his body sent a searing pain through his skull, a pain so intense he found himself longing for the cold embrace of unconsciousness. He felt like a helpless worm, writhing and squirming under the crushing weight of his tormentor’s approach.

“Ah, Ahhhh…! Murderer, murderer!”

Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, Bobby’s blood-curdling screams, however, shattered any hope of Seojun fainting. The shrill cries were so ear-piercing, that it felt like they could wake the dead.

Then, as if to mock the dire situation, the soft chirping of crickets reached his ears. It was absurd, he thought, how such a soothing sound could coexist with the looming threat of a bloodthirsty butcher ready to slice through his flesh.

Just as Bobby’s hideous screams had brought him back to the grim reality of his predicament, so too did the tiny crickets, the coppery scent of blood clinging to his skin, the hot sweat, the damp air, the itchy blades of grass on his palms, and the gritty feeling of dirt lodged beneath his nails. These sensations attacked him with their tangible presence, reminding him that he was very much alive, fighting for every single breath.

Seojun was disgusted at himself for entertaining the thought of fainting as a means of escaping from the situation. His eye flickered with emotions, struggling to process the cold reality Bobby had so ruthlessly shoved in his face. The randomness of his thoughts made him question if the bolt had grazed his brain, leaving him teetering on the edge of sanity.

The truth was, Seojun didn’t want to die. No, he was a selfish bastard, desperate to cling to life even if it meant others his age had to take his place. He summoned every ounce of willpower he could muster and forced himself to sit up, gritting his teeth against the searing pain that radiated from where his working eye used to be.

The wound where Johan’s palm had been impaled to him felt like a raging inferno, but staying down was not an option. With shaking fingers, he reached for the bolt, its solid, cool metal surprisingly soothing against his feverish skin. Bracing himself for the agony to come, he reminded himself that he’d already endured more pain today than most people did in a lifetime.

And to survive, he bit down on his already bloodied lips once more.

“Kheuk, argh… Ahhh!”

A guttural, wild scream tore from Seojun’s throat, a chilling sound that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. The sickening tearing noise would haunt his nightmares for years to come.

Trying to muffle his screams, he pressed his left hand against the wound, steadying himself as he yanked the bolt out with his right. The feeling of tearing muscles, veins, and bones within Johan’s palm made his stomach churn, but the pain was almost a perverse relief. A twisted reminder that he was still alive. His trembling lips twisted into a hideous grin.

He carelessly flung the bloody bolt aside, and it landed near his feet, its sharp tip still intact. Fortunately, it hadn’t plucked his eye out entirely, but the damage was done; his vision in that eye was gone for good. Crimson blood splattered the ground, contrasting with the dark dirt and greenery around him. The once-peaceful forest was now stained in a horrifying blend of red and green.

Seojun gasped for air, his chest heaving as he pushed Johan away with a trembling foot. The other man’s weight was heavy, making it nearly impossible for Seojun to move. He groaned in pain and exhaustion, his muscles screaming from the effort. Gas Mask watched their desperate struggle with a detached gaze, reveling in his advantage.

Seojun’s remaining eye locked onto the killer’s cold, masked visage. As he watched, Gas Mask casually strolled over, his crossbow at the ready. Seojun’s breath caught in his throat, expecting the worst. But to his surprise, Gas Mask didn’t blow off their heads. Instead, he fired at Bobby, who was trying to make a run for it. The bolt hit Bobby in the thigh, a punishment for trying to escape.

“Arrghh!” Bobby’s feeble scream echoed through the forest, followed by a thud as he collapsed in a heap. His thigh was a bloody mess, and a faint whimpering sound could be heard coming from him. It wasn’t encouraging, but it was a sign that he was still alive.

Gas Mask’s interest in Bobby waned, and he turned his attention back to Seojun and Johan. Seojun’s throat was parched, and he rasped as he tried to call out to Johan again. “Johan… Johan, wake up! F*ck, at least try to run! Johan…” His pleas fell on deaf ears, and Gas Mask’s footsteps grew louder. A suffocating sense of dread strangled him as he realized their options had run out.

Seojun, his back pressed against the sturdy trunk of an oak tree, trembled with exhaustion as he watched Gas Mask approach. Blood dripped from his right eye socket, leaving a crimson trail down his cheek. The man’s footsteps were unhurried, almost playful, as if he were enjoying the pitiful sight before him. The killer clapped his hands in mockery.

“You son of a b*tch! You f*cking bastard…” Seojun’s voice was hoarse with rage, his vision blurred by the blood that clouded it. The fury coursing through him was like a drug, numbing the pain in his body and sharpening his senses. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline-fueled fury giving him a final surge of strength.

Despite the energy, Seojun’s weakened limbs only shook and remained unresponsive. All he could cling to in this desperate moment was a single acorn that had fallen to the ground.

He bit into his cheek and dug his fingers into the ground, ignoring the sting of hidden stones and the cracking of his nails. He hurled handfuls of dirt at Gas Mask, knowing it was futile, but this was all he had left.

Gas Mask watched him with amusement as if Seojun were a lively child playing in the mud. He sauntered over, leaping over Johan’s motionless body with a playful hop, as if this were nothing more than a fun game.

Crouching low, Gas Mask’s silhouette loomed over Seojun, his head cocked to the side like a predator sizing up his prey. The opaque mask did nothing to hide the intensity of his gaze, boring into Seojun’s very soul. Every cut, every bruise, every drop of blood on Seojun’s broken body was meticulously scrutinized, as if under a microscope. Defiance burned in Seojun’s eyes, and he met the killer’s stare head-on.

The shiny gas mask and black trench coat were familiar, but the Hamon knife the previous Gas Mask had wielded was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a hand axe hung from his belt, and a crossbow dangled casually from his hand. It was clear that this new Gas Mask viewed Seojun and Johan’s lives as nothing more than playthings to be toyed with. Rage boiled in Seojun’s veins, heat creeping up the back of his neck.

“Hey, you son of a b*tch,” Seojun growled through gritted teeth, his voice shaking with rage. “You think you’ll get away with this? You’ll end up just like your friend, guts spilled, and your insides torn out for the crows to feast on. No one will mourn your sorry a*s when you’re gone. They’ll just toss your rotting corpse in a ditch, and the maggots feasting on your carcass will be a perfect match for scum like you. You like that, huh? You saw what happened to your buddy, didn’t you? F*cking hell, do you have nothing better to do than cosplaying some trashy villain character? Aren’t you a bit too old for this sh*t? Huh??”

Seojun spat out a mouthful of blood-tinged spit, seeing it splatter against the mask’s surface. Seojun knew full well that this killer held their lives in his hands, but he couldn’t help himself. His jaw throbbed from the effort of speaking, and his head drooped downwards as if resigning to his fate.

[Oh, Seojun, don’t say such naughty things! Your lovely lips are getting all dirty.]

Gas Mask lamented in a dramatic, mournful tone, his voice muffled by the mask, but he could still hear the mischief. Seojun couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew this voice, even though it was deeper than usual.

Slowly raising his chin, Seojun’s remaining eye widened in disbelief as Gas Mask carefully removed the mask while maintaining a firm grip on the crossbow. It couldn’t be… but as the mask came off, the all too familiar features beneath sent a jolt of shock through him. The air around him felt thick and heavy, almost suffocating, as he struggled to catch his breath.

Against the gorgeous backdrop of the sunrise, with its mesmerizing blend of hues like purple, red, and blue, Seojun stared in horror at the face before him.

A familiar face with a comically large mustache that shouldn’t have been here.

Seojun’s heart skipped a beat, and his tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth as he stared in disbelief at the unimaginable sight before him. His body felt like it was turning to jelly, his limbs refusing to cooperate as he tried to make sense of what he was seeing. All he could muster was a hoarse whisper, his mind reeling from the shock.

“Fred…”

Fred Frank, his boss of all people, lowered his bushy eyebrows in a pitiful expression Seojun knew all too well.

“I’m so sorry. Seojun.”