Chapter 35: The Blood That Sleeps Not
Chapter 35: The Blood That Sleeps Not
Darkness swallowed Oliver before he could process what had happened. The moment Barka had collapsed, the weight of the Carcass Mail’s toll dragged his consciousness under like an anchor in deep waters.
His body lay limp, unmoving on the cold, dirt-slick floor.
But inside, he stirred.
When his eyes opened, there was no pain. No cage. No ship. Just a vast, unsettling space of rippling blood-red fog and silence.
><"Surprise!"> a sarcastic, nasally voice screeched through the silence. ><"Guess who's not dead!"
The skull appeared, floating into view with blood-colored pom-poms strapped to the sides of its bony frame, shaking them with unholy cheer.
><"Look at you! Little Lord Corpse-kicker! What a creative finisher. Cockroach mouth gag? Iconic. Honestly, I thought you'd piss yourself after that third punch, but you didn't!">
Oliver sighed heavily, rubbing his face. "I was unconscious two seconds ago, and this is the greeting I get?"
><"Hey, hey, don't be ungrateful! You're in my realm now, buddy! Your nightmare siesta spa! Population: you, me, and your suffering."
Oliver looked around. The environment had shifted. There was no blazing red sun like before. No cracked desert beneath his feet. Just an endless pool of mist and a silence that wasn’t empty. If he was to put a feeling to the space, he would say—it listened.
"Wait... this isn’t the same place. Also, Why am I here already? I only woke up a few minutes before the fight. The time for the compulsory trial should have not reached."