"Get away from me!" A man shouted, flailing his sword wildly.
"Wait… Aren't you…" Jorel's eyes focused on the man, recognition dawning.
"You're one of the stagecoaches, right?" He gestured back the way he came.
"Huh… Who are you?!" The left stagecoach shouted, continuing his frantic swordplay.
"Sir Jorel?!" He exclaimed, as if an unseen force had pushed him back. He coughed, regaining his balance.
"Y-You survived?" His voice sounded slightly drained, his left ring finger twitching erratically.
"Could say the same for you," Jorel replied, slowly advancing, his sword held out.
"Where exactly are we?" he asked, surveying the bizarre surroundings, while the left stagecoach continued his erratic swings.
"And why are you swinging your damn sword in the air?" Jorel recoiled slightly.
"Have you gone mad? Did the crash mess up your peasant brain?" He frowned at the left stagecoach.
"Tch." The left stagecoach scoffed under his breath.
"Who cares where we are!" Sweat plastered his body as he moved.
"Can't you see that monstrosity in front of me?!" He shouted, stabbing the air with his sword.
".... Monstrosity?" Jorel's head tilted slightly.
"Yes! It's huge and----" The left stagecoach suddenly fell on his stomach, shouting in pain.
"Arggh! It's sitting on me!" He gasped for air, struggling beneath an unseen weight.
What is he talking about?
Did he actually run mad? Or…
Jorel slowly moved closer, picking up a rock from the floor. He threw it above the left stagecoach. The rock passed through empty space and landed on the other side.
"Yes! You hit it!" The left stagecoach breathed deeply as he stood.
"But be careful, it's coming for you now!" He gave a slight, unsettling smirk.
"What?" Jorel scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. Then, a faint breeze brushed against his face.
What was that just now?
Breeze? Here?!
Jorel's bodily hair stood on end.
"Wait, how? It didn't do anything?!" the left stagecoach exclaimed.
"It just threw its palm against your face?!" He shouted, sounding almost frustrated.
What is he talking about? Jorel readied his stance.
His eyes darting around the place, still finding nothing.
Just what was that?
Is something actually here?
Or am I just reading too much into things here?
His mind raced.
"Here it comes!" The left stagecoach shouted, pointing.
Jorel thrust his sword in the direction the stagecoach indicated, in a defensive posture, but nothing came, he felt nothing.
"Its palm!" The left stagecoach collapsed to the ground, weariness overtaking him.
BAM!
Jorel felt a clean, brutal impact on his face, sending him flying backward, blood escaping from his nose as he sailed through the air.
What the…
His body slammed into the hard ground. He instantly scrambled back up, gripping his sword tighter.
Okay! Something is definitely here!
Jorel began to move cautiously, taking periodic slashes at the empty air.
"It's by your left!" the left stagecoach shouted, and Jorel turned his head that way, but still felt nothing.
"No…" Air oozed from the left stagecoach's mouth.
"What?!" Jorel growled, his voice laced with anger and fear.
"I-It's right above you…" The left stagecoach pointed above Jorel's head.
"..." At a loss for words, Jorel immediately slammed himself into the ground, his sword flying from his grasp as he felt his spine crack.
"Ahhh!" He coughed up blood onto the ground, his body convulsing.
"What exactly is it?!" Jorel wheezed, the strength fading from his voice.
"I don't know what exactly it is." The left stagecoach stood, trembling.
"All that I see is that it's tall, covered by dark cloth, and grey hands extending from beneath the cloth," he murmured, his eyes wide with terror.
"Ack!" Jorel felt like his eyes could burst from their sockets.
"D-Do something…" Jorel pleaded, his breath ragged.
The left stagecoach dragged his feet, muttering to himself, then stopped where Jorel's sword laid.
"N-No… I can't deal with this!" He nodded, bending to pick up Jorel's sword.
"No… You!" Jorel cursed under his breath.
The left stagecoach ran, Jorel's sword in hand, and disappeared into the darkness of a nearby passage.
That damn peasant!
Why did I think I could trust a damn peasant! He grit his teeth, red veins creeping into the whites of his eyes.
The crushing presence above his back vanished as abruptly as it had appeared, almost as if it had never been there. Jorel barely managed to stand, his back hunched, coughing.
"…Now what…" He looked around, wary of every step. Even moving forward felt like a perilous undertaking.
Where did it go?
Did it follow that filth?
Jorel's foot buckled as he walked forward.
But where I'm I going to go now?
How I'm I going to defend myself now?
He placed his left foot on the ground, and it slipped. He tumbled, about to smash his face against the unforgiving stone.
But Jorel's face, centimetres from the ground, never touched it. Instead, he ascended towards the ceiling, his sweat following him upwards.
"Woaah!" He touched the ceiling, but instead of colliding, he passed through it.
He fell upwards through the ceiling and was back in the liquid. He couldn't breathe in the viscous substance, no matter how hard he tried.
{... Disgraceful, You are a shame!"}
A deep, elderly voice boomed in his head, almost bursting his skull. Jorel braced himself as he continued to ascend, his lungs feeling stale, his eyes weary.
"Ahhhhhh!" Jorel let out a muffled shout, wrinkles forming all over his face, a searing headache throbbing behind his eyes.
{Die! Die! Die! You're the reason I can't give birth! You mistake!}
An older, feminine voice squealed, followed by the clunking of metal on the ground.
He burst from the liquid, still rising in the air, his hand outstretched, seeing the ground far below. His mind was a maelstrom of disbalance and confusion, his stomach churning.
Then gravity reasserted itself, and Jorel slammed front-first onto the unforgiving ground. He coughed and gasped for air, his body spasming as he tried to stand.
Jorel huffed for air, his body twisted on the inside, his back slouched. He walked a few inches forward before resting against a wall.
Just… What?
A beast that I can't see or attack?!
My sword, gone!
The ground turning to liquid, my body flying around everywhere.
What is happening?!
Can I ever leave this place?!
Jorel panted in his head, his head bent down, nodding in grim resignation.
RRRRRRRAEAHHHH!
Just before he could catch his breath, a deafening shriek pierced the air, prompting him to turn his head towards the sound, his body vibrating with dread.
"…" Jorel's mind went still, while his body tried to spring away, but it was exhausted, unable to even lift a toe.
*THUMP-thump* *thump-THUMP*
*THUMP-thump* *thump-THUMP*
His heart raced in anticipation of whatever horror he was about to face.
---The end of chapter 25---