System Override

by SociallyAwkwardHermit

Chapter 3

Summary:

Neil goes on a nature retreat and gains new hobbies.
Gore warning

“Red! Cut that out, you silly cat.” Neil gently shooed the mass of fluff away and backfilled the hole Red had been digging. “You’re a cat, not a dog - stop digging,” he chastised in an annoyed grumble. Red let out his typical rumbling purr that Neil still thought sounded like laughter. He huffed even as a small smile graced his lips and continued to plant the strawberry seedlings. The dirt was cool on his hands, the small leaves tickling his wrist as he pressed the plant in. Fresh strawberries sounded like a dream. Neil hadn’t eaten any fresh strawberries for months. 

Why hadn’t his mother done something like this? Instead of running from city to city, town to town - why not just find a remote place to live and grow their own food? He sighed, knowing that he would never get answers to that. At least he had found this place. He was excited and the sense of satisfaction at creating his own safe haven still burnt warm in his chest. He had Red to thank for that. 

When Neil had acquired his new bike, he had ridden it for a few hours, directionless. He ended up talking to Red, telling the cat about how his mother would beat him if she was around, that she was merciless but also what kept him alive. The grief of her loss still hurt his heart and twisted his stomach, although it was more muted now. He asked Red where he should go, and the large house cat gave his familiar rumble. Neil followed his directions and ended up following the dark red cat on a nearly invisible trail into a national park. 

The shack they came across was decrepit, a couple windows shattered and the front door swung in the breeze. Abandoned to time and nature. Grass and other plants had started to grow through gaps in the floorboard, and ivy crawled up the side of the house and covered a window. There was an overgrown rosemary bush in what looked like what used to be a garden. There was a rainwater tank attached to both the house and the shed, full of fresh water. Inside the shack, there was standard furniture and even linens, a bookshelf full of wilderness survival, camping guides and even what looked like an outdoors cookbook. The kitchen was stocked with canned goods and had decent cookware. There was a shed a short distance from the house that had gardening tools and what looked like a tripod drying rack for meat.  

It was perfect. 

He had needed a decent amount of rest after fleeing. Millport was meant to be that place, but he didn’t regret leaving. He couldn’t be around people if he was losing his mind. He had seen a few more messages in his vision that he had resolutely ignored. It turned out that living on his own with Mary and Red was the best option for him, Neil believed.

The last two weeks had been good, since arriving and tidying up the shack. Neil had taken his contacts out and did not find a reason to put them back in. There was no one here, and he could easily avoid the mirrors. He had found gardening tools in a nearby shed, and got to work around the house. He cut away the excess plants that strangled the house, Neil had made a home for himself. Well, it would become a home, he reasoned. It was the closest thing he had to a home, even if he only had Mary and Red to share it with.

Neil pressed another plant into the soil before getting the watering can. 

The trip to the store earlier had been… weird. Neil frowned as he thought about it. He had entered as he usually would - he had checked the exits and kept his hood up, head turned away from cameras, walking with purpose to the gardening section. All his usual habits that he kept despite disliking how paranoid he felt while doing them. Habits for good reason, but this time, there was hardly anyone around. No one to hide his face from, or people to keep his distance with. 

He had thought that the tiny town near the national park was unusually empty, aside from a few dangerous looking stragglers that Neil avoided, but the gardening store was actually empty. 

No one manned the checkout; no staff loitered around the plants with a hose or to cheerfully ask if a customer needed help; no customers idled in the aisles. 

Neil had walked around with his duffle empty this time, armed with his switchblade in his boot and a gun tucked into his waistband. He noted that he needed to fashion a holster - he didn’t want to accidentally shoot his ass cheek off. 

Alas, the store was abandoned. Neil had scoured the wilting plants that were left there and stashed them gently in his duffle for the trip back to the shack. He grabbed handfuls of the packets of seeds too, putting them in a side pocket. Anything else he could come back for, because the deserted store had started to give him a bad vibe at the same time that Mary whispered that there were four armed men approaching. He dashed out and was not surprised to find a group of men heading his way, and he was quick to get on his bike. The men had started to speed up and Neil saw the glint of a blade. Not just a blade, a fucking machete. 

Neil shivered at the memory. He moved his watering can onto the next plant. 

To say that Neil zoomed away is an understatement - he flew out of that town like a bat out of hell. The gunshots were certainly a good motivator too. He took a few misleading turns before he made his way back to his shack, not wanting anyone to know where he was staying. Thankfully Mary whispered to him that he had lost his attackers, and he was able to comfortably relax. 

His strawberry plants looked a bit worse for wear after the rough handling, and Neil hoped that he would be able to help them to thrive. He moved on and sussed out the seed packets - most of them were vegetables. Neil scrunched his nose up and Red huffed a rumbling laugh. He even thought he heard a faint snort from Mary in the shadows. 

“Whatever,” Neil muttered under his breath. 

PING! 

Neil flinched and scowled at nothing. Red flopped onto his side at Neil’s feet and rumbled a louder laugh. He had thought that particular hallucination was gone, having not heard it for the two weeks he had sought refuge at his new home. Alas, maybe not. 

“I’m fine. Just gotta… relax some more. Yeah.” Neil ignored the cat that now wriggled at his feet, legs in the air and laughter spilling from his whiskered mouth. 

---

Neil inspected the bookshelf and noted the dusty titles. They all related to surviving in the wilderness; how to butcher meat from a fresh kill; herbs in medicine; first aid. It was a survivalist’s dream. Perfect for Neil. His eyes scanned over more titles and he knew he would have to read them. It was too good an opportunity to pass up. On the end of the row, there was an ornate box propping the last book up.

At first he had thought it was a jewellery box, so he hadn’t bothered to look inside. It’s not like he had a reason to wear any. He opened it up now and found little bags with different seeds and labels on them. He didn’t know what sort of plants were called Purple Kush or Blue Dream, but he would plant them and hopefully find out. There were around fifteen to twenty seeds per bag, but he only planted two of each type. There were six types, so soon there were twelve pots lined up in the window inside his shack. Neil used a cup to water them and hoped they would germinate. He was curious what type of plants they were. 

He moved to the books again and picked out one about building snares. Neil’s mouth watered at the thought of a hot meal. He pulled out the book on cooking different meats and flipped through idly. The pictures made his mouth water even more and he flipped through the book about snares next. Neil raised an eyebrow at how comprehensive and complex it could get. He settled on a beginner’s snare for trapping small game. Neil looked back and forth between them. 

He was going to catch a rabbit. 

It was easy to find some wire in the shed and fashion it into snares. Neil trekked into the woods with his snares in hand, head twisting side to side as he scanned the little animal trails. He pursed his lips and quickly set one up not too far from his house before moving on to another small animal trail. Neil continued like this, following the meandering trails and setting down snares every two hundred paces or so. 

After his fourth trap, Neil felt the hairs raise on the back of his neck. He stayed low to the ground and searched around for the cause of his unease. 

He sucked in a confused gasp and was careful to not make any noise, despite knowing that whatever this new hallucination was, it wouldn’t be able to hear him. 

The world in front of him… 

Was split. 

Reality had fractured, opening up to an unnatural darkness that wavered at the edges and emanated a dangerous energy. It stayed fixed in point, hovering an inch off the ground and stood around 10 feet tall and 4 feet wide. Slightly oval in shape, it looked like it was pulsing and the vantablack darkness sucked in the light around it. Neil felt how it seemed to thicken the air and made him sweat. Even Red seemed fixated on it, fur bristled slightly.

‘New Dungeon found - Forgotten Hollow’ 

The words froze the breath in his lungs, and Neil forced himself to not react. He wasn’t running away from his new home - he came here to get away from the chaos of the world and relax. Once he has done that, maybe these messages would go away and stay gone. The plan hadn’t changed just because more words appeared in front of him. Neil took a deep breath and sighed. 

He walked around and noted that it was almost two-dimensional, only about an inch thick. Even so, it was difficult to miss. The almost malicious energy poured out of it like tar and successfully weirded Neil out.

Neil turned around and walked back.

“That was… Weird. Right, Red?” He asked the fluffy cat that happily trotted beside him. Glancing back over his shoulder, Neil squinted at the apparition and did his best to suppress a shiver. “Maybe it will go away,” he assured himself. None of his hallucinations had gone away aside from the flashing red light, so he didn't hold much hope a giant hole in reality would vanish. Red laughed his usual cat rumble and flicked Neil a glance. Neil sighed. “Yeah, you're probably right.” Silence settled around them, comfortable and familiar. “I'm still going to ignore it. Although–” Neil frowned down at Red, “last time I ignored a hallucination, you arrived instead.” Red cast Neil a squint eyed look for the comment. “Problem for another day, I guess,” Neil grumbled in acquiescence. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur as Neil read some of the books in his shack. Red pressed up to his side with a gentle purr, Neil ran his hand through the cat’s long fur.

The next day Neil found success with his snares, having caught two plump rabbits. He was quick to dispatch them and began the process of butchering them. Memories of when his father had forced him to kill and skin his own pet rabbit floated up through the cracks, and Neil swallowed bile back down. 

This was not his rabbit. This was not Coco. 

Neil remembered how the soft white fur dusted with dark brown made the rabbit look like someone had dropped cocoa powder on her. He closed his eyes and took a moment to really remember the nice times with his pet, how she would cuddle on his lap and run around him as he chased her. Despite only being four at the time, he put his efforts forward to keep up with her as they ran laps around his bedroom.

He remembered how her fur felt as he pet her, the way she would sniff the air and nibble on his shoelaces. She was his first friend. He had loved her. 

And he had killed her. 

He tried to force away the phantom sensation of his tiny, soft hands around a knife too large for him to hold. It sliced into her neck but he was not used to the practice of killing yet, so she suffered until he was able to get a big enough cut through to properly end her life. The sounds she made and the terror he could see in her eyes. How she struggled and her heart beat so fast. 

How still she was afterwards, her white fur stained a thick red.

Neil breathed in a desperate gasp and squeezed his eyes shut tighter, willing the tears to recede. After a few moments, he snapped the lid shut on those memories and double checked they were locked away. 

The knife was comfortable in his hand and slid gently under the skin of the rabbit. Neil focused on each step with respect and care, murmuring a quiet thank you to the rabbit for providing sustenance for him. He refused to think about anything at all, only focused on his task.

He didn’t bother acknowledging the few tears that fell down his face when he ate his meal later, and he forced himself to not remember how rabbit had been served for dinner the same night that Coco died. 

Weeks passed, and although Neil’s plants grew quickly - faster than he expected them to, even - he was quickly running out of canned goods. He had known that they would not tide him over until his food grew, and he was right. Going back into town sounded like a bad idea, especially after how those men had come after him. Neil looked out into the wooded area that surrounded him. He had heard the animals at night, the strange sounds that Neil suspected were deer, although when he strained his hearing he thought he heard the sound of a wolf howling once. 

He was getting tired of eating rabbit. The rifle that he had taken from those hunters when he first fled Millport rested in his lap, and his switchblade was pressed against his ankle, a weight that had become more of a comfort now. It was his blade, untainted by his father. Neil shivered and pushed those thoughts away. Red leant against his side and Neil could see the faint shape of Mary as she melded into the shadow of a tree. 

“Mary, could you scope out if there is any larger game nearby?” Neil asked. She would be best suited for the task, being made of what Neil thought was smoke. He had watched her though, and it didn’t seem entirely like smoke, but more like shadows. She certainly didn’t smell like smoke, she smelt like the absence of any smell, and the only presence she gave off was a cooling sensation. Neil didn’t bother questioning it - he only knew that she would be able to survey the area and tell him what she found. 

Admittedly, having this version of Mary around was more comforting than his own mother. He felt something like guilt when he had those thoughts though - his mother had tried her best to keep him safe, even as her heavy hands beat him into submission. He held onto the thought that his mother had no other option, that he was too stupid to learn quickly and therefore needed to be beaten. Each time he had gathered more bruises for his collection though, that falsehood slipped further between his fingers. Now that his mother was dead, the guilt of thinking that maybe she did more harm than good was like a bur in his mind. He closed his eyes and focused on the sounds of the woods around him instead.

A few minutes later, Neil felt Mary’s presence return. ‘Deer, two miles,’ Mary breathed, her voice hardly distinguishable from the wind in the trees. Her arm was pointed Southwest, further into the woods. Neil nodded and started slightly to the left of that direction. He startled when Red jumped up and laid his body across the length of his shoulders, tail swishing contentedly across his chest and a loud purr in his ear. Neil lifted an arm up to scratch behind Red’s ear as a smile ticked up the corner of his mouth.

“Sure, Red. That’s fine,” Neil muttered sarcastically. He didn’t move him though, the vibrations of Red’s purr were nice. They continued their way into the woods, Mary’s figure flitting between the shadows as she kept pace. 

It didn’t take too long for them to close in on the deer, and he came up behind them, hoping that if he missed or the deer didn’t die straight away, that they would run towards his shack and not further into the trees. Neil snuck forward, putting the skills his mother had taught him to a different use. Usually when he snuck around like this, it was to avoid being hunted. Now he was the hunter. Something about that resonated with him. Like how his switchblade was his own - that blade had never been used to harm him, instead it was used to protect him. 

Neil strained his hearing and focused on the slight movement he could see between the trees. He swore his eyesight had improved somehow - even though he had never had his eyes checked, he thought he had had fairly good vision but this was like a magnifying lens. He could see the pulse in the deer’s neck and the ripple of its muscles as it moved, despite being so far away from them. Same for his hearing, he tilted his head and heard the deer breathe, even from the distance he kept. 

A gentle breeze blew through the wind and the deer lifted their heads and flickered their ears back and forth. Neil scowled at the breeze, forgetting that animals could smell way better than him still. The click when Neil turned the safety off made the deer twitch, one step forward as they prepared to dart away. He lined up his shot and let out a breath - there was no need for frantic gunshots like he was used to. He wasn’t being chased. This was a simple, clean kill so he could eat and sustain himself. 

The bullet went through a deer’s neck, the entire herd taking off in the other direction. The deer he shot ran for a few paces before it stumbled, although it kept its feet underneath itself and continued to race after its herd. Neil took off after it. 

Following the trail of blood and Red’s directions, it was easy to find it again. The deer was still alive, although it had collapsed to the ground and feebly struggled to get up again. Neil took out his switchblade and quickly cut its throat. He grimaced. It wasn’t pleasant, but he needed to eat. He murmured a quiet thank you to the dead deer, patting a clean part of its neck gently. 

Neil was contemplating how he would get it back to his shack when– ‘PING’. By this point, after hearing the same hallucination repeatedly, Neil just lifted a brow and then grabbed a hold of the deer by its two front legs. He squatted and maneuvered the legs over his shoulders before standing up. The deer’s back legs still dragged on the ground - damn his mother for his short height - but that would have to do. Neil started his trek back to his shack as Red trotted just in front of him. It was only a few more hours until night, which would be the best time to light a fire and dry the meat for jerky. His steps were loud in the sudden quiet of the woods, the weight of the deer making him hunch over and pant as he forced himself to move towards his shack. 

Alongside his improved eyesight, Neil thought how much muscle he must have put on recently if he was able to carry such a large weight. He smiled at the realisation that his little hideaway must have been exactly what he needed. 

The shack drew closer and Neil dropped the deer onto a tarp so he didn’t end up with a bloody patch. His switchblade was not the right equipment for butchering a deer, so Neil went inside his shack and picked up one of the knives from the kitchen. His father had taught him all he knew about knives and how to skin a person, how to wedge a knife into bones and joints, how to make it painful. Neil grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. 

This was different. He didn’t make the deer suffer, same as the rabbits, they did not suffer. The deer was dead - it would not feel anything. He was not like his father. This was survival, not entertainment. 

Neil took a breath and stomped out his house. He stroked the soft fur of the lifeless deer once more before he started the process of gutting and skinning the carcass as the sun began to set, putting the innards into a bucket to make fertiliser for his garden. When the sun got low enough, Neil started a fire - hoping to conceal the smoke in the night sky like he did when he burnt his mother. 

Neil pushed those thoughts away and continued to butcher the animal, trying to remember what the books had said. By the end of it, he was proud of the wonky cuts. He made strips for jerky, so many strips of jerky. Too many. Neil shrugged - looked like he would be living off of venison for a while, interspersed with rabbit if he wanted to. He kept two steaks aside to eat while his jerky was drying. 

His weight had improved with a steady supply of meat, protein helping muscle to build on his bones and filling out his gangly frame. He had his mother’s hips though, a small waist and long runners legs despite his short height. His thighs had filled out especially, improved with his daily runs and other exercises. Neil found it easier now to move about and work around the shack - being strong gave him a sense of euphoria. 

Neil had just finished lining up his first batch of jerky above the smokey fire when another ‘PING’ made him jump. He sighed and picked up his bucket of innards, burying it around the garden. 

PING! 

Neil’s eyebrow twitched but he moved on to washing his hands and then cooking his two steaks on the cast iron pan over the fire. He smiled when he plucked off some rosemary to add to the pan, feeling oddly accomplished. Neil remembered the meals when he was a child and still living at his father’s house. Parties with fancily cooked meats and finger foods to sample as wealthy people walked around. He wished he had some garlic butter or something, that would go so well with the venison. Neil’s mouth watered as he thought about it. He shook his head and looked back down to the steaks as he took them off the fire. Neil transferred the cuts to a plate, making sure to tip the juice on top. 

PING! 

Neil closed his eyes for a moment before he continued, setting the pan on a nearby rock to cool down. He didn’t bother to wait for the meat to rest and he cut into it with quiet excitement. His first bite he tried to savour, although it was hot enough to burn his tongue. It was even more delicious than he thought it would be - fresh and hot with notes of … garlic. Neil frowned as he chewed some more. That was definitely a garlic butter he could taste, he remembered eating it as a child. Neil looked down and eyed the juice. He tilted his plate a little to catch the light of the fire and inspected the meat some more. Eating another piece, Neil closed his eyes and enjoyed the taste. 

“Whatever, I’m sure it’s fine,” he spoke with his mouth full. Red sat down beside him and Neil offered him a piece without much thought and Red gobbled it up quickly. Neil chuckled at the cat’s enthusiasm and resulting grumbles as he chewed. Neil wondered if he would come out in the morning to find a piece of meat on the ground, or if the piece he offered Red was also a hallucination. He wasn’t sure, Neil had stopped questioning the weirdness of both his mind and the cat. 

He still remembered how Red had transformed into a beast of nightmares back in that house. After that, he just let his hallucinations be. It was obvious his mind needed a break, so he was giving it one. A remote location away from the stress of people, living in nature, not overthinking everything like he used to. A nature retreat - how else was he meant to get his sanity back? Neil scratched Red between his ears and enjoyed the rest of his steaks, offering Red another couple of pieces. 

Afterwards, he felt amazingly refreshed. More so than when he ate the rabbit. Weird. Neil shrugged and heard a laugh from Red. He turned the strips of jerky over for something to do, needing to stay up for the next few hours to keep an eye on it. Neil sighed and grabbed the book he had been reading; The Backyard Apothecary. It described how one could use basic herbs in a medicinal manner, which Neil thought was the best he was going to get instead of going to a back alley doctor. He couldn’t trust that whoever he saw wouldn’t realise that he was insane and would report back to his father. Neil’s spine tingled unpleasantly. No, it was best to stay here. Neil read by the light of the fire, the feel of Red pressed against him and the warmth of the flames kept the insects away. 

Hours later, well into the night, Mary’s whispered voice interrupted the quiet. ‘Three men approaching.’ Neil swore under his breath while Red’s ears perked up. Now that Mary said it, he noticed that the hairs on the back of his neck were raised and his stomach felt almost cramped. The air was thick with a growing tension, and he moved to the shadows with Red by his side, rifle tucked against his front as he waited in the darkness. He strained his hearing and focused on any sounds that did not fit in with the quiet of the night. 

“Do you see that? There’s a fire over that way.” Pause. “I’ll go that side, while you two go that way. Cut the little fucker off.” Neil kept his breathing slow and even. He was not going to be hunted, never again. 

Red’s fur along his spine stood on end, and honestly, Neil felt the same. He would probably look like that if he had fur too - the tingle down his spine was unpleasant. Neil waited in the darkness, silently wishing that Mary’s smokey shadows would help conceal him. The cool sensation of her presence surrounded him and he knew that he would be near invisible. Red stalked along the edge of the firelight and waited for the men to appear. 

A snap of a stick allowed Neil to locate one of the men, his heavy footfalls not stealthy enough to go undetected. Neil lifted his rifle and kept his eyes peeled. 

“I’m gonna go inside, make sure he’s not in there,” one of the men whispered. Neil was a little amazed that he was able to hear the man even from a distance. He saw the intruder split away from his friend but wasn’t able to take the shot before he went inside. The other two came around either side of his shack and met eyes across his fire. There was a pregnant pause of anticipation before they moved. Neil breathed out and took his first shot. 

The bullet pierced the man’s chest, followed by a second at his friend. The man had spun around with his machete raised. Neil almost snickered. The bullet had gotten his arm, but before Neil could take another shot, Red burst out of the tree line. 

Well, he thought it was Red anyway. The beast was huge, almost 6 feet tall and with a slathering of spit that dripped from his snout. Despite standing on four feet, the animal held himself with an elegance that seemed incompatible with his appearance. Red’s teeth were crooked but white, and they gleamed in the little light, wet and sharp. His eyes looked like burning coals of hell itself, a dark red that glowed with hatred. Neil raised a brow at the sight of Red’s fur which now flowed like flames, hypnotising and made Red look even larger. His large footfalls thudded against the ground, and Neil had the passing thought that Red looked like a God of Death and Destruction. Neil had no idea what a god would look like, but he thought Red might come close. 

The back door burst open and Neil was afraid to take the shot and accidentally shoot Red, who continued to gallop towards the injured man. Part of him knew that Red wouldn’t be hurt, because he wasn’t real, he wasn’t there, but Neil hesitated anyway. 

“Mary,” was all Neil said. He felt her chilly presence disappear and her form rose again from one of the men’s shadows. Red bit down on the injured man’s neck, maw big enough and teeth sharp enough to make the largest of men look almost delicate. Neil heard the crunch of bones. The man fell lifelessly to the ground at the same time that Mary stabbed a blade into the other man’s eye. The man died with only a gasp and gurgle of surprise, before he too fell.

Neil scowled down at the three corpses. 

Again? Seriously? 

He sighed. 

PING! 

Neil continued to scowl but now it was at himself. He turned his annoyance to the dead bodies. “Fucking bullshit. What am I going to do with these three?” Neil grumbled. He continued to mutter under his breath as he checked the men’s pockets for anything good. “Have to take them into the woods and maybe the wolves can feast on their stupid bodies.” Red stepped forward and bit down on one man’s torso and lifted the body into the air, before he started to trot away. Neil blinked at the ginormous animal. Despite looking like a nightmarish beast, Red still walked as if he was a large house cat. 

It was a dichotomy that made Neil raise his eyebrow. “Right. Thanks, Red,” Neil said before the monstrous animal was too far away. “Wait… that fucker made me carry a deer all the way back, by myself…” Neil heard a chuffing laugh in the distance. “Asshole…” He heard another chuff of amusement that was muffled against the body in Red’s teeth. 

Neil blinked down at the remaining two bodies. “Okay, no worries.” He finished his search of their pockets and didn’t come away with much. A pack of cigarettes and lighter, a photo of a woman and 2 children, another switch blade and a scrap of paper with what looked like coded messages on them, and a bunch of weird looking stones. 

“Lucas, level 6, uses a sword. Amelia, level 5, light mage. Frank, level 11, brute… What the fuck?” Neil muttered to himself. He turned the piece of paper over and saw more writing. ‘Boy, last seen at garden centre on motorbike, identify said ‘anomaly’. Kill on sight.’ Neil stuttered to a stop at the words. Were they talking about him? What the fuck did ‘anomaly’ mean? Neil stared down at the words for a few long minutes before he threw it into the fire. He watched as Red returned and grabbed a hold of another body, before disappearing back into the darkness. 

Neil took a deep breath and poked his jerky. It was almost done.

---

The rabbit had a horn. Neil poked at the now dead animal, feeling where the horn connected to the top of its head. That was definitely connected. 

Neil frowned as he reset the snare. He knew he didn't have the most comprehensive education, having skipped many months of schooling each year and repeating some years due to his fake identities, but he had never heard of rabbits having a singular horn like a damn unicorn. Maybe it was common only in this area? Maybe it was mutated or just had something wrong with it? Neil grimaced and shook his head, doesn't matter now. He will have to look through one of the books and see if it mentioned anything in it. 

He held the rabbit up by its back legs and set back towards his shack. Unfortunately, the fastest trail back was interrupted but the split in reality. Neil got weird vibes from it - the air around it felt thick and dangerous in a way he didn't quite understand. It was still there. Neil didn't know that hallucinations could stay stagnant like that, but he wasn't going to think too hard on that. He was meant to be relaxing his brain, not stressing himself out about why the world looked like there was a crack in it. 

Didn't mean he wasn't curious though. 

Red sat beside him as Neil surveyed the gap, surprisingly quiet for once - the menace was usually rumbling at him. Neil picked up a stick and poked it into the swirling darkness for a few moments before he pulled it back out again. Nothing. The stick looked the exact same. 

Neil threw the stick in. 

The stick vanished into the swirling darkness and… Nothing. 

He frowned, strangely disappointed for what looked like a magical door to not react. Neil brushed the back of his hand across the darkness. Nothing, other than a strange pressure on his hand. He took a breath and went to put his hand in. 

Before his hand connected, something jumped out and landed a short distance away from him. Neil startled and jumped back a bit. 

A horned rabbit. 

Neil lifted the dead one that was in his hand to compare, and yeah, that was the same… Species? But it came out of the split, so… How? 

He stared at the creature and thought it looked kind of cute. There was no use killing it, he already had one. 

“Shoo, hop away, little rabbit,” Neil said. The rabbit stared back at him, and Neil got a slight sense of danger a moment before it leapt. He flinched back but the horn of the rabbit still stabbed him in the torso before it fell back to the ground, landing on its feet. He let out a startled gasp before biting his lip to prevent any other sounds from escaping him. The damn thing looked like it was lining up for another go, but Neil wasn't going to be stabbed by a damn rabbit a second time. The rabbit leapt at him again.

Boot met rabbit and rabbit met tree with a wet, crunching thud. 

“What in the ever loving fuck?!” Neil yelled, incredulous. Red let out a loud rumbling laugh and fell to his side. Neil lifted his shirt and wiped away the trickle of blood that ran to his waistband. It wasn't deep and didn't particularly hurt, but what the fuck? He scoffed and grumbled to himself, picking up the second dead rabbit that twitched in his hold and stomped off to his shack, muttering under his breath the whole way back. “I thought rabbits were friendly. Cuddly, you know…” Red continued to laugh and trotted with his tail high. 

PING! 

Neil looked to the sky and rubbed his temple with his one free hand. He sighed and continued his way back to his shack. 

---

Neil watered and inspected the twelve pots of dirt that had little plants sprouting from them. He kept them inside still, as they seemed to prefer the warm air, and he was pleased to find twelve healthy plants. 

He also realised that he was growing twelve marijuana plants. 

Neil remembered overhearing some kids talking about smoking pot once, how Joshua’s uncle had plants in his basement that grandma didn’t know about. All Neil could think about was that he would be ecstatic if the basement from his childhood home was filled with pot plants and not his father’s work. Maybe if his father had smoked some weed, he would have been less… intense. Neil doesn’t doubt that he still would have killed people, but maybe he wouldn’t have been so angry and hurt Neil so much when he was home. 

He eyed the plants with growing curiosity. His mother always said that drugs would get them caught, and Neil had never had any interest in them anyway. He considered if he actually needed medication now for his hallucinations, but he didn’t want to risk some dirty doctor giving him a prescription for something that could mess his head up more than it already was. Plus, he didn’t want to potentially become an addict, so Neil wrote all medications out of the equation. 

Marijuana was not made in labs for the express purpose of altering brain chemistry, so it can’t be as bad, right? Neil remembered how some kids would relax back into their seats with bloodshot eyes at school, especially after coming back in from lunch time, smelling like smoky gym socks. There never seemed to be any adverse effects to their health, although Neil admits that he never paid much attention to the potheads other than to make sure they wouldn’t be an issue for him. 

Maybe it would do him some good to chill out, and he’s growing them now, so what’s the harm? Neil pursed his lips as he scanned over them before shrugging and heading outside to inspect the rest of his garden. 

Neil found his herbs growing well and picked up the book about using them in everyday life, aside from cooking. He found a guide for creating tinctures, teas, oils, salves, and even pills, for many different things, although he focused on wound support. While his wound from that pesky horned rabbit had cleared up easily, Neil knew that it was inevitable that he would be hurt again.

He read the instructions for a healing salve and plucked the required ingredients from his garden. Walking back inside, Neil found a pot and started the process and focused on getting the amounts right. He had never baked before, but this process felt like what Neil thought baking would feel like. Dropping the last flower in, Neil crushed the herbs all together before adding a bit of cooled boiled water - it was the closest thing to purified water he could get, so it would have to do. 

When Neil finished boiling it down, he strained the lumpy bits out of it and allowed it to cool and harden. 

PING! 

Neil rinsed his saucepan out quickly and set it to dry to the side, deftly ignoring the sound even as his eyebrow twitched. Red trotted up beside him with something in his mouth. 

“What you got there, Red?” Neil asked. His cat rarely ate in front of him, so to have him approach with what looked like a fresh kill in his mouth was unusual. Neil watched as Red’s fluffy tail swished in the air before he sat beside him. Red lowered his head and dropped whatever was in his mouth.

Neil stared, unimpressed, as the dead mouse fell next to his shoe. He looked back at his cat with a blank stare. “Really?” Red had a smug look that Neil squinted at. Honestly, if Red didn’t transform into a giant beast, Neil would believe that he was a normal cat. He left fur on his clothes, twined between his legs as he walked, meowed and purred, and licked his fur like any other cat Neil had known. 

He paused at that and gave Red a more thorough look. Maybe Red was actually a house cat that followed him, and Neil was hallucinating him transforming? Neil rubbed the palm of his hand over an eye before he rested his head on a fist. Red looked like a large house cat, and he felt real - alive and breathing. Mary was a definite hallucination though, no doubt. Neil nodded to himself and thought about how everyone he had been in the vicinity of lately had been a bit… odd. Specifically, Neil remembered the note - ‘levels’, ‘sword’, and ‘mage’, all sounded like they came from a game. He worried his lip with a tooth as he lifted the dead mouse by the tail and threw it into the trees. 

He remembered how kids at school would talk about video games they’d played, spending their lunch times talking game strategy, about the characters or the story line. Neil never understood - he wasn’t allowed any game console, but he thought it sounded interesting. Even when he was younger and still living in his father’s house, Darcie, the young girl who lived down the street, would pick up sticks and pretend they were swords, pretending that other kids were damsels in distress that she had to save. Neil hadn’t thought about Darcie in years. Her fierce but protective personality was something that he admired, even at 8 years old. He avoided playing with the other kids to keep his father’s attention away from them, but in another life, he thought that he could have been good friends with someone like Darcie. He hoped that she was doing well, wherever she was.  

Neil blinked the memories away and looked at the treeline, in the direction that he knew that the ‘dungeon’ was located. Levels, sword fighting, and dungeons? It certainly sounded like a game, but Neil had never touched a video game in his life, nor had he ever played make-believe as a child - what other elements were typically in video games? Neil didn’t see any leveling system, and wasn’t sure how to find one if he did. 

Maybe they’re one type of crazy, and Neil had gone another type of crazy. He considered if maybe he should find a radio or something so he could keep up to date on world events - it would be helpful to know when a good time to move on from this place would be. Neil frowned at the thought - he liked this place, and didn’t like the idea of leaving it any time soon. 

Loneliness was an ever persistent twist in his chest, although it pierced him now with a viciousness he was not prepared for. It had been months since he had a proper conversation with anyone, and years since he had a conversation that truly meant something at all. When his mother was alive, they rarely spoke and when they did, it was about the weather, or the local culture, or languages. Neil didn’t remember the last time he actually spoke to someone about anything meaningful. As a child, he was either silent or acquiescing to his father and his henchmen. Now that he thought about it, Neil wondered if he had ever had a meaningful conversation with someone.

Neil sat down on the ground with a hard thump, his knees buckling under him as his breaths stuttered in and out. Red meandered up to him and climbed into his lap, and Neil automatically wrapped his arms around the animal like he used to with Coco. He pressed his face into the warm fur and felt his shoulders shake. The cooling sensation of Mary fell over him, hiding him in darkness as she cloaked herself over his vulnerable form. 

He wasn’t sure how long he stayed like that, but the sun had moved by the time he lifted his head again. It was nearing night, and Neil decided that tonight he was going on an adventure no matter how wrung out he felt; a field trip; a quest. He needed to get more canned food, so it wasn’t a complete waste of time, but Neil recognised the need to switch up his routine, even if it was a risk. He had naively thought that keeping to himself would help his mind, but maybe a little bit of excitement would keep him from spiraling. 

Maybe he could find things to entertain himself with too - hopefully he could find some text books or something in this tiny town. He didn’t want to fall behind other teenagers his age - his mother would have beat him if he didn’t keep up with his studies, no matter what hallucinations he was seeing. 

When night fell, Neil was almost excited. He grinned at Red, who had perched himself along Neil’s shoulders. He didn’t bother with his motorbike because he needed the quiet of the night to move about. Maybe he could steal a car if he really needed to. Neil set off at a fast pace, the sound of his footfalls a steady beat against the sounds of the night. Insects chirped and buzzed, a distant grunt of a buck, the warning thumps of a rabbit and the rustle of the bushes as it disappeared in the scrub. Neil breathed in controlled breaths and focused on the trail in front of him. Moonlight lit the way, a silver glow cast over everything. The stars were bright this far out from any large towns or cities, the light and smoke pollution dispersed. 

Neil enjoyed the sight of them, remembering one of the few times that his mother had shown him the things she knew about how to read the stars. He had been young, maybe seven or eight, and she must have been feeling particularly maternal that day, because Neil thought that was also one of the last times that she held him. After that, his mother acted like her teaching him about the stars above them was a figment of his imagination. He had tried to bring it up once when they first went on the run, wanting some form of connection to the woman who had escaped with him. He had thought that her taking him with her was proof that she thought of him as her son, that she loved him or at least cared for him enough to look out for him. 

As the years went on, Neil came to realise this was not the case. His mother protected him fiercely, but she also repeatedly hurt him. When he started puberty, she started to refuse to even look at him, and said that he was too much like his father. Neil knew he looked a lot like his father, but he had hoped that she would also recognise the parts of him that were taken after her - his height and slender build for starters, but also slim waist and his long fingers, his face shape and the arch of his eyebrows, his vernacular and the thick mop of curly hair, even if it was auburn. It didn’t seem to matter how much of his mother he could find within himself, any part of his father was too much for her, and she punished him for it. Beat him, ignored him, snarled insults at him, compared him to his father and said that he would grow into a ‘true monster’ like him. 

Neil pushed and locked those thoughts away. It didn’t matter - she was dead. He looked at the flittering black shadow that kept pace beside him. At least this version of Mary didn’t continue that cycle - Neil wasn’t sure what he would do if that was the case. 

The town was under 1000 residents, although now it looked even more barren than when he had passed through weeks ago. Houses had their front doors ajar, others with broken windows and Neil thought he saw something splattered over a wall. It was too dark to be able to tell, but Neil kept to the shadows anyway. Mary cloaked herself around Neil, intensifying the darkness that surrounded him. It was comforting in a way, a cold hug from his dead mother. Neil blinked and continued to slink across the backyards. 

He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but he found a house with the backdoor open slightly and stepped inside. His steps were silent as he made his way through, knife in hand and Mary cloaking him in darkness. Red’s footsteps were soft as he trotted through and sniffed at the furniture. No one was home, as far as Neil could tell. He kept his eyes and ears peeled though, and commanded Mary to do a quick scout and come back. Her cool touch disappeared a moment later and he stepped into the kitchen, starting to open the cupboards in search of canned food. 

He only had a backpack for tonight, trying to keep a low profile as he snuck about. There were some canned peaches, which Neil smiled at, and a can of beans, which Neil grimaced at but put in his bag anyway, as well as a packet of pasta. Mary returned and her whisper of ‘clear’ had Neil relaxing his shoulders a little. Moving on to the bookshelf, Neil noted there was nothing that he wanted before he continued to the other rooms. 

The next few houses were the same, minimal cans available and places looking like they were ransacked. He had managed to find a beginner’s Spanish text book which he was happy about, as well as a battery operated radio. 

Neil frowned harder with each house he entered, his gut twisted in warning. He was closer to the centre of town now, and the glow of a fire had caught his attention, along with voices. Neil didn’t want to be anywhere near them, so he resolved that this would be the last house before he returned to his shack. 

The banjo was hanging on the wall, beside a bookshelf full of music folders and guides for learning the banjo. Neil huffed and took it off the wall, fingers twitching with the childish need to strum it. He bit his lip and hooked the strap over his head before dropping his bag to the ground to stuff a couple more books in. Memories of playing the piano and violin as a child tried to surface, but he redoubled his efforts to keep them locked away. The banjo would be just for him. 

The trek back to the shack was difficult, weighed down with multiple cans of food as well as the instrument around his neck, Neil kept to the darkness and tried not to jostle his bag too much as he jogged. He had to hold the banjo out in front of him to stop any noise from it, not wanting it to thump against his body. 

Eventually, he made it back to his shack and immediately dropped his bag in the kitchen. He laid the banjo down on the counter and grinned at Red, who had jumped up to sniff at it and stare back at him with an unimpressed look that only cats seemed capable of. 

Whatever, he didn’t need his cat’s permission. 

The following weeks were spent with a steady routine of; morning run to check the snares, preparing the meat and gardening, practising on his new banjo, reading up on wilderness survival tips (most of which he already knew), learning spanish, playing the banjo again, another evening run to check the area around his shack, before laying down on the dusty bed to rest his head. 

Playing an instrument was therapeutic in a way Neil had not expected, even if he got callouses on his fingers that occasionally bled due to playing too often. The sheet music he had taken back with him had multiple songs to learn, which Neil took to with enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure what era the songs were from, and he didn’t particularly care. The sound of his own croaky voice filled the silence that permeated the house. Neil had picked up the awful habit of not only talking to Red and Mary, but now spoke to himself, just to hear a human voice. The silence had started to weigh in on him like a heavy blanket that he struggled to kick off. 

He didn’t think he had that great of a singing voice, but even his tone deaf vocals were better than hearing the repeated sounds of the woods around him. He started muttering song lines under his breath as he did his daily chores, thought about different songs he would like to learn and even considered going back to that house to search for any more music sheets. He liked the maths he could find within music; the beats and timing, the patterns and the mathematical structures that were hidden. Neil was reminded once again that maths was the universal language of the world - it was a constant that all cultures shared. It comforted Neil that there was something solid and unchanging in his life still. 

Neil sang quietly under his breath as he went on his morning run, the early morning light cutting through the boughs of the trees to reach him as he followed one of the many trails around. This particular track took him closer to the dungeon than usual, though he was curious if it was still there or had changed at all. 

The other day, Neil had been attacked by another horned rabbit, the stupid animal had launched a glancing blow across his arm that Neil certainly did not appreciate. He kept his eye out now for any more of the little bastards, not liking the thought that his refuge could become overrun with aggressive rabbits. A black horned rabbit stepped out from beneath a bush, larger than the others that Neil had seen and causing him to stop in his tracks. A faint sense of danger from the fluffy bastard made Neil frown. 

The black horned rabbit moved faster than Neil expected, pushing off its back legs and head down, horn pointed straight at Neil’s heart. Now, he was no slouch, he knew. Neil moved and grabbed the rabbit from the air, holding it by the scruff of its neck. The thing wriggled furiously, much stronger than any rabbit Neil had seen or known of. Its eyes almost looked like a dark  purple, which made Neil frown harder. Not sure what to do with it, Neil pursed his lips and stared down at it. The rabbit stopped its thrashing and looked back at him with wide eyes. 

“If I put you down, will you attack me again?" Neil asked nonsensically - speaking to Red and Mary seemed different than speaking to an animal. He wasn’t sure what it said about his sanity that he was half expecting a knowing look from the rabbit, similar to Red. It was the lack of thought behind the rabbits eyes that made Neil finally realise what he was doing. He sighed and dropped the rabbit to the side. “Don’t attack me,” Neil said as he watched the once prideful looking rabbit now scamper to a burrow at the base of a bush. He sighed and continued his run back home. 

Flowers had bloomed on the marijuana plants, and Neil was quietly pleased with them. He grabbed the kitchen shears and started cutting the plants and hanging them to dry inside. It's only as he strung them up in the window that he realised that he had no way to actually smoke any of it. Neil frowned in thought. He admired his handiwork for a minute before he restarted another twelve plants, the inside of his shack warm enough to try again. Neil reasoned that he could easily trade pot for other things if he didn’t like to smoke it. 

After, Neil walked around to the wood stack and found a smaller piece, using the small hatchet to half the size again before taking out his switch blade and finding a nice patch of dappled sunlight to rest in. He wasn’t sure how to go about it, but getting a basic shape seemed like a good start. 

Hours passed as Neil carved, the shape of a pipe forming the longer he worked on it. It was rough and obviously made by an unpracticed hand, but Neil grinned at his little creation. Finding new things to use his knives for, that was not death and or torture, was a weight lifting from Neil’s chest that he didn’t know was there. He is not his father - he can use knives for things other than destruction. His new creation was not yet finished though, so Neil started the tunnel part through the mouthpiece. After a minute, Neil went and found a drill piece in the shed to manually twist through the wood. It was easier than expected, although maybe the wood was just a softer type, Neil wasn’t sure. He put the drill piece away and went back to using his switchblade to try and scoop out where the bowl of the pipe would be. 

He should not have been as surprised as he was that improper tools would result in him slipping. The sting and burn of a deep gash across the meat of his thumb had him momentarily stunned. Blood pooled in his hand and coated his new pipe, thick and tacky as it seeped into the grain of the wood. Neil walked inside and found his first aid kit, blood continuing to flow in the palm of his hand that still gripped his pipe. He flicked his knife closed and returned it to his boot, using his uninjured hand to dig around for the supplies he needed. He placed the pipe on the kitchen table, ignoring how much blood trickled out his hand to pool around the wood. Neil forced his attention away from that for now and focused on cleaning his hand. 

He washed his hand and stared, uncomprehendingly, as what used to be a large gash that definitely needed stitches, was now a small cut that could be bandaged. Was… was the cut not as bad as he had thought? Neil stared with slightly widened eyes down at his hand. He was sure it was worse than that before, it wouldn’t have bled as much if it wasn't. 

PING! 

Neil blinked and moved to his bag, finding the salve that he had made and applying some. He stared as the cut slowly closed itself over, until there was only clear skin where a scar should have been. Even then, Neil stood and stared at his hand, unmoving. 

Maybe this was another hallucination and he never actually cut himself. 

Neil remembered the burn of a knife to his skin, as well as his blood pooling in his hand. 

Warm, sticky, red. Neil knew intimately what it felt like to be cut, what it felt like to bleed. 

With jilted steps, Neil moved towards the table. His pipe laid there, clean and finished. 

No blood. 

A hysterical laugh spilt from his lips and Neil moved about, putting his things away and putting his pipe in his pocket. He took off for a midday run, not caring for how his muscles burned as he sprinted faster and faster. The sound of his manic laughing rebounded from the trees and dissipated into the wild. 

---

The banjo twanged off note a split second after the - PING! - announced itself, and a moment later words appeared before Neil. He scowled in irritation for interrupting his music practice.

‘System Event’

He haphazardly waved a hand at the words, shooing them from his vision. They disappeared and Neil leant back in his chair to resume his banjo playing. He was enjoying the music and how it made him relax, the way that the sounds of the banjo seemed to almost fit into the sounds of the woods around him. Quiet notes that floated along the boughs of the trees and twined with the insects' calls. It was peaceful, and Neil had a gentle smile on his face as he continued to play, callouses building on his fingers to prove that he can use his hands for something good. 

Neil enjoyed the idea of repurposing the things that once hurt him for his own benefit. Knives no longer hurt him - they protect him, they carve into wood, they break down meat for sustenance. He used to think he was exactly like his father, that he would end up enjoying the things his father did, that his hands were forever coated in blood that would inexplicably never wash away. He knew better now - his hands were his own, and he had chosen to use them to play the banjo, or to garden and tend to his plants, or to carve figurines in wood, or to pet Red. 

He was not his father. 

The creak of his chair was lost to the sound of his playing, and his bones were loose in a way that made him feel sleep heavy. Head tipped back, Neil’s mind was calm as he sung one of his favourite songs to the tree tops. Red purred on his lap, a gentle rumble that coincided with his steady voice. 

It is only an hour later that he is interrupted with a warning whisper from Mary. ‘Multiple people converging on your location.’ Neil let the last note waver out on its own as he set the banjo down to the side and stood up, Red jumping down to his feet but tipping his head back to look at Neil. 

“How many?” He asked Mary, her dark form still and silent in a patch of darkness in the corner of the room. 

‘Twenty-five’. 

Neil blinked and turned on his heel - there was no time to waste. His bones felt like they were snapping back into place, taut and solid like steel. Neil’s movements never stuttered or slowed. It had taken a long time for him to get used to the peaceful quietness of the wilderness around him, but the hushed quiet of coiled aggression was what he was raised in. He welcomed it only for its familiarity, but he would not be the one hunted any more. 

His knives found homes on his person, as well as a pistol. A gun would be loud and draw too much attention, so he would need to stick to his knives as much as he could. Mary settled over him like a cloak, a dark chill enveloping him. Steps silent, Neil disappeared into the treeline. 

Over the weeks, Neil had spent a lot of time in the woods. He had run his hands over the bark of the trees and followed the animal trails. Breathed the air and navigated its undergrowth. Found the springs and the dips and valleys. He knew it well, which trees held nests and which bushes had sharp spikes on them. He knew the area like he knew his own scar-filled skin. With Mary’s help, he was able to easily disappear into its darkest depths, the sun beginning to lower into darkness. 

His footfalls were silent as he stalked through the woods that he had started to call home. His breaths were slow and controlled.

Breathe in. The knife in his hands felt comfortable; protection instead of pain.

Hold. His grip on the handles were steady and his mind was focused; senses sharp. 

Breathe out. The woods were silent; a suspended moment in time, as if even the animals and insects knew there was a warzone imminent. 

Hold. Neil tilted his head to the left, movement lazy but predatory. His uncovered blue eyes were cold and assessing as he surveyed the trees around him. Neil continued his controlled breathing as Red sat in the open with a considering look on his face, and Neil nodded his head to his cat. Feet like quiet whispers, Red took off into the trees. Neil followed, Mary a cloak of darkness around him in the dying light. 

Three men were grouped together, crouched low as they stalked towards his house. Neil had to bite down on his lip to avoid laughing when he saw the look of surprise on their faces at seeing Red strut out of the trees towards them. 

“What’s a cat doing out here?” The youngest man whispered. Neil took note of their weapons - knives and guns he expected, even baseball bats and crowbars, or hammers, maybe. He was not expecting a sword. Where the hell did the man get a sword from? Neil squinted at the sight, in what he refused to admit was jealousy. It was shorter than he expected, but looked sturdy and sharp. He wanted it. 

“I don’t know, man.” Neil watched as the older man, the swordsman, reached out with thick fingers and tried to grab at Red. “C’m’ere, cat. Pspspsps,” he whispered, hand still outstretched. The last man, the one who had not yet spoken and looked to be around the same age as the swordsman, looked on with annoyance. He held a long pole in his hand, almost like a stick of bamboo. Neil frowned. It’s not a weapon he was used to fighting against - there was a lot of reach with a weapon like that. At least Neil knew how to throw his knives, even if he didn’t particularly want to do that. Letting go of his weapons was a big no no. 

The unspoken man looked up and directly at Neil. “Oh, shit,” pole-man whispered. Neil ducked behind the tree and was quick to dart around to resettle behind the group, his knife a comforting weight in his hand. 

“What? What was it?” The youngest said, voice louder than intended and thin, laced with fear. 

“There’s something in the woods. It was looking at us!” Pole-man said. Neil settled beside a tree to their right now, watching as they squinted into the trees around them. 

“Do you think it was the anomaly?” 

“I don't fucking know. Charles said that the anomaly shouldn’t even know we’re coming - last time I listen to that fucker, I swear.” 

Red watched the three for a few moments before looking back towards Neil. Neil copied his slow blink and then started to stalk towards the men. 

“Let’s just hurry up and get this over with. I want that reward from the system.” Neil’s movements were silent and graceful as he followed the men as they walked off - towards his shack, he noted. Red fell into step behind the men, although they did not notice. Neil wanted to scoff at their lack of awareness - although how that man knew he was watching from the trees had the hairs raising on the back of his neck. 

He reached the man that lingered in the back of the group on silent feet. His hands moved with minimal thought. The sound of a neck snapping sounded a lot like a branch breaking, Neil thought as he lowered the man’s body to the ground. Only more wet and crunchy. He scrunched his nose in thought. Maybe like freshly made cereal then. He continued his hunt as he thought it over. 

The pair of men continued to walk through the woods, feet like thunder with each step. Neil was appalled. They thought they could sneak up on him sounding like a herd of elephants? 

“Hey, Harri-” one of the men started as he looked behind him, only to slam his mouth shut when the third man of their group was gone. The man’s eyes darted around the trees and his friend noticed the cut off sentence, also turning around to look at the first man. 

Neil locked eyes with the man who had spoken, quick to throw his knife to cut off a yell. The blade landed with a quiet, wet thud, followed by the man gaping like a fish. A hand reached up to grasp at the knife that protruded from the front of his throat, and he idiotically pulled it out. Neil had to give it to the man, if he left the knife in or not, either way he would asphyxiate. Blood already gurgled down his airways and caused it to dribble from his mouth, as well as sputtering out his neck wound and down his collar. Wide, dark brown eyes stared back at Neil, the man’s face white in terror and pain before he collapsed to his knees and gargled some more. 

The remaining man boggled at Neil for a moment before he gave a shout of terrified bravado and charged. Neil met him head on, quick to duck beneath the pole the man carried as he swept out, efficiently getting within his range of motion. The shout would have already alerted anyone close-by, so Neil pulled the pistol out from his boot and pressed it to the underside of the man’s chin. Pole-man’s entire body locked up before Neil pressed the trigger, bone and brain matter splattering mostly behind the pair. Neil felt a fine mist of blood speckle his face, the majority of it raining down with the rest of his attacker. 

In the distance, Neil heard the cries of many more people pinpointing his location. Mary remained cloaked around him and Neil was quick to pick up his thrown knife, returning it to its sheath. The sword was heavier than he expected, but he held onto it anyways. It didn’t take long to disappear again into the familiar trees and trails around his shack as he waited for more enemies to present themselves. 

“Oh- what the fuck!” Neil heard a man say as he came across the blown out brains of the young pole-man. He saw through the trees as the man kept a crouched position and scanned the area around him, multiple more people converging to get a glimpse of the macabre sight. Neil noted that there were a few more swords of different types in the group, as well as a few bows held by a few people that kept to the periphery. He noted a handful of rifles and pistols within the group, less than he expected to see.

An older man with salt and pepper hair stepped forward and looked down grimly at his fallen comrades. After a few moments of looking over the blood soaked dirt and leaves, he looked up and searched the trees. “Where are you, you sick freak?” He called out challengingly before he turned to his group again. Although he spoke quietly, Neil was still able to pick up his words across the distance. “Scouts, get moving. This fucker has to still be nearby. We are not leaving here until the anomaly is dead.” 

The group expanded out, multiple people taking off into the trees while others climbed. Neil watched on, a little perturbed. Red sat at his feet and licked a paw without a care in the world. He scratched his head, taking comfort in the feel of soft fur between his fingers. 

Neil knew he needed to break the group up a bit, take them out one by one for as long as he could. Silently, he commanded Mary’s bodies to surround the group and fog the area. The darkening sky did not help the situation, the dappled sunlight hardly enough to make it through the boughs of the trees. What little light there was, was swiftly suffocated out as multiple dark figures rose from the shadows and then dispersed into a thick void around the group. Shouts of alarm started up as Neil moved. Red’s body expanded as fur and muscle rippled. A sharp, jagged tail flicked back and forth like a slow moving whip. Neil waded into the darkness with Red by his side and immediately began to slice tendons, getting used to the weight of the short sword in his hands. 

Red, with his larger body, was unable to hide for long among the fog. The beast pulled back and a large part of the group followed, keen, blood-thirsty cries following him. Neil was about to go in for the kill when it felt like something slammed into him, without ever touching him. He couldn’t make sense of it as he stumbled a little. His eyes landed on a man who held a sword above his head, white flames burning bright. Neil let out a silent groan of pain as another woman lit a ball of silver light on the end of her staff. It damn well appeared from nowhere. Neil scrunched his nose in confusion before slinking back to a large tree and dropping Mary’s fog. 

The pain slowly faded as he watched as the remainder of the group looked around them. The woman’s ball of silver light went out but the swordsman kept his flaming sword. Neil tilted his head at that but dismissed it after another moment of thinking. It didn’t matter if the sword was on fire or not, he would still be avoiding it at any cost. 

Mary’s cool form continued to drape around him, and he took comfort in that. He straightened up and made sure his pistol held steady in his hand as he levelled it at the man that had a rifle. The gunshot was loud and every single person turned his way. Neil gave a mocking smile before he adjusted his aim and fired again, this time at a man using a crossbow. 

Two people with fighting experience rushed him, and he gripped his newly acquired short sword in one hand and his favourite pistol in the other. Neil levelled his gun to shoot one and evaded the other. He slashed with the sword in an attempt to at least injure the other attacker, hoping to take as many down as he could. 

Neil knew that this situation was not favourable to him, and he resigned himself to the fact that there was a high chance that he would not make it back out of this forest tonight without serious injuries. He refused to go down though, and years of learning anatomy and knife work with his father came back to the fore. Neil felt visceral satisfaction that he was able to render one of the first attackers with a limp arm and outright killed the other. 

The other six watch him wearily, hesitation written within the lines of their faces and bodies. The injured man sat back with a serious glower on his face as he held a hand over the slash on his arm. Neil let out a feral grin and couldn’t help a small chuckle from escaping. 

Neil lifted his arm and took a shot at the nastiest looking man among the group, just as another gunshot rang out. Neil didn’t wait around. He took off further into the darkness of the forest, holding faith in the knowledge that he knew those trails better than anyone else. An arrow flew by his head and shouts of annoyance and anger came from behind him. 

The branches and thick tree trunks prevent any of his attackers from being able to get a hit on him, and his combined memory of the land and his speed allow Neil to keep ahead of the group for a few minutes. Eventually, Neil slid behind a tree and forced himself to breathe slowly and quietly. The group behind him thumped closer, breaths panting and voices angry hisses. Neil waited with bated breath. 

The moment one of them entered his field of view to his right, he raised the pistol and fired another shot. The woman’s body had not yet collapsed when the rest of the group shouted and charged once more, attempting to surround him again. Neil ran ahead and leapt over a fallen log, swiping with his short sword across a man’s neck and braced arm as he went past. 

Neil heard them arguing about their choices and when he would run out of ammo, and an incredulous laugh erupted out of him. They came onto his land and attacked him - they should have been prepared to die. 

His foot slipped on the fallen leaves and made him stumble before he got his bearings again. Something within Neil felt like it was draining at an alarming rate as arrows and bullets whizzed past him. In the corner of his vision, Neil thought he saw the shadows of Mary flicker back and forth, shoving away the projectiles coming at him. 

A bat came from seemingly nowhere as Neil tried to start running again. He barely managed to divert the majority of the hit, only copping a glancing blow as he tumbled to the ground. 

“There you are, you fucker,’ the man said. Neil rolled to the side just as the bat came down again, missing his head by a much shorter distance than Neil would have preferred. Dirt and leaves stung his eyes as he watched the ginormous man line up for another blow. Blood trickled from his arm where Neil had shot him, but it hardly seemed to phase the guy. 

“Yeah, take him down, Gorilla!” Someone else chanted off to the side. Neil raised his gun again and pointed it at Gorilla’s head this time. Something like enraged fear entered the man’s eyes as he hesitated between swinging or dodging. 

Neil didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

Click.

… 

The silence rang throughout the forest for a moment before Neil spoke, “Fuck.” 

Gorilla let out a cackling laugh and swung down. Neil heard the others shout out calls to ‘get him!’, ‘kill him!’, surrounded by malicious laughter. He rolled again to dodge the falling bat, and before allowing another swing or someone to grow tired and put a bullet in his head, he lifted a leg and struck out at Gorilla’s groin. A chorus of ‘oohhhs’ filled the air as Gorilla grunted and gasped, leaning forward a bit in his pain. 

Neil swung his sword as hard as he could, lodging it part way into Gorilla’s neck. A cascade of warm blood fell onto Neil’s stomach and chest, some splattering onto his face as Gorilla’s lifeless body toppled forward. Neil swung his legs around and rolled up to his feet before he could be crushed beneath the giant. He grabbed the hilt of his sword and yanked hard to dislodge it, ignoring the squelch of liquid and muscle. 

The remaining four attackers levelled their weapons at him, not keen to charge him once more, it seemed. Neil could feel how his cheeks hurt with how wide his smile was, all teeth and bloody vengeance as satisfaction dribbled down his chin. Another small chuckle escaped him, making all four of them flinch and take a step back. 

Neil charged while throwing his misfired gun directly at the woman on the edge of the group. He saw her dodge to the side and try to backtrack away from him, pointing her bamboo stick towards him. Neil’s eyes widened when, what looked like a beam of light, shot out towards him. Lightning zapped and Neil braced himself to be hit. He was cautiously happy then, when Mary’s form flickered and covered him completely a split moment before the lightning hit. 

The lightning seemed to fizzle around him, soaking into Mary’s cloak form around his body. He looked up at the woman and saw her frightened eyes staring back at him. He grinned through his laughter as he continued his charge, feeling like something inside him reached its peak and broke through. Mary’s form continued to cloak him while a second figure rose from Neil’s own shadow, then a third, fourth, fifth and sixth rose. Neil did not falter and efficiently dispatched the woman with a sword through her eye. The small clearing they were in quickly became filled with wavering forms of smoke, although Neil could still see perfectly fine. The last three men around him searched the darkness with frantic movements, eyes squinted and hands unsteady on their weapons. Neil licked his bottom lip, tasting the drops of blood and imminent victory there. 

He didn’t bother holding back, using his new favourite sword to kill the intruders in quick order. Three bodies hit the ground one after the other with little fanfare. Neil panted for a moment in the clearing and gathered himself. 

The sound of more fighting in the distance caught his attention. Red. Neil took off without another thought, not interested in letting his friend be killed. His feet barely touched the ground as he ran between the trees, moving like liquid towards Red. Mary’s other forms gathered themselves and flitted through the shadows of the trees as they kept pace with him. 

He comes across bodies in his flight to get to his friend. Bodies with claw marks down their faces and torsos, bite marks and limbs torn off. Neil doesn’t pay them any attention other than to count them as he goes. He is unsure how many are still alive and attacking his friend. After the fifth body, Neil exited the forest not too far from his shack, near a creak of spring water. He pushed his body harder, his thighs burning with the effort and chest gasping in controlled breaths. 

Neil alighted upon the group that were slashing their blades, shooting their guns, and releasing their arrows at his friend. The beast’s large body had a lot of power, but it also allowed a lot of surface area for people to hit and slice him with. He saw a weapon that looked like it was on fire, a ghastly white that didn’t seem to burn its wielder. Neil pulled one of his knives from its sheath strapped on his hip and prepared himself. 

He didn’t bother to announce himself, just dropped down the upper ledge to the creek bank that Red was fighting in. He landed on the back of one of the attackers, a knife lodged in his neck before he could retaliate. Neil leapt off the corpse towards the next person. His sword felt heavy but Neil didn’t let that stop him as he pushed through the pain to slash at the woman with a bow, arrow lodged and ready to release at Red. Neil swung down and cut her hand off, the bow releasing and arrow flying wide. Her scream alerted the last three people that something wasn’t right. 

They stole glances towards him while still fending off Red’s failing attacks. His friend had suffered numerous wounds, but still he fought on. Neil wouldn’t let him fight alone. 

Like a wrathful apparition, Neil got to work. He didn’t notice the damage he took as he dodged attacks from two of the intruders, a sharp long sword covered in that white fire and the blunt force from a staff as it hit his ribs. Neil gasped and pushed on, short sword in one hand to parry attacks and using his smaller blade to dodge into their guard to swipe at their vitals. He kept his eye on the man twirling his staff, avoiding being tripped up with his superior reach. The man with the long sword had a smirk on his face as he noticed Neil’s rage at the sight of Red. Slowly, that smirk fell as Neil evaded their attempts at taking him down, even managing to get a good slice on the swordsman’s thigh. The mud beside the creek bed churned as they moved back and forth, so Neil stepped into the water and stood upon a rock. He had run across this creek bed multiple times and knew how to keep his balance, his familiarity with his home helping to keep the upper hand in the fight. Neil watched as the staff user tried to trip him up again to create an opening for the swordsman to cut him down. Neil bared his teeth at them in an unfriendly smile, not bothering to keep any semblance of humanity to close out the fight. He waited for the staff user to try and trip him again before moving towards his ally. He couldn’t focus on the staff user until the swordsman was out of commission - turning his back on a hostile blade is a great way to end up with that same blade in his back. Neil kept his thumb firmly clamped over his switchblade as he leant down swiftly to dodge the sword sweeping above his head. He thought he heard whispering coming from the blade, but dismissed it as another hallucination. A staff shooting lightning and swords covered in flames was weird enough, so Neil thought he was under enough stress to assume that his brain was going haywire. He scooped a handful of creek water and mud into his hand. He mentally apologised for dirtying his blade as he was, but promised to clean it in the blood soon to be spilt. He sprung up and flicked the handful at the sword user, regrasping a secure hold on his blade as he followed the path of the mud. The surprise was enough for Neil to get past the panicked slash of the enemy’s sword and slice the man’s carotid. Neil blinked against the blood stinging his eyes, tasting the tang of metal on his tongue through his smile. 

He immediately took another swipe to deepen the wound and make sure the dying man was definitely out of the fight before turning to the second attacker. The staff user knew he was a doomed man, for he charged at Neil to try and take him by surprise. Neil didn’t let him. 

The staff came down, similar to how Gorilla had used his bat. All swing and no technique. These people did not know what it was to fight for their lives, to become one with their weapon like they are simply an extension of one’s own body. Neil knew. He had fought for his life repeatedly, and he had honed his skill with blades to a fine point. 

The staff user didn’t use his staff like an extension of his own arm. He used it like it was a broom stick and Neil was the creature he was desperately trying to keep away from himself. Neil supposed that was an apt description, but it was not enough to keep Neil from getting close enough to kill him anyways. 

Blood oozed from numerous wounds as Neil pushed him further back. The staffman tripped on a tree root and fell on his ass - Neil laughed before a shout cut him off. The creek trickled quietly in the silence, as Neil levelled his sword at the fallen man’s throat and turned his head to the final attacker of the group who had been fighting Red. 

His friend lay half fallen in his attempt to clear the ledge above the creek, wounds gashed open and frail in his weakening state. Neil levelled a look at the man who had a strange looking gun pointed at Red. 

“Don’t, or I’ll shoot.” Neil blinked at the gunman while he kept his sword pointed at the man at his feet. “Let him go, and we will leave.” Blood dripped slowly down his cheek as he backed up a step. The gun was not anything that he had seen before, and Neil had seen a lot of guns over the years. He thought he knew his guns, but this one was something entirely new. That unnerved him more than he cared to admit. His instincts screamed that a bullet from that gun would do more damage than a regular one. “Good. Good. Keep going, or I swear, I’ll put a bullet in this furry bastard’s head. Back up.” Neil stepped back even further. Why did the man not use the gun before now? He wondered if there were only a few bullets left - a last resort to save himself and his friend. Neil saw the looks shared between the pair as the staffman got to his feet, a wince of pain poorly hidden as he tried to put weight on his ankle. Neil kept his eyes on the gunman. 

“Great. We will go now.” Neil caught the smirk of amusement on the man’s face a moment too late. 

The gun fired just as Neil shouted out in alarm, one arm reached out towards Red. His friend’s eyes went vacant as the bullet hit home, his body toppling to the ground a moment later. 

Neil didn’t hear himself as he screamed out. He turned his eyes towards the shooter, keeping the man pinned in place with his stare alone. Neil felt something within him drain as tingling started up in the back of his eyes. 

In front of him, the man started to visibly melt. 

His skin darkened to a sickly grey with large spots of rotting flesh that sloughed off in large patches. The man started screaming but Neil kept his death glare set on him, fury still running through his veins. Dark liquid dribbled from the gunman’s mouth and he turned terrified eyes on Neil as he took slow, heavy steps towards the decaying man. Fear widened his eyes as he took a stumbling step backwards from Neil. A wet patch grew on the front of his pants and trickled down his legs before he collapsed to the ground, gun forgotten with rotten fingers that could not hold onto anything any more. Neil never even had to hasten his demise, for the man died on the ground, staring up to the sky at the vengeful demon that was Neil. 

He heard as the injured man tried to run away, fear colouring his movements. Frantic hands grabbed from tree to tree and he hobbled. Neil wouldn’t let him get away. 

“Stop.” Neil said, voice as cold as a tundra. The man froze, not even glancing back at Neil. He groaned as his ankle rotted first, his body pitching sideways with the lost support. Everywhere there were wounds, they rotted first and rotted fast. The stench would have been hideous if Neil cared for it. He felt as whatever was draining within him finally finished. His eyes stopped tingling, but Neil continued to glare at the dying man anyways. He stepped forward and ran his sword through the man’s partially destroyed throat. His head rolled to the side before coming to a stop, eyes open and staring at Neil’s blood covered boot. Rage like nothing else filled him as he stared at the pathetic mess below him. Neil raised his foot and stomped down, feeling the bone crunch beneath the sole of his boot. Flesh, blood and brain matter splattered like a decayed pumpkin around him. 

The silence stretched on. He blinked back to himself and found himself standing still in the middle of it all before doing a slow turn to take it all in. 

Neil blinked again. The splattered warmth of blood dribbled down his face like tears, cloying and metallic instead of cleansing. The blood stung as it reached his eyes and blurred his vision, forcing him to blink rapidly. It dripped from his hands and knives in tiny rivulets, soaked into his clothes and matted his hair. 

It didn’t matter, for he could not see anything else than the crumpled form in front of him. 

A large cat with red fur, clumped together with blood and viscera, laid still and silent. 

Neil heaved for breath, chest raising and falling with each gust. He felt his lower lip tremble as he stumbled towards where Red lay, wounds open and bleeding but blood never reaching the ground. As soon as he drew near, Red’s body shimmered and shrunk. Neil gasped and fell to his knees, carelessly dropping his knives to his sides. His bloodied hands reached out of their own volition, a desperate gesture to hold his friend close once more. It was no use, Red’s body became incorporeal and Neil was left waving his hands in the air, trying to grab a hold of his closest friend. A pained sound of despair left Neil as Red’s body wavered and shrunk again, to the size of a small red flame that flickered gently on the ground. Neil held his hands around it, afraid that the remains of his friend would flicker out. Tears mixed with the blood on his face, tracks of cleansing that did nothing to settle the ache in his chest. Neil pressed his lips together in an attempt to hold back his sobs - afraid that a single breath could be enough to wipe out Red’s flame. 

Distantly, he realised that the flame held little heat. His hands closed around Red’s flame and he scooped it up into his hands. It was odd - there was nothing burning, no fuel to keep the fire going, and it did not burn his hands as he cradled the flame to his chest, bowing over to protect the remains of his friend from the breeze. 

Neil stared at the flame, mind blank in grief. He didn’t want to think about what he would do now, he wanted his friend back. The flame’s wisps flicked up and tickled his chin, feeling like the brush of soft fur. Neil sniffed. 

The flame sank into his hands, growing smaller and Neil couldn’t hold back his gasp. Why? Why must his hands ruin everything? Neil scrambled to put the flame back on the ground to prevent it from going out, but it was too late. It sunk into his skin with a tingle of warmth. The cry that Neil had been holding back finally came out, guttural and raw as he collapsed into the dirt. He sobbed, his body wracked with grief as he pressed his head into the ground where Red’s flame had been. He knew that Mary was nearby and also hurt, but she was still there and able to keep an eye out while Neil lost himself a second time that night. 

Neil wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he finally rose from the dirt. His face was caked with blood, dirt, and tears, while the rest of him was just soaked with bloodied mud from laying on the ground. 

Red would have turned his nose up at him for it. 

Neil had no energy left. He stared sightlessly into the distance as he tried to get his thoughts to work again. 

A flashing red light blinked in his vision and Neil wondered how long it had been there. It looked like a little button, although he thought it was a different light to what he used to see, all those months ago. He couldn’t be sure. A well of grief threatened to overwhelm him and he greedily focused on the light, anything to keep his mind away from the lack of Red by his side. Words popped up in his vision. 

‘Summoned Familiar, bestial chimera - Red - 0% essence.’ 

Neil’s breath was caught in his lungs. He stared at the 0% essence part. 

What was ‘essence’? Could he find some and reach 100%? What would that do? 

Could it bring Red back? 

He panted in anxious trepidation. One thing at a time, he would find whatever this ‘essence’ was first. 

Neil clenched his fists.

Then he was getting his friend back.

PING!

‘System event finished. Congratulations, Anomaly. 

Rewards distributed. Achievement - sole survivour.’ 

Notes:

If this gets enough love I will write more, but mostly I just wanted a LitRPG fic - although it morphed into a fic of Neil losing his sanity.
:)