Escape - Chapter 3.2
Chapter 3.2
A hellscape. The scene before him was a vision of hell. A masterpiece that belonged in some nameless study, hanging as a renowned, perhaps infamous, painting. But this wasn’t a painting. This was real. The bodies of his comrades strewn around, weapons scattered, the floor a canvas of flesh and blood. A macabre still life of bone and a gruesome abstract of blood, the stench of it all a visceral reminder of its reality.
Crack, crunch. The Serpiente, perched atop the corpses, devoured the remains of their human prey with a gourmand’s relish. Some of the meat still twitched, life clinging on. But there was no need to worry. They would be swallowed whole before they could even convulse.
“How… how…” A raspy whisper escaped his lips. “How can the tobacco dust not be working?”
A distant gunshot echoed through his hazy consciousness.
“Luce!”
Bang!
What was this metallic taste? Blood?
“Luce!!!”
A sharp cry. He sluggishly lifted his head just as another shot rang out, a Serpiente collapsing before his eyes. Beyond it, he saw Damian’s eyes, burning black. His steady gaze locked onto his. It was like a splash of cold water, jolting him awake.
“…Damian.”
“No time for talk. Get the others and head for the gate. Now.”
“W-what about you?”
Damian’s lips twisted into a wry, almost playful smirk, as if he’d told a particularly amusing joke. He dismissed the crooked smile and raised his gun again.
Bang!
Screech!
“Aaargh, damn it! A-aren’t you coming?”
With every shot, another Serpiente around Luce shrieked and fell. He dimly realized Damian was creating a path for their retreat.
“Luce, tell Adeline…”
Tell her what?
“…tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t keep my promise.”
What was he talking about? He could tell her himself.
He wanted to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. His teeth chattered. His mind was blank, but damn it, his body trembled uncontrollably. What was he saying? He’d escape too. Adeline was precious to him. Why was he saying this to him?
He yelled something to the remaining squad members. Only a brave few remained. The rest began to run in one direction. So Luce ran too. He ran, leaving Damian behind. He ran without thinking, stumbling, nearly falling, but unable to stop.
The gunshots continued, but they were fading.
All he could hear were footsteps and ragged breaths. Maybe he’d set a new record. Maybe it wouldn’t even take 12 seconds. Darkness surrounded him, a suffocating, impenetrable black. Running blindly in one direction felt like a torturous nightmare, like running through a swamp.
Finally, he reached a solid wall and shoved against it with all his might. Someone panting beside him helped. A chilling screech echoed from behind.
Bang! Bang!
The gate opened.
And closed.
The gate opened.
And closed.
The gate opened.
And closed.
Of the 52 who had embarked on the mission, only five, including Luce, returned alive.
And Damian wasn’t among them.
***
Two-day work weeks were definitely the way to go for lazy people like her.
Adeline was in a great mood that morning. She’d lazed in bed, relishing the rare opportunity to sleep in, and when she finally dragged herself out, egg sandwiches were waiting for her on the table.
“He barely slept, and he still found time for this?” She feigned annoyance, but playing the good wife was still a bit beyond her.
‘It’s so delicious. I want to brag about my husband so badly.’
The soft eggs, blended with creamy cheese, melted in her mouth. Maybe they should open a bakery after he retired. He couldn’t stay in the military forever. If they saved diligently, maybe in 20 years they could open a shop in the bustling 15th district.
“He’ll probably be the baker who complains the most but works the hardest.” The thought made her chuckle.
After breakfast, she unwrapped the surprise gift Damian had brought home the day before. It was a pristine white mini dress, the hem falling just above her knees, perfect for moving around comfortably.
“Beautiful…” She caught her reflection in the mirror and couldn’t help but gasp.
Her brown hair cascaded down her back, contrasting with the pure white of the dress. A delicate silver pendant completed the look. Ethereal, graceful, elegant, refined—any adjective seemed to fit.
She wondered what expression Damian would make if he saw her like this. The white dress reminded her of the look on his face when she wore her wedding gown. His usually impassive gaze had lit up in an instant. In that moment, their eyes locking, she’d realized something profound: love didn’t always need words.
Damian was handsome. Tall, almost 6’3”, with broad shoulders. Beneath his jet-black hair was a face sculpted to perfection. His features, while striking, could appear cold when he was expressionless, but he seemed aware of this and often wore a playful smile. That bright smile against his otherwise cool demeanor was undeniably captivating.
The neighbor lady always said a handsome husband could get away with murder, and Adeline suspected that was the truth, no, the absolute gospel. Even when she was angry, she’d probably just end up thinking, ‘Oh, I must be in the wrong,’ and smack herself on the head.
It was the same now. It was her day off, but she’d ventured out to buy him a gift. Leaving the house on a non-workday was a monumental effort for her.
“Off duty today, I see. Which floor?”
‘See? This is why I prefer staying home on my days off.’
Adeline sighed softly and turned, pasting on a polite, social smile. As expected, the owner of the voice had vacant, glassy eyes.
