The Petrified Person

The sky was a dull, overcast gray.

Cold raindrops tapped against the thin windows of the cheap inn in Iron Boot Town, a dull, irritating sound.

Inside the soundproofed room, the air was thick with the smell of cheap tobacco and damp wood...

and incessant arguing.

"You absolutely have to go? To that... that swamp full of monsters?!"

Laura's voice rose, a mixture of anger and fear. She clutched her two frightened children tightly; the boy hid behind his mother's skirt, while the girl sobbed quietly.

"Arno Belmont! Look at you! Look at us! You're a Descendant of Knights, not some lowly Wandering Merchant! And certainly not meat for the Lizardfolk!"

Arno, his back to her, was stuffing the last few rough, cold-weather clothes into a severely worn leather backpack. His movements were stiff, almost imperceptibly so.

"Laura, being a 'Descendant of Knights' doesn't fill stomachs, nor does it pay the tuition for Sol Arcane Academy."

His voice was low, tinged with suppressed exhaustion. He didn't turn to look at her.

"The adventurers in Iron Boot Town say the Lizardfolk by the Reed Riverbank are desperate for grain and salt after the spring thaw. The price... it's triple what it is in the Kingdom. One trip, just this one trip, will be enough for you to live comfortably for years."

"Comfortably? How will we live comfortably if you're dead?!"

Laura rushed in front of him, her long golden hair slightly disheveled. Her blue eyes were brimming with tears, no longer holding the admiration of the past, but deep disappointment and confusion.

"You could have found a decent job! Even guarding the city gates! Why here? Why now? Those Demi-humans... they're savage, filthy, and untrustworthy! Everyone in the Kingdom knows it!"

Arno spun around abruptly. Beneath his deep chestnut hair, his light brown eyes flashed with a hint of pain and stubbornness.

"Decent? The coppers from guarding the city gates wouldn't even cover the rent! Laura, be realistic! I need money! A lot of money! So you and the children won't have to grovel later!"

The unconsciously commanding tone lingering in his voice stung Laura.

"Grovel? We're groveling to your madness right now!"

Laura scooped up her younger daughter and pulled her son along, her voice cold and resolute.

"Fine, go! Go to your swamp, go deal with those monsters! Use your 'noble' Belmont life to trade for dirty gold! Children, let's go! We're going back to Grandma's house in Havensstone! Let your father be his... big merchant!"

She spat out the last few words, almost through gritted teeth.

"Laura! Wait!" Arno reached out, trying to stop her.

"Bang--!"

The door slammed shut with such force that dust rained down from the walls.

Arno's outstretched hand froze in mid-air. He listened as his wife's suppressed sobs and his children's confused questions faded into the distance outside the door. He felt as if all his strength had been drained away. Leaning against the cold wall, he slowly slid down to the dirty floor.

He lowered his head and tremblingly raised his right hand.

In the dim lamplight, he saw that the skin at the knuckles of his little finger and ring finger had an unnatural, grayish-white hue, like cheap marble, and felt stiff and numb.

This wasn't dirt; it was the erosion of the Petrification Disease.

It was like a demon lurking in his blood, slowly gnawing away at his life, and at his dignity as a husband, a father, and even as a "person."

He clenched his fist tightly, and the stiff knuckles sent a needle-like pain through him.

"...For you... I must go..."

He whispered hoarsely to the empty, cold room, to the spreading, demonic-looking patches.

A suffocating sense of darkness and dampness washed over him.

The scene shattered abruptly!

"Urk... Hh..."

Arno Belmont's eyes snapped open, and he gasped, a ragged wheeze escaping his throat.

The blinding white light made him tear up instantly. He instinctively raised a hand to shield his eyes.

"Damn this sunlight!"

He cursed inwardly, feeling the light pierce his sore eyes like countless tiny needles.

Every time he woke from that fragmented, parting nightmare, it was accompanied by this nauseating physical reaction and a deeper mental fatigue.

This nightmare, along with the damned curse within his body, was like a maggot clinging to his bones, harassing him with increasing frequency.

He felt the familiar stiffness in his knuckles.

He painstakingly turned his wrist. The gray-white patches were clearly visible at the base of his fingers, like ugly brands.

The "glory" of the Belmont family – the Petrification Disease.

A slow and cruel death sentence, first stripping away the freedom of movement, then freezing the breath, and finally turning the person into a silent tombstone.

The strangely posed "statues" covered in white cloths throughout the family history were the deepest fears of his childhood.

And now, that fear was becoming a reality on his own body.

He, Arno Belmont, once a Knight Squire, a devout follower of God Kadus, a warrior who wielded his longsword to defend the border... was now like a lowly thief, curled up in the rotten leaves and cold mud of the Swamp Forest, reeking of mud and fear.

All of this was to cast aside the "noble glory" that was now worthless, and like the most incompetent peddler, gamble his entire fortune and what little life he had left, attempting to cross the dangerous Reed Riverbank to trade with those green-skinned, scaled Demi-humans.

All so that before he completely turned to stone, he could leave enough money for Laura and the children to survive, so they could stay away from poverty, and so the children might have a chance at a decent education, rather than bearing the double shame of a bankrupt noble and the descendant of a "stone man."

"What... a great irony..."

He pulled at the corners of his mouth in self-mockery, disturbing the dried mud on his face. Then, he struggled to sit up, leaning back against a giant, decaying tree that exuded a rotten aura.

He looked around. The dense canopy blocked out most of the sky, casting dappled, eerie shadows.

The air was so humid it felt like it could be wrung out, mixed with the stench of decaying plants, fermenting mud, and the faint, sweetish-fishy smell of some animal carcass, making him nauseous.

Silence, a silence filled with a sense of being watched, enveloped everything. Only the occasional, short, sharp chirps of unknown insects could be heard.

Even though he had luckily escaped the conflict with the Lizardfolk tribe, he had gotten lost and could only flee desperately here.

His once respectable merchant's coat was torn to shreds, stained with mud and dark brown grime.

His expensive leather boots were stuck in the mud, and one was already lost somewhere.

He felt at his waist; the money pouch he'd hoped for was still there, but it only contained a few cold silver coins and some coppers.

As for the pack beast cart filled with grain and salt?

It was long gone.

Those damned, demon-worshipping Gray-scaled bastards!

They crawled out of the depths of the swamp like demons, impossibly strong, their gray scales so hard they could deflect swords!

The veteran adventurers from Iron Boot Town he'd hired, who usually boasted endlessly, were torn apart like paper under the claws of those corrupted monsters!

Piercing screams, the dull thud of bones shattering, the sensation of warm blood splashing on his face... and those pair after pair of cloudy, mad, irrational dark red eyes!

Fear coiled around his heart like a cold viper.

How had he escaped? He couldn't remember.

He only recalled the guard captain pushing him before dying, shouting, "Run!"

Then, relying on a warrior's residual instincts, he had scrambled and tumbled into this even more deadly dense forest.

The heavy rain... yes, and that damned heavy rain that lasted two days, as if it were going to drown the entire world!

The icy rain scoured the bloodstains from his body, bringing with it a bone-chilling cold and pain that almost paralyzed him—each bout of Petrification Disease accelerated its erosion during the magic-active rainy days.

He was like a walking corpse, trudging through mud and despair, finally collapsing here from exhaustion, yet he hadn't been discovered and devoured by the monsters in the forest.

Perhaps those monsters also found a "thing" exuding the aura of death and stone unappealing?

Two days... he had been lost in this damned Swamp Forest, filled with green-skinned barbarians and unknown dangers, like a headless fly for two days!

"On Kadus..."

Arno gasped, trying to muster a shred of warrior's courage.

He fumbled and pulled out a dagger, still somewhat intact, from the inner lining of his tattered coat.

The cold touch of the metal brought a minuscule sense of security.

He had to find a way out, find the direction back to Iron Boot Town, or... find any chance of survival.

For Laura, for the children, he couldn't die here and become a pile of unclaimed bones... or stone... in the swamp.

He spat out the muddy taste in his mouth with disgust and was struggling to stand up when he heard the mournful cry of a hunted prey from the dim forest.

Those damned scaled beasts again!

Arno cursed aloud, but his heart was filled with immense fear. He blindly chose a direction, deciding to entrust his fate to the god of luck, and plunged into the dim woods.