Gilan had spent a fair bit of energy fighting the Prisoner Monster.
He leaned against a pine tree and rested for a moment before getting back to his feet and continuing deeper into the forest.
As he walked, Gilan checked the ammunition in his short-barreled revolver.
The two fully loaded speedloaders were empty, leaving only three 9mm rounds in the cylinder.
If I run into another fight, I'll have to use the weapons stored in my dimensional space.
Thinking this, Gilan slid the revolver back into its holster.
Rustle...
Rustle...
Just then, a faint sound came from the woods ahead, accompanied by slow, heavy footsteps.
Gilan stopped and slipped behind a pine tree to one side, peeking out to look.
Between the tall, densely packed pines, behind clusters of bushes, four or five deformed figures in brown prison uniforms were wandering about.
Some were tall and heavily muscled, with fleshy wings sprouting from their backs. Others were as thin as skeletons, but had long arms and fingers sharp as knives, their skin gleaming gray-black like scales.
Worst of all, one had grown seven or eight legs and walked with them bent like a spider's. Its upper body had its hands over its face, head bowed as it let out a series of chilling sobs.
What are these monsters...? Are they really demons that crawled out of the lake?
Gilan's expression was grave.
He was confident he could kill a Prisoner Monster one-on-one. Even against two, he could just about hold his own... but facing three or four—or more—he'd have to avoid them.
And he had no idea what to expect from the other two kinds of monsters he hadn't encountered before.
The Apocalyptic Dream wouldn't have directed me to look for the library's historical yearbooks for no reason. I'm more inclined to believe these creatures are directly connected to the prisoner-of-war camp that was burned down.
He thought this to himself.
As his thoughts raced, Gilan quietly left his hiding place, intending to skirt the area where the Prisoner Monsters were roaming and continue deeper into the forest toward Black Lake.
But a piercing wail, like a baby crying, suddenly rang out behind him!
"Waaah—"
Gilan spun around. A monster wearing an oversized prison uniform, but no bigger than a child, had somehow climbed halfway up a pine tree. Its enormous head was covered in tumors, like a mass of honeycomb, and more than a dozen exposed eyeballs stared straight at him. Its gaping mouth below them shrieked without pause:
"Waaah—waaah—"
Clop-clop-clop!
Clop-clop-clop!!
A flurry of sounds erupted. The wail instantly drew the wandering Prisoner Monsters' attention, and they charged toward Gilan's position!
"You son of a bitch!" Gilan roared furiously, drawing his short-barreled revolver and pulling the trigger at the little monster.
Bang! Bang! Bang!!
The last three rounds burst out. One struck the pine tree; the other two missed.
The little monster was astonishingly agile. The moment Gilan raised his gun, it sprang into motion, scurrying around the trunk and up to the very top of the tree. It kept shrieking, drawing the other monsters toward it with its piercing cries.
Hearing the sounds behind him draw closer, Gilan knew the Prisoner Monsters had spotted him. He took off running.
Agile as a wildcat, he darted and leaped through the woods. Mud, bushes, and rocks couldn't slow him down. In just two minutes, he had raced more than a thousand meters and left the monsters behind.
The second stage of the White Cross Body-Forging Technique, "Yellow Bile," had focused on improving Gilan's agility and stamina. This allowed him to easily reach the limits of an ordinary person's sprinting speed—and keep it up for longer.
Even so, Gilan's expression remained grim.
He had noticed that the little monster with the deformed head was tailing him like a dogged pest, leaping from pine to pine and climbing between the trees, all the while shrieking:
"Waaah—waaah—"
In the quiet forest, its cries rang out harshly and strangely, echoing for a long time.
The others can keep track of where I am by following the cries. They'll chase me endlessly... If this keeps up, I might even draw more monsters. Then I'll be in real trouble!
Gilan thought to himself.
With the incessant shrieking in his ears, he scowled viciously. The moment he raised his hand, a burst of iridescent light flared, and an old-fashioned Double-Barreled Shotgun appeared in it.
"Had enough yet?! You really think I can't do anything about you?"
The shotgun was the weapon Gilan knew best. He couldn't hit every shot without fail, but at a range of thirty meters, he could easily hit his target.
Bang! Bang!!
The two shots rang out almost simultaneously.
The cries from the top of the pine tree abruptly stopped.
A moment later, a small figure plunged from the sky and hit the ground with a thud, amid a spray of black-and-yellow blood.
Without a word, Gilan sprinted over and kicked it.
Thump!!
The deformed monster, one hand and one leg blasted apart by the buckshot, writhed and struggled as Gilan's powerful kick struck it. It flew straight through the air like a soccer ball blasted toward the goal by a pro athlete.
With a smack, the already gravely wounded monster slammed into a pine tree, making the trunk shudder.
Its ruined body slid down like a lump of mud. Gilan walked over and gently touched it with a finger glowing with iridescent light. The monster began to decay, then crumbled into dust and vanished.
The colorful number in Gilan's eyes jumped from "23" to "25."
He gave a satisfied, cold laugh, reloaded the Double-Barreled Shotgun, and ran from the scene.
A short while later.
Gilan had completely shaken off the pursuing monsters.
Judging from the sounds he'd heard last, he estimated there had been at least a dozen of them. Fortunately, he'd run fast. If they'd surrounded him, his only option would have been to use Corruption's power to force his way out of the film... but that would have revealed his trump card.
Gilan didn't want to do that unless he had no other choice.
He continued through the forest for several dozen minutes. Suddenly, his view opened up.
Gilan's heart leaped with joy. He crossed the bushes ahead, and a lake came into view.
Mountains encircled it in the distance. The gloomy sky reflected off the water, giving the entire lake a dull, inky green hue, like an ancient, mysterious mirror of irregular shape.
A gravel shore, more than ten meters wide, surrounded the lake. It was dark gray.
Is this Black Lake?
Gilan didn't approach recklessly. He held his breath and looked around.
The surroundings were incredibly quiet—dead silent, even. There wasn't a person in sight, or even a wild animal. The atmosphere was stifling and eerie.
Just then, Gilan noticed a narrow wooden walkway on the far side of the lake, barely visible in the distance. It led to a small wooden house built out over the water.
Could that be the secluded home of the alchemist Rembrandt?
Gilan's heart stirred.
He drew a deep breath, held the shotgun ready, and cautiously set off. Keeping a deliberate distance from Black Lake, he followed the shore toward the far side.