Something came, stopping in front of me. Amid the dense poisonous fumes of the night, I recognized it as a strange, ugly convoy. Most of the creatures making up that caravan were things stitched together from corpses. From them, I smelled the scent of Psychic Power.
Then, before me as I struggled and gasped for breath, the convoy came to a halt.
I suppressed the urge to cough, opened my eyes amid the blinding toxic fumes, and saw the two people at the head of the convoy.
Compared to the other creatures in the convoy, they fit my definition of humans better...
Both wore gas masks made from tanned hide. The taller, older-looking one wore a half-mask. I could see the deep wrinkles and furrows around his brows and eyes—he looked like he was always scowling.
The other was younger and smaller, wearing a full-face mask. I could only see his short white hair sticking up like roadside weeds, but from his body language, I sensed that he lived more comfortably than his companion.
When they saw me, they both stopped at the same time.
They began arguing. The white-haired youth seemed to be desperately trying to convince his companion, but their hissing, hoarse language was difficult to understand. For the first minute, I had no idea what they were saying.
"Sweet mother of heaven, why the hell is he so big?"
"I thought you were dreaming before... Hades, what kind of monster is this?"
"Mortarion—I told you, Mortarion! The guy who was supposed to appear in Nac'Lare's fortress—we could've escaped that day if he'd been there!"
There hadn't been any Mortarion that day. A bunch of villagers running around in panic could never have escaped. When Nac'Lare arrived in the end, Hades had been the one who snapped back