Magister Insanity

[You have slain a Hollow Knight's Seedling.]

Every inch of my body screamed in pain, leaving me no room to savor the echo of that beautiful voice.

My breath came ragged and shallow, as though I'd just run a marathon. Driving the blade into that monster had stolen more strength than I realized. Truly, adrenaline was a cruel gift — It would allow you to draw the maximum potential of your body, but at the same time, leave you hollowed out afterwards.

And yet, it was... exhilarating!

The satisfaction of killing that demon was unlike anything I had ever experienced. Was this the same twisted euphoria that serial killers and murderers felt as they claimed the lives of their victims?

Of course, killing monsters and beasts was different from killing people. Most likely, it was the very act of killing itself that brought the exhilaration.

But those bewitched by that intoxicating rush would eventually take it a step further, turning their blades on humans without discrimination.

Those were the Murderers, the filth and scum of the earth.

'Focus!'

After all, the nightmare was far from over.

Moments later, I forced myself to regain focus and scanned the surroundings to gauge the situation.

To my surprise, the fight had already drawn to a close. Grant and Ezra had cut down nearly all the seedlings, including the infected survivors. No further movement stirred among the enemy.

And yet, despite the sense of victory, the air remained thick with something eerie and wrong. The corrupted seedlings were dead, but the silence felt incomplete, unnervingly so.

What was the source of this unease?

'Wait.'

A sudden thought emerged.

'Where is that guy?'

Upon further investigation, I quickly pinpointed the source of my unease.

The sentinel — the Hollow Knight — the architect of all this mayhem and death, was nowhere to be found. A creature capable of such carnage wouldn't simply vanish. I refused to believe it. Beasts acted with predictable instinct, but this corrupted knight was different. Most likely, it had already slipped deeper into the ashen forest to hunt down the survivors who had fled the slaughter.

Looking back, that bastard didn't behave like any normal sentinel from the game.

Why did it spare us?

A normal sentinel would have slaughtered all enemies before turning its attention to the stragglers. But this one chose to leave us to its lackeys while it went off to finish the rest. In fact, all video game bosses would behave in this manner.

No matter how I turned it over in my head, such behavior made no sense.

Conversely, trying to use video game in this kind of situation provided no real merit. It was probably best if I completely abandoned that mentality.

"Everyone, gather quickly. We need to discuss our next course of action." Grant's voice echoed.

I forced myself to my feet.

Just like on the bus, the scene was drenched in blood and corpses. Out of the entire group of survivors, only four of us remained. The rest had perished, gruesomely. Broken bodies lay scattered everywhere, littering the ground, torn and ripped apart beyond recognition. Among them, the foul carcasses of seedlings rotted in silence.

By now, I was too drained to feel anything at all.

Margaret and Ezra drew close, hair disheveled, with their clothes marked with tears and scratches. Surprisingly, Choi Minho had survived as well.

Thinking back, he had probably used that demon he was strangling as cover to slip past the notice of the other seedlings.

Clever.

Seeing the pitiful number of survivors left, Grant could only sigh.

"Is this really all that's left?"

Ezra shrugged.

"Bruh, that should be obvious, yeah? Do you see anyone else?"

Grant nodded slowly.

"I guess so… But what the hell was that thing? A demon?"

Already impatient, Choi Minho snapped:

"Who fucking cares?! Why are we standing here, chatting like it's nothing?! We should be running!"

Grant eyed Minho's disheveled state and sighed again.

"Run where, exactly? Don't tell me you're planning to charge off without a clue like those three?"

Choi Minho opened his mouth, ready to retort, but thought better of it. Cursing under his breath, he fell silent, finally grasping the situation.

There was no need to say anything because Grant was right. Running off at random would only lead to a quicker death, which at this point almost seemed preferable.

No matter how sharp your senses were, eventually you'd end up lost, vulnerable, and alone.

The three survivors who had ran off... may God bless their unfortunate souls, would probably come to this conclusion sooner or later. And even If, by some miracle, they didn't die from the Black Sentinel, the Harrowing Shores would find another ways to kill them.

Margaret, the quietest of the group, hesitantly spoke up.

"T-Then… what should we do?"

Grant stroked his beard, pondering in silence for a few moments before finally voicing his thoughts.

"The mountain pass ahead will be long and punishing, judging by the slope. In our current state, moving forward at night isn't an option. Also, going back is impossible. For now, we need to find somewhere safer than this to rest. At sunrise, we'll head for the mountains."

The others nodded, seemingly in agreement. Weren't they too docile?

His reasoning was sound, yes. But there was a flaw he had yet to notice.

"That won't work."

All eyes turned to me. From their expressions, it was clear they were surprised I had spoken up. The sudden attention made me uneasy. I wasn't used to being in the spotlight.

Minho laughed.

"Oh, is that so? Then by all means, enlighten us. Why do you think his plan will fail?"

I silenced him by simply raising a finger.

"First of all, the monster found us once and easily at that. What makes you so sure it won't happen again?"

Then another finger.

"Secondly, look around you. How can we be certain we'll stumble upon a safe zone when our only real chance of survival lies upward?"

Grant and the others exchanged uneasy glances, unable to refute my reasoning. Seeing their silence, I raised a third finger and continued:

"More importantly, it's far more likely that the creature behind this massacre has already gone after the other survivors who ran. Why, I can't say but it won't take long before it finishes them and comes back for us. If we're lucky, those three might have split up and ran in different directions in their panic, buying us a little more time. Do you really want to waste that precious opportunity chasing after a 'safe zone' that might not even exist?"

Cursing loudly, Minho stared deep into the ashen forest with restless eyes. Meanwhile, Margaret chewed at the tip of her fingernails.

Ezra frowned.

"Truthfully, everything you said makes sense. But do you realise you're suggesting we march into the darkness while hungry, thirsty and tired?"

I didn't answer right away.

My own body was screaming for rest. Hunger twisted my gut viciously, thirst scorched my throat, and fatigue clouded my thoughts. It felt like I could collapse at any moment.

All the same, i couldn't afford to give in.

The instant we grew complacent would be the instant that thing returned and this time, it would really be game over.

In the end, I shrugged.

"It's not like we have a choice."

† †

Soon after, the group split up, combing the area for anything useful — most often from the corpses of those who hadn't made it. Every now and then, we stumbled across a few snacks tucked away in backpacks (for those lucky enough to have carried one), and we always made sure to collect their smartphones.

Naturally, this was a priority; the phones served as our torches, and the spare batteries were invaluable. Still, those stingy bastards had been hoarding scraps of food and water without saying a word.

Rotten bastards, through and through!

"Um... Guys?"

Margaret voiced out, sounding more flustered than earlier.

Close to her feet was what we would have normally assumed to be yet another corpse. Somehow, this old man was still alive and breathing. He was — even noticeable from a glance, badly injured, dying and clearly in a lot of pain.

Here and there, large wounds could be seen on his body and blood was rapidly gushing out at a steady pace.

"..."

This placed the group in a difficult position. Someone before us was in desperate need of emergency treatment, yet there was nothing we could do. Not a single survivor had thought to bring a first-aid kit.

To be fair, none of us could ever have predicted being transmigrated into another world on this cursed day.

And even if we tried, it was already too late. The man had lost far too much blood.

His end was drawing near.

Grant walked over and knelt beside the dying old man, his face a mix of pity and compassion.

"I'm sorry… but we cannot save you."

"Pllleease… m-make it… stop."

Grant nodded slowly, his eyes showing understanding.

"I see. I understand."

For a brief moment, his face hardened as though preparing himself for something, drawing resolve from deep within. Then, with a swift motion, he drove the sharpened end of a wooden branch straight into the man's eye socket. The old man twitched once before going limp.

Death came instantly. Yet in that fleeting moment, something flickered within his eye — relief? Gratitude? Or merely my imagination?

Whatever the case may be, I had just witnessed someone take another human life. But he didn't do it out of malice or some twisted desire. It was to put the dying man out of his misery.

Even so, murder was still murder.

Looking into Grant's eyes, I wondered if he felt any guilt. But there was nothing, his gaze was cold, empty, and unreadable.

One couldn't help but wonder what kind of story he had on Earth that prepared him so well for this moment.

"Gather your things. We'll be leaving soon."

With that, Grant left to search somewhere else. That was the only thing he could say. Perhaps that was the only thing that needed to be said.

Everyone else glanced at one another uneasily, unsure of what to say. They chose to carry on with their tasks, pretending nothing had happened.

I could not.

A murder had just occurred here. This was not something I could simply overlook. Soon, dark thoughts began to creep into my mind.

'If he could so easily take another person's life…'

Would he kill me if the situation ever arises?

Would the other survivors eventually turn on me?

And if that moment came, would I be able to kill them, or would they kill me first?

There was no way to know.