Chapter 44: A Merciful Stranger

Ishiki’s eyes opened slowly, his consciousness returned in fragments.

The first thing he registered was the ceiling.

An old, wooden ceiling with a massive hole punched through its center that framed the moon like a portrait hung by a decorator with catastrophically poor taste.

The moon was full. Silver light spilled through the opening, painting everything in shades of mercury and shadow.

Beautiful in that haunting way that made you forget, temporarily, that you were probably going to die soon.

But something was wrong with the sky.

There were no stars.

Not a single one. Just empty blackness stretching infinitely in all directions, like someone had taken an eraser and removed everything except that one pale circle.

The night sky on earth was much more pretty, it was like a river of endless stars with the moon at the center of it all.

’Where did they go? Did the stars run away or something?’

The thought carried an edge of hysteria he didn’t particularly appreciate. But then again, after being chased by carnivorous trees and a silent Rhino-worm, astronomical anomalies felt almost mundane.

’Great. First trees try to eat me, now the stars ran away. What’s next—the moon starts singing?’

The thought made him remember the singing of the trees. ’No, I should just stop thinking nonsense.’

He lay there for a moment longer, taking inventory.

His body ached all over. But it was not like the agonizing pain from before, when his leg had been shattered and every nerve ending was screaming.

’Am I healed?’

That seemed impossible. Broken bones didn’t just fix themselves. Even with system enhancements, recovery took time. Days, at minimum.

“Oh shit. How long have I been out?”

Ishiki tried to sit up. He managed to push himself upright through sheer determination and—

A smell hit him like a punch and instantly agitated his stomach.

Foul didn’t begin to describe it. This was the kind of smell that suggested something had died, decomposed, been resurrected by necromancy, then died again from shame. That… was a long process.

“What kind of smell is this?”

Ishiki gagged, covering his nose with one hand. His eyes watered from the sheer olfactory assault.

“Well… I can take it. It’s nothing compared to being inside that monster’s belly.”

The memory of being swallowed by the headless Xenon back at the relief camp flashed through his mind.

“But who said I wanna smell something like this?”

He looked around, trying to identify the source.

The structure around him was… old. Not just old— It was ancient. Like it had been abandoned for centuries and left to rot in silence.

Wooden walls with gaps between boards. Floor that creaked when weight shifted. Everything covered in layers of dust thick enough to write novels in. The whole place had the atmosphere of a tomb that no one ever visited.

But there was no one else around. No sign of the figure who found him in the clearing.

’Don’t tell me I stink.’

The thought carried genuine horror. He’d been through hell—running, bleeding, fighting, sweating, getting covered in golden blood. Had he become so disgusting that whoever rescued him just… left him here to air out?

’That’s… actually reasonable, honestly.’

Ishiki blinked a few times, looking down at himself.

He was still naked but certainly wasn’t stinking.

But at least he was warm. A blanket covered him from waist down.

’Some nice person must have found me.’

The thought carried cautious optimism. Someone had dragged him to shelter, covered him and helped him to recover. That suggested benevolence, or at least pragmatic mercy.

’But where are there even people here, between this forest of man eating trees?’

The question made his paranoia flare. Who lived near carnivorous groves? What kind of person set up residence adjacent to timber that ate human flesh?

Then he figured out where the smell was coming from.

The blanket.

The blanket stank like something’s corpse had been wrapped in it for storage purposes.

“Oh, hell no!”

Ishiki threw the offensive fabric away from his body and shot up, instantly regretting it. As soon as he stood up, a very sharp pain assaulted his broken leg and he fell on his butt.

“Aghh! It’s still broken.”

Cold air immediately rushed over his naked skin. He shivered, goosebumps erupting across his arms and chest.

’Okay. Maybe the smell was worth being warm.’

But he had rules too. He would rather freeze to death, than smell like decomposed… whatever that was.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps from outside.

The door opened with a creak that sounded exactly like every horror story’s favorite sound effect.

A young man stepped inside, leather-clad armor catching moonlight in muted reflections. He looked… striking, in that way that made Ishiki immediately suspicious.

Silver eyes locked on Ishiki. Blonde hair fell forward, on a face that was sickly pale.

Both of them stared at each other for a stretched second.

’Holy… A white man.’

Ishiki raised his hands in universal gesture of surrender. “Please don’t shoot!”

The words burst from his mouth on their own.

The other guy blinked a few times, silver eyes widening with confusion.

Then the man shrugged and spoke “Have you gone mad? Why would I shoot? I don’t even have a gun.”

Ishiki’s hands remained raised. “So if you had a gun, would you shoot?”

The pale man’s expression shifted to something between bewilderment and concern—like he was reconsidering the wisdom of rescuing random naked people from clearings.

“Are you Chinese?”

Ishiki glared. “No. Do I look like I’m Chinese? I’m not.”

He stayed silent for a moment and then asked the pale man. “Are you American?”

The other guy sighed—a long, suffering exhalation that suggested this conversation was already exhausting him. He stepped fully inside, closing the old door with another protesting creak.

“No. I am not.”

He paused, silver eyes studying Ishiki with renewed curiosity. “Are you Japanese? Your English is good.”

Ishiki frowned. “What? I’m talking in Japanese. I should say that your Japanese is good.”

The two of them shared a look—mutual bewilderment stretching between them like bridge made from misunderstanding.

Then both sighed simultaneously.

The pale man spoke first, understanding the situation. “I guess it’s because we are Players.”

Oh.

Right. The system. The damned system apparently also provided automatic translation. How very considerate.

“And by the way…” The silver-eyed man’s lips twitched into something that might have been a smile. “Do Japanese people like being naked?”

Ishiki shivered—partly from cold, partly from the sudden awareness that he was having this entire conversation while completely exposed.

He scrambled sideways, positioning himself in the corner, drawing his knees up to hide his dangling sword.

“Yeah, we do. Uh…”

“Oh no! Not again, what am I speaking.”

“Wait—I mean no, we don’t!”

The pale man’s expression remained carefully neutral, but his eyes carried amusement. But he didn’t laugh, his eyes just became heavy. “You are a funny man. I’m Alex.”

Ishiki looks up and meets the man’s gaze. ’Do i have to do this naked?’

“I am Ishiki, and thanks for saving me. How many days has it been since then?”

Alex nodded and sat down on the wooden floor. He looked down with a somber expression and then spoke. Heavy with something that resembled grief wrapped in guilt.

“I don’t know how long has it been since I found you almost dying. But… please don’t thank me, I saved you for other reasons.”

His jaw worked for a moment, like he was physically forcing words past resistance.

“Almost seven days ago…”

His voice cracked slightly. He stopped, cleared his throat and started again.

“I was transported here in this village with another person.”

The words came faster now, tumbling out with the momentum of confession that had been held back too long.

“We tried to go into the woods but… but the trees came alive and attacked us.”

His breathing quickened slightly. Hands clenched tighter.

“I… I only have a healing skill and—”

He stopped altogether, the sentence dying incomplete. His hands moved to his face, covering it as his shoulders hunched forward.

When he spoke again, his voice was muffled by his palms but still audible, it was like he was… crying.

“The other guy, I don’t even know his name. But… but, he saved me.”

Alex’s breath hitched.

“Then, he was torn limb to limb by those trees and I… I just ran. I couldn’t even help him. Couldn’t do anything except watch him scream and then… then stop screaming.”

The room… suddenly became gloomy and pressed onto Ishiki from all sides. But what Alex said next transformed that gloominess and despair into a physical assaulting force.

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