“Reynold! Come on now. Don’t leave me alone.” A strange, muffled voice seem to echo through me brain. It’s not mine; it’s too high-pitched. It can’t be the ink; it’s more of a deep growl than a silvery lullaby. Maybe I’m back in the real world?

I did not get one moment of peace before the torture rained down on my poor soul again. However, this time, there’s no punctures or burning, but instead a periodic constriction of my ribs. Even then, constriction is too strong of a word, in this context. It feels more like someone pushing into my ribs at regular intervals. Maybe the ink is settling for a minimalistic approach? Less is more? After this, I reckon my ribs will probably get crushed by a sudden force.

I was far from close. My lips, which were slightly numb, touched a pair of tiny, soft pillows, like miniature sausages with no grease but an unusual hint of strawberry. It felt rather comfortable up until hot air was shoved down my throat and into my lungs. I braced for the pain of a melted respiratory system, but just like the torture on the ribs, nothing seems to follow after. I would say, however, that the hot air does not taste very pleasant…

A hard slap on the cheek was the final nail in the coffin, except, the nail is being removed instead of hammered in. My eyes fly open and I see Coralia staring straight back at me, reality slowly dawning upon me. Confusion fills my head, quickly consumed by fear. Fear of what exactly? I have absolutely no idea. All I know is that my instinct tells me to be scared, therefore I’m scared.

“Reynold! You’re finally awake,” sighed Coralia, relief revitalizing her features, making them shine through the dirt she’s collected in the time she’s spent in the Forest. “Argh! You know how worried I was?! I thought you died!” Well that was a real quick turn of emotion.

Similar to how reality revealed itself, the wounds and injuries I have amassed throughout this escapade screams at me in pain, making its hateful presence known. Looking back, I know I shouldn’t complain as much, since what I’m experiencing is far less paralyzing than what I faced in the ink’s illusion. Yet, injuries still hurt and sometimes, especially at this time, they hurt a lot. I let out a strained groan as I grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut, squirming around and breathing heavily in agonizing pain.

“Oh… I’m sorry, I guess the antiseptic still stings, huh?” I can’t see Coralia, but I can still hear the emotion behind her caring and worried voice. Sometimes, it’s so genuine to the point I doubt my own instincts, the one thing I’ve always trusted. However, right now, I allow myself to let down my guard.

She’s taking care of me, and who knows? I might’ve been perpetually stuck in that dream of mine if it isn’t for her. That slap was one hell of a hit. In fact, the burn from the slap is arguably as painful as some of my more minor wounds. That’s saying something considering my minor wounds are injuries like deep cuts and heavy swelling.

Eventually, I manage to stomach enough of the throbbing to relax. I exhale slowly and sit up, the ache’s all over my body making every motion laborious. Once I do finish the action, I hear Coralia takes a step back and sit across me, twigs and dry leaves cracking as she steps on them. I slowly pull back my eyelids and unveil what’s before me.

After closer inspection, Coralia doesn’t seem to be doing any better than me. Her hair is coated with blood and filled with twigs and leaves. I can even see a few strands much shorter than the rest, reminding me of how easy it is to get impaled or even have whole limbs sliced off out here in the Forest.

Her clothes are equally worn down, torn and tattered, some deep enough to cut into her skin. An odd rush fills me as I look at her exposed skin, filling me with an unusual ‘pleasure’ (the best word I can use with my lack of expertise in emotion). Now that I think about it, everything about her seems to be giving off a similar aura.

“Where are we?” The moment the words were uttered, acid forces itself up my throat, my voice merely a croak. I clutch my stomach and lean over. Before I knew it, whatever little content was residing inside me was lying on the ground in front of me. Besides from rations I ate weeks ago, – or maybe it could be months… who knew how long I was knocked out for? – I see my puke tainted with blood and ink.

“Reynold! Are you okay? Come on… don’t die on me… You survived days under my care. Don’t tell me you can’t survive five minutes on your own!”

I was too focused on whatever just left me to be affected or even register Coralia looking down on my sheer lack of ability to survive. My eyes remain glued to the ground, wide in disbelief as I stare straight at the blood and the ink.

The ink remains stagnant for only a second before striking towards the droplets of blood, almost like needles being propelled out the small drop of ink and linking itself to the blood. The ink slowly diffused with the blood, the lush, scarlet red fading into an empty, soulless black. I can hear an almost inaudibly soft sizzling sound as the ink, now expanded into more of a web than a single drop, as it sinks into the ground, seemingly corroding through the puke and ground before it simply infuses itself into the mud below. Yet, to say infuse would be to ignore how easily it was absorbed by the earth. It was reminiscent of a drop of water returning to the ocean, a pulse of what can only be described as dark energy ripple through the air.

Coralia forcefully jerks my head up, once again displaying her face, fraught with worry and concern. A relaxing atmosphere settles between us, her care matched with my distrust, like two mismatched puzzle pieces, somehow able to connect with one another. Looking at how disheveled she is, it’s hard to assume that there is any mask on Coralia, disguising ill intentions or elaborate plans to kill me. She seems so innocent… too innocent.

“Who are you?”

“I’m… Coralia? Reynold, I think you might need a little more rest”

“Fine, don’t answer that, but answer me this. Who is he?”

“Reynold… I’m really not too sure who you’re-”

“The cyborg… you recognized him”

At this point, I think it’s safe to say those are the last words I’ll be saying in a while. My voice is thick with a heavy rasp, the words like coarse sandpaper scraping at my already dry and sore throat. I look at her with every ounce of courage and intimidation I can muster, determined to get answer from her.

“We’ve fought many cyborgs, Reynold…” As expected, Coralia never delivers what I need from her. No matter how many times I try, every question gets dodged or denied. Simple solutions against someone seeking to expose secrets. It’s a game I’ve been playing with Coralia for far too long, and to be honest I’ve grown very tired of it.

Coralia sighs and reaches for a bag, pulling out a water bottle. She once again holds onto my head and slowly opens my mouth, tilting the bottle to let the water flow into my dehydrated body. Although I’m fully capable of doing this myself and I hate how I’m being treated as though I’m helplessly weak, I let myself get spoiled a bit, saving my energy for a battle that’s more worth to fight in. My guard is once again lowered, this girl going to no ends in trying to let her charm bedazzle me into submission.

“Feeling better? If you are, come on. We don’t have much time left.” With that, she caps the bottle, tucks it into her bag and stands up, clearly ready to leave. Now, I’m all hydrated, it seems being nursed to health by who I once saw, and still see, as an attention-seeking senior has its perks. This time, to prevent another embarrassing vomiting scene, I clear my throat and test my voice before speaking up.

“I have three questions. Where are we? Where are we goin-”

“We really have no time.” Before I even ask the basic questions, I find myself getting dragged by Coralia. She may be broken down by this chaotic environment, but one fact stays the same, I’m still much weaker than her.

“Fine, to answer your questions. I’ve just ran in a straight line from the theme park, ensuring I know how to get back if we ever need to. Now…” She stops abruptly, taking a very deep breath. Despite how she looks on the outside, it looks like the Forest has injured her far more than I could ever expect. “Now, we’re just continuing further out. We can’t afford to let the cyborgs catch us.”

She’s clearly tired, possibly from walking hours on end with me being either on her back or on her arms. Not only that, but she seems to have been doing this for relatively long. It really makes me wonder how much she has spent for my sake and well-being. Putting so little trust in her feels like I’m under-appreciating her efforts, not really giving her the credit that she deserves.

In a tired attempt to curb this problem, I hold my tongue, satisfied with the fact that she answered my questions.

However, the world always finds a way to make my life harder. As though there isn’t enough problems, I see the ink emerging out my shoulder, coiling itself around my arm and slowly making its way to Coralia’s, resembling a black snake slithering to its prey. I immediately realize what I desperately need. With no knowledge of where my gauntlet could possibly be, I thrust my other hand outwards to where I was, hoping for the shards to be able to heed my command.

It’s worthless.

The ink snake inches closer. Not wanting to give up, I look towards Coralia, hoping that she has enough sense in her to store my one weapon. I extend my hand towards her bag, and as life would have it, it’s in there. I can feel it, similar to how one can feel the repulsion between two magnets.

I calm myself and maneuver the shards through the bag, trying my best to be quick, yet to be careful not to tear any holes in the bag.

The ink snake can almost lick her fingers.

I release a desperate groan and forcefully pull one shard out, tearing a small slit in the bag and ramming itself into my skin. The ink retreats. I wish I could relax, knowing I saved Coralia from death, but instead, the ink reveals to have much closer ties with my body than I could expect. I start to relive the torment I had to went through when I was the ink, though instead of being covered in spears from hell, all the pain is focused in one spot. The pain was too intense for me to even scream, only tears managing to escape me. I hurriedly and carelessly yanked the shard out, tearing more of my skin, but I don’t care.

The pain stops and I finally manage to calm down. I let the shard orbit my arm, keeping the ink in check. The rest of the ride, where the ride refers to being forcefully dragged by Coralia, I take my time to carefully remove the rest of the shards.