The Shadow of Death

Chapter 7: The Shadow of Death

As the vibration in the room fades and her face becomes clearer, the landlord is left with one chilling thought: The Shadow of Death. Her face doesn't become clearer, but her eyes those red pupils are the only thing that sharpens, glowing ominously. Her body continues to vibrate, an eerie hum filling the air as her voice cuts through the silence, each word making the landlord shiver. The only thing visible to him is her eyes, burning with that unnatural red light.

The landlord is frozen in shock. Am I dreaming? Or am I in front of a grim reaper with her tax collectors? he wonders, but before he can blink, the two beings behind her materialize instantly, their presence vibrating the very air. Weapons drawn from the shadows, two sharp swords hissing with deadly intent appear at his neck together, in perfect unison, they speak: “Kneel.”

The landlord's body seems to obey on its own, sinking to his knees, his head bowing involuntarily. Is this the fear of death? he thinks, unable to break free of the magnetic force pulling him down.

"Welcome, landlord," she says, her voice dripping with malicious amusement. The smile on her face is teasing, almost playful, but it only adds to his dread. The landlord can’t respond, his mouth dry with fear. The vibration of the beings' weapons seems to shake him to his very core.

"I can see what you did to this place," she continues, her smile turning darker. "The color suits you," she adds, her voice slicing through him like a blade. Her words sting him, mocking him. He can barely breathe, let alone respond. His body trembles under her gaze, the weight of the situation sinking in.

And then, her voice sharpens again, "I never knew the landlord was deaf and dumb."

A slice tears through the air with a flash of purple blood. His left foot is gone in an instant, the pain searing through him, but the only thing he can do is scream. "Fuuuuuuuuuuck my foot my fuckin foot!" he yells, his agony filling the room as he grabs the tip of the foot.

Her expression remains unfazed as she interrupts him, a mocking smile playing on her lips. "So, now you can talk."

The landlord, now almost pleading, screams again, "What the fuuuuuck do you want?"

The Shadow of Death raises a hand, silencing him with a simple, "Shhhhhhhhu," and the room falls into an eerie quiet. His screams die in his throat, his body slick with sweat as the blood continues to pour. His breath comes in ragged gasps, pain radiating through him as his body trembles, unable to escape the pressure she exudes.

The landlord, gasping for air and struggling to hold onto whatever bit of sanity remains as he tries to focus on the Shadow of Death as she continues to speak. Her face, now completely hidden in the flickering shadows, her red eyes the only constant, brings an undeniable sense of finality.

“You haven't answered my fuckin' question,” she says with a mischievous grin, leaning in closer to him. “But it was not a fuckin’ question, was it?” she mocks. “It’s a... compliment.” Her smile widens, too wide, too gleeful.

The landlord, his body trembling in pain, is unsure if he’s seeing things or if the stress is playing tricks on him. His mind races, trying to hold onto his grip on reality, but he knows he’s at the mercy of something far beyond him. His eyes flicker between the Shadow of Death and the two beings looming over his shoulders, their weapons still pointed, their presence suffocating.

“Tomato, tomato it's all fuckin' the same, right?” she continues in that maddening, mocking tone.

The landlord can barely think, let alone speak, but manages to croak out, “Thank you, ma’am…”

She smirks, brushing off invisible dust from her coat as she steps further into the room, her voice playful but laced with menace.

"Now… do you like how I designed your bar?" she asks. "Hope the display of the emp and small poof wasn’t too much."

The landlord’s eyes widen. For a split second, his pain fades as the realization hits him
She was the one who tore this place apart... not R.

He gulps, voice trembling like a dog caught in a thunderstorm.
"It—it was lovely, ma’am."

He forces a smile, eyes twitching, his face pale like a puppy kicked out into the rain. She leans back, clearly pleased.

"Good boy," she says with a satisfied smirk, like a queen rewarding a broken servant as she taunts as she straightens up, stepping back, and resuming her seat with the grace of a queen. The tension in the room sharpens, the air thick with the unsaid threat hanging between them.

She crosses her legs like a kingpin, her eyes narrowing on him. “Don’t make me waste my time, landlord. You already know who I am, so let’s go straight to the fuckin point. Where is she?” The words fall like ice, colder than any threat he’s ever received.

“Who the fuck are you talking about?” he snaps, his voice shaking, both with fear and defiance.

She smirks, reading him like a book. “Oh, you wanna play that game?”

Before he can even flinch, the air rips again. Another slash, this time aimed at his wrist, and with a sickening sound, it’s gone. The pain that shoots through his body makes him scream in agony as purple blood gushes, spattering across the floor in violent bursts. “Fuuucck I will tal…….” His screams fill the room, but she’s already speaking over him, indifferent to his suffering.

“You ain't the one in charge here, I will give you the permission to talk when I fuckin want to” she interrupts coolly, her voice cutting like a blade.

His body spasms as his other foot is hacked off, and the ground beneath him is stained with more of his blood. His breath comes in short, painful bursts. His body is a mess of bruises, blood, and shattered dignity, but he can’t help but scream again.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaahk!” he cries, his agony a symphony of desperation and pain.

Her eyes flash with amusement as she leans in again, her voice now like poison, “You’re a fuckin’ monster,” he mutters, unable to hold back any longer.

She laughs, the sound dark and twisted. “Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?” she sneers, her eyes glinting with malice. “You look like Shrek’s fuckin’ worst nightmare.”

His blood boils with anger, but before he can retort, she silences him with a single glance.

Then, the Shadow of Death’s expression hardens, and all traces of amusement vanish. The air grows heavier, the tension palpable. “Look at me,” she commands.

He raises his head, his eyes locking onto hers. Her gaze, deadly and unwavering, holds him in place, paralyzing him with sheer terror as he sees only death in those red pupils, the undeniable weight of it.

“I won’t ask you the fuckin’ question twice,” she growls, her voice now laced with fury.

"She’s on her way to the East Region." He replies in fear

The Shadow of Death narrows her eyes, confusion flickering across her face.

"Why the fuck would you take her there?" she growls. "Out of all places—you picked that fuckin' region?"

The landlord, barely holding himself together, coughs out, "I wanted to get your attention."

She leans forward, deadly calm.
"Well… now you’ve fuckin’ gotten it. Are you ready to meet the grim reaper?"

"Wait! Not yet!" the landlord screams, panic cracking his voice. "I can’t die, not now. If I die… she dies too."

At his words, her fingers twitch. She waves a hand slightly. The shadows freeze mid-strike, inches from his broken body.

Reclining back into her chair, voice cold and curious, she asks,
"What do you mean by that?"

"When she was brought in, I knew something like this might happen. So I planted a bomb in her system." His voice is ragged, desperate. "It’s tied to my fuckin heart rate. The moment it stops, her body goes boom."

She eyes him carefully.
"And you expect me to believe that?"

"You think the alien who captured a shadow wouldn’t plant insurance?" he snaps. "You know damn well I have to have an insurance package."

She raises an eyebrow.
"So what the fuck do you want?"

He shakes his head weakly.
"It’s not what… it’s who."

She laughs suddenly, rising to her feet.
"All this chaos… over a fuckin’ fugitive?"

The landlord grits his teeth, blood still dripping.
"He’s worth more than a fugitive."

Her eyes narrow again as she starts to put the puzzle together.

"Wait… is this about the cure?" she mutters. Then, a twisted grin spreads across her face. "So you believe the regional leaders’ bullshit? Just because of that big timer in the sky?"

The landlord shakes his head with assurance although there is fear in his eyes
"I wouldn’t have believed it either until I saw the weapon. That thing… it breathes."

Everything stops. Even the shadows behind the landlord go still, murmuring among themselves.

The Shadow of Death tilts her head.
"Interesting, so the cure your seniors’ fuckin wants is a living organism."

Then she steps closer.
"Where is he?"

The landlord groans, broken and weak.
"I don’t know."

"Why the fuck not?"

"I tried to hold him," he growls. "But look where that got me."

She glares at her shadows.
"So… he’s the one behind the tunnel massacre?"

The landlord, wheezing, lets out a bitter laugh.
"Fuck yeah. That bastard’s a monster among monsters."

She rolls her eyes.
"Tch. Enough with the monster talk. You don’t have the fuckin’ right to make a joke about that."

Then her voice drops, razor-sharp:
"What about her?"

The landlord, trembling, answers without hesitation:
"She’s… she’s close to the Mist Forest."

The Shadow of death eyes becomes darker, “The Mist... Forest, The fuckin home of the snakes mist”.

“She’s close, you might meet her before they pass through the for……...”

“uuuhhhhhhhhhhaahhhhhhhhhh” the Shadow of Death stands, her figure casting an ominous shadow as she adjusts her stance. Her body shifts, her energy suddenly more dangerous, and she snaps her fingers, ordering her beings to move.

"Enough of this. You are just so boring," she says, her voice now cold and final. “I’ll deal with you later.”

As she turns to leave, the landlord, lying in a pool of his own blood, gasps for air, too weak to move.

The Shadow of Death pauses, glancing over her shoulder at him. "But before I go..." Her fingers slice the air once more.

With a swift motion, the last of his remaining wrist is severed. The room rings with the sound of his blood spilling out, as his body finally succumbs to the pain. The world seems to blur around him as his consciousness fades.

“I will be back for my debt, Landlord, your right wrist must not be repaired nor re-fixed” she adds, her voice chilling. “The next time fuckin see me, I am coming back for your head.”

And just like that, with a final flick of her wrist, she vanishes. Her beings follow her, leaving behind only the heavy silence.

The landlord, now a broken, bleeding mess, screams in pure agony. The pain, the realization of what just transpired, is too much. His scream echoes through the empty space, but no one is there to hear it.