บท 3: Another Creature
Elion's breath caught in his throat as the creature's gaze locked onto his. Though its eyeless face shouldn't have been able to see him, Elion felt as though it pierced straight through him, sending a shiver racing down his spine. Every hair on his body rose.
Run.
His instincts took over, and Elion bolted. His thin legs pounded against the broken pavement as he sprinted through the ruins of the city.
"ǬǮǶǙǚɁѬ…"
The sounds that erupted from the creature behind him were unlike anything he had ever heard. They were an unnatural symphony—screeches like rusted hinges opening, blended with guttural howls and faint echoes of human screams. The noise clawed at his ears, growing louder with every passing second.
"Hah… hah…" His breaths were ragged as he darted past jagged chunks of debris, his chest tightening from the exertion. He didn't dare look back.
He couldn't afford to.
The guttural sounds grew louder still, filling the air as if the monsters were surrounding him. Elion's pulse roared in his ears, his body slick with sweat. His thoughts were chaotic. If they catch me…
But he didn't want to finish that thought.
"Focus, Elion," he muttered to himself, gritting his teeth. He scanned his surroundings, searching for anything—anywhere—that could shield him. Then he remembered: a drainpipe. He'd seen it earlier when walking toward the city center. If he could just make it there…
Elion pushed himself harder, his legs burning as he sprinted toward the ditch. But just as he rounded a corner, a shadow loomed in his path.
One of the creatures appeared directly in front of him.
Elion stumbled to a stop, his momentum sending him tumbling to the ground. Dust rose around him as his palms scraped against the rough surface, leaving shallow cuts stinging his skin. He looked up, his wide eyes locking onto the figure before him.
The creature had a body like a warped, oversized doll, its face a horrifying caricature of a clown. The painted grin on its face twisted unnaturally, its bright red lips stretching far too wide. In its hands, a knife gleamed—a jagged blade that seemed to shimmer with malice.
"ǬǮǶǙǚɁѬ…"
It spoke again in that terrible, alien voice, each syllable rattling Elion's bones.
Elion's body froze, his mind screaming at him to move, but terror had rooted him in place.
This was worse than any of the bullying or abuse he'd endured before. He'd been humiliated, mocked, and struck down countless times—but this was the first time someone—or something—wanted him dead.
"ҖѦы₧ↈ…"
The creature raised its knife, the jagged blade gleaming in the dim light. Its arm swung downward with terrifying speed, aiming for Elion's head.
At the last second, Elion snapped out of his paralysis, rolling awkwardly to the side. The creature's knife scraped against his right arm, slicing into his flesh.
"Arghhh!" Elion screamed, clutching his arm as blood streamed down his wrist. Pain surged through him, sharp and unforgiving, but fear drove him forward. He scrambled to his feet, his legs wobbling as the creature loomed closer.
Am I going to die here?
The thought hit him like a cold wave, but he shook his head violently, gritting his teeth. No. I can't die here. Not after everything. Not after I finally escaped those people.
The clown-like creature lunged at him again, but this time Elion ducked low, spinning on his heel and sprinting in the opposite direction. His legs screamed in protest, but he forced them to move.
Behind him, the alien screeches grew louder.
He kept running until he spotted a narrow alley filled with rubble. Without hesitation, he dove into the cracks between the debris, his body writhing through the tight space. The sharp edges of broken stones and jagged metal scraped against his arms and legs as he dug deeper into the rubble, the noise of the creatures growing faint in the distance.
The darkness inside the rubble was suffocating, but Elion let out a shaky breath as he realized the sound of pursuit had faded completely.
Had he finally escaped?
His body trembled, his bloodied arm throbbing. He curled into himself, trying to calm the storm inside his chest. Each breath felt shallow, barely filling his lungs.
In the darkness, a soft glow suddenly appeared, illuminating the tight space around him.
Ding!
[You successfully evaded Dred's pursuit.]
Elion blinked, staring at the system message as its cold, detached text hovered before him.
[Explanation: Dred is a creature created from the manifestation of negative emotions and nightmares of humanity.]
"Negative emotions?" Elion muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing. His questions were cut short as another message appeared:
[You have successfully run 4 km.] [+2 Stamina.]
He scowled as the messages filled his limited view. The light from the floating screens felt invasive in the confined darkness, but curiosity kept him from dismissing them. Tentatively, he pressed one of the glowing icons.
A much larger screen appeared, causing Elion to flinch.
[Status Window]
Name: Elion Viro
Age: 14 years
HP: 72/100
IP: 95/100
Strength: 2
Intelligence: 50
Stamina: 3 (↑2)
Agility: 5
Skills: [Creation Lv. 1]
Elion's eyes widened.
"This… this is like a game," he whispered, his voice trembling. But the trembling wasn't from excitement—it was from the weight of everything around him. This wasn't some escape into fantasy. This was life and death.
"System," he whispered, swallowing hard, "what is IP?"
[IP is Imagination Point. It is used to turn imagination into reality. IP decreases based on the system's assessment of the object created. Once IP reaches 0, the [Creation] skill cannot be used.]
Elion clenched his jaw. "So there are limits," he muttered, staring at the 95 beside his IP. Creating bread cost 5 points, so I can't waste it. Not here.
"What about Dred?" he asked next. "Can they be killed? If they're manifestations of negative emotions and nightmares, does that mean physical attacks won't work?"
For a moment, there was silence. Then the system responded in its flat, emotionless tone:
[As long as you possess negative emotions or fears, no physical attack will work on Dred.]
"What?" Elion's voice rose slightly, his chest tightening. The words replayed in his mind, each one driving a spike of frustration deeper into him.
How was that fair? How could someone like him—a boy burdened with years of pain and resentment—not have negative emotions or fears?
His lips twisted into a bitter smile. Even now, I hate the people who hurt me. I hate them so much I wished the world would end.
Elion's trembling hands gripped the rubble around him as he closed his eyes. "Fine," he muttered. "If I can't kill them the normal way, I'll just have to create something that can."
Focusing through the pain, Elion imagined a simple weapon—a knife, like the one his attacker had used. He visualized every detail: the smooth handle, the sharp edge, the glint of metal.
For a brief moment, the familiar glow of the system lit up the darkness.
Ding!
But before the congratulatory message appeared, another sound reached his ears.
A scraping noise.
Ding!
[Warning! A Dred is coming your way!]
Elion's blood turned to ice. He froze, his breath caught in his throat, as he heard the faint creak of something crawling through the debris behind him.
"…Damn…"
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