BLOODY LOVE'S
Episode 206's

The air was filled with the smell of rotten blood and human feces piercing the nose. The corpses groaned and whimpered, making Rolan wonder if they still felt pain. He used a dagger to cut through the muscles of the limbs and hands of the corpse. The sound of the dagger slashing at the flesh made him feel like he was in a slaughterhouse.

Rolan swore as the chipped body piece moved like a caterpillar chasing after him. And since it was dead, the corpses did not seem to feel tired in the slightest. Although without hands and feet, the torso-torso around him wriggled, crawling attacking at high speed.

Rolan kicked with anxiety and disgust—hal which he regretted because the back of his leg so hurt to hit the bone. His shoes did not provide good protection.

There was a hoarse moaning sound on the right. Rolan moved his hand in one sharp wedge. His dagger hit the belly of the corpse, rubbing flesh and skin until his entrails were broken down, falling out into the grass with a loud, disgusting roar.

Rolan retreated, the scent of human rotten innards making him nauseous. His scalp was like being visited by hundreds of insects. He kicked the corpse and its contents to the side while trying to stay not far from the river bank.

They're all missing people. Rolan recognizes some faces even though their facial skin is sagging or swollen by gas. Some bulging strange and unrecognizable. Not a few whose bodies have been torn, filled with foul-smelling bullae.

What the hell am I doing? Rolan was still slashing, throwing numerous bodies into the river in an automatic motion. He began to feel lost direction. The dead faces moving around him were so pressing, making him despair and questioning reality. Is he in a dream now? Would if he let himself die in a dream then he would wake up?

Chilly. One cold hand that was as stiff as an old twig clasped onto Rolan's ankle. It felt like it was being gripped by a tree root. Rolan lowered his head, seeing the two corpse figures already hugging his waist and twitching on his left leg. He heard the sound of the creatures choking, saw their rotten teeth chewing on his coat. Their rotten eyeballs melted from the cavities of the head.

Am I in hell? Rolan staggered, lost balance. His breath is hunting, stinging. The smell of rotten meat pierced his nose to make his eyes sore. Is this the pay for everyone I killed?

Someone exclaimed in the distance, calling out his name. Jose's Voice. Rolan blinked and opened his eyes wider, regaining consciousness. His grip on the dagger tightened again. He rediscovered his purpose, the reason why he should not give up. He had to bring his nephew home. At least Jose has to survive!

One still hot steamy corpse sobbed as Rolan stuck a dagger through his eyes. He grabbed a dead body that bit his coat, but the hair he pulled out with a tuft of scalp.

"Sorry," said Rolan automatically and then return the hair to the head of the corpse. A second later he realized his stupidity and redeemed by punching the corpse stubbornly until it rolled over. Breathing out. He nudged, kicked, slashed, threw some bodies, then felt drunk. The world is spinning strangely. Rolan felt like he was walking in a sea of jelly. His feet are heavy.

He turned to look for Jose, making sure his nephew was okay.

Jose was not far from him, also out of breath, was struggling to break free from one stubborn corpse that stuck to his back like a leech. Rolan turned to the right instinctively, elbowing one legless corpse that leaped towards him, then rushed off to help Jose. Some bodies that had been thrown into the river began to crawl up to the banks. Rolan took a large chunk of nearby rock and threw it at the heads of the corpses. River water splashed onto his face, as well as flakes of meat and fat. Rolan ignored that and continued his approach to Jose. He can't hear anything now. Everything felt distant and strange, the world slowed down. His ears are pulsing painfully. Pelipis. His lungs were burning. And even though it was so cold, his back was soaked in sweat.

Please don't let him get hurt.

Rolan pulled the corpse that was still trying to bite Jose's neck, then threw it into the river. The sound of water splashing sounded so far away, like it came from another realm. Rolan grabbed Jose's coat collar and examined it, also touching the young man's neck to check his pulse.

"I'm fine" said Jose, only to discover that his uncle was checking to see if he was hurt. "Not bitten. It's clawed, but it's okay. I'm fine."

Rolan heaved a sigh of relief, then spun sharply to the left to punch one corpse that leaped towards him. The two of them stood on their backs, gasping, exhausted.

"I will protect you" said Rolan with a hunting breath, pleased that all sounds and colors had returned to normal for him. "You light the river!"

"Light it?" Jose laughed tiredly. It is difficult to find fresh air in the thick aroma of rotten meat and human waste. Breathing is painful. He walked to the riverbank, propped his hands on the water, then prayed with the same shade the first time.

The river brimmed in a purplish color, making the night turn into day even if only for an instant.

Lightning is like scattering on the ground, thought Rolan. He could see everything clearly for a moment. And what made him shocked and in disbelief was the figure in the mouth of the forest, who stood silently watching with a horrified look.

Hubbert.

What the hell is he doing there? Rolan struck the jaw of a corpse loose, then pushed the creature into the river. Jose was still praying with his eyes closed, and again the river lit up like lightning, swallowing the dead body that sank there, making the night again so quiet.

Rolan was still brandishing his dagger around vigilantly. His eyes swept around meticulously. When he saw no more rotten figures eyeing, he fell to his knees. His whole body was trembling tiredly. His forehead he smashed into the surface of the ground covered with wet grass. The world swayed labilely in its head, but at least things were calmer. His heart was pounding in his chest. Breath hunting. Rolan closed his eyes.

There were no more corpses around the South, but far across the bridge, he could still hear the sounds of groans and moans of the undead.

Rolan rolled his body to his back on the grass, breathing out. His eyes opened, staring at the sprinkling of stars in the night sky. The moon is hiding behind the clouds.

"Can't you pray without the river?" Rolan looked up, putting away his hair that was limp on his forehead. "We can go North and then .. I don't know, maybe pile up dead bodies in the got and you pray there?"

"Maybe it can" said Jose, still not move from the river bank. His eyes stared at the calm black surface of the water. His breathing was back in order, white steamy. The young man looked as pale as the corpses they had just faced. "But I'm not sure my stamina is enough."

"Praying is draining energy?" Rolan punched the ground, forcing his body to roll up. "Can I replace you?"

"Try it. I don't know."

Rolan approached Jose with a limp step. He pulled out a beam of his hair and propped his hands up on the river. "Lookin?" tanyakanya. "What did you say? How do I call fire?"

Rolan tried to remember what he heard from Jose. "God forgive their sins."

The river remains as still and as dark as night.

"Hey, it didn't work!" rolan exclaimed, feeling embarrassed and ridiculous. Cheeks heating. "What should be your hair? Or should there be a body there?"

"Uncle doesn't believe it, anyway!" Jose laughs.

"Well, that hurt my heart a little. I went to church more diligently than you."

"Faith has nothing to do with it."

"You mean you have more faith than me?"

Jose laughed again, only to be mocked when he heard and felt the presence of others there. His hand swiftly gripped the dagger and moved slashing sharply backwards.

"Whoaaa Mr. Argent!" a young man's voice.

Jose stopped in time. His eyes widened looking at the face that was at the end of the dagger. The man was in his mid-twenties. The pet tartan hat he wore was pushed until it covered his ears. Red curls of hair came out from between the hats. Both of the men's hands were raised shoulder-to-shoulder in a surrender position.

"Who are you?" Jose's confused.

Rolan did not look at all. He crouched down by the river, washing his daggers. "Jose, meet Hubbert Decker. Author at daily red light. Hubbert, this is Jose Argent. New prophet."

"I'm a journalist with Daily Bjork!" hubbert's correction is upset.

"I'm not a prophet" Jose said grimly. "And I know who Mr. Deckers." His black eyes watched Hubbert's movements. "I mean, are you human or not? Which side is it on?"

"You alone?" reply Hubbert with full interest. He fixed the location of the big black bag he was carrying. There was a sound of glass bottles clashing as he did so. "I'm on the side of facts and truth!" he said with a proud tone. His eyes glared sharply. "So it's true that the Argent family did engage in grim things in Bjork!"

"It's not that we want to" Jose said, not lowering his dagger despite seeing the man as harmless. The black bag that Hubbert was carrying must have contained the chemical liquid for photographing. He saw camera equipment placed in the mouth of the forest. "What are you doing here?"

"Scholomance." Hubbert raised his head casually into the forest. "I investigated the urban legend of the Ashington Castle and instead got people hurt and scared, they buried the bodies of their comrades in the castle grounds. They also mentioned Marco Argent. You know anything about that?"

"Do they want my uncle dead?" Jose flicked his shoulders, immediately lowering his dagger once he realized the man might be moved by Lady Chantall. "Not new news. Every day there are people who expect that."

"Did you throw people in the river every day?"

"They're not people" Jose murmured. He looked at Hubbert with a frown. "How far did you see?"

"You kill innocent people and throw their bodies in the river." Hubbert smiled bitterly. "On a blind night."

"Innocent people?" Rolan almost shouted. He stood up, using his still-wet dagger to point. "You didn't see it from the beginning, did you? Don't you smell them? Your eyes are just a decoration?"

Hubbert took a step back. His face said what he thought, that he had picked the wrong sentence. The man hurriedly said, "By the way, I've already contacted my friend, if I don't return tomorrow morning, everyone will know that I disappeared while investigating Argent."

Jose was gaped in disbelief at the threat. "Are you crazy?" tanyakanya.

Rolan took off his gloves which were wet from the fat and blood of the corpse. When he looked at the bridge, he laughed. "Gentlemen," he said as he threw the glove into the river, "we should continue the interview next time, the second wave has come."

Jose turned his head across the bridge, groaning softly to see more undead walking towards them. The lights of the house are already on both in North and South Bjork. There were gunshots in the North, also the sound of the footsteps of many people and the sounds of human screams.

The city hall bells began to ring. Initially slowly, the longer the louder, chiming without pause as a sign of danger.

The moon emerged from behind the clouds, illuminating Bjork.

"What's that?" hubbert screeched when he saw more clearly the creatures that were approaching towards them.

"Innocent people" said Rolan and Jose in unison, unable to prevent themselves from being sarcastic.

***