BLOODY LOVE'S
Episodes 208

There is something strange about the sacred forest in South Bjork. Hubbert did hear that there were suspicious movements there, but was never really encouraged to go in investigating. Rumors about the Scholomance sect from Romania made him moved to investigate. He brought his camera because he wanted to photograph the ruins of the castle as well as the legendary Ashington chapel. He thought the building had collapsed. But he was wrong. The duke's castle stood gallantly against the sky. The shape is strange, with unsymmetrical towers and unbalanced proportions of buildings. But even more strange are the humans gathered there, who look like crazy people. There were corpses, there were blood splashes, there were cries and screams, there were also strange body pieces in the courtyard of the castle.

Hubbert heard Argent's name touted in shouting and quarrels, but he did not approach to find out more. He didn't even take pictures. Hubbert turned away.

Bjork Forest makes him feel uncomfortable. His heart was racing as if he had just witnessed entering the taboo region. He entered the forest during the day. It only took about an hour to return to the path that led to the mouth of the forest, but Hubbert turned the road because he felt watched. He intended to pretend to photograph a bird or something so as not to be suspected by anyone watching him, but the discomfort attached to his back actually strengthened, makes Hubbert think that it's not humans watching him, it's the whole Bjork forest.

It was already dark when he finally found his way back to the mouth of the forest, and what he saw was really strange. Some half-naked people attacked Jose Argent and Doctor Rolan Orlov, and the men disappeared after being thrown into the river. Hubbert also saw a purplish flame coming from the river, but he thought it was just a delusion.

He thought he was just tired, until he saw the sparkle once more.

The creek lit up from end to end, making night a day in an instant. And what makes the river radiate that purplish sheen is Jose Argent, who props his hands up the river while closing his eyes. At the tip of the man's finger was a hair that soon vanished in the flames of magenta along with the beginning of the shining of the river.

As if that was not strange enough, Hubbert saw people who had been suspected of homelessness or homelessness turned out to be corpses. Bodies with decomposing bodies sprung up, in the tens, and ploughed Jose and Rolan like rats into food scraps.

The foul aroma that he thought came from the Southern village or river waste was brought by the creatures.

Kunarpah. Hubbert recalled the myth, the story of a porters who died crushed by a train but still walked as usual until his body was rotted away.

But what made him more horrified at this moment was not the kunarpanya, but the two men in front of him. Neither Rolan nor Jose looked daunted. Using only mini daggers and bare hands, they slashed and stabbed, beat and kicked, pushing corpses into the river. Hubbert himself was still stunned amid the commotion.

One of the corpses ran towards him, but Hubbert could only glare in horror. He was still glaring when the corpse hit him down. His bag slammed into the ground, as did his head. For a moment all Hubbert could feel was dizziness. Then there was the cold. The hands that clawed at his face felt cold and hard like marble. The face that was staring at him could no longer be called a face, just flat bubbles with no form, strange snoring from the small crevices that resembled lips. Hubbert screamed, shoving the corpse in horror and rolling backwards. It screamed, screamed, and screamed long non-stop.

The body jumped back at him. Hubbert held his breath, only able to stare in horror as the face grew closer and closer. The sound grew louder in his ears and everything changed so slowly and darkly. All he could see was a swollen face that did not show his eyes, mouth, or nose. Then he saw black-studded boots appear from the side, kicking the blister's face to a crack with a terrible rustling sound. The body of the corpse rolled down.

Hubbert watched in horror. His eyes could not escape the corpse.

"Mrs. Decker, "a calm voice and two finger flicks managed to distract Hubbert. He looked forward, looking at Jose's face looking at him with concern. "Mrs. Decker," repeated the man, "strengthen your mentality. Remember what your name is. Your name is Hubbert Decker. What's yourname?"

"De-Decker," muttered Hubbert trembling. His stomach churned heartburn. His entire body was shaking violently. The voices again rang out clearly in his ears and everything was again visible in normal speed. He heard the sound of blades slashing at the flesh, heard the Rolan swearing and the sound of water splashing. "Hubbert Decker" he whispered, recalling where he was and what he had been doing all day. His body was shaken in a great tremor and he cried.

Jose nodded, looking more relieved. "Good," he said slowly. "Remember your name, don't forget it. Don't let anything make you forget your identity. You're going home. Just remember that."

"Jose!" rolan exclaimed while kicking a single corpse that was about to leap towards them. "I'm a little bothered here! Are you talking to him for a long time?"

"Waiting is one of the skills that a gentleman, Uncle, needs" said Jose.

"I don't want to be an honorable man then!" rolan retorted, pushing one corpse into the river.

Jose chuckled, then swung his dagger slicing the soft body of one of the approaching corpses. The contents of the corpse immediately spilled onto the grass. The smell of rottenness spread. Hubbert turned and took out his dinner. Throat hurts. Painful nose. He vomited incessantly, even when his throat finally hurt and nothing else could be spewed, his nausea remained.

Again the river flashed briefly like it was struck by lightning without a sound. Hubbert rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, seeing that the corpses surrounding them were still numerous. But both Rolan and Jose have been sweating, running out of energy.

"To the North!" Rolan pulled Hubbert's arm up to his feet and tapped him towards the border bridge. Breathing snorted. "Run there to the Argent manor! Ask Marco for help! Say you saw me here!"

Hubbert confusion. His brain was still not smoothly digesting what was going on, his body could not be moved as usual. He tried to drag a step, but failed and fell. Jose turned his head, running towards him to help, but the corpse he had just beaten could restore balance and jump in attack.

There was a loud chewing sound breaking the night.

The pain attacked quickly and hot, making Rolan unable to breathe. He could feel the corpse's teeth pressing against his skin, tearing at his neck. He felt his flesh being pulled away. There was a sting of pain and a feeling of hot melt soaking the skin, but then it was just that. When his head slammed into the ground, Rolan only thought of one word.

Yvones.

The corpse was still beating him, clawing him, tearing him apart. Rolan felt nothing. He struggled to catch one breath. His hand clasped the dagger stiffly, but it could not be moved. He doesn't even know if he has a hand or not. Then he saw Jose running over, shouting unprocessed sentences in his head. There were black exclaims and loudness passing by. The legs of many humans.

The body was missing.

He saw the faces of Gerald and Hans. Rolan guessed he was starting to hallucinate. He felt his body being lifted up and shifted to another place, marginalized to the bottom of the tree. There were more screaming and gunshots. Everything feels so far away but so close at the same time. Rolan had no idea how long it had gone by. He just stared at the night sky with increasingly blurry eyes. Her tears are hot.

"Uncle," called out a young voice she was so familiar with. Jose's Voice. Now that the young man's face had appeared, his hand was clasping another hand stained with blood. "Uncle, look at me! You'll survive, you'll heal! You believe me, right?"

It's too late, Jose. Rolan couldn't say that. He just looked at his nephew with a glare. Something hot and sticky was still wetting his shoulders, pooling more and more. A wound of this size could no longer be helped. Head hurts.

There are stories of people who saw glimpses of their lives before dying. Rolan wondered why he didn't get such flashbacks. What floated in his mind right now was precisely a story about a rabbi and his twelve disciples.

One of the rabbi's disciples tried to exorcise the demon from the possessed man, but failed and was instead pursued by the possessed man. After the rabbi cleared up the mess, his disciples came and asked why they could not cast out the demon. The rabbi replied, "Because you lack faith. I tell you, if you had faith as big as this mustard seed, you could tell this mountain to move, and move it."

Rolan closed his eyes, feeling amused because it was only now that he understood why he could not make the river light up like Jose did.

"Uncle?" Jose whispered again, his voice sounding clearer now. Unclouded. "Wake up, we'll be home soon."

Rolan opened his eyes wide and turned his head to the side. His forehead folded in a confused wrinkle. He felt his entire body warm up again from end to end. No sting of pain, no slumping body temperature. He pulls his hand out of Jose's grasp to touch his own neck. His fingers carefully felt the place where his flesh should have been torn apart. Subtly. He looked further and further, fumbled, opened his own coat wet and sticky with blood, and then got up to sit down. Wound's gone. Rolan glared, looking at Jose who was now growing pale and out of breath. "What are you doing?" whispered. He looked behind Jose, only to realize that help had come.

Somewhat far away from them, around the river, Gerald and Hans went on a rampage, beating up all the corpses that appeared. The other Argent workers brutally threw body after body into the river. Hubbert sat not far from them on the higher ground, muttering his own name.

Rolan put his face back on Jose, now completely horrified. His hands were still stuck to his neck, fumbling for wounds. "You healed me?"

Jose shakes. "Don't tell anyone" he said, laying down. Sweat dipped on his neck and face. "Don't say."

"How did you do it?" Rolan whispered, despite actually wanting to scream. He grabbed and touched Jose's wrist. It's weak. "Jose ... What are you doing? You all right? You injured?"

"No wound. I'll tell you at home." Jose is still breathing. It dunked its face into the cold wet grass and closed its eyes. "Wake me up when they've dumped all the bodies."

Rolan just shut up. His mind drifted back to the story of the rabbi casting out demons.

Because you lack faith, the rabbi's reprimand feels as clear as being whispered directly into his ear.

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