The once-clean basent of the supermarket was now coated in a snake’s shed skin. It reeked of burnt wires, and oppressive heat coated the atmosphere. Simon found Jör in the corner of the room, sound asleep.
Restoring electricity to this earth, with no doubt, was draining for her.
Simon was smart enough not to ask if she restored the power everywhere — after all, the place didn’t have a generator.
Even if it was just this city she had restored power to, it would still give him an advantage.
Additionally, even if Jör had no intention of being the dinsion’s ruler, the beasts would still be scared of her.
(Since she’s the one who restored the electricity, there should be a scent of her energy across almost everything. If I make her follow , I’ll no doubt be avoided by Hollow Beasts.) Simon clouded his mind with his thoughts before walking up to Jör.
He gently tapped the snake until it woke up, a small, almost irritated hiss coming out of it.
"Jör, co with . I’ll let you sleep in my pocket."
She didn’t respond, just nodding her head and allowing Simon to pick her up. Her size had shrunk significantly; Jör was now smaller than Simon’s pinky.
Either way, he tucked her in, making sure she was comfortable, before leaving the supermarket. As he expected, when he stepped out, there was a pack of wolves that imdiately ran away while whining.
(I should probably set sothing just in case it’s only her that they’re scared of. I might need Leo later.) Simon turned his head back to the building.
"On second thought, that would take too long. Her shed should be enough to keep them away."
With that, he walked off towards the east, hoping to find anything of value.
( One step.)
Of course, there were things along the way that he found occasionally, such as coins or rare books — but they held no value to him.
They weren’t useful for him to achieve his goal; in his eyes, information was more valuable than gold. This was because he knew that sooner or later, it would be of grave help.
(Five hundred steps.)
Given the size of this replica world, he needed to be the first to know about everything.
(Okay, so it’s been two days since this world was first spotted. The first day, I assu nothing happened. That must an Bedeviled will know about this location soon, and they’ll no doubt want to control it. This would basically be Heaven for them, a spot the bureau doesn’t control where they can trade any and everything. Just like the bureau, they’re also blind — controlling whatever made this is more important than so silly territory.)
After a while of searching, Simon ca up with almost nothing until he realized he was near the end of the city. He knew he was risking everything if he went further —
But he’d rather gamble with his life than co back empty-handed. The one thing he did find was a boar’s husk. This was valuable because of its properties to be turned into weapons.
(Two thousand steps.)
More importantly to Simon, however, it could be used to mark the locations he had already visited. He knew that if the bureau replaced this mission with soone else, they’d take note of everything.
This ant that if they traced the way the marks were made, it could be traced back to his daggers. Simon couldn’t take that possibility.
He hid his marks well, taking leftover scraps from Hollow Beasts and marking them with the boar’s husk. Simon had noticed that he was soon going to step into another town, but he had spent so much ti marking that it would nearly be dayti.
(I still have a good thirty minutes before I’ll be forced to go back.)
The area of the town didn’t look that spacious; it couldn’t be, considering it only had a few major stores. But sothing was off about this place.
It was strangely quiet, too quiet.
Hollow Beasts should be roaming every side of this world, so how could this be?
(Maybe it’s just my head, the Hollow Beasts could be just trying to secure that city for more power. But this isn’t out of the question.)
He grabbed a bear’s hide from the scraps he’d collected and placed it on a nearby bench before marking it. The walk forward was much calr than he expected.
There was no blood, no noise — just the quiet he so desperately enjoyed.
(Three thousand steps.)
The quiet slowly began to beco unsettling.
Even the day before, when he went to sleep, all he could hear was fighting.
Now, even his thoughts were echoing in his head.
Then he noticed it.
A mask hanging off a telephone pole.
The mask was a large, black eagle skull. However, its beak was cut off and replaced by wood.
Simon knew this mark well — it was the mark of Project Icarus.
Unlike other Bedeviled groups, Simon was interested in this one. To the bureau, they were a threat, but to Simon, they were like allies in a way.
Their missions were too precise to be otherwise. They had killed hundreds, maybe thousands of people, as said in the reports, but they had a pattern.
A pattern he no doubt was the first one to realize. Every person they had ever killed had in so way stolen freedom from sowhere else.
Corrupt governnt officers, abusers, and anyone who would dare to prey on others. They made sure that these predators could no longer be the ones with an escape.
Still, the bureau classified them as dangerous, even going as far as saying they had bombed a building and killed three thousand people.
This was true, however — that building was a maximum security prison. Everyone in there deserved it, even the guards. Most of them had helped with multiple escaped prisoners or turned a blind eye to those in need.
It painted a smile on Simon’s face as he saw this. If he wanted anyone other than him to be there, it would be them. But this was not the ti to be sitting, thinking about what they were doing here.
Project Icarus clearly had soone too powerful for Simon to handle for himself, so he had to approach them carefully. He knew where they were now, but they didn’t know him.
(I’ll leave a note.) Simon walked towards a random building and carved "Hello" into it.
"Three thousand and five hundred sixty steps, I should head back now." He said before turning the other way and walking towards the supermarket.
He had a lot to think about, mostly about how to contact these Bedeviled. This wasn’t because he simply desired to be one of them.
In fact, Simon cared not how similar their ideologies were; they were just useful to him. If he could join them, he would not be on their side — he only cared for his own side.
If he got in contact with Project Icarus, he could steal things from under their noses. More so with the fact that he was in the bureau himself. He could lead both sides astray and claim the reward they were chasing after for himself whenever need be.
"Hehe, I wonder what I will—"
"Please! Help !"
A voice cried out from an alley.
Simon at first tried to ignore it, trying to avoid the voice at all costs. He couldn’t let anyone see him, nor did he have ti to deal with them.
It irritated him; he shouldn’t have opened his mouth. If he had stayed quiet for a few more seconds, maybe they would’ve bled out by now.
Simon knew not to question if and maybes, though. It was just a sign of weakness, of him dropping his guard.
However, when he took a left, he found himself face-to-face with the crying voice.
The man in front of him was awfully pale, his ankle sprained, and crying profusely. His short brown hair was matted with blood from the rain.
"Sir! Sir! Please! Please help !"
"...Sigh." Simon tightened his gloves.
It was too late to act like he didn’t notice him, plus he was getting too close to the supermarket. Not only did that an that if this man was too loud, Leo could wake up, but Hollow Beasts would be more attracted to the area.
He tried to feel bad for the man, maybe even saddened, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He shouldn’t have entered whatever gateway he ca from.
He did it to himself by exploring this world this far. If he hadn’t seen Simon’s face, he could’ve lived, but now he had to die.
"You should have just died quietly, let the animals eat you. However, it is good that I don’t have to worry about blood getting on . I love this rain."
With that, Simon grabbed the man by his hair before he could respond and kneed him in the face. As he fell to the ground, Simon pushed his hair out of his face, an emotionless expression painting his face.
He began to stomp on the man’s face.
Over and over.
Over and over.
And over...
Krk!
His body finally gave out, and his brain popped out of his skull.
Simon looked at his shoe in disgust, now painted with the man’s guts.
"Disgusting."
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