Orange rays pierced the almost endless swirl of darkness in front. Close yet far, the sphere was like a magnet in the gloomy distance. It beckoned the breathless human who was trying to escape the countless wretched horrors that were closing in on him.

Though the fracture could not be considered radiant–––much less glaring as the young man believed–––the dancing blob of light outshined any shiny glossy moss patched on the rugged walls that barely illuminated the dark cavern this far down the rocky womb.

That sphere was a sign of hope that the maze was almost at an end. Therefore, it was of boundless appeal. However, based on Linlin’s warped interpretation of timeflow–––which was such a mishmash of hopes, logic, and imagination no sane individual would ever continue to believe in–––the sun shouldn’t rise for some time to come.

Not that it really mattered. The crucial factor was getting out. If that inviting spot in front was the beginning of a much larger cave illuminated by some kind of giant, luminous crystal or something else, it was of no importance.

Linlin silently expressed his hope for the best. This way, in the event that this was not possible for whatever reason, at least the next best thing should happen, no?

Anyhow, if no steep cliff or magical wall appeared suddenly, he would be content. Holes, too, weren’t exactly welcome. At the time, they were his greatest fears.

Everything was better than blindly stumbling through intrinsic, spikey corridors which only added to his misery. Linlin raced barefoot down the descending straight cave passage he was lost in.

The immense fatigue pressing down on his eyelids made one eye shut, and the other–––although wide open–––mostly unsuccessful in discerning obstacles as they arose randomly in front of his tired feet. Because his legs were left totally unprotected, it was a really bad situation Linlin was in.

Somewhere down the path, he’d fallen and left half his trousers and a lot of blood as tributes. They were things he wasted no time thinking about as he continued mechanically: Foot after foot, jolt after jolt, back bent, hands outstretched, as if anxious to grasp the ever-eluding light at the end.

Our protagonist was so dedicated to the escape that nothing else was meaningful or noteworthy that wasn’t directly related to the dancing spark.

Although it seemed as if said spark sneered at someone’s last struggle. Without rhyme or reason, the luminous spot swerved from crossing to crossing, always outside of reach.

Bang!

Linlin kissed spikey, damp rocks at full throttle. Stars tumbled down the ceiling as the desperate jog turned into a frantic crawl on all fours. From the corner of his eye, Linlin thought he saw yet another route leading farther away down a wet gully.

The alternative meant taking a few odd hops back and turning right. Ultimately, it was a gamble he was not ready to take because it could very well completely jeopardise the small head-start he had gained over his pursuers.

As to how these bugs still managed to find him despite consciously jumping into some not-so-steep holes, being doused in rancid liquid and changing directions often, time eventually allowed his numbed brain to come up with a plausible explanation.

Nothing to write home about, really. Only something that will do for the moment. It had to. Perhaps these creatures had the nose of a battle-hardened military dog, perhaps their blood was just that magical and frenzy-inducing, perhaps their power lay in some other mystical area...

The critters were too fast for Linlin to outrun. “Darn bad luck,” he cussed absentmindedly. With his mind on a rollercoaster and not much space between him and the thousand-mouthed reaper, Linlin showed no signs of coming up with a proper plan of action.

All that hassle for one fucking outcome. “Shit.” His ultimate goal was to drink water, eat, and sleep well. So battered was our poor protagonist that only a few remnants of proper thoughts remained in the otherwise blank periphery of his mind.

No revenge, no anger, no instinctive demand for a cigar... nothing. The inviting orange spot in the distance eventually took pity on the desperate, grew and crept closer.

Linlin continued to swagger left and right, up and down, as he slithered through a particularly nasty part of the cave system. With rancid smog making his eyes blurry and nose bleed, sludge and whatnot circling around his burning feet, and sharp thorns like those found only on man-eating, age-old trees mentioned in dark tales, prudent caution was ever important.

His treacherous journey slung him past countless crevices the size of ravenous mouths, sharp gravel devouring bits of flesh and mistreating already wounded skin.

It eventually became what felt like a waste pipe connecting various departments of the chemical industry. The drenched man hurried on, driven only by willpower, huffing and puffing as he arduously moved forward.

In an act of clear-headedness, Linlin jumped over a sleeping monstrosity that was only partially visible under these unnatural conditions. The oversized carnivore missed the arrival of a never-before-seen intruder who, by the time it roused its lethargic head in shock, was already far away.

But many pursuers weren’t as fortunate. First, the involuntary bath in dangerous waters led to the death of quite a few. Second, a happy and no longer confused yawning maw gobbled up its favourite food.

It took advantage of today’s bug outbreak, which seemed to have gone berserk. Lastly, the object of revenge had disappeared beyond their ridiculous range of detection as if whisked away.

In the meantime, our protagonist remained unaware of what was happening behind him, as well as what was taking place around him. Linlin discovered the true source of his bad vibes far too late.

He tried to stop, he tried to dodge, he tried to backtrack or at least jump aside, but he was unable to do so. Then he crashed into the glaringly orange spot of light.

The twirling something broke apart and he was engulfed in a glaring white light. After the disorienting flash, he suffered a painful landing on ancient wooden planks that eventually tripled the number of bruises on his battered body.

Not unlike a fiery solution scalding every part of Linlin’s body and robbing him of any other sensation except searing pain, the injuries messed up his nerves for good. At its height, Linlin was unable to cope with the influx of tormenting feedback and fell unconscious.

A tortured man gazed into a boring, unmapped expanse at some unknown point in time, in some unknown place, his abyssal black eyes vacant. However much he tried, there was a limit to the amount and degree of punishment he could tolerate.

There was no exception. Even the most unflinching, undaunting, stalwart man had his limits. Linlin had exceeded the limit. Even though he was never one to consider details thoroughly, he was by no means an idiot.

Linlin discovered that he’d suffered the most in the transition between can do and cannot do. What at one point seemed plausible became anything but the next. It happened too often for him to disregard. All because he was not whole.

He lacked a substantial part of himself, a petty shard that would not wake up no matter how many times he called. In a nutshell, Linchester Linde’s decisions were arbitrary and often contradictory and a sworn enemy of logic.

It was his modus operandi that was lacking, his insights flawed, and most reactions instinct-driven and rash. In any case, it couldn’t be held against him, because no amount of reason and extra care could make up for the bloody hole he couldn’t fill.

Although he wouldn’t be entirely free of eccentricities even as a whole, a certain element of randomness and brashness would be dealt with better. Mostly.

In the present case, it was not worth much discussion, nor was it food for thought–––and he knew it. Linlin was in such a state at that time that very few thoughts made even the slightest sense.

In any case, he didn’t think deeply about the matter. Instead, our exhausted protagonist collapsed, sprawled out on the ground without moving for the time being.

He did not give a second thought to the many problems of his body; none of them could keep up with the importance of a good night’s sleep. Despite the obvious fact that it wasn’t yet night...

Linlin had ideas swirling around in his head like balls around a juggler. He fell asleep. But after a while, he showed signs of life again. However, with the last regrettably unforgettable experience still fresh in his mind, Linlin refused to move a muscle unless it was absolutely necessary and inspected himself and his surroundings meticulously first.

As far as he could tell, nothing was different from what he remembered. To the point that time seemed to be stale here... In any case, a humongous grimace overtook his expressionless face.

This was because he was the proud owner of the most unspeakable collection of injuries he’d ever seen on a living person. They were of the kind that made you wonder why there was still breath left in the... corpse.

Aside from losing all semblance of body fat, he also lost a significant amount of muscle mass during his misadventure in the forest. Thus, apoptosis had been added to the long list of maladies plaguing his body.

If, at first glance, he seemed like an eczema-covered scarecrow suffering from atrophy, Linlin wouldn’t be surprised at all. Because the skin was so dry and rough, there was no flexibility left in it.

Due to that, Linlin knew that every extra movement might result in a new wound. In addition, there naturally were other matters he would have to worry about.

Linlin had almost no dirt-stained hair left on his bald head, and even the white stubble that survived a trip through space wasn’t there any more. “Haha. Hehehe.”

There was no getting away from the fact that he had ignored his limits far too often. He had exhausted his reserves to the point where mere sleep and a hearty meal wouldn’t help.

Suddenly, he remembered the many starving humans he had coldly walked past on Earth while he travelled through the outskirts of the desert. Just like them, that ghost he’d turned into lost the qualifications to digest proper food.

He simply lacked the energy and moisture to accomplish that. The irony is that if he ate even one bite of whatever might miraculously fall from the sky at that moment, it was like taking in deadly poison.

The body was no longer used to moisture, so water, too, had become toxic by this point. Linlin instinctively sensed an old friend approaching. Death. His neck muscles gave way suddenly and his head would’ve rolled off if not for the tiny shackle that was his throat.

As a result, it was extremely difficult to keep the eyes open and the nose free from obstruction. He wheezed and coughed without an end in sight.

Clearly, he was in very dire straits. And that, Linlin knew. But amidst all the misery, there was that spark. The fire, the desire! When his friend walked past him briskly, Linlin no longer perceived him.

The mysterious call reappeared once more. Since the day he was covered in smouldering ash, it resurfaced periodically from the trashcan that was the back of his mind. Linlin felt it would lead him somewhere predetermined if he just followed.

Still, he did not give in since he didn’t know what would happen. Nevertheless, the firm grip of rationality over his actions was brief and continued to detoriate irrevocably. Linlin’s head was eventually swept clean by the tsunami it created.

The calling had eroded his defences and overwhelmed every other form of thought. Linlin’s body was suddenly flooded with mysterious energy from who knows where while his mind screamed to march forward.

No, it wasn’t of his own volition. Linlin belatedly discovered that while he rested still, other things did not. Our protagonist was no longer himself; he felt so different, so... alienated.

His bloodshot, abyssal black eyes sprang open, habitually scanning the surroundings. Into view came what he’d seen countless times before: A lifeless world.

A jumble of light brown trees. No, wrong. Both below and above him, there was a collection of branchless trunks that seemed to extend straight out of the endless sea of yellowish gas with a brown tinge in it.

As far as he could see from the floating raft, the unmoving plateau stretched on forever. Other than those swaths and the trunks, there was nothing here, for all intents and purposes. Nothing.

No sound, no wind, no smell, no movement. It was as if time itself had shut down the forest. Compared to before, this mystifying impression intensified. At third glance, Linlin had to correct himself.

There was movement, but only below the planks. A piece of wood thinner than one finger he had unknowingly entrusted his life to kept floating forward at a turtle’s pace.

There was also a mysterious sphere suspended in the air beside him that hadn’t been there at the beginning. Water? Linlin’s nose suggested as much. “...what’s going on here,” muttered our protagonist, his voice chafing like two rocks grating against each other as he strained his neck muscles so he could see better.

Why here? Where was this here? Whereto embarked this strange raft? And most importantly of all: Why did that sphere of water appear right now? Since when? Is there an unknown guide keeping watch over him? A mastermind? ...or the mastermind? Linlin sighed hoarsely.

Given all that evidence, believing he was on the raft because tired feet dragged him here was even more insulting to his already marginal cognitive ability. Strangely, the once furious calling gradually waned.

Perhaps it had served its cryptic purpose and was no longer necessary? Its waning left behind a few issues that have to be dealt with. “What should we do now…” Linlin stared at his own reflection in the still water, his haggard face blank.

Upon closer inspection, there were countless tiny runes hovering around the edge of the sphere, probably something which kept it afloat and in place. Linlin frowned, his ruptured lips looking like dried mushrooms on a sunny day. He approached the water slowly.

Even a collection of such obscure runes couldn’t stop him from taking a sip. One sip! If something happens later as a result of his decision, then so be it. Linlin could only attribute it to bad luck.

There were two options for him: Either he took in moisture and would hopefully live to see the raft’s destination before his collapse, or he could choose the more straightforward, but far less desirable alternative.

A pair of lips met, one rough and shrivelled, the other gentle and watery. After one greedy sip, Linlin broke free from the sphere and gazed once more at his unrecognisable reflection in disgust and apprehension. That was close, he almost drank too much.

The runes on the edge of the sphere wiggled, giving him the impression that they were alive and provoking him to drink more. It irked him. Especially that haggard guy who gawked at him stupidly.

“Fuck,” Linlin grumbled gloomily, his turbid eyes filled with a whirl of madness. A messenger from the innermost part of his torn being that had broken free. “Lost. Lost. Quite lost we are.” He paused for a moment, his gaze uncharacteristically complicated.

Under a sudden burst of rage, Linlin slammed his palm into the creature’s abdomen, almost shredding his arm as blood tainted the water with a reddish hue.

However, there were no ripples on the calm surface. Instead, a teasing, hellish grimace stared back coldly at him, its lips showing a faint, disdainful sneer.

“Whaddaya scoff at? Weak, ignorant, idiotic, conceited, honourless, naïve, cornered rat!” Our maddened protagonist flung his arms around. The water splattered, the sphere broke–––or that was what he wanted to see.

His wishes remained just that, wishes. Despite Linlin’s loud grunts and destructive intentions, the ravage only depleted his stamina further and damaged his body even more. Additionally, he unnecessarily injected blood into the water. And yet, he didn’t stop the fool’s errand. “Watch me, pest.”

Linlin responded to the supercilious smirk on his reflection by lifting his right arm and holding it just as a soldier would hold the world’s most ferocious HMG. Then he crazily screamed “peng, peng, peng–––badda, badda–––peng,” while enough sweat poured down to form a puddle on the floor beneath him.

Yet again, he was in need of water. Another sweet kiss with his archenemy, making him only more furious. This cycle repeated itself over and over again. A game of outbursts, anger, and reconciliation caught in a time loop.

Linlin suddenly went silent, his bulging eyes rolling in their sockets. On the one hand, there was confusion, and on the other, there was fear, anger, and ridicule. It was a mix he wasn’t quite sure how to handle. And they fought. Again and again, unceasingly.

After everything was destroyed, apathetic composure returned, along with our protagonist’s angry cusses about how useless this all was. “Fucker, why ain’t you responding?”

Tired and devoid of the adrenaline that had kept him moving, Linlin sat down, admitting finally how little control he had over his situation. If all he got was countless bleeding contributions, it wasn’t worth it to devote any of that remaining bit of energy he had left to this laughable squabble.

On the contrary, he would be better off snoozing and ignoring whatever was beyond his meagre influence. At the very least, he could consider what to do with that arm that refused his orders. Linlin had no feeling in that arm.

Furthermore, he required a plan for what to do with the snake. The reptile distanced itself from him ever since they arrived here, never ceasing to shiver and forever moving away from him. The juvenile snake feared him as much as he wished to be rid of the burden.

As Linlin sorted through his memories in an effort to get his priorities straight, a gentle shake roused him. As he opened his eyes, he almost expected an enemy to bare its fangs at him, or at least a wretched creature to laugh its ass off. However, the space around him remained... empty?

“...” A deep sigh escaped our protagonist, as he felt worn out. What on earth was this place? His summoning, the calling... There was a disappearing exit that cut him off from his pursuers, a sphere of water when he was thirsty, and now some dimensional fiddle-faddle teleporting him atop the largest tree he’d ever seen–––an existence that might count as a complete world.

Linlin saw no beginning or end to the imposing treetop. Besides the rotting hut with its crooked, lichen-covered chimney and the rainbow-coloured smoke it happily puffed, there was nothing here. No sky, no sun nor moon, no clouds, no moving things nor any other vegetation.

Linlin stood in what felt like a world whose cycle and purpose had already ended, surrounded by a sacred patch of emptiness. Our protagonist pulled at his torso, only to be reminded that the t-shirt he had in mind had been lost over time to the thorn-covered vegetation during the first chase.

His sandals too followed the same fate after they became unbearable, and his latest run of bad luck cost him his trousers. Linlin almost ended up filleting the timid snake with some razor-sharp shards of unknown material.

Only now did he think about the cute reptile some more. As for pangs of guilt, Linlin wouldn’t think about that. Our protagonist just enjoyed being alone no longer. “What a strange feeling to have,” he muttered.

The only thing that survived contact with the ferocious world outside was an underskirt that looked like rags, and knickers that left nothing to imagination. There was no need to adjust his splendid attire.

“Whatever, screw bad manners and whatnot!” Linlin mentally prepared himself to meet that God-like existence who had been watching over him since day one. This was an entity that he now knew existed. Yet its purpose was still unclear.

If the worst came to worst, all he had to do was read the riot act to the bugger in all its compelling glory that he had had the time to compile. The list would have been even longer if he hadn’t been lacking in the memory department.

Linlin, armed with a pair of icy-cold, abyssal black eyes that seemed to curse the whole world, a snake in his left hand as a weapon in times of need, and a cool head, shakily hobbled towards the tiny hut.

By the time the distance shrank to arm’s length, the craggy door swung open on its own, revealing a magical swirl of grey and white he met head-on without batting an eyelid.

After all, this was not the first time he had come into contact with the mystical realm of unfathomable wonders. He had no reason to be afraid.

Bang!

Upon his disappearance, the door closed tight, as if its opening had only been a terrible dream, and eternal tranquillity enveloped the unknown realm.

End of Part V