Chapter6-Kill

"Hey, System! This isn't fair. I finished the quest, but now I have to do another one just to get the reward. And why do I have to kill someone for it?"

Suddenly, a glowing screen appeared in front of me, displaying text in bold letters:

(Host, the person you kill, his face and every feature will be implemented on you. In simple words, you will look exactly like him.)

"Wait! Are you serious?" I asked, my voice rising in disbelief.

Another screen popped up, confirming:

(Yes, Host!)

I stared at the screens, perplexed. 

I really want a better body than this, but...

The idea of killing someone to assume their identity made me feel uneasy. 

I didn't want to commit murder, especially not just to complete a quest. 

I thought about all those novels where the main character feels guilty after taking a life, and I knew I didn't want that on my conscience.

"Alright," I said to myself, taking a deep breath. "I don't want to blame myself like those characters who feel guilty. Unless the person I have to kill tries to hurt me or has evil intentions untill that no killing. Let's just be happy with this body for now."

Resolving to avoid unnecessary violence, I changed my focus to my surroundings.

The room was dark, so I stepped inside and shined my torch around. 

It was a room, not just more cave, which was a relief. 

It looked like a large parlor from a fancy house, but it was a total mess. 

Furniture was flipped over, curtains and paintings were torn from the walls.

Bookshelves were knocked over, with books scattered everywhere. 

An ornate chandelier had fallen from the ceiling, its shattered crystals spread across the polished floor.

As I searched through the mess with my torch, I found an overturned couch in the middle of the room. 

Underneath it, I discovered an unconscious man. 

When I moved the couch off him, I saw he was lying in the middle of an elaborate pentagram made of brass or copper set into the floor.

The guy looked like he was about 19 or 20. 

His intense hazel eyes had a mesmerizing depth that shimmered under the black liquid, matching his shiny black hair. 

His strong, chiseled face had a well-defined jawline and a perfectly proportioned nose.

I had never seen anyone this handsome before.

Oddly, he was wearing what looked like ritual clothes.

'Is this guy an angel?'

Seriously, if he was born in my world, he'd already be a famous actor.

If I compare my looks to his, his face is like heaven while mine is like hell.

Sometimes, I really feel like heaven doesn't treat everyone the same.

I set down the torch to examine the man. 

He had a strong pulse and regular breathing, but he was showing early signs of extensive bruising, and his body temperature felt way too high. 

As I was examining him, his eyes flickered open.

"Hey there," I said. "Looks like you took a fall. Need help getting up?"

I extended my hand and assisted the good-looking guy to stand. Despite having a build similar to mine, he was surprisingly heavy.

Once he was on his feet, the ritualist glanced around at the room in chaos, then at me, his expression puzzled.

Yeah, I called him ritualist because of what he was wearing.

"Who are you?" the ritualist asked. "And how did you end up here?"

"I'm Michael, and honestly, I have no clue. I went to sleep last night, and now I'm in some kind of alternate world."

The Ritualist squinted as he looked at me closely.

"There's something strange about you," the ritualist remarked. "Where's your watch?"

"That's a bit rude. What watch are you talking about?"

"You mentioned something about another world?" Instead of answering, the ritualist posed another question.

"It's just a hunch," I replied. "I woke up here, and everything seems different. Maybe it's some kind of wild time travel thing. Can you help me figure this out?"

The Ritualist's gaze moved to some kind  circle on the floor, then back at me.

"It was you," he said angrily. "You're the reason the summoning went wrong."

"Summoning? Are you talking about those summonings to other worlds? Do you have any idea how messed up my night's sleep got because of your summoning? You could have at least summoned me at a better time."

The Ritualist looked both confused and angry, but before he could reply, he turned pale and stumbled.

"Oops, my bad," I said, moving to help him.

"Get away from me!"

The Ritualist staggered in the direction of a heavy writing desk. 

It seemed to have escaped major displacement by being the heaviest piece of furniture in the room. 

He almost tripped, still weak from whatever happened prior to my arrival. 

He opened a drawer, took out a small bottle and drained the contents.

"I could use a stiff drink myself, if you're offering," I said.

"It is a recovery potion, fool," the Ritualist said, then winced with pain. "It seems the backlash will take more than a potion to fix."

He gave me a smile that Jason did not like.

"Since I can't recover my strength right now, I'll have to do things the old fashioned way. I've never tasted an out-worlder before."

"Shit," I said, shoulders slumping. "You are.... A cannibal."

As that guy grabbed a knife from the drawer, I scanned the room for an escape route. 

I spotted a pair of wooden double doors, likely leading outside, but he was too close. 

Recalling how the ritualist struggled to reach the table, I took a chance and tried to dash past him. 

I succeeded, but when I tried to open the doors, they were locked. 

"Fuck!"

Turning back toward the cave entrance, I saw the ritualist charging at me.

I lunged for the arm holding the knife. 

We wrestled, stumbling over overturned furniture and crashing to the floor. 

The torch was knocked aside, leaving us grappling in the darkness. 

Each fought for control of the weapon. Despite his size and apparent weakness from being knocked out, the wizard proved stronger than me. 

Drawing inspiration from the aggressive creatures I had encountered, I bit into his hand.

The handsome guy yelped in surprise more than pain, but it gave me a chance to seize the advantage. 

I yanked the knife from his tight grip, still scrambling on the floor. 

I shoved the knife out blindly, and suddenly his body went limp. 

The knife was sticking out of the his throat, but he was still alive, looking at me with disbelieving eyes. 

I snatched the knife back, and blood sprayed over me, getting into my eyes and mouth. 

Recoiling, I spat out blood as I rubbed at my eyes. By the time my panicked flailing came to a halt, the ritualist's body was still.

(Ding, congratulations host! Human Core (Rare) has been added to your inventory!)

(Ding, congratulations host! Healing portion (Iron) has been added to your inventory!)

(Ding, congratulations host! 1000 Human Essences of the killed victim has been added to your Character Interface!)

(Ding, congratulations host! You've been given the body of the person you killed!)

(Do you want to switch to your new body?)

I ignored the system messages for now and tried to get up using my bloody hands, but stumbled over debris and fell back down.

My breath came in ragged starts as I just lay where I fell. 

Eventually, I sat up, looking over at where the body had fallen directly into the light beam from the lamp. 

I pulled my legs up and hugged my knees, rocking slightly as I stared at the body.

I...

Killed him...

I had no sense of how long I stayed like that, but eventually I pushed myself unsteadily to my feet. 

I walked over to the bloody knife and picked it up.

I stared at the bloody knife in my equally bloody hand. 

After a few moments, there was an unusual tingling, slowly rising to become pain. 

I tightened my grip until the pain became too much and the knife clattered to the floor.

I finally turned to face the body. Its eyes were wide open, frozen in a final expression of surprise.

The room was silent, and I couldn't look away from the corpse.

I tried to slow down my racing heart. After a few minutes of effort, I finally succeeded.

I sighed and reflected on my earlier resolve not to let guilt consume me if I had to kill. I realized that it's easier said than done.

But let's put it behind me. Blaming myself won't change anything.

After all, it was his fault, not mine.

"It was your fault, buddy," I accused it, my voice unconvincing even to myself.

My mind was filled with white noise as I stood over the body. 

When a new sound broke through, I couldn't tell if it had been seconds, minutes, or hours. 

The sound came from above, a metal ventilation pipe in the ceiling. 

It had a hollow, echoing quality, and it took me a moment to recognize it as a hissing noise. It was coming from the hole.

And, a snake about as big as an Anaconda emerged from it.