Spectre of the Sinner - Chapter 2 part 1: Weirdly familiar scenery and my first night in another world
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- Chapter 2 part 1: Weirdly familiar scenery and my first night in another world
POV: An Nguyễn, morning, unknown place
“Diagnoses: system integrity at 98%. No major damage was detected in the exoskeleton and associated system. No major injury of note.”
An ever so slightly inorganic female voice resonated in my brain and slowly roused me up from the state of unconsciousness. The feeling of sluggishness clung to me like a wet blanket, and I had to forcibly increase the amount of cortisol in my bloodstream to shake it off. Still, it was a miracle to get away lightly from that explosion, as I was already prepared for the worst-case scenario. Even if it was faint, a sincere hope for my unit’s survival was sent into the winds. A brief consultation with the system’s clock indicated that I spent just short of half a day in a state of unconsciousness. I leaked a sigh of relief that I spent the whole time unmolested.
As I checked the surroundings after rousing myself awake, what could be called a virgin scenery captured my attention. Laid before my eyes was a pristine sandy coastline, dotted with the occasional occurrences of rugged cliffs and rocky outcrops. The light early-morning breeze gently tickled my senses, as if urging me to get rid of all the gears on me. A brief check on the environmental sensors confirmed that the air quality was safe for unassisted breathing, thus a decision to spoil me was made. As soon as the mask came off, the mixture of saltiness of the oceanic win, sun-soaked shrubs, and wildflowers invaded my nostrils, opening a floodgate of pleasant nostalgic memories.
As much as I wanted to bask in the euphoria of nostalgia, I forcibly cut off the happy time by slowly raising myself, freeing my six o’clock of dirt and sand in the process. Now that I’d think of it, there was something off-putting about this serene landscape, one that I found hard to put my fingers on. To confirm my growing suspicion, a small falcon-like drone, code-named [Burevestnik], was pulled out of my [Armory] and launched into the air.
The little drone soared and circled my position, looking not unlike a bird of prey in its natural habitat. At the same time that I connected to the drone’s live feed, I tried to search for any radio traffic. The utter silence of the traffic, or lack of any at all, combined with the lack of any visible traces of civilization for miles on end confirmed my hypothesis: that the damned [Sanchez’s Gate] worked, even after the disintegration of the supporting structure.
In a desperate dash to confirm that I could still somehow connect with the HQ, I entered the military’s network. To my complete shock, I actually could access the net with relative ease, as if I was right in the middle of the best-connected spot. Yet, another shock assaulted me when I tried to submit a short report as if someone had blocked me. Frustrated, various attempts to comment or interact with the network all ended in abject failure.
“What the fucking hell is wrong with this bullshit. If this was a story… I’d love to fucking whoop that fucking idiot of an author for pulling off this fucky wucky piece of shit. Fucking seriously.”
Figuring that continuing to rage over the issue would be useless, the boiling anger inside me gradually petered out. Then another idea came to me based on the result of the earlier shenanigans.
“Let’s see if the [Armory] works.”
Breathing in a deep breath, the black mist came forward from my left arm and gathered on a spot right in front of me. The mist cleared, leaving behind its wake my beloved rucksack.
“At least it’s working properly,” a sigh of relief escaped my mouth, “then again, the nature of this bad boy is still a black box.”
Just in time to get an alert for breakfast, I decided to snack on a few dried jerkies to regain some energy as I pondered over the matter. A quick inventory check revealed that I still had more than enough to last a week, and that was assuming I subsisted on a peacetime dietary plan.
“Still those bastards did a damn good job of stepping a step closer to realizing [Sanchez’s Gate] huh. Then what was missing over there? Even without our intervention, the whole damn thing would have blown up spectacularly anyway. Now I have that damn task of waiting huh…”
Letting those musings vanish into a particularly strong breeze, I decided to head to what the inbuilt compass told me was the magnetic North. Activating the optical camouflage at half of its output, my silhouette was blurred greatly. For now, I had to place a bet that there would be some signs of human settlements the further North I go as I trekked along the coastline.
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POV: An Nguyễn, 1114 UTC +09:00, unknown place
As I arrived at the outskirt of the settlement, a strange sense of familiarity washed over me. It was as if I had once visited this place in the distant past, and unfortunately, my memories about that were foggy. The town’s desolated and dreary atmosphere could not completely overwrite the former luster that the town once enjoyed in its heydays. A casual survey of the outer wall showed the effects of a collapsed civilization: for the most part, they looked seriously dilapidated, and some sections had already crumbled in piles of rubbles and covered in vegetation, all singing the common song of despair and sorrow. Rows of neatly packed buildings, occasionally interrupted by the sight of a destroyed building or two, now stood silently mourning for the exodus of its residents while draping a salty green coat. At the very least, those coats were not the same species as that damned garden inhabiting the ruins in the northernmost corner.
The Southern gate, or I should say, the sorry remains of it, told me that whatever happened there, it was the beginning of the end of the city’s fate. Piles of rubbles, skeletons, and arms were messily strewn around proving that it took considerable punishment before going down. Yet it seemed that the buildings in the immediate vicinity were largely intact, which earned silent praise from this operator. Then I noticed a metal name plaque buried amongst a pile of such rubbles, prompting me to carefully retrieve it. While the Latin-like characters were somewhat faded, I could still make out its content: [Porto Bocca]. Inadvertently raising my eyebrows, I briefly pondered about the name, only to come up empty. Once again, my memories were too hazy to fully recall, thus I had to put the matter on the back burner.
I carefully advanced along the main street with my [Kalashnikov] ready after I observed the surrounding through my drone. The howling wind crept through the desolate streets, searching for victims to play cruel pranks on their nerves. Broken windows and doors despairingly swiveled around their frame in a never-ending wailing of misery. A stagnant atmosphere filled the various branching streets and alleyways, forever in anguish as they longed for the missing human companion, which they may not even return to in the near future. The closer I got to the town’s center, the more evidence of the bloody ritual laid bare: from a few destroyed houses to a whole razed block, from a few littered skeletal remains of unlucky souls to heaps of bones of both humans and monsters alike, from a few minor nicks on the street to large crater pockmarking the whole section.
Soon I arrived at the central square, finding myself walking into the epicenter of the disaster that befell this town. At the place where the town’s supposed pride and joy was the unspeakable scene of mayhem and destruction, whose impact could still be felt even be felt after the years went by. To the North of the square stood a somewhat battered building, whose architecture evoked an Italic feeling. Its façade was lightly scarred in comparison to the town’s square, suggesting that the contents stored there would be largely intact. The same could also be said for another prominent structure in the Northeast direction, whose function was unknown; a sense of importance could be felt radiating from that structure. It would be a good idea to check both of them later on, as there could be some clues to the questions I currently had in my heart.
Suppressing the bleak memories that this landscape triggered, I decided to continue my march toward my original target, as I figured that the investigation of what looked like the settlement’s important structures could be left for later.





































