"Dammit…"
Grey hissed the word through clenched teeth as another drop of acid rain slipped through a crack in the ceiling and struck the floor with a vicious sizzle. The entire shack trembled from the storm, low thunder rolling in the distance, followed by a streak of pale pink lightning that split the clouds like a blade.
"What do I do?"
His mind raced, breath uneven, eyes sweeping the room for anything... anything that could keep him from being melted alive.
Then he saw it.
The steel basin he had used earlier to reinforce the door. Several droplets hit its surface and slid off harmlessly, leaving the metal completely unscathed.
Grey's eyes widened.
'What is that basin made of…? That's not ordinary steel.'
Carefully, he crept toward the doorway, weaving between the sizzling holes eating through the roof. His fingers brushed the basin's cold rim, then froze.
"Wait… if I pull this out, the whole barricade collapses."
It was true. The basin was the anchor holding everything else in place. Removing it would unseal the entire entrance, leaving him exposed to whatever prowled the storm outside.
But the roof was giving way. Holes multiplied. The acid dripped closer, hungry for flesh.
Grey swallowed hard.
He had to choose.
With a burst of desperation, he tore the basin free.
A violent gust of wind slammed into the shack, scattering ash and debris across the floor. Grey cursed, forcing what remained of the furniture back against the opening, praying it would hold for even a little while longer.
Then, crouching low, he dragged his coal stove and the dried snake meat close and ducked beneath the basin, curling into a tight ball. The steel shield hovered above him like an upside-down bowl, protecting him by the thinnest margin.
The sound that followed was torture.
Tsss... tssss... tssssss...
Acid rain hammered the basin in a relentless storm, each sizzling impact rattling his bones, echoing through the metal as if striking directly against his skull. Every minute stretched like an hour. Every hour felt like an eternity.
He didn't dare move.
Three hours later, the nightmare finally ended.
Grey's limbs trembled as he slowly shifted, blood painfully returning to numb muscles. Only when silence fully reclaimed the room did he lift the basin and peek out.
Nothing. No sizzling. No rain. Only the eerie quiet of a world waiting.
He looked up.
Through the large, irregular holes in the roof, a gloomy red-streaked sky stared down at him like a watchful predator.
Grey's breath hitched.
'Acid rain… in the corroded zone.'
The shack was ruined. The floor was riddled with charred, smoking pits. The barricade was all but dissolved, melted wood clung to the edges of the doorway like drooping wax. The smell of burnt timber and corrosion hung thick in the air.
His supposed shelter now looked like a corpse.
He shivered involuntarily.
His mind conjured the image of himself outside, flesh melting, bones turning soft, only to vanish under crimson rain.
Suppressing a full-body shudder, he quickly checked his belongings.
His pouch was safe. The small stove too was still workable. Even the dried snake meat was untouched.
But the basin…
Grey turned it over and frowned.
Dented. Warped. Nearly deformed beyond recognition. Another thirty minutes under the storm, and it would have collapsed entirely.
'If it almost melted… what about the forest outside?'
Heart pounding, he shoved through the ruined barricade and stepped out.
He expected devastation. Charred stumps. Dead soil. Trees rotting into sludge.
Instead, he froze.
The forest… looked almost normal.
The massive trees stood proud and ominous, their strange, metallic bark glistening as though freshly polished. Their leaves, dark, thick, unnatural, showed only a few pin-sized holes.
That was it.
Grey stared.
"…Of course," he muttered bitterly. "Trees that grow in a corroded zone wouldn't die to a little acid. Figures."
The storm had been a catastrophe for him. For the forest? It was barely an inconvenience.
Grey clicked his tongue in frustration. The danger here wasn't constant, but when it came, it was merciless.
His fear of this zone was deepened by another layer.
"So in the end," he sighed, shoulders sagging, "I was the only one in danger…"
He returned to the shack. One glance was enough. This wasn't a home anymore. It wasn't even a shelter.
It was a coffin waiting for its occupant.
He needed a new place to stay.
The thought should have crushed him. But a memory surfaced: deeper inside the corroded zone, he had seen other houses, strange, abandoned structures swallowed by mist.
Going deeper was suicide.
The corrosive substance grew thicker. The mutated beasts stronger. Even the air became hostile.
But staying here?
Grey looked around at the warped wooden skeleton of his "home."
But he had no choice at all.
**☺️😉**