Alwyn had been crawling in the dirt for five hours, his knees bleeding from the severe bruises, and the hands were not any better. His body was starting to feel the fatigue of walking on four legs. It was exhausting in the long run.
So he decided to stop for a while, to catch the breath and check his injuries.
He sat up and, while painting profusely, used his clothes to clean the dirt off the wounds. The process did not take too long, and so he scanned his surroundings.
Looking back, he could not see the crumbling wall of dirt anymore nor anything else, but he now spotted in front of him two big black silhouettes not too far away, and four smaller dots further up.
If he had to make a rough estimate, the former were probably two kilometers away from him, while the latter were double that distance.
The peculiar aspect was that they were both exactly on the carriages' tracks.
'Let's go check those out.'
And so he set off, without taking his well-deserved break.
***
"What the fuck happened here?"
Alwyn found himself before a gory scene. Two lizards had been killed, and their souls reaped, since the corpses were not moving.
One of them was missing its head, which was laying not too far from there, cleanly cut with high precision, while the other one had been pierced an infinite amount of times with what was probably a lance.
Those were the weapons of two of the Reapers. They had been there.
'D-Don't tell me-'
The four figures in the distance could very well turn out to be the Reapers who had been running by foot.
"No. No, no nonono- I had to be the one to do it! Son of a bitch!"
Alwyn's desperate cry echoed through the plain.
The goal he had just set himself, had been abruptly taken away from him by someone else.
Devastated, he got on his bleeding feet and started running towards the corpses, praying to be wrong.
The conditions of the wounds worsened quickly, to the point that flesh started tearing on the hardened soil, under the weight of his body.
But when he arrived at the scene, frantically gasping for air, he simply stared at the four corpses, confusion discernible in his wide eyes.
The bodies were not wearing the typical black attire of the Reapers, nor their distinctive masks and armors, but only dirty thorn clothes, just like his. And they too were covered in wounds.
They were his fellow porters.
A mad grin appeared on his face, and a faint wicked chuckle came out of his mouth.
The weak laugh then increased in intensity, and devolved into a hysteric scream. He stood like that for minutes, like a madman.
He had completely lost it.
The adrenaline made the pain of his wounds temporarily disappear, but his ankles were now a mess.
This was not his collected self, the impassive, coldhearted regressor. Those were Lynn's deep emotions.
The twisted desire for revenge that he had matured on death's door, had now been passed on to the new owner of the body.
Their memories had been fused together, but the body remained Lynn's. Sure, minds remember, but bodies did as well, sometimes even more.
Growl.
And all of a sudden, a guttural sound pulled him out of that trance.
'Huh?'
A dark figure had been hiding behind one of the corpses.
He had been careless.
Smelling danger, Alwyn quickly tried to distance himself from it. However, his mangled ankles gave out and he lost balance, tripping on the hand of a dead porter.
He fell face down in the dirt, which felt as hard as concrete, banging the head so bad that he immediately lost consciousness.
Crunch.
The next instant, a sharp pain jolted him awake. The aggressor had sized the opportunity, pouncing on the prey, and was now biting his neck.
'Shit-'
Alwyn desperately tried to punch it with all his might, but he wasn't able to get the beast off of him. Its maws were too strong, the fangs too sharp.
He felt them closing more and more, his flesh slowly ripping and producing gruesome noises. Blood started flowing down, filthifying even more his already soaked linen shirt.
He had experienced countless similar situations in his previous rounds, so he knew exactly what to do, but his new body's response was quite different from that of the old one, and didn't act like he wanted.
However, he had to give it a try, because there were no other alternatives and he would soon be dead.
So he too reached for the attacker's neck and tried to strangle it with his bruised hands, hoping the predator would let go.
A second passed.
Then another one.
And then some more.
Until Alwyn lost track of time.
But eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the pressure around his neck finally loosened, and he shook himself free from the maws of the beast.
He rapidly got up and tried to seize its features.
Before him stood a wolf-like beast double the size of the animal from Earth. Its tough hide was dark green tending to black, the colour of the forest in the background. It had a long lean body, which gave it an advantage in running short distances.
A single short claw, curved like a hook, was attached to the extremity of the front legs, while the hind pair had two more for better friction during sprints.
Running away was not an option.
While the wolf was catching his breath, Alwyn dropped the makeshift backpack on the ground and slid out the shovel. He then took the heavy backpack and wielded it like a shield, gripping firmly the rope of cloth that circled the three wooden planks.
He was a severely wounded human, while his opponent was a fierce beast at the peak of its physical conditions. No ordinary person could possibly subdue it with such primitive tools.
Alwyn had to play it safe, one misstep and he would be dead, so he hid behind the shield and waited for the wolf to make its move.
The latter was also studying its opponent, the eyes showed a high level of intelligence.
After a moment of respite, the beast lounged forward and in just a second it was already upon him.
Its sharp claws sunk deep into the wood, cracking the first plank. The impact of the attack was so strong that it sent Alwyn reeling back three steps, almost losing balance.
'Shit.'
However, the beast wasn't done yet and immediately followed with a leap, using the shield as a ramp, eluding his only defense.
Alwyn raised the shovel and tried to impale it in the air, but his attempt turned out unsuccessful. The beast was now behind him and, before he could turn around the heavy shield, it pounced on him a second time, aiming for the hand that held it.
Its maws ferociously closed on it, tearing at his skin, but now, for a split second, the wolf was distracted.
While the beast mauled one hand, the other one swiftly fell down, diving the shovel's blade into its neck. The action was fast, mechanical. He did not plan it, and only did it out of instinct.
However, the hide was tough and the blade could not penetrate it properly, so he repeated the movement a second time, and then a third one, while the wolf kept writhing in pain.
Thwack.
On the fourth, the wolf stopped resisting, and its jaws opened, letting go of the busted hand.
Its corpse fell to the ground, unmoving, and a pool of crimson blood soon formed under it.
The entire fight had lasted less than five seconds.
Alwyn looked down at the prey, victorious, but a sense of foreboding pervaded him. It felt like he had made a mistake somewhere. Everything happened so fast, he was not given time to reflect on his actions.
'But where-'
And at that moment, he realized a dreadful truth.
"What have I done…"
The dead, in that world, did not remain idle for too long.