Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 104: Not All of Me

Dylan’s legs were shaking.

Now that he was back on his feet, he leaned against the beast’s flank, panting, breath short, lungs nearly on fire. His other arm hung limp, dislocated, useless, twitching in painful spasms from the horn still lodged in his shoulder. He didn’t even have the strength to grimace.

But he was standing.

He closed his eyes for half a second. Just long enough to remember why he had fought.

Then he dug the fingers of his good hand into the creature’s gaping wound, right where he knew it would be. He didn’t think about the heat, or the smell, or even the strange, almost viscous sensation of the still-living flesh pulsing beneath his palm. He searched.

He dug deep.

And he found it.

The gem.

There it was, nestled between two broken ribs, still warm, pulsing with a crimson light.

He pulled.

And finally, the gem came free, like a rotten tooth being yanked out.

It was heavy. Heavier than he expected. Its blood-red glow throbbed gently in the palm of his hand, and a moment later, a wave of heat surged up his arm and into his neck.

He shivered.

His whole body screamed at him. Swallow it. Absorb it. Now.

As if the energy trapped in that crystalline heart was calling to his own. As if an ancient thirst, rooted deep in his flesh, his soul, longed to merge with it.

But he waited.

He wouldn’t rush it. He knew the risks. Assimilating too fast meant risking the ingestion of the beast’s impure essence. Or worse... a fragment of its will. And if even the smallest sliver of its soul-blade still lingered in the gem...

Then he’d be feeding the parasite within him.

The demon fragment.

And that, he couldn’t allow.

That’s when he sensed a shadow stop just at the edge of the pit.

He looked up.

Élisa was there, standing above him, her figure tense, her breath still ragged. A line of blood split her face in two, but her eyes—her eyes were clear. Sharp. Alive.

Relieved.

They locked eyes.

Dylan, covered in mud and blood, smiled.

A tired, pain-wrung grin.

He raised his hand, the gem between his fingers, and showed it to her like a trophy. Proof. That he had survived. That he was still there. That the demon hadn’t won.

Élisa returned the smile, crooked, shaky, but real.

She nodded, sighed, and simply said:

"Get out of that hole now. We’ve got meat to collect for tonight."

Dylan snorted, almost a laugh, almost a growl. He tucked the gem into an inner pocket, slowly, cautiously. Then he looked at his hands: red to the wrists. He couldn’t tell if it was the beast’s blood... or his own.

He planted his good hand into the dirt, pushed up onto one knee. His right leg trembled under his weight. But he climbed. Inch by inch, like a man crawling out of the underworld.

His boots slipped against the earthen wall of the pit, his ribs screamed, his dead shoulder dangled, cold as deadwood. But he rose.

When he finally placed his foot on the edge, Élisa was still there, arms crossed, half slumped, hair soaked, face drawn. She said nothing, but she watched him. As if to make sure—without needing to say it—that he was still himself.

He didn’t speak either. Just a small nod. Between them, that was enough.

But Maggie... Maggie was there too.

Silent as ever.

Three steps away. Motionless. Her axe still in hand. She hadn’t moved since Dylan’s voice had shattered the air. And she wasn’t looking at him like Élisa did.

She looked at him like one watches a fire they’ve just extinguished... but know still smolders beneath the ashes.

Dylan stood tall despite the pain, and locked eyes with her.

There was no challenge. No apology.

Just a silent question.

Now what?

Maggie studied him for a long moment. Then, finally, she slid the axe back into her belt. No words. No sigh. And she turned on her heels.

Not a word.

Not another glance.

She walked slowly, toward the bamboo, toward the pit, her steps heavy. She went to retrieve the beast’s meat.

Élisa stepped beside Dylan, slid an arm under his good shoulder.

"You standing?"

"Barely," he breathed.

"Well, that’s enough for today. The worst is behind us."

He didn’t reply this time, letting the silence of the mist envelop them once again.

They began walking, slowly, skirting the monumental corpse of the beast, still steaming in places. The ground was soaked in blood, the smell of iron and rancid essence stung the nose.

Something had shifted—in the earth, in the air. Something now followed them—unseen but tangible. Like a memory too heavy to fade. Or a price too great to ignore.

And in Dylan’s inner pocket, the gem still pulsed.

——

They walked. In silence. The weight of the fight clinging to their skin, their throats, the small of their backs. The ground was uneven, twisted by roots, ash, and upturned stones. Dylan limped slightly, but didn’t ask for help. Élisa didn’t offer. She simply walked at his pace, at his side.

The buffalo’s corpse slowly receded behind them. The fog gently resumed its place, closing the scars of their passing.

At one point, as they passed a circle of cracked stone steles, Élisa murmured:

"She could’ve killed you, you know."

Dylan didn’t answer right away. He stared at the ground. His hand clenched around the gem in his pocket.

"I know."

"And I could’ve too. I hesitated."

He stopped.

Turned his head toward her.

She wasn’t looking at him. She spoke like someone tossing a stone into a bottomless well.

"When you jumped on the beast... I thought you were lost. That it was over. Or at least... over for you."

A heavy silence settled, then a faint, nervous laugh escaped her in a breath.

"You didn’t have your eyes anymore."

Dylan dropped his gaze again, his throat tightened a little, but there was no more anger. Not at her, not at himself. Just... a dense, warm emptiness. The kind that lingers after walking through something that has no name.

"That wasn’t me—but it was me too," he said, eyes lost in the distance.

Dylan inhaled slowly. He met her gaze. And continued:

"The beast used a process similar to when we burst essence through our cores, but it did it with negative energy, which forced—me, with the demon part inside me—to respond to that negative energy. I couldn’t move on my own, but I felt it... everything I did, I wanted to do it. I mean... it wasn’t another will inside me. It was mine. And mine alone."

Then he resumed walking.

"If it happens again, and you see I don’t come back to myself," she said without looking at him, "do you want me to stop you... or put you down?"

He smiled, joyless.

"Stop me. And if that doesn’t work..." fɾēewebnσveℓ.com

He turned his head slightly, his profile half-lost in the fog.

"Shoot me in the legs."

Élisa smiled, this time genuinely.

"Deal."

They kept walking, still two of them, side by side, toward the distant outline of camp. Where Maggie was preparing the fire. Where the mist would lift—one day or another.