Wonderful Insane World-Chapter 53: Happy Meal

After that, the night had gone surprisingly well. They’d returned to the cave, lit a fire, warmed up, and above all, finally got to enjoy the long-awaited meal.

The pair of hares had been shared fairly — well, almost. Maggie had devoured one all to herself, while the second was split between Dylan and Élisa.

It had been quite a sight to see her tear into the creature with a hunger they never expected from her. She had never eaten with such... passion.

Even Élisa, usually unimpressed by anything, had stopped chewing for a second to watch her, eyebrows raised. Dylan didn’t even dare comment. He’d just looked away, a bit uncomfortable — as if staring at Maggie too long might awaken some predator instinct in her.

"She looks like she just came back from a three-day forced fast," Élisa had muttered, not really expecting an answer.

After the meal, they had slid down against the stone walls, full and finally relaxed. The warmth of the fire gently enveloped them, and even the leftover raindrops dripping from the ceiling no longer bothered them.

Silence had settled. Not a heavy or awkward one — more like the quiet of a trio who, despite their tensions, had found a fragile balance in their exhaustion.

Dylan had closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the fire crackle. He thought of Maggie, of her gaze, of this new strength she seemed to carry. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like, just for a second, to be in her place.

This strength... could he have it too? Deep down, Dylan wasn’t naive enough to believe everything Élisa said, but the proof was there, right in front of him. Maggie was living proof.

Élisa was right: spiritual essence could break human limits. But in Dylan’s mind, it was supposed to be modest — a little strength boost, better stamina, that kind of thing. Nothing this extreme.

Maggie had moved with the speed — maybe even beyond — of a feline. Okay, he might’ve been exaggerating; he’d never seen one in action. But that was the impression she gave.

She had suddenly become something Dylan no longer understood. And yet, he wanted to. Wanted to know what it felt like to have a core inside you.

Élisa had explained that the core was the center point, the bridge to the soul. But for Dylan, that still sounded like mystical science fiction. So, naturally, he asked Maggie about it.

Her answer? Not exactly reassuring. She used terms he would’ve rather not heard... but he managed to piece them together.

She talked about a nuclear fusion reactor. Yeah, that. But instead of atoms, it was spiritual essence that condensed, that thickened until it formed this core — a concentrated mass of raw energy, unstable at first, but once formed, capable of releasing immense power.

Dylan had trouble imagining it. Something burning inside you without destroying you, and giving you strength on top of that? He couldn’t tell if it was terrifying or fascinating.

"Unless I experience it myself..." he thought, eyes fixed on the flickering flames.

He didn’t ask more questions. Didn’t want to seem too curious, too eager. But the truth was, his curiosity still burned. Like a quiet fire — impossible to put out.

That night, it wasn’t his turn to keep watch. He didn’t have any anima gems to absorb either — Élisa had taken them all to reinforce her body. So Dylan let himself drift into fatigue, leaning against the rough cave wall. It wasn’t comfortable, not really, but enough for an exhausted body and a saturated mind.

He closed his eyes gently, listening to the calm breathing around him. The fire still crackled, like a silent guardian. Slowly, his thoughts faded, and sleep took him.

---

Dylan opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling of the cave. Shadows still danced, cast by the last flames dying against the walls.

The mood felt calm. Too calm. The fire’s crackles formed a sort of melody... soft, almost hypnotic, like a lullaby played in an upside-down world.

He tried to sit up. With a glance, he saw Maggie curled up in her corner, Élisa leaning against her. Both were sleeping deeply, clearly unaware of their surroundings.

He frowned, annoyed.

Who was on watch?

He cursed inwardly, blaming their lack of caution. But before he could move, a strange whisper rose from the depths of the cave.

A place so dark that even the light refused to touch it.

"Dyyy...lan... Dyyylaaan..."

A rasping voice. Cold. Wet. Like someone chewing ashes while speaking.

A chill ran down his spine. Instinctively, he grabbed his machete, then tried to wake Maggie, then Élisa. But nothing. They stayed frozen, eyes shut, as if sealed in an artificial sleep.

Then he saw it.

A small trench carved by the rainwater had filled with a darker liquid. Thick. Deep red. Blood. It flowed slowly from the shadows, creeping to his feet like a silent serpent.

"Dylaaan..."

The voice grew clearer. It wasn’t just a whisper now: it wept, pleaded, screeched through the air like a rusty blade against stone.

Then, a hand emerged from the darkness. Small. Fragile. Trembling. Completely covered in blood. It rested slowly against the wall, just on the edge of the firelight.

Dylan stepped back. His throat tightened.

He called out to his companions again — no response.

Nothing. Not even a twitch. They were like corpses.

"Who are you?!" he shouted, voice shaking, machete raised.

"Dylan... Dylan..." came the reply. Colder than ever.

"Stay where you are!" he yelled, threatening anything that dared come closer.

And then she appeared.

Her body slowly slid out from the shadow. A frail figure, soaked, covered in dried blood and mud. Her short hair clung to her dirty forehead, head lowered, breathing ragged. A child.

Twelve, maybe younger. Dylan recognized her without understanding how. Instinct, maybe. Or an old buried memory knocking on the door.

She limped, dragging one foot. One hand pressed to an open wound on her abdomen, literally holding her guts in.

He froze. And yet, he found himself walking toward her, heart pounding in his ears. As if pulled by an invisible string.

"Who are you? Are you... are you okay?"

The girl slowly lifted her head.

Two empty sockets. Oozing. As if her eyes had melted.

Her mouth was split... torn up to the ears. She was smiling.

"Dylan..."

Then her expression shifted.

A rictus. A twisted, hungry grimace.

A black fire lit up that already-dead face.

She tilted her head.

And in a voice colder than a coffin buried in snow, she said:

"I told you to leave."freёnovelkiss.com