"Duck!" Andrew yells, his voice reaching my ears like a worm squirming under my skin.

Despite my grievances, I react, ducking away as a blob of gelatinous acid leaps for my skull. With a twang of a string, an arrow as long as my forearm zips through the air, embedding itself in the mindless monster. The slime's thick membrane splits where the stone broadhead enters, and green goo spills out like a chopped fish losing its entrails. The mess of a desecrated monster and a partly dissolved arrow fall lifeless to the grass covered ground, never to move again.

I steady my posture, bringing myself back up to standing. I give a sideways glance to the true monster that stands a few steps away from me, his olive shirt and blue pants covering whatever he is from my suspicious glance. Andrew draws another arrow from his quiver, knocking it onto his wooden bow's thin string. He catches my glare, and flashes me a goofy smile. I don't want to let him in on my suspicions any more than he already has so I let out a comment, keeping the sword I woke up with close to me.

"Thanks. You're quite the shot."

Andrew pretends to be gaslighted, his words haven't sat well with me since I touched his fake skin.

"Oh, don't say that." he says cheerily. "You're going to make me blush."

His eyes catch onto movement to my right, and his expression falls into the realm of being serious.

"Two more slimes incoming."

I turn to meet the new monsters, reluctantly showing my back to Andrew.

Slimes, as my "friend" over there has explained to me, are a type of low-class monster, barely capable enough to be considered a threat. They are a mass of springy and colorful gelatin covered in a clear membrane that is like their skin. They don't have a mind, or limbs, or organs to speak of.

"Nothing more than a living stomach." Andrew said, shrugging as if it were common knowledge. "They simply hop toward sources of life and will digest something by sitting on it."

As was stated, two slimes exit a wall of trees and bushes, hopping out onto the grassy plain Andrew and I reside at. Both are colored blue, about as blue as the ocean. They're slightly bigger than their green counterparts, their height reaching above my waist.

I level my sword at them, taking up a stance to lunge.

My Guide gave me a crash course on how to use a sword, from anchoring with my dominant foot, and something about keeping the edge of my blade aligned with where I'm swinging. But from what I've figured out, simply hitting the slimes with my sword, whether on the edge or simply on its flat, seems to obliterate my simple enemies quite effectively. This blade is capable of bringing a tree down on weight alone, an oversized water balloon stands no chance.

I wait until one of them hops, leaping high enough to clear my head, before I sprint forward, running underneath the azure blob. I have no form or technique, I don't know how to swing something to make it intercept a moving target. But something I learned rather quickly, is that I'm strong. So as I swing my purple sword over my head, and the blade connects, the slime is split in two.

I grind my rather fancy shoes into the grass and soil, stuttering to a halt. An arrow sticks into the other slime, making it falter before being able to hop at me. I finish it off with a single overhead stroke, my blade continuing unchecked and cutting into the ground as if the dirt and grass were made of butter.

I stand there for a moment, watching the slime's desecrated body flow over my shoes. It's strange. So, this is the reality I live in? Where living stomachs leap around and wolves in sheep's clothing reside? I know nothing else, but this feels off, like I don't belong here. We have been fighting slimes and traveling for a good half of the day. As to where? I don't know. As we travel, many things stick out to me as strange. Slimes are one thing, Andrew is another. But there is an abundance of caves around, as if massive worms have been burrowing in the ground. What looks like islands are floating high in the sky, and the forests are filled with plants and funguses that look nothing near natural.

It's like I'm in a fairytale.

I pull my sword out of the dirt and swing it up to let it rest on my shoulder. I turn to check on Andrew, and I find him scooping up slime from the kills we have made. A thought crosses my mind, to attack him here and finish him off, but I shove it aside. I'm still in no position to go it alone.

"What are you doing?"

I ask instead, with genuine curiosity in my voice more so than usual. Andrew reaches for a satchel that hangs near his hip, where he procures a small glass jar.

"Collecting gel."

He says. Such a straightforward answer, as if it's common practice to pick up a slime's innards after you massacre them.

"Why?" I ask, trying to stay playful. "You want a souvenir?"

Andrew caps the lid on the jar and tosses it to me. As I catch it, the green and blue gel swirl about inside like liquid mucus.

"What if I told you that stuff was edible?"

I suddenly wish I hadn't compared it to mucus.

"I would say you're crazy." I shake the jar, not knowing if he wants me to eat some or hold it for him.

"Well, it does sound weird at first, but gel is quite the delicacy in some kingdoms." He finishes off a second jar, stuffing it back into his satchel. "It's also quite an amazing fuel source for fires. A good tip to keep in mind."

I snicker. Great, it's flammable too. The cogs in my head start turning, something along the line of a fiery end for Andrew. I'll keep the thought on the backburner for now.

"So why are we collecting some, looking to make some award-winning bread?"

Satisfied with four jars full of gel, Andrew lifts one of his spent arrows from its sticky home, deciding it's good to use again.

"Well for one, we'll need torches when night arrives."

I want to jokingly ask if he's afraid of the dark, but a primal fear locks my tongue in place. It's built into living things that the nighttime is no safe place, and it chills me to think what a night in this world could possibly have in store for me.

"But also," Andrew continues, slipping his arrow into the quiver that peeks out behind his shoulder. "They can be used in recipes, to brew potions."

I puzzle over the last word. Potions? Great, more stuff I don't know. He wipes residual gel off his hands, turning to face me.

"Specifically healing potions for now, I want to see if they can help get your memories back."

Appealing to my desires, clever. I think to myself. But not clever enough.

I want to press more on potions, but Andrew places a hand on my shoulder.

My expression glitches, if only for a moment, to one of rage and disgust. I bury the feelings, along with the desire to chop Andrew's arm off. For all its worth, he has been helpful to me, filling in my questions about this world as I ask them. He seems to know a lot and has been rather revealing. If I cooperate, I can get what I need, and kill him when I get the chance. The danger signals won't stop flashing in my mind, but I'm fine with staring death in the face if it means that I'll get answers. So I haven't made my move yet, I play along, and lie in wait.

"Come on then." Andrew says, showing no sign of noticing my blunder in emotion. "Let's continue our little hike. Shall we?"

The next few hours are just as puzzling as the last. From what I can tell, we've been following alongside a river, though I haven't seen it, only heard it. As to where the river leads, Andrew seems to know, but when I asked him, he merely said "It's towards town." I've tried deciphering his words. From what I can tell, it's either where I used to live, a nearby town Andrew scoped out before coming to me, or a prefabricated place with other monsters like my Guide waiting to try and manipulate me. Or eat me. For the three ideas I've come up with, I'm hoping it's the first one. The last one is the only solution that I'm hoping is not the case, I can find help if it's either of the first two. But if it's the last, then I'll be walking into a pit of vipers blindfolded. So for the sake of my safety, I will gamble on hopes for one of the first two, and I'll get away from Andrew once we're close enough to the "town" for me to see it. Until then, I bide my time, subconsciously thinking of the ways I can deal with Andrew.

We run into a few more slimes, which are dispatched easily. Andrew tells me more about the world, about faraway kingdoms and certain types of magic and monsters that populate the planet. It's at this time I learn about magic, and spells. Things are getting more complicated. Along the way, we find this peculiar mushroom that has a warm hue to it, along with a spotted red hood. It's quite large, and Andrew takes a peculiar interest in it. Despite its lethal look, he explains it's the most vital ingredient to the healing potion, and he gathers as much as that little satchel of his can carry. Later, when the sun starts to go down and the sky turns into the colors of fire, Andrew comes to a halt.

"Alright." He states, taking a glance at the sun, which has started to rest on the western horizon. "This will be where we camp for the night."

I halt too, puzzled.

"Uh okay. Any reason why?"

Andrew takes his quiver off his back. I make a mental note of this.

"Well, we've simply run out of time today, it's quite dangerous to travel at night."

I nod my head thoughtfully, but really I'm more suspicious than ever. What's his game? There should be no reason why Andrew would be helping me like this. I've already crossed him out as a recruiter, predator, or leader of any sort. While he hasn't shown anything obvious to me, I'm constantly catching onto little discrepancies here and there, ones that couldn't be preemptively fixed with months of planning. Because he doesn't know who I am, he knows nothing about me. I've never directly asked about my backstory or how we know each other, but I've gotten close. Things are not adding up, and not even the smartest mastermind in the world could make it work better. Because like me, Andrew lacks information, the best he can do is make an educated guess when it comes to our relationship and who I am, then try and keep the story consistent. He's very good at it, especially if it's improvised. To the point that if it weren't for our hands touching, I might have believed him.

But that sensation, as if cold needles were stabbing into my skin, before dispensing acid straight into my heart.

The grass didn't make me feel that, the sword didn't. It was him, he's something else. So now I'm back to square one, why stop here?

I check the surroundings, short glances as if I'm admiring the scenery. But I make sure to take in every detail and look at something blank so as not to ruin the picture in my mind. I watch the sun set, subconsciously scanning over the scenes I saw like studying a picture book to look for hidden characters. There's nothing, no hidden holes or man-made structure of any sort. There was no movement either, no shape or size outside of trees and shrubbery. Puzzling indeed. Something is going to happen, something bad. I can tell that much. If this is where I die, if there's an ambush or trap waiting for me, I'd rather die fighting than wait for whatever Andrew plans to do with me here.

"Huh." I say finally, after running a few variables through my head. "Is the town nearby?"

I keep my eyes locked on the sunset; I don't want Andrew seeing the gears turning in my eyes. I can't stop the doubts rolling in the back of my head, my desire to get away from Andrew grows to its strongest as a sense of impending danger looms on my shoulders. I need to leave, and if I can't, I need to act. Now.

His voice comes, same as ever, as if it were idle conversation.

"A couple hours walk south, you can see the hills it resides within from here."

I glance to see the hills, far off enough that the atmosphere obscures their curved shapes for a fuzzy texture. I don't know if there really is a town there, but this changes things. I have my out. I think to myself. It might still be a trap… But I'd rather reach those hills alone… which means there's something I must do. And I must do it, to save myself. I reach for my sword, which has been placed against a small boulder. I steel my heart and take in a deep breath to bury my fears.

"So, what is the night like?"

I ask. I turn to find Andrew building what looks like a campfire, his back is turned to me. With quick glances, I can see his bow and quiver a couple of paces away, within arm's reach if he lunged for them. I feel a pang of disappointment, I'll need to distract him to get a headstart. Andrew assembles twigs into a little teepee, pouring some of the gel around its base.

"Well, for starters… it's very dark."

I hum in agreement, that much is obvious. Andrew continues, I use his words to drown out my footsteps as I draw closer. I don't let my waking self truly know when I will strike, to keep my voice and movements from being different in any way.

"There's also undead."

I take another step, keeping my blade as still as possible, so its warbling noise doesn't give me away.

"Ugly things, they are. They're the rotting bodies of people who have passed on."

Another step, I hold my breath. My heart is thundering in my chest, adrenaline runs rampant through my veins. Andrew has stopped moving, his back still turned, but he isn't doing anything, except slowly turning one foot towards his bow.

Fear, fear falls on me. I still don't know who my Guide truly is, he could be a demon for all I know, it would fit with the rest of this world. Even more so, he's a complex being, more so than the slimes. Can I really do this? I find myself thinking. Can I kill something that talks and emotes and feels? He is a monster, that much I have figured out already. I'm doing this to defend myself, to free myself. There's more going on here than he lets on, I want nothing to do with it. I still feel a sting of guilt, like I don't want him to die. For all its worth, despite the lies and dangers, he's all I know. Even if he's a monster, he's more human than the world I know so far.

As if nature itself knows what is about to happen, the birds stop their songs, the slight breeze dies down. The insects go null, the very air itself starts to buzz. No noise, a silence that can compete with the vacuum of outer space draws over the two of us. It's too late to back out now, the atmosphere between us is tense enough to cut diamond. Andrew surely knows what's happening, how the muscles in his legs twitch, like he's about to spring away from his crouched position. Despite this, he keeps talking, his voice sounds as normal as ever.

"Even that sword of yours wouldn't keep us safe. It's best to stay in one spot... and hold your ground."

His voice changes for his last few words, as if his vocal cords tripled in number. It sounds like multiple voices speaking in perfect unison, it chills me to my core. They're thick with intention, that sense of danger becomes a physical set of hands stroking down my spine. I feel my fate looming over me. The clocks run out, it's do or die.

"I couldn't agree more."

I say. It all happens in a flash, to the point I didn't register it happening until my sword had already caught Andrew's fleeing form on the right shoulder and drove down diagonally to his left hip. Two pieces of Andrew part from each other, blood coats my violet blade.

That should be it, he should be dead.

But what happens next couldn't be truly expressed, either through descriptions on a page, or words from a storyteller's mouth. It can only be experienced, and the experience I undergo would make a man vomit, before dying from shock in his own filth.

The most primal and powerful fear of them all, fear of the unknown, latches its titanic grip around my heart, making my face contort and my voice let out a moan of terror. Out of Andrew spills flesh, bubbling, steaming flesh. More of it than what could ever fit in such a small frame oozes from his body, spraying me from head to toe in rotting fluids. It grows in size, like a fountain of the most egregious colors and smells of human existence. Its form devours everything I see, oozing past my feet, the air thick with the scent of decay and death. Amongst the mass of spasming muscles and twitching tendons, the soaked veins and congested bones, eyes and mouths from a plethora of different species float to the top, letting out moans and roars in one symphony of nightmares. I lose the feeling in my whole body, dropping my sword and falling to my knees. The flowing flesh squelches under my weight, small mouths and broken bones bite into my pants. In the glowing sunset, the eyes all train on me, watching me from atop heaping masses, or underneath gnashing teeth. I want to run, but my legs won't work. As the flesh spills around me, and grips onto me like thousands of small hands, I forget why I wanted to escape, why I thought I could defeat my Guide and find my own way in the world. When I'm brought to the mercy of this colossal lovecraftian horror, it all feels so childish, a mere mortal's idea. I thought I had the upper hand, knowing Andrew's secret.

How foolishly wrong I was.

"Wow, you are something else. What the hell is wrong with you!?"

Andrew the heathen's voice, resonating from hundreds of mouths, sounds like nothing I've ever heard before. Such a simple statement, and silly question. Yet it's delivered on an eldritch platter, and my feeble mind feasts on the images of a living nightmare. I say nothing, my sense of understanding and comprehension lost on the mountain of carnage in front of me. The behemoth moves, picking me up off the ground, all of its hundreds of eyes congregating together to stare at me.

"We've known each other for only a day, and you're already trying to kill me!"

I can't, I don't…

He continues, studying me.

"I'm sure you're no murderer, your memories showed nothing like that. I must've slipped up somewhere.

"M-Memories?"

It's all I can say, it comes out more of an echoing mutter than a coherent thought. A small tendril launches from the mess of meat gripping me, stabbing into my neck with a single tooth tip. I shudder, not from the pain, but from shock. The same sensation I got when I first touched his skin now seeps through my head. It invades my mind, as if something new came barging in, and has thrown up everything. After a moment, Adrew's hundred eyes constrict their pupils, about as much emotion as I've seen from this flesh monster.

"You've known since the very beginning."

His eyes look every which way in sporadic motions, before singling on me again.

"You could tell I was fake!?"

The voice, like a snake slithering in my ears, threatening to bite me with its venomous fangs, has no change in pitch, no words are stressed. Yet I know that Andrew is mad and impressed at the same time. His eyes look down, a vaguely human response when thinking hard about something.

"Well, this changes many things, I'll need to rethink my plans."

"Plans?"

I utter. Andrew comes to a solution, he looks south, and makes mental notes. His eyes glitch for a moment, and it looks like he's listening to something.

"Great, another roadblock."

A truly terrifying feeling, as this monster's complaints are painted with moans and screams. That hundred eye stare flicks back to me, mouths moving in unison to create one accumulated voice.

"Well, change of plans Jack, I'll have you know that I was never going to hurt you, so you've brought this punishment upon yourself."

He lifts me high into the air, I unconsciously reach for my sword, but it's been left on the ground.

"Looks like I get to rough you up a bit… That sounds damn therapeutic right about now!"

I don't process the words, not until Andrew swings me toward the ground, and slams me against the packed dirt with the might of a deranged giant. The sudden jolt knocks me to my senses, but also sends my mind reeling. White and red colors flash in my vision, and I can taste my own blood. I'm lifted again and smacked down again. Again and again, like a drumstick on a snare drum, swung into the ground and struck into the time-tested floor. Each hit gets harder and harder, as if the heathen is getting into a rhythm. Andrew parades me about, smacking me against boulders and trees, at this point I'm already unconscious. He splits a trunk with my skull, pulverizes stone with my torso. If I were normal then I would have been dead since the first strike, but my heart still beats. Andrew takes this as an incentive.

"Durable aren't you? Well how about this!?"

He throws me into the air, my seemingly lifeless body letting its broken arms and legs flail about. Some of Andrew's eyes fire lasers, purple beams of superheated plasma streak through the evening air in flashing screams. They make holes straight through me, turning me into a pincushion. He catches me on my way down, slamming me into the ground with enough force to cause the ground to shake. With a few more bone crunching assaults, Andrew drops me.

I'm inches from death, more of a slab of meat with human-like features than a young man. My body doesn't look anything like a human's. Each of my bones are shattered, my organs ruptured and bleeding. My skull dented in multiple areas, and my chest is sinking inwards from gravity alone. I practically look like Andrew now, I'm more wounds than skin. The Wall of Flesh stays there for a moment, like an enraged man trying to calm his nerves. He folds back into himself, blood and gore replacing with an olive shirt and blue jeans.

Andrew the human walks over to me, looking me over as if I were some work of art. He smirks, crossing his arms.

"Regenerating already, are we?"

He watches as fragments of my bones, which stuck out of me like little glaciers, slowly sink back in, my wounds closing up and organs stitching themselves together.

"Eladon gave you quite the gift, you should be thankful."

He sticks a small tendril, one that fires out of his palm, into the side of my neck, and begins to shift through my memories. He takes out all the ones that have anything to do with him, or any experiences I've had since waking up. He effectively wipes my mind clean yet again, and after a few seconds of hesitation, inserts a small tumor of himself at the base of my brain, which attaches itself to my spine like a small parasite. Satisfied, he drags my sword over, and drops it next to me.

"Sweet dreams deadbeat. Good luck with living the mortal life for a while."

He turns and leaves; but stops a few steps away. He turns back, looking over me again. After a few moments of silence, he waves his thoughts away.

"Oh, who am I kidding, you're a God. If you can't deal with a little horde of Zombies, then you're not cut out for Cthulhu."

With that, he walks away, leaving my mangled body in the ever-growing shadows of the approaching night.