Return of the Woodcutter

The scenery changed, but the location didn't. Present-day Aito panicked, for that last scene was the one he dreaded the most. The one he wanted to forget above all else.

(… no…) He thought, unable to avert his "eyes." Forced to watch until the end.

Four months after the defeat, his past self was going through multiple online stories' comment sections, leaving whatever nonsense he could. With a bottle of cheap whiskey in hand, he took a sip, only to realize that it was the last drop.

His savings were running low and Olivia had stopped giving Aito pocket money because she had none herself—not anymore. But he still had enough for one last bottle, and with the delivery service unavailable at this hour of the night, he had no choice but to walk to the store himself.

Guided by his thirst, he stood up from his wooden chair, pushing back the numerous bottles on the ground. Completely wasted, he doddered his way to the door, stepping on broken glass.

His mind was hazy, affecting his perception. The room seemed to move around, disturbing his sense of balance. Aito's foot touched an intact bottle, which rolled and made him fall headfirst.

"Fuck!" He said, lying on the wooden floor amidst pieces of glass and accumulated dust. "Who did this!?"

Under the influence of alcohol-induced psychosis, he assumed that someone had attacked him. Aito's fatigued eyes peered in the room's dark corners that were poorly lit by a tall lampstand close to his bed.

Having searched the entire but one spot, he focused his attention on the source of light. The more he looked at it, the more its tall frame resembled a body. Progressively, the lampstand morphed into the shadow of a man.

"Was that you!?"

His uncontrollable rage surged like a volcanic explosion. Incapable of restraining the boiling fury, he attacked the inanimate object.

(Put that down!)

"Have a taste of this!" He said, throwing a random glass bottle which obviously missed and shattered on the concrete wall.

"Got you!" He said, thinking he hit the mark. The human-shaped shadow then moved, appearing in the corner of his vision, to only blur once more.

Irritated by the shadow's "provocation," he turned around to search for his illusionary aggressor. But no matter how many times he tried, he never could properly lay his eyes on it. "Fuck! Show yourself!"

(Calm yourself!)

"Aaaah!" Aito roared. Furious to be messed with, he repeatedly threw one projectile after another in every direction. Chair, bottles, even pieces of broken glass—that cut through his palms—but missed due to the high quantity of alcohol in his bloodstream. Or simply because there was nothing to aim at in the first place.

Drown by the fuss, his father banged on the door. "Son? Are you okay?"

(Don't come in!)

With no response coming his way, worried for his son, Tevari turned the knob and entered the room.

There, amidst a messy, crowded space with an empty bottle in a bloody hand, stood a shadow of what his son had been. A pale-colored beer belly started to show under Aito's tattered and dirty black shirt. His hair reached shoulder length, and long black facial hairs hid a vengeful, deformed rictus. He had put up some weight from the absence of exercise. The lack of exposition to sun rays had rendered his previously beautiful tanned skin almost entirely white.

Tevari hadn't seen his son for four months, not properly at least. He had only been able to catch a glimpse of him during Aito's rare venture outside his room before the young man could flee to "safety." However, he hadn't expected such a drastic change.

"Boyo, what happened to you…." Tevari said, although already aware of the answer.

"Honey, wh—Aito?" Olivia asked, walking in after hearing the furor of a deranged man. Behind her stood Haley, barely finding balance with her crutches. She had been injured during her last surfing competition and now couldn't move around without them.

"Youbro?" Haley said, using the nickname she had used to call her brother since childhood.

The young man turned towards his father with a cloudy mind filled with rage, delusion, and hallucination.

And there, where stood his father, was the shadow.

(Dad! Run! Ruuuuun!)

"Son? What are you doing!?"

(DON'T YOU DARE!)

"Found you! You piece of shit!"

(NOOOO!) The Present-day Aito yelled with all his strength.

Forced to watch. Unable to act. He wanted to move his body and stop his past self, but couldn't. That dream, that last scene in particular. Seeing it times and times again was real torture. A torture from which he couldn't escape.

Sure, he could lighten the mood by throwing a few jokes, commentaries, and simply repeating himself that it wasn't him. That it never had been him. But in the end, it was just a facade to hide his misery.

(Please… I can't do this anymore.)

Suddenly, the dream froze. Every detail of the brutal scene pierced his mind, anchoring themselves deep enough to make them unforgettable through normal means.

His father's blood covering the floor.

(Please…)

And from the room's darkness came a deformed voice, which goal was to penetrate his soon to be shattered mental defenses. That last part of the dream always sent shivers to Aito's imaginary spine.

(Fuck! Just tell what you want from me!?)

"GiVe ThEM tO Me."

Olivia's bruises.

"YoUr sIn."

Aito's bloody hands and bottle of alcohol.

"YoUr sUfFeRiNg."

(I…)

Haley's broken legs.

"I cAN gIvE yOu ThE ReDemPtIoN YoU sEeK."

(I…)

"JUst… COME TO ME!"

At those last words, the dream blurred into nothingness.

***

The midday sun shone ever so brightly in the sky, piercing through sparse clouds riding the winds. Aito jolted awake with sunrays, filtered by branches and leaves, blinding his dilated pupil, a phenomenon generated under intense stress.

But upon the realization that he had overslept, he briskly stood up. His armor equipped at all times, he only needed to grab his one-handed ax and thin-shield settled at the foot of his bed before heading outside his now partially broken walls.

There, not far from the entrance, he found a few bigfoot corpses lying around. Some of them had a white substance sprayed on their faces sharing one common facial feature: an opened mouth with a painful rictus.

Eyes and skin red. It looked like someone had sprayed some sort of acid solutions on them. Although it didn't dissolve the fur, it seemed to have irritated them enough to make it extremely unpleasant.

Curious about what happened, he continued to walk around, looking for clues. Double-handed weapons, corpses with stab wounds, and bits of fur scattered around pointed towards one answer, or rather, one monkey.

Aito found the culprit perched on a tree branch, scouring the horizon for a potential threat.

'Just when did this little guy get so strong?' He thought, before seeing Jack swallowing one of those white baneberries. 'That fool….'

He strode to the tree's foot and called out to his partner. "Jack! Why the fuck are you still eating those white bane—"

Aito cut his sentence short, finally assembling the puzzle together, using the last clue. Realizing that the poison berries became a "weapon" against those things, he couldn't help but be surprised.

Trying to take advantage of the poisonous properties of those berries, he had already tried to coat his weapons by using their juice, to no avail.

The issue stemmed from the poison's concentration being too low. Aito had, of course, tried to condense it by boiling the dangerous liquid. Stupid idea since it apparently removed the poison.

And with no previous experience in chemical manipulation, he had just dropped the idea, as he did with many others.

Crafting a bow out of bamboo or/and wood since it looked easy in the novels he had read. No success.

Cultivate some vegetables in order to avoid looking for those. Even though he had a bit of experience in planting trees and plants. No success.

Building a boat to fish at sea or serve as an escape means. No success.

All those failures stacking up were disappointing. So when he saw Jack's somewhat successful "new weapon," Aito couldn't believe it. By ingesting the white baneberries, the monkey could somewhat "produce" some sort of poison. As for how lethal it was, he had no idea yet.

Two precise stabs to the neck neatly killed the bigfoots lying around, which meant that none of them died from poison. Meaning it was impossible to judge how effective it truly was. However, if it could truly kill one of those things….

There were tons of ways to apply it in their daily fights. Throwing the "weapon" to their faces was indeed one way, but they could do so much more.

Coating the spikes of the pitfalls. Dip their own throwing and close quarter weapons in it. Poison the natural pond some bigfoots apparently drunk from. There might be other practical ways to use it, but…

"We first need a test subject." He said, smirking, before thinking about another issue. "Jack, can you still dump one more of those today?"

Jack turned its attention towards him and gave Aito a thumbs up.

'Did it really understand what I just said?' He thought.

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