Chapter 103: INDESTRUCTIBLE
His sinister laughter is not long in coming. It's terrifying, and seeing him standing there with the flesh of his body red hot and burning is too much for me and my stomach. I feel like I want to vomit.
Genrant remains motionless, as if he is determined to protect me with his own body, but his weight on me does not diminish. Although his presence makes me feel safe, I can notice the worry reflected on his face. His scowl and hate-filled gaze at Frank are evident, as well as a grimace of pain that he barely manages to hide. I notice that he is still sweating profusely, more than he should, which makes me question his state of health. Is he not as well as I thought?
On alert, I start looking for any sign that something is wrong with his body. My gaze stops at the side of his ribs, where I see a piece of embedded glass. How did that happen? During our escape, during the battle? I can't remember seeing when he was injured. The wound doesn't appear to be serious, but it is bleeding slightly, and I know that if I try to remove the piece of glass, it could make things worse. I remember the times I accompanied my mother to the hospital and saw similar injuries. If I remove it, Genrant could bleed out more.
Genrant seems to pick up on my distress and motions to bring one of his hands to the side where the embedded piece of glass is. Before he can even attempt to remove it, however, I stop him firmly.
"No," I say with determination, holding his hand to prevent him from doing anything to make the situation worse. "Don't even think about moving it one bit. You need medical attention."
Although he understands the urgency in my words, Genrant doesn't protest or try to contradict me. Instead, he gives me a smile that tries to be reassuring, but is distorted by the grimace of pain that he barely manages to hide. I realize that he must be in a lot of pain.
The situation is becoming increasingly critical, with Frank stalking us through the flames and Genrant's wound requiring immediate attention. We are in a race against time, and I can't help but feel a surge of despair.
The sudden wind blows furiously, causing the leaves of all the trees around to move in synchrony as if dancing to the beat of the tragedy unfolding before them. The rustling of branches and leaves adds to the eerie atmosphere surrounding the burning cabin.
Frank approaches ominously through the flames, his figure enveloped in the dancing fire as if he were a specter of destruction. His laughter echoes through the forest, full of mockery and arrogance.
"They can never kill me!" he proclaims in a booming voice, his tone full of malice and contempt. "I am indestructible, a being beyond death itself."
Frank, engulfed in flames, becomes a terrifying sight. His scorched and charred skin glows under the glare of the fire, flames dancing around his body like the tongues of a raging dragon. The searing heat has warped his figure, making him look like a shadow of what he once was.
His face is twisted into a grimace of pain and hatred, his features barely recognizable amidst the flames licking at his skin. Black smoke rises from his body, enveloping him in a dark haze that adds a sinister aura to his presence.
Every movement he makes seems to be accompanied by the infernal glow, every gesture marked by the intensity of the fire that consumes him. His clothes have been reduced to ashes, exposing his scorched and deformed figure. It is an image of horror and despair, a manifestation of the chaos that surrounds him.
He seems to enjoy every moment, every instant in which he basks in his apparent invulnerability. His words echo in the air, filling the space with his contempt. But even as he basks in his apparent invincibility, the wind continues its macabre dance, as if nature itself were witnessing the confrontation between life and death.
But suddenly, as it rushes towards us, things happen unexpectedly. Frank falls to the ground abruptly and suddenly, his body remains inert and without any movement. In an instant, he is officially dead, his figure lying motionless and silent on the ground.
Genrant remains on guard, his protective stance does not fade, but a look of disbelief crosses his face. How could this happen? The question hangs in the air, unanswered, as we both process the startling reality that the threat that stalked us has suddenly been eliminated.
Silence hangs over us, interrupted only by the crackling of the flames consuming the remains of the cabin. A sense of relief mixed with awe comes over me, and my heart pounds in my chest, unable to fully comprehend what has just happened.
Genrant moves cautiously toward Frank's body, his expression a mixture of caution and curiosity. He crouches down beside him, carefully examining his inert figure for signs of life that are no longer present. It is as if she is searching for answers in death itself, trying to understand the outcome of this violent confrontation.
The sound of a gun being loaded, the distinctive click that cuts through the tension-laden air. My eyes, along with Genrant's, follow the sound to its source. And there, in the distance, in the shadows of the night and the glow of the flames, I see a familiar figure.
It is then that we see him, a familiar figure, holding a pistol in both hands with implacable firmness. As our eyes adjust to the darkness, we recognize the silhouette of a woman, her posture tense and determined despite the situation unfolding around her.
It is she, my mother, holding a gun in both hands, her white fingers clenched tightly around the weapon. Shock paralyzes me for a moment, unable to process what I'm seeing. What is my mother doing here, in the middle of this chaos? And why is she holding a gun?
Disbelief and shock overwhelm us as we realize the implications of her presence. What is my mother doing here? How could she possibly have come to this place in the middle of the night and tragedy? But before we can ask a question, her actions speak louder than any words I can utter.
With the gun still in her hands, my mother faces us with a tense but determined expression. It is then that words escape my lips, driven by the surprise and bewilderment I feel at her unexpected presence and the actions she has just taken.
"Mom, what are you doing here?!"