The Magus Echoes of the forgotten

Three Chances

My vision... it's... Damn it! Why is it acting up now, of all times? Why now, damn it! I refuse! I will see this through. I have to endure. I can't fall here... and if I must, then they are coming with me! I have to make sure of it... But not now, not like this. I still have so much to do. Asu! I owe it to her! I can't let these parasites continue to roam around while her blood cries out for vengeance. For that, I'll keep moving!

Teeth grinding, eyes itchy, I forced myself up and grabbed a dull, rusty knife from the table nearby. The light from the bulb above started flickering intermittently.

"Power shortage? Tch, how convenient. There's something I must show you before the lights go out. I can't let that happen. It's just too cruel. You have to see it. You must."

I dragged him by the hair and slammed his back against the wall, delivering a couple of slaps to wake him up.

His eyes slowly regained focus.

"YES, THAT'S IT! GOOD BOY! You've probably heard that line too many times. It won't mean anything to you."

He started sobbing, tears streaming down his cheeks, and snot running from his nose.

"What? Are you a fortune teller, by any chance? Color me impressed. You seem to know what's going to happen next. Alright, let's see... Oh, I've got it! I'll let you guess. If you answer correctly, I'll let you go home. However, if you're wrong..." I looked into his terrified eyes. There was a glimmer of hope in them. The words "let you go home" seemed to have triggered it. That was good. I couldn't let him despair this early, not yet.

"Do you understand? Nod if you understand, and if not," I showed him the rusty knife, "do you understand?"

Sobbing, he nodded.

"Good. You see this knife. Tell me what I'm going to do with it. To make it fair, I'll give you three chances. Be quick."

I removed his gag, allowing him to speak.

"P-Please, no, no, I-I..." he began to beg, stumbling over his words.

In a deliberate motion, I stabbed his leg while covering his muffled cries with my other hand.

"Your legs are tied, don't bother. Just do as you're told. Answer when asked, there will be no second chances."

He nodded frantically in response to my threats. However, to my disgust, the pig's snot and tears were now on my hand.

"I-" he started to stammer, but I abruptly stopped him by slapping him relentlessly until the snot and tears on my hand were wiped clean on his face.

"You can begin now."

Terrified, he looked at me, one side of his face blood-red and swollen from the slaps.

I raised my hand, ready for another round.

He flinched. "Y-Yes! Yes! Yes! P-Please... no more."

I lowered my hand, taking that as a sign for him to continue.

"Stab... You're going to stab me," he said, amidst his sobs.

Looking at my disturbed expression, he continued to explain, "Y-You already did it. You stabbed my leg, hic."

I nodded. "That's one. You have two chances left."

"W-What? B-But I answered... and you confirmed I was correct!" He stumbled over his words, anger twisting his already ugly face.

"And? I said you have three chances. Did I say you would be free after answering one question? I gave you three chances, and you've only used one. There are still two left. Or are you calling me a liar?!" I responded with the same intensity.

The bastard was quick, despite his appearance, but the game was already rigged. There was no way out.

He glared at me, hesitant and fearful.

I decided to stab his other good leg, maintaining my grip on his mouth with my other hand.

He let out a muffled cry, staining my hand with sobs and snot... once again.

"You never learn, do you?" I smacked and slapped the good side of his face until both sides looked one and the same.

"There, better proportions. You can begin now."

He nodded, his face a mix of red and blue, resembling a rotten tomato.

The bastard was thinking, contemplating the grim reality that he might not make it out of this alive. He was right on the money. But... I couldn't let him lose hope.

That head of his should not think. It should be filled with delusions until I could instill genuine fear into it.

"Aghhh!"

A sudden, searing pain split my head, disrupting my vision.

The pain resurfacing meant only one thing. The drug was losing its effect, and I didn't have much time.

Damn it all!

Scrambling, I stumbled towards the table like a drunkard.

Retrieving a small syringe, my hands trembling, I injected myself in the neck, administering the drug to my body.

"That was close."

My breath came in ragged gasps. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe, but I allowed my lungs to do their job, feeling the pain gradually dull.

Now able to stand on my trembling feet, I opened my bag and retrieved a medical kit. Fortunately, I found a few remaining sterile gauze pads and adhesive bandages. I unwrapped a sterile gauze pad, readying it for application.

Peeling off the adhesive bandage, I removed the old dressing from the wound, mindful of any scabs or new tissue forming.

As I exposed the wound, a sinking feeling washed over me. There were no signs of healing. My time was truly running out.

With limited time and resources, I had to make do with a makeshift solution.

I reached for a sterile gauze pad, pressing it firmly against the gunshot wound on my head and securing it in place with an adhesive bandage. Then, I wrapped an elastic bandage tightly around my head, making sure the dressing stayed in position.

"It's all because..."

What was the point of it all? Everyone was dead. Some died for me, and some died because of me.

This wound on my head... I received it from my father.

Crazy, huh? Hehehe... ironic, isn't it?