Heterological
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Name: Kim Jiyeon
Location: Hanyoung High School Rooftop, Sector 10
Jiyeon had wandered around the first floor, regaining his strength and getting used to his new stats. Occasionally he looked through the classrooms for any survivors, with no luck. All he found were corpses better left unseen. His adrenaline gradually faded, yet his hands still shook. This was not strange; stress made his hands shiver beyond his control. But this... this was fear.
Death had come too close. The body count was too high. Dark red stained the walls; shards and squishy blobs made the floor slippery. He was splattered with blood from the bugbears, and his shoes were stained red. He would have died if others had not come to his aid. Death. Irrevocable, horrifying, painful. An E-rank facing off against D-ranks. It was a wonder his arms hadn't been chopped off yet. His steps echoed faster as he tried outpacing the darkness. Eventually, he shivered and made his way back to find the classroom abandoned. On a whim, Jiyeon advanced the next set of stairs, and then to the roof of the school when he heard footsteps far above him.
He arrived late to the party, catching the last few morsels of talk from those who tried to take charge or plan for an expedition into the portal. He stood silent at the back, listening to someone say their goodbyes. There was nobody who would mourn his death, Jiyeon thought. Nobody would cry, or grieve, or buy flowers. His body would be lost here, his soul crushed...
Stupid. Don't talk like you're going to die. Keep up the morale. If you believe you're dead, then you are. Maybe. Once again, Jiyeon was reminded of all the things that could go wrong. He looked around and tried to remember these faces. Any one of them might be gone, leaving a hole in the hearts of their parents, their loved ones, their friends.
Jiyeon shook off the melancholy and tried to think strategy. He was a front-line fighter, that was for sure. Stun the enemy, then dash in to deal damage. Fall back, evade. Get support from the ranged fighters and mages. Live. Survive to see another day. Live. Survive. Live. Survive...
He repeated that mantra in his head. As if somehow that'd make it a reality.
Location: Hanyoung High School Rooftop, Sector 10
Jiyeon had wandered around the first floor, regaining his strength and getting used to his new stats. Occasionally he looked through the classrooms for any survivors, with no luck. All he found were corpses better left unseen. His adrenaline gradually faded, yet his hands still shook. This was not strange; stress made his hands shiver beyond his control. But this... this was fear.
Death had come too close. The body count was too high. Dark red stained the walls; shards and squishy blobs made the floor slippery. He was splattered with blood from the bugbears, and his shoes were stained red. He would have died if others had not come to his aid. Death. Irrevocable, horrifying, painful. An E-rank facing off against D-ranks. It was a wonder his arms hadn't been chopped off yet. His steps echoed faster as he tried outpacing the darkness. Eventually, he shivered and made his way back to find the classroom abandoned. On a whim, Jiyeon advanced the next set of stairs, and then to the roof of the school when he heard footsteps far above him.
He arrived late to the party, catching the last few morsels of talk from those who tried to take charge or plan for an expedition into the portal. He stood silent at the back, listening to someone say their goodbyes. There was nobody who would mourn his death, Jiyeon thought. Nobody would cry, or grieve, or buy flowers. His body would be lost here, his soul crushed...
Stupid. Don't talk like you're going to die. Keep up the morale. If you believe you're dead, then you are. Maybe. Once again, Jiyeon was reminded of all the things that could go wrong. He looked around and tried to remember these faces. Any one of them might be gone, leaving a hole in the hearts of their parents, their loved ones, their friends.
Jiyeon shook off the melancholy and tried to think strategy. He was a front-line fighter, that was for sure. Stun the enemy, then dash in to deal damage. Fall back, evade. Get support from the ranged fighters and mages. Live. Survive to see another day. Live. Survive. Live. Survive...
He repeated that mantra in his head. As if somehow that'd make it a reality.
