Bloody Odyssey-Chapter 31: Backrooms II

Chapter 30

Just as Kakarai was about to assimilate the creature into his arm, the corpse twitched.

Violently.

Its body began to thrash, spasming like something dragged back from the edge of death. Muscles convulsed. Bones shifted. The stillness shattered.

Kakarai froze.

He didn’t notice what was missing.

The mannequin.

It was no longer in front of him.

In a flash—

It was behind him.

A massive club descended.

Bang!

Kakarai’s head was slammed into the floor.

Before his body could react—

Bang!

Again.

The blow forced his skull down, his face smashing into the carpet, then rebounding upward only to be driven down once more. The sound echoed through the silent Backrooms like metal striking stone.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Each strike followed the same cruel rhythm—club to skull, skull to floor—over and over. The impacts became continuous, mechanical, merciless.

Cracks spread across Kakarai’s skull.

"Vos ?!" he screamed, his voice tearing apart as madness and pain collided.

His body convulsed uncontrollably, thrashing like something being crushed beneath a press.

Then—

The demon woke up.

The goat-like entity let out a laugh.

A broken, rasping laugh that sounded wrong—too wet, too animalistic. It echoed through the halls, crawling into Kakarai’s mind.

Even he felt fear.

The hole in the creature’s chest began to close.

Starting from the heart.

Flesh reformed. Veins reconnected. Organs regenerated with grotesque precision.

The fat, deformed entity healed completely.

Meanwhile, the mannequin continued.

It showed no emotion.

No rage.

Only curiosity.

It raised the club again and again, beating Kakarai’s skull into the ground until blood flooded the carpet, until bone gave way entirely.

His skull burst open.

Brain matter scattered.

Eyeballs rolled loose.

Nothing human remained.

From the control room, Dax smiled.

The entities stepped back, their task complete, retreating into the yellow corridors without a sound.

The Backrooms responded.

The floor beneath Kakarai’s remains began to soften, distort, and open. Slowly, relentlessly, his lifeless body was absorbed—dragged downward into ground zero.

Dax leaned forward slightly.

Now, this was what he wanted to see.

Under the Origin Eyes, everything was clear.

He watched as Kakarai’s soul detached, floating upward—then pulled back, drawn into the same space where his body had been swallowed.

Reconstruction began.

Piece by piece.

Pinch by pinch.

Flesh reformed elsewhere, cell by cell, bone knitting itself together with unnatural patience.

If time functioned normally, this process would have taken at least two days.

But here—

Time had no authority.

Dax simply took notes in a small pad.

⸻

Kakarai opened his eyes—without even being granted the mercy of rest.

What greeted him was grotesque.

A towering figure loomed above him, skinless, its raw flesh exposed. It had six eyes almost similar to the goat, unblinking scattered across its head. Its mouth resembled a zipper torn open, stretching down its torso. Inside, rows of blade-like teeth, grinding against one another.

It was enormous. Hollow. Wrong.

Fear clawed into Kakarai’s bones.

That alone terrified him.

In his fractured mind, a single thought surfaced.

Am I in hell?

He couldn’t comprehend what stood before him. Instinct took over. Aura erupted from his body in a desperate burst as he tried to escape—

But he couldn’t move.

More figures had already pinned him down.

He looked to his arms.

There was no skin.

It had been peeled away flawlessly—clean, perfect, deliberate.

With terrifying speed and precision, the creatures continued their work. Skin was stripped, section by section, removed as if following a method only they understood.

Kakarai thrashed.

.Twitching like a dying insect.

Every nerve screamed as pain reached into the smallest parts of him.

Some of them pushed their hands directly into his body, fingers slipping through muscle as though flesh like water. One seized his arm, stretching it as if to wear it like a glove—

Then discarded it.

It fell to the floor with a wet sound.

By the time Kakarai was reduced to muscle and fiber, he was certain he would die.

But he didn’t.

He was fully conscious.

Fully aware.

The agony never dulled.

Then they began again.

They turned his skin inside out, flipping it back onto his body, dressing him in himself like clothing. Layer by layer. Careful. Patient.

When they finished, the creatures sank into the floor and vanished.

Leaving him alone.

Kakarai tried to speak.

But only a wail came out—thin, broken, ghostlike.

This was agony.

This was hell.

If anyone—anyone—stood before him now, he would beg for death. He would beg for the creature that crushed his skull to return and finish the job.

He lay in a puddle of his own blood, trembling.

Why did I ever follow that man?

He didn’t understand, he was nothing more than a test subject.

Tears streamed down his face.

Then—

He laughed.

Slowly, shakily, he stood.

Madness had taken hold once again.

He lifted one leg and began to dance.

His movements were erratic—arms rising and falling, legs snapping up and down with disturbing precision. Every motion tore pain through his body, but he didn’t stop.

He kept moving.

Kept dancing.

Crying and laughing at the same time.

From the shadows, one of the creatures emerged and mirrored him.

A mimic.

It danced alongside him, copying every movement with mocking accuracy.

The sight was unbearable.

A suffering man reduced to entertainment.

They danced until the floor beneath them softened.

Then suddenly Kakarai sank.

Dragged into the ground.

Swallowed once more.