Murim : Struggle of the Weak

Chapter 6: Mysterious Murals


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The room I was held captive in was damp and musty, with moss growing on the walls and a thick layer of dust covering every surface. The only source of light came from a small window high up on one wall, through which a sliver of sunlight filtered in. The door, made of heavy metal, was the only way in or out, and it was always locked tight.

I was given food once a day, but the timing was unpredictable. Sometimes it would be delivered 7-12 hours after I woke up, while other times it would be delayed even longer. It was as if the person delivering the food was procrastinating with the task, or perhaps the distance between where I was kept and where they were was significant. Either way, I was left guessing when my next meal would arrive.

The quantity of food given to me was barely enough for survival. It tasted different every day, but there was always the taste of pork and hot spices mixed in. This made me think that my captors were from a place rich in pigs and hot spices, and the nearest place that came to mind was the Sichuan Province. I couldn't help but wonder why they would go through all this trouble, why not just pay off the authorities to look the other way? But then again, what if these people were fanatics who killed in the name of some supposed God, and the acts they would commit were so inhumane that they couldn't afford to catch the attention of the authorities?

I tried to tell myself that I was just paranoid. I was stuck in a plane of existence between life and death, and after I crossed this plane, I would find myself in another world with a harem of beautiful women with no personalities at all where I could dominate all my enemies and save the world!

( ~ Slap ~ )

'Ok, I needed that.' I told myself as I rubbed my cheek but suddenly a stinging feeling pulled my attention to my lips.

While I couldn't see anything, I could feel the blood moisten my lips, yet I felt no pain.Great, looks like I finally lost my teenager's angst to feel pain.

I was wearing a tattered, dirty clothing that hung off my emaciated frame. My hair was matted and unkempt, and my skin was pale and gaunt from lack of sunlight and proper nutrition. I was unarmed, and I knew that if I were to escape, I would have to rely on my wits and whatever resources I could find in the room.

The only thing that gave me some sense of hope were the strange murals on the walls. They were hidden behind layers of moss, and I knew that if I could uncover them with the light from the mushrooms helping me, they might hold some clues to my whereabouts. Hoisting myself up, I placed my hand on the wall behind me and began to search for a way to remove the moss. As I scraped at the layers, I could hear the sound of moss tearing and crumbling to the ground. It was a small victory, but it gave me a sense of purpose and determination to uncover the truth about my captivity.

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

Time didn't stop for anyone. Time never waited for anyone or anything. No matter how many times we get the opportunity to do something, only time will be able to tell the outcome. That's how it is. 

That's why choices were important. Very important. You can never go back on your choices. Even if time were to be a piece of human perception and a social construct or an illusion we created for ourselves; you can't help the nagging feeling that time is slipping away slowly, right beneath your fingertips... Can you? 

Time passed or did it? I couldn't tell in this place.

I guessed that I have been trapped here for at least four months by the amount of food I was given.

Whoever delivered the food was either a quiet person or I wasn't just cute enough to get catcalled.

The small window was just mechanically opened once a day with the weird symbol as an indicator and supplied me with " food " if you could even call it that 

At first, I felt the limit of my mental powers because I couldn't talk to anyone for four months and was isolated in a dark space alone but finding out what these hidden murals meant kept me busy.

While I couldn't decipher what the murals truly meant since I couldn't see by scraping off the moss layers and feeling the murals. I concluded that the language written on these walls had 26 unique shapes to them, which made me sigh in relief since the Teutonic language, which I learned from borrowing and keeping books that people would throw in the dump, also had 26 alphabets.

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With each passing day, I found myself becoming more and more invested in decoding the mysterious language etched onto the murals that lined my prison walls. The light of mushrooms was used it to study the intricate shapes and symbols that made up the mysterious script.

Although I couldn't read the language, the murals themselves provided me with a sense of hope. They depicted images of fruit, including a fruit that resembled an apple, and other objects that I interpreted as food. These murals gave me a glimpse into the lives of those who had been held captive here before me.

It was clear that my imprisonment wasn't a singular event, and that others had been held here before me. But the question remained, what had happened to the person who had etched these murals into the walls?

Despite the uncertainty of my situation, the murals gave me a sense of purpose and determination. I was determined to understand their meaning and use that knowledge to aid in my escape. 

••●••••●••••●••••●••••●••

I had been trapped in this dark, damp prison for what felt like an eternity. The only company I had were the moss-covered murals that lined the walls of my cell. As the days passed, I found myself becoming increasingly obsessed with deciphering the mysterious language etched onto the murals. I spent hours each day studying the shapes and symbols, linking each letter to the Teutonic alphabet.

As I delved deeper into the murals, I felt my sanity slowly slipping away. I found myself talking to the walls, as if they were living, breathing entities. I wondered if I had truly lost it, if I had let the isolation and darkness consume me. But even as I grappled with my own sanity, I couldn't shake the feeling that the murals held the key to my escape.

I spent every waking moment walking along the narrow walls of my cell, feeling for any weaknesses or potential escape routes. I walked and walked, until my feet were calloused and my legs were sore from the constant movement. The food that was delivered once a day was insufficient to sustain me, so I turned to scraping moss from the walls to stave off my hunger. The taste was revolting, like the bitter tang of death. But I survived, day after day, using the monotony of my routine to keep me grounded in reality.

As my body began to adapt to the darkness, I started to notice small changes. My leg muscles grew stronger with each day, and I even started to do push-ups to build my upper body strength. The pain was intense, but it helped to distract me from the weight of my isolation.

And then, one day, I noticed something even more miraculous. My eyes had begun to adapt to the darkness. I couldn't say when it had started or how, but I could suddenly make out shapes and lines in the shadows. It was a small thing, but it gave me a sense of hope that I hadn't felt in a long time. My body had changed significantly, due to the lack of nutrition and constant movement, but my eyes had begun to see in this darkness.

Maybe it was because of the moss or the strange glowing mushrooms.

The underground space I saw with these eyes was desolate and depressing as I expected. There was not a single piece of furniture in the square space but there were a lot of murals not only on the walls but all on the ceiling and the floor which made me wonder, why didn't I feel them before but I chalked it up to my accursed sanity, why would someone use the floor to draw?

On one side, the feces and feces excreted that I had accumulated and gave off a foul odor. Well, it didn't take much genius to find out why but the surprising thing was unidentified insects that gathered to eat the feces.

How did these insects get here?

Was there some kind of hole they crawled into from? Because I never heard a single buzz of their wings until now.

Damnit, at least I had some company now in this place ..... after my feces.

Yep, I have finally lost my mind.

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