Revy Gray Warped World Reflections

The whispers of the forest quieted, as if the trees themselves were listening to the story. "The woman's soul, filled with pain and anger, transformed her into a creature known as Lu-gin," Bibi explained. "His feet grew backwards so he could walk silently, tracking attackers without making a sound. His eyes shone like the moon, piercing the darkness and killing any male who entered the forest."

The fire crackled, sending dancing sparks into the night sky. "Since that fateful night," Bibi continued, her eyes busy with the story she had heard, "no one has been seen leaving these forests unharmed. They say that she has become a vengeful creature, seeking revenge for the horrors that befell her."

Revy's swordsman persona took control of his body, his gaze sharp as the blade at his side. "That's a grim tale," he said firmly, cutting through the tension like a sword through silk. "But it's time we put it to rest." He sheathed his sword with a decisive click. "We're leaving this forest tomorrow, and you're coming with us. You and Flam can't hide here forever."

Bibi looked up, the firelight shining on her hopeful expression. "You're right... we were going to have to leave one day anyway," he stammered, his voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

Revy nodded. He knew that surviving in the jungle was a gamble they couldn't win forever. "Good," he said, his voice firm. "Now get some rest. We have a long journey ahead of us."

With that, the camp grew quiet. The fire crackled, sending shadows dancing across the faces of the three unlikely companions. The night air was thick with the scent of earth and damp leaves, a stark contrast to the dry heat of the desert they had left behind. For a short while, the only sound was the gentle snore of the sleeping dragon, whose warmth seemed to have spread throughout the camp, offering a semblance of comfort amidst the horrors they had discussed.

As if summoned by Revy's words, the silence was broken by the sound of twigs snapping in the distance. A figure emerged from the shadows, moving with a grace that defied the awkwardness of its reversed feet. The creature known as Lu-gin stepped into the flickering light, its moonlit eyes locked onto the three travelers.

The creature's long, tangled hair hung in matted clumps around its bruised and swollen face, a stark contrast to its almost ethereal glow. The sight was jarring, a blend of beauty and horror that held Revy in its thrall. He studied the creature, his gambler's instincts telling him to stay calm, to read the situation before making a move.

Lugin took a tentative step forward, its moonlit eyes never leaving Revy's. The creature's movements were fluid, almost mesmerizing in their grace, despite the grotesque reversal of its feet. The silence was thick as the tension grew, stretching taut like a bowstring about to snap.

Revy's swordsman persona remained still, his gaze unyielding as the creature approached. The air around them seemed to hum with unspoken words, a silent battle of wills played out in the flickering firelight. The gambler in him knew the value of patience, of waiting for the right moment to make his move.

"Your story is truly tragic," he said, his voice calm and measured. "I'm sorry if you want to kill us, I have some reasons to stay alive." He took a deep breath, his eyes never leaving the creature's moonlit gaze. "But if you want to talk, I'll listen. Maybe we can find common ground, or at least a way to avoid bloodshed."

The creature, Lu-gin, tilted its head to the side, studying him. The tension in the air was palpable, a silent symphony of unspoken words. Then, with a grace that belied its monstrous form, it lowered itself to the ground, folding its reversed legs beneath it. It remained there, watching, waiting.

"You wish to know the truth of my existence?" the creature asked, its voice a melodic whisper that seemed to resonate through the very fabric of the forest. Despite its grotesque appearance, there was an undeniable femininity to it, a softness that clashed with the horror of its story.

Revy nodded, his expression a mask of concentration as he tried to discern the creature's intentions. The swordsman in him was on high alert, ready to react to any threat, but the gambler knew that sometimes the best move was to let the cards fall where they may.

"The child spoke the truth," Lu-gin began, her voice a haunting melody that seemed to weave through the very fabric of the forest. "But the fullness of my tale is more... complex." She paused, her moonlit eyes never leaving Revy's. "They brought me here, the villagers who had once called me friend. They did so because of envy, because of lust, because of the darkness that lurks in even the brightest hearts."

His words were a knife to the heart, a poignant reminder of the evil that can hide in the most ordinary of places. The swordsman in Revy's soul was torn between pity and anger, but his gaze remained unchanging. "Did everyone in the village do it together?" she asked, her voice a whisper in the dark of the night.

Lu-gin's eyes were filled with a sadness that seemed to swallow the light. "Yes," he whispered, "the women stayed behind and watched. They did nothing to stop it." His voice grew louder, the anger in his words burning like uncontrollable fire. "They watched as he took what was most precious from me, the thing that made me whole."

Revy's heart clenched with a mixture of pity and anger. The creature's story was one of the darkest he had ever heard; A story of betrayal and pain beyond imagination. His hand tightened on the sword's hilt, the weight of his own past weighing heavily on his heart. "What happened to your husband? Did he not call you?" he asked, his voice thick with emotion.

"They trapped my husband when he came back," Luggin whispered, his moonlit eyes devoid of painful memories. "They brought my wife here and killed her in front of my eyes. Not only did they leave me here, they also told me I couldn't leave."

The swordsman's grip on the sword's hilt loosened, a look of horror crossing his face. "How did the wounds on your body occur and why can you walk with your feet upside down?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.

"I have the regeneration parasite," Luggin began, his voice a haunting melody in the silence of the forest, "my body can heal itself. Only my husband was aware of this ability." He paused, his eyes unfocused, lost in the memories of that fateful night. "They left me in the forest because I was dead, but my body was healing. Since I had a cut on my feet, it healed in the opposite direction. The wounds are caused by eating dead animals. There is no healthy food in the forest. There are poisonous plants here."

Revy's mind was racing, trying to piece together the puzzle of Luggin's existence. "So you're not just a creature of vengeance," he said thoughtfully, "but you're also a creature of survival, but this is the first I've heard of a regeneration parasite."

Luggin nodded, his moonlit eyes never leaving hers. "This is a rare gift," he whispered, His gaze fell on his bent feet; the raw meat was a stark reminder of his ordeal. "The parasite heals me, but it can't bring back what was lost."

Revy felt the pang of understanding. "I know what you mean," he said, sadness in his voice. "I was also born without parasites."

Lu-gin inclined his head, curiosity in his eyes. "Everyone living in this world has parasites. It's an inherited thing. This is the first time I've seen someone without parasites," he said in a curious voice.