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Description
On the ports by the Han River, engulfed in flames, the Gwoemul, desperate for one final effort to survive, flipped its burning, amphibious-fish body, and rolled on the ground towards the river; which was only several yards away.

However, the Gwoemul wasn’t the only one desperate to overcome its pain.

The blonde/dark-haired man narrowed his eyes; determined to retaliate for his daughter’s death, one last time. The young father grabbed the end of the pole that he had impaled in its multiple maw, and clung on in a futile attempt to stop the huge beast’s frantic trundling. And of course, he was rolled, as well.

While this was happening, a little far off, was the man’s two siblings, mourning over the loss of their cherished, teenaged niece. They have been observing as soon as their angry brother had went head-to-head with the horrible beast. And the younger sibling went into an anxious run towards the struggle and landed on his stomach, gripping onto the hospital sleeves of his inane but stoic, older brother. Grunting, he pried him off the bleeding Gwoemul.

Then, a large, resounding plunge was heard a few seconds later.

The two men stood by the rim of the concrete harbor, glaring down at the rippling circle of water that the body of the beast had created as it sunk below the depths of the massive river. It did not resurface nor could any shadowy silhouette of a swimming, immense body be seen.

With a softer expression, the younger sibling averted his views from the water and glanced at his grieving, quiet brother, who was staring at the clenched blackish, bloody pole; the only thing he prevented from splashing into the Han River.

~~

Six months later, the terror that the Gwoemul had instilled in the local populace was finally diminishing. There were no signs of the beast since newscast had learned of its struggle and supposing death by the docks. Already, citizens had begun to go on with their composed routines. Some were still a bet weary of going anywhere near the river. But when the mundane life became a regularity, more and more folks began to enjoy the air along the river’s water front, before the weather became too chilly for strolling.

Therefore, after time had elapsed with no sightings, and the countless attempts of searching and investigating the Han River and the surrounding area had been unsuccessful, the Gwoemul was considered gone and declared very much dead.

But unknown to everyone, the Gwoemul was very much alive. How it survived its injuries was quite unexplainable. However, its entire existence was quite unexplainable.

The beast had left the river once more to find nourishment. Though, despite all the fire, its odd, olive-green skin had healed, though a bit scarred at places. The beast’s cataract eye had been lost from the clawed-out arrow. The holes that the detached trapped fish in its skin had, had closed up. And ironically, the heat from the flames had ruptured and cleared the boils around its left, now eyeless socket.

But rather than going back to its routine of hunting and storing people since it was fully mended, the Gwoemul was mentally miserable. For instead of being a terror and terrifyingly large…

…it was now, timid and tremendously small.

Somehow, the Agent Yellow affected its mutated body much more than merely causing it to choke up on its own blood and lose its anchored, back fish. The chemicals had gradually reverted its overgrown girth, albeit, not fully. For the Gwoemul was now the size of an average alley cat. And presently, it was acting like one: inside a trashcan, scavenging for scraps.

It only came out at the latest of hours; wanting to evade people whom were now, much larger and could cause more damage to it, than ever. The beast avoided going to the Han River; only retrieving to the waters when its dryness became unbearable from the lack of rainfall. Even when it did return, the Gwoemul couldn’t stay in the river for as long as it needed to. The water’s temperature was dropping, causing its cold-blooded body to not being able to swim as fast as it should. So the creature sensed that the possibilities of being caught, attacked… or eaten by other aquatic predators, were much higher.

But it was also and always dangerous to be out of the river, as well. For not all of the civilians believed the Gwoemul to be dead and had kept searching; so the beast kept hiding. At least, its smaller size allowed the amphibious hybrid to keep undetected; creeping under, up, in, or behind anything it could locate. Hiding may have been become easier, but as for its perspective of its forced circumstances…

~~

Small… The creature hated being so small. It sort of remembered being smaller when it was much younger, but it couldn’t recall that life so much now.

It did remember when it started to feel powerful; when the water began to taste differently. So it thought it would become strong again if it returned to the large waters.

But the taste in the waters went away, and so did that power. It missed that power. So when that power left, so did its confidence. It felt so weak. So insignificant.

Helpless.

The creature halted its movements when it heard a barking animal and resumed its rummaging, only until the loud sound was out of its hearing range. It hated being helpless.

It really did.

Description
On the ports by the Han River, engulfed in flames, the Gwoemul, desperate for one final effort to survive, flipped its burning, amphibious-fish body, and rolled on the ground towards the river; which was only several yards away.

However, the Gwoemul wasn’t the only one desperate to overcome its pain.

The blonde/dark-haired man narrowed his eyes; determined to retaliate for his daughter’s death, one last time. The young father grabbed the end of the pole that he had impaled in its multiple maw, and clung on in a futile attempt to stop the huge beast’s frantic trundling. And of course, he was rolled, as well.

While this was happening, a little far off, was the man’s two siblings, mourning over the loss of their cherished, teenaged niece. They have been observing as soon as their angry brother had went head-to-head with the horrible beast. And the younger sibling went into an anxious run towards the struggle and landed on his stomach, gripping onto the hospital sleeves of his inane but stoic, older brother. Grunting, he pried him off the bleeding Gwoemul.

Then, a large, resounding plunge was heard a few seconds later.

The two men stood by the rim of the concrete harbor, glaring down at the rippling circle of water that the body of the beast had created as it sunk below the depths of the massive river. It did not resurface nor could any shadowy silhouette of a swimming, immense body be seen.

With a softer expression, the younger sibling averted his views from the water and glanced at his grieving, quiet brother, who was staring at the clenched blackish, bloody pole; the only thing he prevented from splashing into the Han River.

~~

Six months later, the terror that the Gwoemul had instilled in the local populace was finally diminishing. There were no signs of the beast since newscast had learned of its struggle and supposing death by the docks. Already, citizens had begun to go on with their composed routines. Some were still a bet weary of going anywhere near the river. But when the mundane life became a regularity, more and more folks began to enjoy the air along the river’s water front, before the weather became too chilly for strolling.

Therefore, after time had elapsed with no sightings, and the countless attempts of searching and investigating the Han River and the surrounding area had been unsuccessful, the Gwoemul was considered gone and declared very much dead.

But unknown to everyone, the Gwoemul was very much alive. How it survived its injuries was quite unexplainable. However, its entire existence was quite unexplainable.

The beast had left the river once more to find nourishment. Though, despite all the fire, its odd, olive-green skin had healed, though a bit scarred at places. The beast’s cataract eye had been lost from the clawed-out arrow. The holes that the detached trapped fish in its skin had, had closed up. And ironically, the heat from the flames had ruptured and cleared the boils around its left, now eyeless socket.

But rather than going back to its routine of hunting and storing people since it was fully mended, the Gwoemul was mentally miserable. For instead of being a terror and terrifyingly large…

…it was now, timid and tremendously small.

Somehow, the Agent Yellow affected its mutated body much more than merely causing it to choke up on its own blood and lose its anchored, back fish. The chemicals had gradually reverted its overgrown girth, albeit, not fully. For the Gwoemul was now the size of an average alley cat. And presently, it was acting like one: inside a trashcan, scavenging for scraps.

It only came out at the latest of hours; wanting to evade people whom were now, much larger and could cause more damage to it, than ever. The beast avoided going to the Han River; only retrieving to the waters when its dryness became unbearable from the lack of rainfall. Even when it did return, the Gwoemul couldn’t stay in the river for as long as it needed to. The water’s temperature was dropping, causing its cold-blooded body to not being able to swim as fast as it should. So the creature sensed that the possibilities of being caught, attacked… or eaten by other aquatic predators, were much higher.

But it was also and always dangerous to be out of the river, as well. For not all of the civilians believed the Gwoemul to be dead and had kept searching; so the beast kept hiding. At least, its smaller size allowed the amphibious hybrid to keep undetected; creeping under, up, in, or behind anything it could locate. Hiding may have been become easier, but as for its perspective of its forced circumstances…

~~

Small… The creature hated being so small. It sort of remembered being smaller when it was much younger, but it couldn’t recall that life so much now.

It did remember when it started to feel powerful; when the water began to taste differently. So it thought it would become strong again if it returned to the large waters.

But the taste in the waters went away, and so did that power. It missed that power. So when that power left, so did its confidence. It felt so weak. So insignificant.

Helpless.

The creature halted its movements when it heard a barking animal and resumed its rummaging, only until the loud sound was out of its hearing range. It hated being helpless.

It really did.