ã€ŠThe Lost World [Dropped]ã€‹


 Chapter 1: Introducing Cary

    ¡°People try to forget him. They erase records. Choke and twist whatever truths are left. They want to make sure he isn¡¯t remembered. They consider it the greatest shame they ever suffered. The only definite proof of his existence is the treaty. It has stood unchanged for 300 years.¡±

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    ¡°Hey Cary, move!¡± Cary turned just as he heard his nam- ¡°Move, you¡¯re in the way¡± and with that, presumptuously pushed aside into the locker beside him by school jock, Griffin Adams, enough to know what the shover thought of him, he didn¡¯t bully him per se, just thought of him like the wind, something to be pushed through whenever it blew your way.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll move no problem...¡± Cary mumbled to himself, all 1.61 meters of him. At just 44 kilograms, he was the lightest person in his class, girls included. He fit the stereotype; a short, pale nerd. who made up in intelligence for what he lacked in height. He easily made top grades despite spending much of his time in the dark playing video games. Of course, he always played the most muscular warrior he could be in whatever fantasy RPG he was decimating. He excelled at any game he picked up, not just RPGs. A testament to his quick thinking and natural dexterity.

    He supposed the determination came from the fact that if he was going to be good at one thing, he better be great at it. He¡¯d naturally tried going pro once, in some MOBA game he picked up, but left as soon as he felt he was going to be picked on.

    ¡°Hey Cary, you alright?¡± He heard a voice behind him, his slightly taller but way heavier partner-in-crime, Caleb.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine, he didn¡¯t really intend to push me.¡± Cary naturally lied.

    Caleb caught his lie easily, but like a friend that was supporting your addiction, didn¡¯t call him out on it.

    ¡°Hurry up or we''ll be late for maths class, also I can show you the new game I found yesterday. We¡¯ll be rolling over that baby all weekend!¡± Caleb grinned. He loved indie games with small communities. It made him feel good when he defeated the casual players.

    Cary grinned back. Neither of them acknowledged they were large fishes in a small pond.

    Sifting through the rest of the students, it took them almost 10 minutes to reach class.

    They, as usual, sat in the back, barely even seeing whatever the professor wrote on the board. They got there just before class started, but the professor was nowhere in sight.

    Since neither of them were planning to listen to whatever the professor had to say, because they were way ahead of the rest of the class. Engrossed in a quiet discussion of game strategies, they didn¡¯t notice nearly 10 minutes passing after the bell rung, before the professor walked in.

    That was highly unusual.

    The university they went to was a prestigious private university. And admitted only geniuses or the very wealthy. The school itself demanded the same genius and professionalism from both professors and students. A professor 10 minutes late to class? very strange.

    Mr. Robertson, their old mathematics tea, didn¡¯t seem bothered by his late arrival, but had a steady and relaxed gait as he walked to the podium.

    He stood behind it and started speaking to settle down the class that had grown quite rowdy in his absence.

    ¡°Apologies for my late arrival, but something relating to this mathematics class has come up. I thought it best to have a speech prepared for this announcement.¡± He paused and let the now quiet class swallow his words. Then he continued:

    ¡°As of today, I will, unfortunately, no longer be your mathematics professor. I am retiring. Because of this, you will, starting today, have a new professor.¡± He gestured towards the still open door.

    A brown-haired woman, in her late twenties at most, walked in, and unlike Mr. Robertson, her gait, Cary noticed, wasn¡¯t as relaxed. She walked steadily, but you could notice her mild insecurity if you looked hard enough.

    Cary mused that as she had that many eyes on her, at least a few noticed it.

    ¡°This is Mrs. Robertson, and you will address her as such, unless she specifies otherwise. Starting today, she will be your new mathematics professor. Now, normally a new professor would have to spend several classes on figuring out where her students were skill-wise. I''ve solved that problem, as I¡¯ve showed her the recordings of my classes since the start of the school year.¡±

    He paused and had a drink of water. ¡°She will simply start teaching where we left off last time. I will supervise her this class, and if deemed competent she will, from tomorrow onwards be your new permanent mathematics professor. And yes, I can see the question literally floating in front of me. She is, indeed, my daughter. And Mrs. Robertson, if you have anything to say you may have the podium if you¡¯d like.¡± He mentioned that bombshell and moved on without pause.

    You¡¯re supervising your own daughter as your replacement? Really? That was weird. He couldn¡¯t realistically be unbiased in his judgement.

    That would also mean 100% they couldn¡¯t test her this class as they would with other new professors to appraise their composure and wit, so the professor earned their student¡¯s respect. A father¡¯s fury is scary no matter where you go, so it was impossible to actually learn anything about their new professor.

    Cary wasn¡¯t really interested. He was at the very front of his class in his studies and didn¡¯t have to anything besides some homework and test; but a new professor meant being forced to pay attention at least as a curtesy for her first few classes.

    He watched her walk to the podium and start some 5 minutes speech she¡¯d prepared, and by the time she started teaching, he was bored out of his mind.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Wanting to be literally anywhere else, he was so torn between listening to the professor and having his head in the clouds; he jumped when he heard the bell ring.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, biology is next, and if I remember correctly, it¡¯s our favourite subject zoology!¡± Cary quipped to Caleb and smiled when he heard Caleb groan. Zoology seemed to be the most boring useless subject in modern society. What use was there to study animals? They were being left behind; they lost the race to dominance. Better spend the energy to push humanity further ahead.

    The walk to the biology classroom was even slower than before. They spent nearly the entire recess having to walk through the crowd to make it to the classroom.

    This wasn¡¯t normal, but some idiot spilled a dangerous chemical into the vents, so half of the school was closed for repairs, whilst the other half was filled to the brim with double the normal number of students.

    As expected, Cary was bored. There wasn¡¯t a spark in him that thought zoology was fun. Physiology? Sure. Genetics? Fantastic. Zoology? Go fish.

    And unlike mathematics, everyone was seated together with their assigned group, so Cary couldn¡¯t even whisper to Caleb, and was forced to simply sit in silence; bored to death.

    The group project was terrible as well. No one took responsibility, and Cary sure as hell wouldn¡¯t. He hated being a leader, the responsibility certainly wasn¡¯t worth the reward.

    Because of this, the group simply handled everything the bureaucratic way, and talked endlessly among themselves about distributing the tasks so they could be done efficiently, which they did inefficiently.

    Still, solo assignments carried more weight, and group assignments could only ever pull you up, not down, so Cary had no interest in taking charge.

    This carried on for quite a while, distributing 15 tasks between the 5 of them took an hour and a half, cause some tasks were worse than others they bickered constantly, doing compromises, bribes and low-key blackmail to get the easier tasks.

    Cary, having said nothing, got all the worst ones, which was fine by him. He¡¯d breeze through them, anyway.

    The third class for the day was his worst nightmare manifested into reality.

    PE class.

    Cary deliberately walked slowly over to the training fields, hoping to delay the nightmare that was to come. Gone was the careless foremost student. Standing in his place was the typical insecure nerd.

    Cary hated PE class with a passion. And unlike a certain someone in the family, wasn¡¯t particularly gifted in the physical department. If his external appearance wasn¡¯t clue enough, he had asthma and the sickle cell trait, the combination of which made him almost pass out from a quick run if he didn¡¯t drink plenty of water beforehand and was careful to maintain an ideal body temperature. It was bad enough that he couldn¡¯t exercise worth a damn without having to take dubious amounts of anti-inflammatory medicine, but he had to do it, while looking weak and fragile in front of the entire class. He hated it.

    Walking towards the locker room was like presenting yourself for humiliation. He couldn¡¯t avoid it, as absence was heavily frowned upon, and he¡¯d already skipped as many PE classes as he could.

    Opening the door, the stench of sweat and manliness, 2 things he very much disliked, immediately assaulted him.

    It was rowdy, as you¡¯d expect, everyone was getting pumped to be ready for whatever physically demanding game the coach had in store for them, and in the same lane, the people that weren¡¯t already pumped were feeding of off the atmosphere to psych themselves up.

    Everyone except for Cary. Cary could logically understand the need for exercise. Hells he even liked some aspects of it, but why in the world did it have to be done whilst acting like cavemen, competing for dominance? Humanity had come remarkably far in some areas, not so far in others, such as PE classes.

    The humiliation started when people started glancing at him whilst he was changing. They sent brief glances his way when they thought he couldn¡¯t notice, but there were so many of them that he would inevitably see some.

    It was always terrible. People wanted to look at the short skeleton and wonder what he was doing here. To be fair, the skeleton didn¡¯t know either; forced to be there.

    Whilst he wasn¡¯t the only anomaly, he was the one that stood out the most. Here was the moderately famous genius getting humiliated at PE.

    Cary tried to change into his gym clothes as quickly as possible without it looking obvious that he was hurrying. Since he arrived late, he¡¯d just finished changing when the coach walked in and talked about what they were going to do in this class.

    Again, an unusual class, because the coach decided we were to go hiking in the sultry breeze early in fall. For the athletic jocks, this class was going to be a waltz. It was more of a long walk to them than a hike.

    For Cary, it was the worst possible choice after endurance running; genetically predisposed to not be good at endurance activities. For normal people, it was training. For him, it was going to resemble something like torture.

    His lungs were going to be burning, his feet like they were filled with lead, and he was going to be wheezing throughout the entire thing

    Exactly as he predicted, only 30 minutes into the hike, he was way behind the rest of the group, with only the coach behind him, who was making some motivational speech to Cary about mind over matter and whatnot, completely oblivious to Cary¡¯s pain, whose pace was slowing more and more till he could reasonably maintain it, which with this terrain was almost twice as slow as a normal person walking.

    Although Cary hated the coach to his guts, he had to give him some respect for staying with him throughout the entire 4 hours it took to get to the top of the mountain at which point the coach called a taxi for the 2 of them, as school had finished a while ago, and he¡¯d again, passed the entire class on their way down, who¡¯d reached the top after 45 minutes, if Cary estimated correctly.

    Cary finally caught his breath whilst waiting for the taxi to arrive. Any goodwill that was raised by calling a taxi voided because he forced Cary to walk up here.

    Perhaps the taxi driver noticed the atmosphere, or perhaps he was simply the quiet type, but he didn¡¯t say a word through the entire trip, neither did the coach, which was very nice, as it allowed Cary to simply be in a bad mood by himself.

    ¡°It¡¯s only once a week, it¡¯s only once a week, it¡¯s only once a week, it¡¯s onl-.¡° Cary repeated to himself internally throughout the entire drive back to school.

    He practically burst through the car door when he arrived at the front entrance, only to be stopped by the coach, who said pitifully, ¡°You did good today son, be proud of yourself.¡± And without waiting for Cary¡¯s reaction, walked out of sight.

    ¡°Be proud of myself, huh?¡± Cary muttered to himself, through gritted teeth, ¡®be proud? Proud of what, exactly?¡¯ He was dead last, it took him several hours to finish what the class did in less than 1, he wasn¡¯t getting in any better shape than he was at the start of the year, he wasn¡¯t ever going to get in better shape as long as he was this useless piece of crippled meat.

    His musings were interrupted because he¡¯d forgotten to lock his locker, and that his phone was stolen. Probably taken by the underpaid janitor, who¡¯d never admit to it.

    ¡®Great, just great.¡¯

    ¡®Walking it is then¡­¡¯

    Changing out of his gym clothes and into his regular clothes, luckily none of them were taken, changing at his own pace and without incident, which seemed to be something rare today.

    ¡®It¡¯s only 8 kilometres...¡¯ Cary told himself, as he was too shy to ask anyone to borrow a phone at this hour, and all his friends had gone home a while ago.

    ¡®At least the weather''s nice.¡¯ He told himself, trying to cheer himself up.

    And it worked. The warm fall breeze was a calming wave after what had happened to him at PE, or it was, until it started raining.

    Large drops of rain, making Cary soaking when within only a few minutes. The warm fall breeze disappeared, replaced by an icy wind, making him shiver from the cold, and his teeth clattering so much he might as well have been naked, his head was feeling faint, and he thought he might just collapse.

    That¡¯s when the damn broke. Tears streamed down from his face, invisible, and his sobs blending with the heavy torrent of rain.

 Chapter 2: Introducing John

    ¡°Try to understand, he wasn¡¯t some born monster. He was barely even evil. He was normal There is a great debate to be had, whether he was a boon or curse to the continent. If they stopped being insulted at his mention, then maybe that debate could progress.¡±

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    ¡°Ready¡­GO!¡± John heard the gunshot, and burst into a run.

    3 seconds, he glanced left and right, and saw his competitors keeping pace with him, all of them wearing the same track and field t-shirt that he was.

    4 seconds, he was in the middle of the group and would finish 4th or 5th if he didn¡¯t speed up.

    6 seconds, he let his mind fade, letting his body take over, and with that, a kind of primal energy came from deep within him, the primitive part of him that screamed for him to compete like his very life depended on it, that he had to win to become the alpha of the pack.

    8 seconds, he had gained a burst of speed and was swiftly passing his competitors, easily taking 2nd place, but barely falling behind.

    9 seconds, he roared internally, finally pushing past 1st place

    10.3 seconds, he crossed the finishing line almost a full second ahead of 2nd place.

    He spent a dozen meters slowing down from his sprint, giving a roar of victory, as the primal energy slowly seeped back to where it came from, and his mind returned, basking in the energy''s afterglow, he closed his eyes and took deep breaths to get his heart rate back down.

    Wheezing breaths were heard all around him, his competitors and classmates.

    ¡°Bro, tell me your secret. Where does that burst of speed come from every time? You¡¯re in the middle of the pack then BAM you¡¯re first¡± Alex, who came second, paused to catch his breath, before he continued: ¡°it¡¯s actually cruel, giving us hope only to shoot them down a few seconds later.¡± Alex finished wryly.

    John gave an apologetic smile instead of answering. It wasn¡¯t on purpose. He couldn¡¯t turn off his mind on command, only in the heat of the moment would his body take over.

    Suddenly John heard a cheerful female voice behind him: ¡°Here have a drink, our champion athlete deserves a nice cold bottle of water for that performance.¡±

    Turning around, John saw it was a cheerleader. They usually took breaks when the track and field team competed to cheer them on, or at least, John assumed so based on the way her face was flushed.

    ¡°Thanks.¡± John smiled innocently and took the bottle that was handed to him, taking large gulps of water.

    Other cheerleaders soon joined them, sharing water bottles with everyone.

    John felt mildly uncomfortable, as he pretended not to notice the cheerleaders staring at him when his back was turned, not wanting to give them any ideas.

    ¡°Hey John, wanna have lunch together?¡± Sarah, the cheerleading captain, asked him point-blank.

    ¡°Sure, as long as Alex doesn¡¯t mind, I promised him we¡¯d hangout earlier.¡± John smoothly deflected with another innocent smile, not letting the girl be alone with him. He was well aware of what the girls thought of him, he wasn¡¯t blind, nor an isekai harem protagonist, but he really wasn¡¯t interested, he hoped they could just stay friends, as they were all fun to talk to, as they¡¯d fortunately steer clear of homework as a chatting subject.

    John knew that worked in his favour, as he¡¯d somehow avoided being found out. They just assumed he was average in the STEM classes or didn¡¯t care about homework.

    They were quite wrong.

    He spent almost as much time training as he did homework. He came home late every day, because he was in the library doing homework by himself or getting a helping hand from the teachers.

    Whilst the school was very prestigious, the difficulty level was equally high, and some students struggled despite their genius.

    John was one of those students.

    He could confidently say that he was at least somewhat gifted in the physical department, but what he had in strength he lacked in intelligence, he wasn¡¯t stupid, just average at worst, and this wasn¡¯t a very average school, his IQ was tested upon admission to the school, and he got an average 107 points.

    He walked to the locker room to change. Before one of the cheerleaders could gather enough courage to ask him out on a date, it almost seemed to be a competition between them.

    John had his own pace, taking a quick shower whilst the other guys were chatting amongst themselves about some hot cheerleader or trying to climb the social hierarchy by putting up a front, all of it in good fun. He really didn¡¯t need to pretend, he was at the very top without trying; he was the strongest or fastest in almost every sport, being unnaturally gifted, coupled with natural charisma, this primitive social structure gave him an unfair advantage, he was at the very top by just being himself.

    Or that was the lie he liked to tell himself.

    He only enjoyed the social structure because he understood it and was good at it, be strong, fast, confident and sexy. Easy and simple.

    Having changed out of his track and field clothes, he walked slowly from the training field and gym towards the school grounds. He only had a T-shirt on as jackets made him too hot, and he could enjoy the nice fall breeze.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

    Alex caught up to him during the 10-minute walk to the campus.

    ¡°Hey John!¡± John turned around and waved to him.

    ¡°I know you know the girls are literally competing to see who gets to sleep with you first, and for the life of me, I can only conclude that you¡¯re gay since you haven¡¯t picked a winner yet.¡± Alex said jokingly, as they both knew he wasn¡¯t gay.

    ¡°Huh, maybe I should just pick several, and have like a foursome, then they can fight amongst themselves about who was the winner.¡± John said stoically before breaking out into a grin.

    ¡°I wonder how long they¡¯ll try, before they think you¡¯re gay too. I mean, how many have slept with me to get to you?¡± Alex said and laughed, before quickly looking around to see if anyone heard them. Luckily, they were completely alone. Then he added: ¡°And you¡¯d be the biggest stud in the school if you could get a foursome with 3 cheerleaders.¡±

    John kind of enjoyed being the prize, especially since they couldn¡¯t get him, even if they wanted. It was his way of pranking them. It was a wonder that they hadn¡¯t given up. They¡¯d tried almost the entire last school year.

    ¡°Exactly how many have slept with you to get to me?¡± John¡¯s curiosity was peaked. How desperate were they? That just seemed ridiculous to him.

    ¡°¡­Three!¡± Alex smiled and said, holding up 3 fingers.

    ¡°What? Really? I don¡¯t believe you; no one is that desperate. I don¡¯t need a confidence boost that badly.¡± John said in disbelief.

    ¡°Hahaha, a sexy piece of meat like you? It would be like sleeping with Brad Pitt.¡± Alex insisted.

    ¡°Nope, don¡¯t believe it, are you sure they didn¡¯t just want to sleep with you? You¡¯re still a muscular athlete. I refuse to believe that they didn¡¯t just settle for you.¡± John fired back.

    They went back and forth the entire walk until they arrived at the biology classroom, where John paused outside the door. He hated it, every time he didn¡¯t fi-.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, don¡¯t stand there like an idiot, you¡¯ll get through it, I promise, it¡¯s fine, no worries, don¡¯t worry, be happy, adversity makes you stronger.¡± Alex fired off a machinegun of slogans, and gave him a shove into the classroom, and almost pushed him to his chair at the very front, smiling reassuringly.

    It was almost as bad as he¡¯d feared. Almost. Alex quietly helped him whenever he was stuck, or obviously didn¡¯t understand what was being said. The subject was Zoology, one of his favourite subjects. He liked animals; they fascinated him. Although he couldn¡¯t understand them, or the subject very well, he would like to work with animals in some capacity.

    ¡®Now if only I could understand what my dog said, then maybe he¡¯d stop barking at the dogs on the street. It¡¯s driving certain family members crazy¡¯

    Still, he barely made it through every test, and was among the worst students academically, even with him zealously doing homework after school every day. Every essay, assignment, and report he made was only sent in after hours of work.

    ¡°See, that wasn¡¯t as terrible as you made it out to be in your head. Our teacher is just bad.¡± Alex said comfortingly

    John smiled. ¡°I¡¯d like to become a zoologist someday, or maybe a veterinarian, or just a dog sitter would be nice. All I know is I want to work with animals because there is a lot they can tell us, that we don¡¯t know.¡± He whispered as they were walking towards the next class.

    ¡°And here all the girls think you¡¯re gonna be the next NFL player making 20 million dollars a year.¡± Alex commented smoothly and continued, ¡°Then again, not a single one of them actually knows you, although you don¡¯t really let them.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t girls like a bit of mystery? I¡¯m the mystery man, the one that comes to school beats 2/3 of the track and fields records and disappears.¡± John said with a smirk.

    ¡°That¡¯s true, if they knew you were just a gentle giant and not some genetically modified lab creature, they¡¯d lose interest pretty quickly I think¡­Some of them would at least.¡± Alex answered back and glancing at John¡¯s body up and down.

    Above the door, a sign stated ¡°Mathematics¡±, John¡¯s most dreaded subject.

    Alex had to, again, subtly physically push John through the door and to his seat, and John accepted the pushing with grace. He doubted he¡¯d make it through the door in time for class that start, and having a helping(pushing) hand made his choice a lot easier.

    Then something unusual happened. The teacher was late.

    Mr. Robertson was never late, something he prided himself in, although he was a stern and strict teacher, he never lost his temper with earnest students, patiently explaining, clarifying and expounded whatever problem the student was having trouble with. Many times, he¡¯d dragged John from despair, not giving up until he was sure John had understood it. Perhaps because of this, he¡¯d never asked John a question in class because he was aware of his difficulties. John respected him tremendously.

    Alex whispered to him from behind: ¡°That¡¯s weird, Mr. Robertson is late, supposedly he hasn¡¯t been late or called in sick in 20 years. *gasp* do you think he¡¯s dead?!¡± Alex joked loudly.

    ¡°I¡¯m afraid not, I¡¯m still kicking.¡± Alex jumped in his chair when he heard Mr. Robertson from the doorway, and John sighed in relief. He liked Mr. Robertson a lot, so he¡¯d be miserable if something happened to him. He tensed up again, when he heard him continue:

    ¡°My apologies, I was clarifying some things to your new teacher.¡±

    John¡¯s eyes widened, and inadvertently exclaimed with a deep rumble: ¡°A new teacher?!¡± He didn¡¯t like the sound of that at all, what if this new teacher was bad, or didn¡¯t help him, or perhaps asked him a question in class? Although he¡¯d try his best to accept the humiliation with grace, he rarely had an answer to the questions Mr. Robertson asked the other students.

    ¡°Yes, although you mustn¡¯t worry, I have the highest confidence that your new teacher will do well.¡± Mr. Robertson said with a smile, assuredly, soothing John¡¯s fears a little if he was aware of them.

    He turned to the rest of the class: ¡°I must regretfully announce my retirement. Today, I will supervise your new teacher, and as of tomorrow she will be your new mathematics teacher.¡± He continued: ¡°May I present, Mrs. Robertson, and yes, before you ask, she is indeed connected to me, please give a warm welcome to my daughter.¡±

    In one smooth sentence, he¡¯d dropped a bombshell on them. ¡®Your own daughter is going to replace you?!¡¯ is what went through the heads of every student.

    A tall brunette walked through the doorway with confidence, her eyes taking in the classroom, briefly lingering on some students, John included.

    Whilst John wasn¡¯t very smart, he was adept at reading people and he could feel a bit of pity in her eyes.

    ¡®So, she at least knows the class to some extent. She¡¯s probably seen the recordings or been told what students are struggling and excelling by Mr. Robertson.¡¯ John mused, as his eyes followed her to the podium, Mr. Robertson moved aside quietly to the corner, and Mrs. Robertson started a formal speech about how she would not disappoint and how the classes would carry on as usual, so that their learning wouldn¡¯t be affected, because she was showed the recordings and had asked about each student individually and so on.

    John had his doubts, but since Mr. Robertson trusted her, he would trust her too.

    To her credit, she didn¡¯t stumble very much, considering it was her first time teaching this class, although she¡¯d probably taught a certain family member earlier today.

    She spoke clearly and concisely, but wasn¡¯t as adept at clarifying the thing she was talking about whenever a student asked her a question. That¡¯s when Mr. Robertson helpfully quipped an explanation to the class.

    John sat nervously in his chair, subtly twitching every time Mrs. Robertson asked a question to a student, hoping she wouldn¡¯t pick him.

    He inaudibly sighed in relief when the bell rang. Thankfully, she hadn¡¯t picked him, and the class ended normally, when she, as Mr. Robertson normally did, assigned to homework to the students for the next class. John had expected as much, so he wasn¡¯t surprised.

    John wasn¡¯t in any hurry as he put everything he¡¯d used for the class away into his bag. Quietly made his way to the library to do his homework.

    He was quite thankful that none of the popular kids he usually hung out with in recess went to the library. They were usually ahead of the class, and as such, rarely went to the library, especially after school was over.

    The only people here were the less popular nerds and the other students that struggled. He¡¯d make it a point to be as nice and humble as possible whenever he asked or received helped from the other students.

    He¡¯d only studied an hour before Mrs. Robertson gave a surprise visit to the library, and him specifically.

    ¡°Excuse me, your name was John, right?¡± John looked up when his name was called. She smiled and said: ¡°Dad told me you¡¯d be here.¡±

    Then she politely offered her help in the homework assignments she¡¯d given, which John accepted. He was surprised. She was almost as good as Mr. Robertson in her explanation, and exceeded him in some ways, such as when she used metaphors to make it easy for John to understand. Time passed quickly, and thanks to her help, John could finish his homework almost an hour faster than normal, because of her helpful hints, explanations and metaphors, without giving him the answer.

    He thanked her for her help and bid her farewell and went on his way home.

    He usually, due to his many time constraints, opted to run home whatever the weather, to at least get some training before dinner at 6, which was when he usually came home, including the 25 or so minute run home.

    He covered his backpack with the inbuilt rain-cover because he could tell it was going to rain and went on his way.

    Barely 5 minutes into the run, when it had started raining and a chilly wind blew, he noticed a figure when he went around a corner.

    He recognized the figure instantly, a miserable sight, his summer jacket doing nothing to defend against the chilly wind that was bleeding heat from his small shivering frame.

    John changed course immediately, quickly crossing the road with large strides. The small shivering figure might pass out from the cold if this went on. He needed to get inside quickly.

    John walked closer. That¡¯s when he heard Cary, his most precious brother, sobbing quietly.

    He quietly walked up behind Cary and realized something.

    The broad back that had once protected them when they were little.

    He could finally protect his brother like his brother had protected him.

    John put his hand on his brother¡¯s shoulder.

 Chapter 3: The Wish

    ¡°He was an ordinary shaman, at first. He wasn¡¯t particularly talented, nor smart, nor even charismatic. He was kind. As all shamans are. He was the mediator in his village. He should mediate disputes and keep order. Lest the people turn to less sophisticated means of solving problems.¡±

    =======================================================================

    Cary heard heavy steps approaching him from behind, even through the sound of the rain, and felt a large hand on his shoulder, a warm hand, warm enough that he felt the heat through his jacket and shirt in the heavy rain almost instantly.

    Cary paused and looked up behind him, his eyes trailing from the person''s hand, up through the exposed arm, glancing at the t-shirt he was wearing and then to his face, he could see steam coming off the man''s entire body. The body of a brute, rivalling the most ferocious warrior, at least 2 meters tall, probably weighing over a hundred kilos in just pure muscle.

    The face of the brute, however, had a tender smile, the kind you only gave to precious family members to tell them that everything was going to be all right.

    Cary looked down, not trusting himself to stop crying, and whilst trying to keep his voice steady, he said: ¡°What do you want, John?¡±

    The brute, his brother, not answering, merely swinging his backpack from his back to his chest, and in one smooth movement picked up Cary, like he was a feather.

    He might as well have been. His brother was the famed athlete of the school, being first in several disciplines. He was everything Cary wasn¡¯t, strong, quick, charming, and with the body of a spartan warrior. Every girl wanted him. He had enough women throwing themselves at him. He could simply pick whatever type he wanted.

    Captain of whatever team he wanted, football, soccer, swimming, it didn¡¯t matter, he could easily become the best on the team, with just a few weeks of practice. He intimidated every school jock. He was the reason that Cary wasn¡¯t bullied at all. The one time someone had given him a blue eye, John had found out who did it, and promptly send him to the hospital. After that, no one had laid a hand on him. No one dared to.

    Cary was piggybacked, not given much choice. His weak protests were ignored. Cary immediately felt the heat radiating from his body. It was like a roaring fire in the icy rain, refusing to go out, vaporizing any rain that dared to get close. He felt John¡¯s breath, a deep ocean, breathing deeply with the waves coming and going.

    He buried his face into the broad back that was carrying him, trying to compose himself.

    Then John started running, Cary glanced up to see the trees zooming by, and yet Cary couldn¡¯t notice it from touch. John held him steadily. Cary felt John might as well have been walking. He heard the heavy steps over the sound of the rain again. They felt comforting. As if they¡¯d protect him against the world.

    Whilst Cary didn¡¯t know how far he¡¯d made it on his own, he knew it wasn¡¯t long before John put him down, still as warm and steady as ever.

    Cary had on the way home composed himself and could maintain some dignity in front of his mother, who immediately admonished them when they arrived at their doorstep soaking wet.

    She told them to go shower, directing one of them to go to the upstairs bathroom, and for the other to go into the basement bathroom. John subtly offered to help Cary take off his backpack, that was quite tightly bound to his back, but he could take it off himself since he¡¯d gotten warm from being carried by a literal furnace.

    They jumped into each shower, although Cary had to slowly turn up the heat, lest he suffer chest pains from the sudden change in blood flow.

    They finished simultaneously, meeting on the ground floor, where their mother stood waiting for them with bowls of snacks.

    ¡°Alright, you two, it¡¯s been a while since we properly spent some time together, so we¡¯re going to be watching a movie tonight, I¡¯ve already bought and made some snacks, all the two of you need to do, is pick the movie.¡± She said, leaving no room for arguing, not that they dared. A mother¡¯s fury wasn¡¯t something they dared to face, no matter how brave or strong they became.

    They sat on the couch with a nice warm cup of tea each, and they went to work. Suggesting a movie only to have it shot down by the other one, rinse and repeat.

    They went on like that for a solid 5 minutes until they in unison said the same thing: ¡°How about that!¡± both said it with such fervour that they stunned each other, before breaking out into laughter. That settled it.

    The movie was a movie about the main characters being trapped in a different fantasy world, and the main characters fighting their way home where they lived happily ever, or not, because there was a sequel neither of them had seen.

    Just when they¡¯d picked, their mother came in care an armful of bowls with candy, chips, and drinks. Almost dropping it before her helpful sons helped her unload it all onto the table.

    ¡°So, have you picked?¡± She asked. The response she got was to see her sons grinning like madmen. ¡°I¡¯ll safely assume, because you¡¯re smiling like idiots, that you found the perfect movie.¡± She continued with a glare. ¡°And NOT a horror movie like we did last month.¡± They meekly nodded. Truly, a mother¡¯s fury wasn¡¯t something they dared to face.

    ¡°It¡¯s about normal people being sucked into a fantasy world with dragons and monsters. They have to fight to win against the Demon King, who¡¯s basically evil manifested. They must defeat him to get home again. Although it¡¯s not very complicated, we like it a lot.¡± Cary explained to their mother, who was listening attentively, making sure it wasn¡¯t another horror movie.

    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    Her eyes were almost sparkling when he¡¯d finished his explanation and she gave an excited girly screech and said: ¡°Ohh, let¡¯s start, I can¡¯t wait, is there romance, do any of the main characters diewhataboutthedemonkingdotheywinOHandwha-.¡±

    ¡°Not telling! You gotta watch the movie.¡± Cary shot down his excited mother.

    ¡®For her to be such an emotional person, it¡¯s a wonder that neither of us have inherited at least some of her more extreme emotions. I mean, we never even get close to as excited as she does. Wait, is that why she doesn¡¯t like horror? That could make sense.¡¯

    His thoughts were interrupted when the lights were switched off, and his mother jumped into the couch, literally jumped over and into the couch from behind it.

    ¡®I guess that is where John¡¯s love for physical exercise comes from.¡¯ Cary commented in his head when he saw his mother land and snuggle herself into a blanket.

    The movie was just as good, if not better, than John and Cary remembered it, ending with a beautiful climax, where their mom literally cheered as the hero and his companions were able to pull through and beat the Demon King, and shed a tear of joy when they were finally sent home by the head priestess.

    ¡°I think I might have a new favourite movie. That was amazing! I¡¯ve seen nothing like it!¡± Their mother said cheerfully and continued. ¡°Gotta go pee, be right back!¡± and she jumped up and ran upstairs, full of energy.

    Cary and John shared a laugh at their mother being excited like a little girl, but unbeknownst to each other, they both had the same wish, after they¡¯d watched the movie:

    ¡®I wish I could go to a world like that. Learn magic and martial arts that would make me stronger, where I could be the hero, save the princess from the evil lord, travel on adventures where I was adored, fight monsters and save villages. Explore ancient ruins. Ahh it would be heaven.¡¯

    With his head in the clouds thinking of a fantasy world like that, he was shocked when a green glowing light had manifested in front of them, bursting quietly into being.

    Quietly floating on top of the coffee table.

    In the same instant, John was in front of him, with his fists raised, standing ready to fight whatever was floating in front of them should it attack. His speed was hair-raising to see, It couldn¡¯t have been more than a quarter of a second between when the light appeared and when John stood in front of Cary, he saw John slump into a martial artist pose, maybe something from boxing, but Cary wasn¡¯t sure.

    They heard an ethereal voice, one that ignored space. It sounded like it came from inside of them.

    Let The Final Wish Be Granted.

    Then it the green light disappeared, as quickly as it arrived, like it was sucked into a black hole.

    And in its place, sitting discreetly on the coffee table, was a nondescript game console with 2 controllers.

    They stared at it in disbelief. John still standing hunchbacked, and arms raised in front of Cary. They didn¡¯t know how long they¡¯d been frozen, but they jumped when they heard their mother walk up the stairs. Neither of them knew why the other did it. They simultaneously grabbed the console and hid it under a blanket, and sat on top of it. Only after they¡¯d sat down did they realize they had almost copied each other¡¯s movements and stared with wide eyes at each other, astonished and stunned at what had just happened.

    ¡°Hey! You stole my blanket; I was planning on snuggling in it whilst I forced you two to make dinner since I made snacks!¡± Their mother said half-joking when she saw them sitting on it.

    Neither of them said a word for 2 seconds. They were stunned silly.

    John was the first to react: ¡°Sure thing mom, if you find the recipe, and put the ingredients on the stove, we¡¯ll cook dinner, you won¡¯t get back the blanket until then, it¡¯s surprisingly soft.¡±

    Perhaps surprised John agreed so readily, and that Cary wasn¡¯t protesting, she rushed into the kitchen to find whatever recipe she was looking and getting the ingredients ready.

    John whispered hastily to Cary: ¡°Go, put it somewhere where she won¡¯t see it, hurry before she comes back.¡±

    They knew they¡¯d have to talk about this after dinner. Their mom could be very curious when she wanted to be, something that was extremely annoying when you wanted to keep secrets from her. Especially when it was something that she absolutely shouldn¡¯t find out. So, it was extremely important that she didn¡¯t have any suspicions.

    Cary rushed as quickly and quietly as he could up the stairs with the game console in his hands.

    Looking closer it wasn¡¯t as nondescript as they noticed earlier, it had some subtle markings on it, and an engraved title in capital letters, ¡°THE LOST WORLD¡±, he tried to check the controllers, but they looked abnormally normal, just two controllers with buttons and joysticks.

    ¡°Cary, come help John with the cooking. I wanna take pictures of the 2 of you.¡± Cary heard his mother call from downstairs.

    ¡°Coming, I just went to the bathroom.¡± He yelled back, trying to sound as casual as possible. This was NOT something he wanted to share with his mother.

    He quickly put the console wrapped with the controllers into a shelf on the tv stand.

    Cary casually strode down the stairs, seeing his mother to the right, snuggled in the blanket and taking pictures of them with her phone, and to the left was his brother getting the pots ready.

    Luckily, the kitchen had their backs facing their mother, so the confusion on their faces at what happened earlier wasn¡¯t visible.

    Unluckily, the kitchen wasn¡¯t nearly private enough to have a private conversation without their mother picking up bits and pieces.

    ¡°Cary, could you cut the tomatoes and chilis? Our lovely mother has decided that she wants chili con carne tonight.¡± John said, trying to set the pace for the evening.

    ¡°Sure, just let me get the chopping board from under you.¡± Cary agreed, trying to quickly finish dinner so they could figure out what the fuck had happened.

    They went back and forth, doing whatever teamwork they needed to get dinner on the table as quickly as possible, neither of them stopping at any point, but continuously moving on to the next task whenever they¡¯d finished one.

    In 50 long minutes, they had the food on the set table, and were quick to chow down despite neither of them being a big fan of chili.

    When they were finished, they quickly did the dishes and whatever they hadn¡¯t cleaned during the cooking.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be having a girl¡¯s night tonight with my old classmates, and your father won¡¯t be home till tomorrow, so you have the entire house to yourselves.¡±

    ¡°With Janet and Andrea?¡± John questioned.

    ¡°Yeah, and someone you haven¡¯t met, Lisandra, she¡¯s worked and lived in China for the past 3 years, and she finally moved back home, I won¡¯t be home until at least 3 at night, we¡¯re gonna interrogate her for all her secrets.¡± She fired back.

    ¡°Alright, have fun.¡± Cary said and smiled, trying to cover his chills at the word ¡®interrogate¡¯.

    She did her makeup whilst Cary and John tried, unsuccessfully, to relax on the couch and have a fake debate about watching another movie.

    When the sequel to the movie they watched earlier was mentioned, they heard an angry screech:

    ¡°YOU¡¯RE NOT WATCHING IT WITHOUT ME! PERIOD!¡±

    When after what felt like several hours, she walked down the stairs and kissed them goodbye, and was picked up by a taxi, she¡¯d finally left.

    They waited 20 more minutes in silence until they were 100% certain that she wasn¡¯t coming back if she¡¯d forgotten anything.

    They tensely walked up the stairs and into Cary¡¯s room, where even if the console was found, it was more easily justified than if it was in John¡¯s room.

    Cary pulled it out from the shelf and placed it on his bed.

    Aside from turning on every light in the room and shining it on the console to inspect it properly, they really didn¡¯t know what to do. It was the same as before when Cary had inspected it. Subtle markings and patterns were all over the console, making it look quite exotic. along with the words ¡°THE LOST WORLD¡± engraved in capital letters.

    ¡°It said ¡®The final wish has been granted¡¯, or something.¡± John spoke.

    ¡°No, it was, ¡®Let the final wish be granted¡¯, but what does that mean? Did you wish for anything?¡± Cary questioned, not really knowing if he wanted the answer to be a yes or no.

    ¡°Yes.¡± He croaked out silently.

    ¡°What did you wish for?¡± Cary continued.

    John was silent for a moment before speaking: ¡°I don¡¯t remember the exact words but¡­It was something like: ¡®I wish I could go to a world like that. Interact with the different animals and talk to them, live with them. Learn all there is to know about the people and cultures there. Go on exciting adventures, in mountains, forests, deserts, perhaps even the skies, if they had secrets waiting to be discovered. Help people in need.¡¯¡± He paused before quietly continuing doubtfully: ¡°Does that mean that I made it appear?¡±

    This time it was Cary who was silent for a moment, before he answered: ¡°No¡­Maybe¡­I don¡¯t know, because I was wishing for something too.¡±

    Surprised, John hesitantly inquired: ¡°What did you wish for¡­?¡±

    Taking a deep breath to remember what exactly the wording was, he spoke: ¡°¡®I wish I could go to a world like that. Learn magic and martial arts that would make me stronger, where I could be the hero, fight evil lords., travel on adventures where I was adored, fight monsters and beasts with overwhelming strength and skill, save villages in need. Explore ancient ruins. It would be heaven.¡¯¡±

    The silence that lingered in the room was suffocating. Neither of them knew what to say.

    Cary said, trying to be logical: ¡°We¡¯ll get nowhere if we just stand here, trying to figure out what we should do. Let¡¯s just plug it in.¡±

    John groaned but knew that they¡¯d never know what it was, if they simply buried or destroyed it.

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s do it.¡± He answered.

    And with that, their destiny was forever altered.

 Chapter 4: Slaves

    ¡°While he was on a fateful voyage. It happened. The people in his care turned on each other whilst he wasn¡¯t there. It escalated. Hate bred hate, violence caused violence. When he returned, he found his village a field of the fallen. The few surviving children had starved, or worse.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    A part of John was excited, and another part was nervous. He didn''t know what he should be more. Not really knowing what he should do with himself, he watched attentively as Cary plugged the console into the TV.

    ¡°Of course, the magical console has plugs that fit our TV perfectly, what else would it have.¡± Cary murmured to himself.

    ¡°Don¡¯t turn it on until I say so.¡± Cary warned.

    ¡°I won¡¯t, who knows what could happen.¡± John answered back assuredly.

    John laughed at the sheer ridiculousness that was happening, or perhaps because he was nervous, but some part of him thought it was hilarious that the magical console had standardised plugs.

    Cary, for his part, thought it was funny too, but started coughing because of dust that hadn¡¯t been cleaned of the TV stand, which only caused John to laugh even harder.

    His laughter died down when the TV turned on by itself. No start-up logo or anything. The moment the console was plugged in, the TV was on.

    It wasn¡¯t just that the TV was on; it was playing soft music, sounding like tribal drums, coupled with roars of different animals.

    I was the same title: ¡°THE LOST WORLD¡±, although in a slightly different styling, the words were built with wood pieces with grass sticking out everywhere around the letters.

    Then there was the background. A rotating panorama shot, shifting between different terrains, first a jungle, then a desert, a mountain range, a forest, and so on.

    Cary noticed the light and music from the TV and ducked his head out from behind the TV, and glared at Cary.

    ¡°I didn¡¯t turn it on, it turned on by itself.¡± John was quick to raise his large hands defensively before Cary could say anything.

    ¡°What is it with this game console¡­¡± Cary grumbled.

    ¡°The Lost World, huh.¡± John took one controller and handed the other one to Cary.

    ¡®Press A to start¡¯ it said below the title.

    ¡°No time like the present.¡± John said encouragingly to no one in particular and pressed A on the controller.

    He wasn¡¯t sure what he expected, but a character selection screen wasn¡¯t one of them.

    It said:

    Player 1, select your character

    Characters:

    Sergeant Edward ¡®Fortis¡¯ Smith

    Apprentice Thomas ¡®Simiae¡¯ Smith

    Choose wisely.

    John was player one. And, although apprehensive about what was happening, something inside of him told him to pick the second option. He wasn¡¯t appealed to being a soldier, and a position of learning was much more interesting to him.

    He confirmed with Cary that assured him he wanted to pick the first character.

    He pressed A, and the screen now said player 2 instead of one, and his character now had a strike-through, leaving only one option to pick.

    Cary nervously pressed the button, worried about what might happen when dealing with this obviously magical console.

    And in an instant, they disappeared from Earth.

    No clothes left behind, no dust. It was like they disappeared from existence the very milli-second Cary selected his character.

    ==========================================================

    John¡¯s view changed, like when you blinked, and you were somewhere else. It was like from one moment to the next, he saw something entirely different. He was stunned, blinking several more times to confirm that it wasn''t an illusion.

    Finally accepting his situation when he felt a warm breeze on his face, something he shouldn¡¯t have felt seeing as he was inside Cary¡¯s room, or should''ve been inside Cary¡¯s room, at least.

    John realized they hadn¡¯t really talked over what they thought would happen. They were too smitten with something magically appearing in front of them to rationally discuss it. They jumped into it completely blind.

    Unlike most people would be in his current predicament that wouldn¡¯t really know what was going on, John was able to somewhat rationalize what was happening, as he was partially responsible for his current situation.

    First, he established that he wasn¡¯t in his own body. He was almost a meter shorter than he used to be. He looked at his skinny arms, dirty and worn shirt.

    ¡®Thomas ¡®Simiae¡¯ Smith, I¡¯m probably in his body, that¡¯s the character I picked.¡¯

    ¡®Shouldn¡¯t I be an apprentice? Am I some farmer¡¯s apprentice, maybe? I need to figure out what I am learning specifically.¡¯This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

    He finally looked at his surrou-.

    ¡°Keep moving! You slaves always try to take breaks, start walking, or I¡¯ll make sure you never walk again.¡± A gruff voice sounded behind him.

    A harsh kick in the back sent him tumbling into the dry dirt. He got up immediately. He wasn''t good at thinking on his feet and reacted instinctively, getting back up to fight back, raising his fists an-.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry master, I¡¯ll make sure he keeps working. It won¡¯t happen again. Please spare him. Thomas is normally very hardworking.¡± A figure stood between him and his opponent, a figure that quickly went on his knees to beg for John¡¯s, no, Thomas¡¯s, life.

    ¡°You bow too, apologize for your mistake,¡± the figure''s hand grabbed him, a wrinkled, aged hand, and easily pulled him down to the ground beside him, showing surprising strength. The hand went behind his head and lightly pushed his forehead into the dirt so it looked like he was begging for forgiveness.

    He heard the gruff voice again: ¡°I¡¯ll forgive him this time, make sure that it doesn¡¯t happen again, the next transgression will be his death.¡±

    The person with the gruff voice walked away with slow, heavy steps.

    The hand still didn¡¯t move away from his head, holding it against the ground.

    That¡¯s when John had the time to realize his mistake. He¡¯d acted on instinct, forgetting that he wasn¡¯t in his old body, fighting the first thing that came at him, without even knowing what it was.

    ¡®Stupid, stupid, stupid, of course I can¡¯t take on someone when I¡¯m in the body of a child.¡¯

    ¡®Okay, calm down. What did I learn? I learnt I¡¯m a slave, I am indeed in Thomas¡¯ body, and the person I¡¯m bowing with probably just saved my life.¡¯

    His heart chilled at the realisation.

    ''I''m a slave.'' Every terrible thing he''d heard about slaves went through his mind.

    ''I''m a slave.'' He was someone''s property. He could be killed if he did something wrong.

    ''I''m a slave.'' This isn''t what he wished for. He wanted to study the wildlife, the people, the culture. Not be a slave.

    The hand finally moved and lifted his head instead. That¡¯s when he was face to face with an ancient and angry man.

    ¡°Are you crazy?!¡± He hissed, ¡°standing still right in front of a slave master?! What in the world convinced you to stop? You could¡¯ve been killed, right then and there, you¡¯re really lucky you weren¡¯t.¡±

    "Wha-? I could''ve -!?" He shuddered visibly at the word killed. ''I could''ve been killed?!''

    The old man in front of him was practically seething with anger. John''s response was a half-hearted "I''m sorry" his mind was elsewhere. He didn¡¯t know whether or not to treat this as a game yet, but whatever had happened to them, a game console appearing out of nowhere, was magical. No matter how you look at it, it wasn''t some RPG with stats. The man in front of him was very real. And in reality, death meant death. No restarts.

    John was shaken by the fact that he was a slave. I mean, who wouldn''t? You wished to go to a fantasy world, and you''re suddenly a slave? He looked down, unable to meet the old man''s eyes. He earnestly hoped he wouldn''t regret his decision to play ''The Lost World''.

    ¡°I¡¯m really sorry, I¡­I just¡­¡± was all he could eke out

    ¡°What is it? Spit it out!¡± The old man hurried him.

    ¡°¡­I forgot what I was supposed to do.¡± He finally let out after a moment, hoping it would give him some hint of where he should go, although he feared the answer.

    The old man did not like that answer. ¡°You forgot?! How can you forget something as simple as moving rocks?¡± he practically hissed at John, but then stopped.

    He looked deep into John¡¯s eyes and said quietly: ¡°Don¡¯t give up yet, I know it¡¯s hard, but your brother will come and save us, I¡¯m certain of it, he can do anything.¡±

    John nodded, a tiny bit of hope returning to his mind. ¡®If this really is a game, I have to survive until my brother can come and free the slaves. He''s good at games, he''ll know what to do.''

    He reassuringly told the old man with a look of newfound confidence that was only half-faked: ¡°I promise, old man, I won¡¯t let you down. We¡¯ll survive until my brother can save us.¡±

    John was responsible for his current situation. While he still had the clarity of what he''d wished for, he would try his very best to play along.

    Satisfied by John¡¯s answer, the old man said: ¡°Good, now go! It will look suspicious if we keep standing here!¡± and shooed John away.

    Properly looking around this time, he saw 2 lines of slaves, one carrying large rocks and the other walking in the opposite direction without any.

    ¡®That¡¯s an obvious sign if I ever saw one.¡¯ He said to himself, trying to shake off the last of dread he was feeling. Quickly hurrying over to the line where they weren¡¯t carrying rocks, quietly integrating himself into it.

    Sadly, he noted, he wasn¡¯t the smallest slave there, briefly glancing around, seeing 2 smaller than him, one of them a girl.

    The line was moving neither quickly nor slowly, at a comfortable walking pace, the slaves too exhausted to move any faster.

    That¡¯s when John finally felt it.

    Walking forwards with his head down like all the others, finally becoming aware that he wasn¡¯t wearing shoes, but was walking barefoot.

    Intermittent sharp pains when he stepped on something sharp.

    As he walked, trying to avoid any sharp stones, he started becoming exhausted.

    Before, he merely felt a bit tired and weak, not really feeling anything except when the slave master kicked him.

    Now, he felt a deep, soul-crushing exhaustion. All the energy inside him was simply gone, and he was ready to collapse at any minute.

    It was like his body was finally properly integrating with his mind. He finally connected with his new body, Thomas¡¯ body.

    Every signal his brain received was negative. Not a single part of his body was healthy.

    Hungry, sore, and tired.

    He felt it with every step and every swing of his arms. He was very, very, tired.

    Everything ached, his skin stung when the wing blew against scrapes on his skin. His hands were swollen and partly numb.

    Inspecting them, they were unlike the hands of a child at all. They were worn, his nails were broken on some fingers. His palms had thick skin crusted with dust.

    His knees and back were especially bad, like he¡¯d carried too much for too long.

    The dread returned in full. ''This is what it''s like to be a slave.'' This time able to keep his shuddering internal.

    The only thing he could do was walk, trying to focus on his breath, to recover as much energy as possible. He didn¡¯t know what else to do, and simply fell back to his old routine between workouts, efficient breaths and smooth movements.

    The dread disappeared as quickly as it came. He didn''t have the energy to care.

    Focusing on anything else other than walking was using too much energy. His world, his mind, was slowly shutting down.

    It was like when he was running, except instead of his body taking over in order to gain an edge, his body was taking over so he wouldn¡¯t collapse.

    Mindlessly taking the rock he was given and joining the other line.

    This line was a bit different. Everyone walked at different speeds. So, John, or rather John¡¯s body, had to pace him, not too fast to get exhausted, but fast enough that he didn¡¯t get whipped at being too slow. John, as an athlete, had learnt to be as efficient as possible in his movements, something normal people really didn¡¯t have any reason to be, but when you were squatting 300 kg, the difference the tiniest movement could make was enormous.

    That gave him an edge.

    His tank was entirely empty when he started walking, but when he dropped the rock into the pit and picked up another one, he felt himself have just a tiny bit more energy than before. Just a tiny bit, that was lost, when he was given a larger stone on his third drop. John couldn¡¯t really think as he had no energy, and he assumed neither could the others.

    He didn¡¯t remember how many rocks he¡¯d dropped by the time night fell; all he knew was that he was fed some watery soup, given a thin piece of cloth and went to sleep on the uncomfortable bets, which were more or less square sheets lifted off the ground by each corner.

    Just before he went to dreamland, hopefully a better place than this one, he looked around at the other slaves.

    They looked...Numb. None of them talked to each other. They simply put on their blanket to sleep. All of them had dead eyes. They stared at the empty air in front of them, not meeting his gaze.

    Nevertheless, John wasn¡¯t there for most of the day, thankfully. His body was using as little energy as possible with each drop, trying its best to be resourceful with whatever it had.

    John¡¯s mind didn¡¯t return until someone collapsed in front of him on the second day.

    It was a man, John noticed, that collapsed whilst carrying his rock.

    He paused, not knowing what to do. The man was wheezing in exhaustion, and unsuccessfully trying to get up again, but falling back down each time.

    John simply stared at him, wanting to look away, but unable to.

    Suddenly, a slave master came, easily picking the man up and putting him on his shoulders.

    The slave master leisurely joined the line with the rock carrying slaves, about the same pace as John had.

    John couldn¡¯t slow down, as he was already as slow as possible, but he wished he could stop.

    The man that had collapsed was staring at John from the shoulder of the slave master.

    Refusing to look anywhere else than straight at him.

    John wanted, no, wished, he could look away, but it was like the man had commanded John with his gaze, to forever burn his face into his mind.

    The gaze staring at John was growing more and more frightened and pale. He didn¡¯t want to guess why.

    They walked all the way to the pits. The collapsed man was looking like a ghost.

    Then he was thrown from the ledge.

    He tried his very best to ignore the soft thud of the body hitting the bottom.

    John dropped his own rock a moment later. He could see the corpse, broken and smashed against the ground below, hoping he''d had a quick death. The rock he dropped fell on the corpse, destroying it further.

    He felt sick. He wanted to throw up any food he had left inside him and nearly did. Barely able to force himself to swallow whatever bile was threatening to come up.

    The corpse was going to be covered in rocks before John came with his next one, like a buried memory.

    The gaze of the frightened man had successfully burnt itself into John¡¯s mind. His body might be buried under hundreds of rocks, and forgotten by everyone else, but he knew he would never forget it.

    He realized that when they wished that they could be in another world, they forgot that the world was real enough all on its own.

    ¡®Brother, I sincerely hope that you aren¡¯t going through the same thing I am. I know I will come out of this a changed person, for better... Or for worse.¡¯

    And that was all the thinking he allowed himself to have, seeing a man die could traumatize and scar people for life, but he didn¡¯t have the luxury to be scarred, he didn¡¯t have the spare energy to be affected by it more than he already had.

    One step at a time, one breath at a time, he joined the line, ready to pick up another rock.

    His mind slowly shrunk itself into his body and let it take over once again.

    Anyone looking at him would see a child that had lost hope, something that had been broken by the world around it, and, although the inside wasn¡¯t as damaged by the world as the outside was; sleeping to protect itself from most of the horrors, it too, with time, would break.

 Chapter 5: Fitting in

    ¡°He fell to his knees. He¡¯d failed his duties. Through no fault of his own. Even his son had met his demise in the chaos. The kind-hearted shaman could not face the reality in front of him. He was the only survivor. He blamed himself. And only himself. He was not good enough. He wept. His heart torn asunder.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    The first thing Cary noticed was that his surroundings changed. He''d closed his eyes when he pressed the bottom, and suddenly he was standing up and overlooking a cliff. Peering down on a village; the village was burning. He could see blurry figures lying on the ground between the houses.

    The village was isolated, barely touching the cliff and being surrounded by forest with a small area that looked to be used for farming.

    However, that wasn¡¯t really what caught his attention.

    The first thing Cary cared about was his breath.

    He took a deep breath, something that would normally make him cough if he did it too suddenly and without his inhaler.

    He felt like he¡¯d breathed through a straw his entire life from the moment he took his first breath in his new body, the body, he presumed, of Sergeant Edward ¡®Fortis¡¯ Smith.

    He was in another world! Their wish had worked!

    He smiled, then laughed. He could breathe!

    His laughter, too, wasn¡¯t like breathing through a straw. His voice was deep and healthy.

    He looked down at his own body and was shocked at what was staring back.

    He was huge!

    At least 2 meters tall, taut muscles that looked to be ready to kill at a moment¡¯s notice, almost no fat, and a head full of hair.

    He wore a soldier¡¯s uniform, with thick and heavy military boots, and a knife strapped to his waist. A different person. No longer Cary, the weak and fragile older brother of John, but something that nearly rivalled him in pure physique.

    He stepped away from the cliff edge, wanting to experiment with his new body, when he heard a primal growl.

    Looking up, he saw a bear walk slowly towards him, staring at him like he was its next meal.

    He only smiled in response when he saw it. It had something that looked like blood-red tribal tattoos covering its entire body.

    An enormous bear, at least 700 kgs, it was almost as tall as him walking on its six limbs. Six! He was definitely not on Earth anymore, unless a freak monster had escaped a lab.

    It was an earthy brown and had green intelligent eyes.

    Logically, he should be scared, no matter how strong he¡¯d become. A man would have trouble killing a bear.

    Some part of him disagreed with that logic. Like he instinctually knew that he could defeat it.

    So, he grinned, and pulled out his knife, and dashed in a frenzy towards it.

    Cary had never handled a military knife in his life in his original world, but the knife in his hand felt familiar, as if he was an expert knife wielder.

    The bear roared when it saw him charge towards itself, raised its claws, and swiped at Cary.

    His body took over and easily dodged it with a single, smooth movement.

    Then he stabbed his knife into it between the eyes, easily passing through its skull.

    It tensed for a single moment before dropping heavily to the ground with a loud thud, dead.

    The knife smoothly sliding out of the skull when he pulled on it, which he wiped against some nearby leaves to remove the blood before sheathing it.

    ¡°Sergeant! Where are you? I heard a Direbear roar nearby!¡± A man dressed in a soldier''s uniform dashed from the bushes beside him.

    Cary, no, Edward, smiled like a madman and said:

    ¡°I found the Direbear.¡±

    The soldier sighed in relief when he spotted the corpse on the ground.

    ¡°That¡¯s a relief. It would be terrible if it attacked the refugees. We¡¯re lucky it attacked you instead, haha.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I thought these things were supposed to be smart. I can¡¯t for the life of me remember if these things were edible, do you know?¡± Edward smoothly continued the conversation.

    The soldier smiled and said: ¡°I think so? I heard from the shaman who said something about becoming stronger if you ate it. I¡¯m not sure. We can just carry it to him. He¡¯ll know if it¡¯s edible.¡±

    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s. Come here, help me carry it, it¡¯s always a pain to carry these things.¡± Edward said.

    He and the soldier, whose name he didn¡¯t know, took 2 limbs each and started carrying like a stretcher. The last pair of limbs dangling loosely to the sides.

    He didn¡¯t fail to notice how easy it was to carry despite its seemingly heavy weight.

    If his estimation was correct, he was easily carrying a 700 kg bear, and it felt no heavier than his schoolbag, and he wasn¡¯t getting tired at all.

    The soldier took the lead with Edward carrying the back end, lest he reveal that he was now a different person.

    They leisurely walked on the mountainside towards a camp he could spot in the distance.

    He yet again appreciated his body. It was an effortless walk, his steps were light and easy. Never even being close to tripping, despite the rough terrain.

    A hike like this in his old body would¡¯ve exhausted him after a mere minutes, yet now he could maintain a much higher speed easily.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    He started humming happily, simply enjoying the view.

    Admittedly, it was a fantastic view. It looked to be straight out of a fantasy world. He even saw a 4-winged eagle in the distance. The sky was bright and unpolluted; the sun shining softly on Edward.

    When they were walking down the mountainside, they entered a forest, probably part of the one he saw earlier, that was connected to the village.

    He¡¯d nearly forgotten the village on the account of being in a new body and being attacked by a Direbear, as well as easily killing it with a single stab of his knife.

    He¡¯d only glanced at it, but he remembered the burning and the corpses lying in between the houses.

    ¡®Right, I am a soldier. Soldiers wouldn¡¯t be needed unless there was a war, so I¡¯m probably fighting someone who¡¯s raiding these villages, and the refugees he mentioned are from said village, or more probable, villages.¡¯

    ¡®Then who am I fighting against? I¡¯d assume it would be some evil aristocrat normally, but these uniforms look somewhat modern, it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if they have guns. I¡¯d place them around the end of World War 2.¡¯

    ¡®Maybe another country or a warlord, I can¡¯t be sure, but regardless my top priorities are finding my brother, since he¡¯s here too, and finding out who I¡¯m fighting against¡­Maybe I¡¯m just a part of some reserve that¡¯s rescuing civilians.¡¯

    ¡®So far, I know I¡¯m supernaturally strong. There are creatures inconceivable in my old world¡­Does that mean there are stereotypical fantasy creatures? That¡¯d be awesome: ¡°Edward Smith, Dragon slayer¡±. Improbable but not impossible.¡¯

    ¡®The trees still look like normal trees, if a bit twisted or mystical, nothing too out of the ordinary, what you¡¯d expect of a magical world.¡¯

    ¡®But because of that, I can¡¯t be sure if this world is made specifically for us, or if the wish just placed us in one that already existed somewhere in the universe. Since we picked characters when we started ¡°the game¡± I assume we can beat it and return¡­Yeah, no thanks, I may not have been in this world for a long time, but I¡¯m here to stay, bye-bye asthma.¡¯

    ¡®John''s character had the same last name as mine, so we¡¯re probably siblings in this world as well, but I need to be discreet, who knows what could happen if I suddenly reveal to be someone else, or maybe I should fake memory loss after an injury¡­¡¯

    During Edward''s musings, they¡¯d finally reached the camp with surprising speed.

    The camp in question looked like a stereotypical military camp, with guards, wooden fences and towers, and unassuming tents.

    Edward immediately looked at the guards¡¯ weapons: ¡®So they -do have rifles¡­¡¯ he noted when he saw what looked like automatic rifles, not entirely dissimilar to AK-47¡¯s.

    He didn¡¯t fail to see the stares when he walked through the gate; they weren¡¯t staring at him, but at the Direbear they were carrying, still it wasn¡¯t unusual enough to make people stop working. The other soldiers merely seemed mildly surprised when they laid eyes on it, nothing more.

    They carried it towards the largest tent in the camp, located to the right of where they entered.

    It seemed to be the supply depot, as he saw several boxes with different labels.

    But he realized he could read them despite not being in any language he could recognize. The writing was more like circles cobbled together.

    It came to him easily, like merely glancing at something and knowing what it said, the weird circle language familiar, yet foreign.

    ¡®So, the spoken language just sounds like English, and I can understand the written language despite it looking entirely different from normal written English, that¡¯s good to know.¡¯ The written language smoothly appeared in his mind, like new knowledge suddenly being put into him.

    ¡®I assume that this has to be coming from the previous Edward. Does that mean I¡¯ll eventually remember everything about him? Or is it just practical knowledge and not his memories? I¡¯ll have to find some way to experiment with it.¡¯

    ¡®Because if I regain his memories, I¡¯ll be easily able to fit in, but if not, I¡¯ll have to watch what I say.¡¯

    Edward curiously observed the soldier gently drop the bear and go fetch someone inside the depot who looked important.

    The important-looking person exclaimed at Edward: ¡°A Direbear? You usually don¡¯t hunt Rasts. Why now?¡±

    Mentally noting the word ¡®Rasts¡¯, Edward casually smiled ¡°Well it attacked me, and he said something about it making you stronger if you ate it.¡± Nodding towards the soldier who¡¯d carried the bear with him.

    He shrugged. ¡°Fair enough, its bad luck is one more ration for us.¡±

    ¡°Leave it here, I¡¯ll have to fetch the shaman, he probably knows how to dismantle this thing, I think.¡±

    Edward and the soldier nodded and turned around to leave, when he called out. ¡°On second thought it¡¯s better if we just put it on the table inside straight away, William come and help me carry it, darn things are so annoying to handle.¡±

    The other soldier, William, and the important-looking person, easily carried it inside, showing that every soldier he¡¯d talked to so far had proved supernaturally strong.

    Granted, he¡¯d only talked to 2 soldiers so far, but it was a good probability that every soldier was strong.

    The next problem he faced was fitting in, and learn everyone¡¯s name quickly and quietly, he was here to stay, so trying to fit in was a given.

    ¡®If you wanna get ignored, look like you¡¯re going somewhere.¡¯ Edward said to himself and started walking away as if he had somewhere to be.

    The camp itself was quite small, so he couldn¡¯t walk for too long without looking weird, as he¡¯d just end up walking in circles at some point if he didn¡¯t find someone to talk to or something to do.

    He didn¡¯t have to walk very far till he came across what was obviously a training ground. Soldiers without shirts on were sparring against each other in the warm sun.

    ¡®I really didn¡¯t get a chance to test my physical abilities outside of the fight with the Direbear. Screw it, I can always blame it on needing some release¡­I hope.¡¯

    He walked towards the training ground, where 6 pairs of soldiers were sparring with some relaxing under an open tent right beside them.

    ¡°Hey boys, I hope you don¡¯t mind if I join you.¡± He said, sending an open challenge to every soldier there.

    ¡°Ooh, scary, Little Eddie here has a bit of fight in him today, doesn¡¯t he?¡± The largest and most muscular soldier that sat under the open tent slowly stood up, at least 20 centimetres larger than Edward, he arrogantly looked down on him.

    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll play, but I¡¯d hate to hurt you, so let¡¯s do it like real men first, yeah?¡± taking his shirt off, and the knife that every soldier seemed to carry, of his belt too.

    ¡°Fine by me.¡± Edward answered, confidently taking of his own shirt and knife.

    Slowly walking towards the training grounds and taking a boxer¡¯s stance he¡¯d seen from the movies, locking eyes with the giant in front of him.

    ¡°What the hell are you doing with that crappy stance of yours? You look like an idiot.¡± The giant commented with a smirk.

    ¡°Does it matter? I¡¯ll kick your ass, anyway.¡±

    ¡°Feisty today, aren¡¯t we?¡±

    Then, in an instant, the giant threw his punch.

    The punch went in right between his raised hands and landed forehead with surprising grace.

    Edward barely had time to register what had happened, because in his perception he was suddenly lying on the ground, having stood on his feet a second earlier.

    The giant laughed, so did the men watching their spar.

    Edward quickly got up again. ¡®That doesn¡¯t make sense. I should¡¯ve been able to react to that, right? My body should¡¯ve reacted.¡¯ He thought for a second before an answer came to him, ¡®Maybe I shouldn¡¯t think too much, but let my body do the work. That¡¯s what happened when I killed the bear.

    ¡°Again.¡± Edward said, glaring at the giant.

    ¡°Sure thing, little Eddie.¡± The giant smiled sadistically.

    Edward let his arms drop to his side and tried to calm his mind so his body could take over the fighting. It was obviously more used to it than he was.

    ¡°Another terrible stance, don¡¯t mind if I repeat myself then.¡± The giants grin widened as he charged towards him.

    In a moment, Edward once again found himself lying on the ground, staring at the sky.

    ¡®Wrong again, no, not entirely. My body reacted but my hands were too far from my face to properly block or parry.¡¯

    ¡®Then, let¡¯s try something in between.¡¯ He thought and got up for a third time.

    ¡°Again? Listen, this is gonna get boring if we keep doing it like this. I don¡¯t wanna waste my time lightly knocking you on the forehead.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s going to be different this time. I was just warming up.¡± Edward fired back, hoping that third time was indeed the charm.

    Just then, an alarm sounded from one of the towers of the camp, and the giants'' aggressive and goading demeanour changed.

    ¡°Oh well, training''s over, let¡¯s get going.¡± His sadistic smile faded, and he turned serious.

    Edward caught on quickly and knew that he had to kick his brain into overdrive to fit in. Something military was happening, and he couldn¡¯t act casual now, he wordlessly put his clothes back on, and followed everyone to where they were going.

    With diligent haste, every soldier gathered around the supply tent and lined up to be handed guns, after which they gathered in the open area where the bell had sounded from.

    The bell was on a platform accompanied by a very serious and important-looking soldier.

    It turns out Edward didn¡¯t have to worry about gathering clues, as the important-looking soldier on the platform started speaking once everyone had lined up in 5-man lines in the open area.

    ¡°Ape attack from the north, man the towers especially. I want them to almost collapse from how many men are up there. The rest of you, be ready for a bloody battle.

    ¡°SIR YES SIR.¡±

    That was all they were told. Edward followed everyone else to the presumed north part of the camp. There seemed to be a pattern as everyone made way for certain men to man the towers.

    Edward, together with most of the other soldiers, stood in front of the camps to guard them, guns pointed towards the forest.

    Edward was excited, not nervous. He was going to get some real action!

    This was his fantasy; he would get to fight monsters! Spray bullets at incoming enemies!

    He didn¡¯t have to wait long. He heard animal bellows approaching them, and by the sound of it, there were a lot of them.

    ¡®Apes, I presume.¡¯ He thought confidently.

    Then he saw them in the distance, approaching like rabid beasts.

    Some were running on the ground, others were jumping between the trees, all of them angry.

    They looked like brown furred gorillas, coupled with thick arms, huge canines, and ripped muscles all over their upper body.

    The apes climbing the trees looked to be the juveniles, as they were smaller and more agile, gracefully swinging on the branches above.

    ¡°OPEN FIRE!¡±

    The shout came from somewhere behind him, and all hell broke loose.

    Almost immediately deafened from all the gunfire, machineguns spraying at the enemy ahead. He looked ahead and saw absolute carnage; the Apes being easily torn to pieces by the gunfire

    Edward, of course, opened fire as well, and he felt primal energy fill him as he shot down the army of apes.

    He roared in jubilation at all the chaos in front of him. Apes in front falling to the ground only to immediately be climbed over by the apes in the back, like an endless tide of monsters.

    ¡®This, this is heaven! It''s like playing DOOM¡¯ The apes were gaining ground, climbing over the dead faster than they could be shot down, slowly approaching the firing line.

    His magazine emptied, and he didn¡¯t have time to reload, so he pulled out his knife to combat the incoming gorilla.

    Up close it was a magnificent monster, time seemed to stop, and he saw all of it, the bulging veins on its fists, its practically red eyes that wanted to kill every human in sight, breath so hot it exhaled visibly even in the hot weather.

    Then it attacked Edward with a leap.

    Just like with the bear, his body took over, rolling to the side.

    He stood up, turning to face it when it was gunned down from the side. He nodded to the soldier that had killed and picked up his machinegun from the ground to reload.

    He¡¯d barely fired any shots when another one was on him. His machinegun was too large to effectively turn it against the gorilla in time, so he dropped it and leapt backwards.

    He charged forward just as quickly and put his knife in its neck, forcefully pushing it so it wouldn¡¯t fall on his gun.

    Then, just as quickly as it started, it was over.

    Every ape was dead or dying on the ground. He saw a few soldiers on the ground as well, being quickly attended by the medics on standby.

    He exhaled a deep breath and smiled. Edward had survived such a bloody battle, something Cary wouldn¡¯t have, Cary couldn¡¯t even have held the gun, let alone fire it at the monsters.

    The afterglow of the euphoria he¡¯d experienced was still there, and he had a light buzz. He felt like he¡¯d finally found his place.

 Chapter 6: Into the night

    ¡°His tears never stopped. He was on his knees and prayed for salvation. To whom? He didn¡¯t know. He mourned. Never moving despite his body starving. Never moving despite being ravaged by the world. He was pecked by birds. Rats nibbled away at his shoes and feet. Yet he did nothing.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    ¡°Where do you need me?¡± Edward asked the soldier behind the desk.

    ¡°Go help the medics bandage the wounded. There were a lot this time, unfortunately.¡± He answered back.

    After the battle, they had ordered him to report to the desk for task assignments.

    Luckily, Edward knew where he should go, and easily headed towards the wounded to offer whatever help they needed.

    Small problem. Edward should know how to bandage properly and take care of whatever first aid needs the wounded had, but he didn¡¯t have conscious access to it, so he could only wing it, and hope for the best.

    He¡¯d proved to himself that he had access to skills he otherwise shouldn¡¯t have when he used the machinegun despite not even knowing how to turn the safety off or reload, and really wasn¡¯t too worried about not knowing what to do, as he expected it to happen naturally when the time came.

    The tent was a flurry of activity with the worst injuries already having been taken care of, despite there still being many that needed medical attention.

    He took a few bandages that had been placed on the table beside the entrance and went to work on the first soldier he saw.

    ¡°Eddie? Oh god, I¡¯d rather just amputate my arm.¡± The soldier exclaimed.

    ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯ll make sure they chop off the wrong one if you don¡¯t stand still.¡± Edward smoothly deflected, loving the camaraderie between the soldiers. Everyone seemed to know him, and he wanted to return the favour.

    ¡°Ooh, scary.¡± He joked back.

    It was a deep claw wound on his upper left arm; with Edward carefully putting the bandage close to the wound, wanting to see if he gained some hints at what he should do.

    He just got a feeling for what he should do and in what order to specifically treat an upper arm wound.

    First, pressing it against the wound with the bandage to tightly wrap it, so it would prevent blood from coming out of the wound, but not too tight to stop the blood going to the arm, although depending on the severity of the injury it might be necessary to wrap it so tightly that blood-flow was stopped entirely.

    He skilfully and quickly wrapped the bandage around the soldier¡¯s arm.

    ¡°Oh? It¡¯s actually not too bad. This seems to be above your usual standard. I remember you being so crap at this, that we usually wondered why the didn¡¯t just let you help with the clean-up instead.¡± He said, lightly flexing his arm to make sure the bandage was wrapped tightly.

    ¡°Hey doctor, I need to saw off this guy¡¯s arm, do you have a bone saw?¡± Edward yelled to the nearest medic and turned back around to see the soldier he¡¯d bandaged dashing out the tent.

    ¡°Never mind! He¡¯s healthy!¡±

    He didn¡¯t fail to notice that the soldier said he was unusually adept at bandaging, either meaning that Edward held back his skill at bandaging, he¡¯d gained it when he took over, or he¡¯d gotten an ability that let him learn quicker.

    He practically bounced onto the next soldier that was standing in queue, who had a loose bandage wrapped around his head, probably smacked in the head by an ape. Again, he got strong hints on how to bandage properly, doing it even faster than last time, now that he wasn¡¯t bantering, the soldier obviously not being in the proper state of mind for it.

    The soldier was dizzy and needed to be helped out of the chair after his head had been wrapped.

    ¡°Woah, steady, if you fall because you smacked your head, I¡¯m not bandaging you again.¡± Edward said as he helped to soldier to his feet, who only responded with a grunt, and led him to another chair so he could get back to bandaging.

    ¡°Next!¡± He said, and turned to the next soldier, who almost fell in the chair, and was pale from blood loss.

    ¡°Ouch, looks bad, no problem though, because you have the best bandager in the entire army looking after you.¡± He said reassuringly, hoping he had the skill to be.

    His back had a distinct 3 claw mark scratch, stopping just before his spine, luckily not paralyzing him.

    His statement must¡¯ve been true, because the bandages he used fit so snugly on the man¡¯s upper body looked like they were custom made.

    Helping him lie down on his stomach on an empty bed, he quickly went to work on the next one.

    There were around 800 soldiers in the battle, and at best a fourth and at worst a third of the soldiers had been injured, or around 200 to 250 soldiers.

    Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Luckily, he was getting faster. By the 8<sup>th</sup> soldier, he was doing in within just 30 seconds. That included removing or cutting off any fabric that was in the way.

    He quickly and efficiently bandaging the soldiers have done a dozen in 10 minutes.

    The other attending soldiers had to be very good too, as the queue was empty at 20 minutes, every casualty having been bandaged or operated on.

    Mimicking everyone else, he sat down to relax and quietly joined the chat that was already going on between the soldiers.

    ¡°You know, these damn monkeys, that the third time in 3 months! Surely, they have to be lacking in numbers to pull of these attacks often.¡±

    ¡°At least it¡¯s good practice for when we have to fight the warlord¡¯s men. I¡¯m bored out of my mind. My daily duties only take up 3 or 4 hours each day. What do I do for the other 20 hours? Masturbate? I¡¯m even considering if I should ask someone from Gay squad to help me out¡­¡±

    ¡°If it¡¯s bothering you that much, I can slice it off. That¡¯ll solve your problem. I can also get someone to sign you up for guard duty. You can have my post at the southern tower. That¡¯ll easily fill out 6 more hours a day.¡±

    The complaining soldier quickly shut up and covered his crotch when he was offered to have it sliced off, and given guard duty, causing everyone else to laugh, including himself.

    After a moment, he slumped. ¡°I just wish I could get back to my girl, you know? Why can¡¯t we just go all murder spree on that Dickwaffle¡¯s men? They don¡¯t got crap on us.¡±

    ¡°And yes, I know it¡¯s because of the slaves, but it¡¯s been 7 months, and we haven¡¯t even attacked him once. His slaves are probably already dying off because he can¡¯t afford to feed them¡­¡±

    The atmosphere turned wistful. Some soldiers stared into the air with a distant look.

    Edward saw his opportunity to gain some information and carefully asked: ¡°Why can¡¯t we just infiltrate and be taken as slaves? Should be easy enough if we look a bit weaker¡­¡±

    The soldier beside him said comfortingly: ¡°I know how you feel. They have my sister too. She¡¯s a bit younger than your brother. I would do anything to see her again¡­¡±

    Edward did everything he could to not freeze up.

    ¡®John is¡­A SLAVE?! TO SOME CRAPPY WARLORD?! It¡¯s no wonder I¡¯m so strong, it¡¯s a game, so of course my strength is here for a reason, to save my brother from the warlord.¡¯

    Masking his shock, he hugged the soldier to comfort him back, whilst his mind was a whirlwind of activity.

    ¡®It¡¯s a no brainer to go get him, any game worth its salt would have you rescue your brother, the sooner the better¡­I don¡¯t know if I can do it alone, wait, this guy just said they have is sister too, and it¡¯s obvious from the casualness of the conversation that it¡¯s normal for soldiers to want to simply attack the warlord.¡¯

    ¡®Can I use that? If soldiers want to attack the warlord to either go home or rescue family members and loved ones. Wanting to rescue family members or loved ones is an excellent motive to do so. I need to see if there is a possibility to convince anyone to leave with me¡­Can we even survive in the wild? I think yes, we carried the bear from a small mountaintop, down to the camp in the valley without having too much trouble. I assume that wildlife isn¡¯t always deadly, and that it¡¯s at least possible to do it if you have the skills. Maybe I can convince the person who said his sister was a slave to join me.¡¯

    He needed more information, so he quietly asked: ¡°you said she was younger than my brother? Tell me about her...¡± Trying to figure out how old his own brother was, whilst trying to comfort the soldier who was obviously sharing his own grief.

    ¡°Come, let¡¯s take a walk.¡± He said and stood up, motioning for Edward to follow, who waved softly goodbye to the other soldiers.

    They strolled through the camp. The sun was setting, and it was dimming. A cool temperature surrounded them.

    ¡°My sister? She¡¯s 8, your brother was 9, right? I remember you shared it once.¡± Edward nodded to confirm, mentally noting how his brother was now 9, ¡°Anyway, she¡¯s like my little angel, you know¡­We found a kitten once, and the moment we said she could keep it, she carried it around like it was her greatest treasure, never leaving it out of her sight, just normal kid stuff.¡± He swallowed before continuing, ¡°When I was younger, I always thought it funny how parents reacted to every little thing their child did, never once questioning why.¡±

    ¡°But when I found out they¡¯d taken her, that¡¯s when I realized how much I loved her, how much she would need me going forward, I-¡­I just want to be there for her. I can¡¯t imagine what she¡¯s going through.¡± He said. He was trembling, and his fists were clenched until they were white from the tension.

    He tried to relax and ended with, ¡°I know my story isn¡¯t very original. It¡¯s probably quite similar to yours, but it¡¯s why I joined the army. To find her. I wasn¡¯t there when his men raided the village. I was fooling around with a girl in the forest, and to this day, I don¡¯t know whether or not I should have. Because I¡¯d probably just have been killed like most of the others, or I¡¯d have become a slave, unable to save her.¡±

    He paused when he arrived at the camps exit, looking longingly into the darkness, before turning around to walk towards the open area, Edward followed suit, although he knew for certain he was going into the darkness someday soon, he owed his brother at least that much.

    They walked in silence for a while before Edward said: ¡°My brother,¡± he started slowly, ¡°Is kind, kinder than I am, stronger too. I¡¯ve never quite understood him, there¡¯s always been a rift between us, one that¡¯s still there, even now¡­Just before we got separated, I learnt something about him, something that would¡¯ve let us become closer, perhaps even close the rift entirely. It was an opportunity staring me in the face, and I didn¡¯t take it.¡±

    He paused, not really sure on how to continue, ¡°I¡­I¡¯ve always loved him, but in a way, I¡¯ve also been envious. He had something I didn¡¯t, something I could never get. Talent.¡± He said earnestly.

    ¡°I wanted some of that talent for myself, but I couldn¡¯t take it from him, so I blamed him for it. I got what I wanted, and now he¡¯s a slave for a warlord.¡± He hadn''t entirely processed that part yet, that now he was really strong and had to go save his now much younger brother.

    Edward stopped and took a gamble, hoping he was making the correct decision, asking: ¡°I just realized I never really caught your name. Would you mind sharing it?¡± This could invalidate a lot of the progress he¡¯d made, but he needed to know his name for the next question to have the best effect.

    The soldier smiled gently and said, ¡°Sure, my name is David.¡± Edward locked eyes with David and said, ¡°Then, David, I need to ask you an important question.¡±

    David¡¯s demeanour changed when he saw how serious Edward was. He stood with his back straight and didn¡¯t shy away from Edward''s gaze.

    Edward chewed on his choice of words for a second, and looking around to make sure no one overheard them before saying: ¡°I¡¯m going to get my brother, do you want to join me?¡± He¡¯d decided to leave immediately after hearing his brother was a slave, they joined this world through a game console and if it was anything like a game, something terrible would happen if he waited for the army to eventually free the slaves.

    David didn¡¯t answer but stared straight into Edwards¡¯ eyes, as if to study if he was serious. Edward didn¡¯t shy away, but waited for David¡¯s reply.

    David didn¡¯t answer but asked, ¡°Your brother was taken months ago, as was my sister. Why now, and why me?¡±

    A careful question, but not a refusal, so Edward answered: ¡°I realized not too long ago that the army can¡¯t move, no matter how much it wants to. They¡¯re there to protect the people, and they can¡¯t attack because said people would simply be used as human shields.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m operating not as a hero, but as an individual. I don¡¯t believe my brother will survive if I wait for the army to get an opportunity to attack, so I will put the other slaves at risk to save him. What I¡¯m planning would get me executed. I got caught.¡±

    ¡°I ask again, will you join me, so you can save your sister? Younger slaves are unlikely to last, which is why it¡¯s a race against time.¡±

    He¡¯d said it, intentionally rushing ahead without really planning anything. He didn¡¯t know how common stories like family being taken in for slavery were, but someone with a younger sibling, a sister especially, was a perfect target for recruitment. He needed to save John.

    So, now he¡¯d either escape now without any supplies, or get caught when David ratted him out.

    Neither person said anything, several moments going by before David resolutely said: ¡°I¡¯ll join you.¡±

    Edward smiled, ¡°We¡¯ll need some supplies, rifles will be too loud, and we need to slim down if we¡¯re going to be mistaken as slaves, essential items only. What do you suggest?¡±

    The decision was made. David seemed to almost be relieved. Thinking quickly, he said. ¡°I think, if we¡¯re supposed to be quick on our feet and cover our trail, we only need very few things, rope, extra knives, a shovel perhaps, and matches for torches or a flashlight so we can travel during the night.¡±

    ¡°Don¡¯t forget bandages, since we¡¯re probably going to get attacked by the wildlife.¡± Edward added as a final item, he was going tonight, despite it being only his first day in the new world.

    ¡°let¡¯s go quickly before we sneak out past one of the gates. We need to leave. Tonight.¡±

    They split up, sneakily and quickly gathering whatever they needed, and whilst Edward didn¡¯t know where everything was, he could easily find it in the labelled crates.

    He took 20 meters of rope, and 3 extra knives, whilst David took two shovels, matches for starting fires and several flashlights.

    They did, of course, take food for emergencies, but speed was the primary concern, and they both agreed to simply hunt as they travelled.

    Luckily, there wasn¡¯t a curfew because Edward was a sergeant. He could come and go whenever he pleased, and they were let through the gates without too much hassle, they just had to lie about when they were planning to return.

    They got some weird looks with their equipment, but no one commented on it.

    David assured Edward that the warlord was north, and as such, they left through the northern gate, trying to mask that they were, in fact, going north.

    They walked casually into the night, hoping no one would wonder about their destination until it was too late to stop them.

 Chapter 7: Zombies

    ¡°The solution finally came when a Rasts had appeared to end his life. If pain was what caused his suffering, then he shall simply remove pain. He stood up. His knees creaked and ached. He¡¯d kneeled for 7 weeks. The fallen had disappeared. Swept away by the rivers of time. His body was suffering. He hadn¡¯t eaten, nor slept, nor had a drop of water. All he had was a purpose. It fuelled him.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    For the fourth time since he came to this world, John laid down to sleep, but unlike the other nights, he found sleep eluded him.

    He was downright exhausted. Wanting to collapse the entire day. Even though his mind "Slept" almost the entire day, it was like a bad dream. A heavy pressure threatening to break him . Only when something unexpected happened, like someone collapsing in front of him, did his body wake him up.

    It probably wasn¡¯t anything supernatural that let his mind sleep while his body worked, John thought, it most likely as just him falling into deep meditation, something he normally practiced extensively to sharpen his mental focus in class, but just done in reverse, to save energy rather than increase his output, just like moving efficiently to save energy rather than lifting those few extra kilos when deadlifting.

    He tried to lie as still as possible, then tried to toss and turn to find a more comfortable position, but it wasn¡¯t until he lied on his back determined to meditate himself to sleep, that he heard the quiet sniffling of a crying child.

    Opening his eyes to see the bright full moon shining softly through the cracks in the shed they were sleeping in, turned to see if he could find the source.

    His eyes eventually wandered over to the source of the sniffling. It was a small girl, the youngest person out of all of them, the one he saw on the first day, quivering slightly under the piece of fabric they called a blanket.

    The ground no longer bothered him, his mind finally having adjusted to the signals his body was sending him. His feet had grown entirely numb.

    He tiptoed over to her ¡®bed¡¯, lightly touching her blanket. She gave a low squeak at his touch. She shuffled slightly under the blanket and he assumed she was peeking through a hole in her blanket. And saw him crouched beside her.

    She carefully moved the blanket to reveal her head, as if she was trying to let as little heat escape between the gaps as possible. He couldn¡¯t see her very well in the soft moonlight, but could tell she¡¯d been crying, as the tears softly reflected the moonlight.

    John said nothing, but merely took her hand and held it tightly, trying to reassure her it was going to work out.

    John held it quietly until the sniffles faded entirely, and her breathing had steadied.

    He gently let go once he was sure that she¡¯d fallen asleep. Went back to his own bed, falling into a deep sleep.

    When he woke up the next morning, before the usual bell rang and before he even opened his eyes, he felt something furry right beside his neck. It was warm, quietly giving heat to him through the night, he knew. Somehow.

    John slightly stirred, and in an instant, it was gone. He felt whatever it was, leap from his bed onto the ground below and scurrying away.

    ¡®That¡¯s weird¡­why am I so certain that whatever animal it was, is friendly? Sure, it could be a subconscious decision by my childish body that the animal that helped keeping you warm is certainly friendly. But somehow, I can¡¯t believe that it¡¯s even a very weird coincidence. It is friendly. There is no doubt about it. It was there for that exact purpose, and when I woke up, it left.¡¯

    ¡®The only thing I can attribute it to, a wild animal coming to help me keep my warmth in the cold night, is the Latin part of his name ¡°Simiae¡±, which I don¡¯t know what means. Or my title, ¡°Apprentice¡±. Apprentice to¡­what? Magic? No, I haven¡¯t been able to see any magic so far¡­Animal trainer? Zoologist? Biologist? What profession makes you innately aware of an animal¡¯s intention¡­None that I¡¯m aware of, so something in this world that Thomas had knowledge of.¡¯

    ¡®I haven¡¯t seen any animals yet, I don¡¯t know if they¡¯re the same as the animals from my world or not, so I can¡¯t not discard that it could just be a very trained pet, some intelligent species that is native to this world.¡¯

    The bell rang not even a minute after John woke up, having finally adjusted to the ¡°alarm¡± clock wake up time.

    There wasn¡¯t anything abnormal for the rest of the day, and his mind shut off as usual, just the normal rock carrying to the pit, it was obviously inefficient as even John could just build a wagon or something similar to move more rocks faster than he was doing it by hand, such an obvious inefficient method wasn¡¯t used unless it was on purpose, to keep them weak and unable to resist. They were even given rocks according to their speed and size, and they were fed just enough food to keep them alive, but not enough so they could recover energy. Although it wasn¡¯t always perfect, and sometimes they received too little food or too large rocks, hence the occasional death or collapse.

    He glanced at the girl he¡¯d comforted to sleep yesterday and was unsure whether he should introduce himself, but eventually elected to simply act like everyone else like usual, he knew little about children and hoped that just being a mysterious reassuring protector in the night would help her, provided she hadn¡¯t seen his face in the darkness.

    Some part of her spirit must¡¯ve been uplifted a lot, because she seemed to have more energy than usual. A slight smile was easily noticed amongst the empty desert of energy.

    John, for his part, was recovering from his breaking point when he arrived, saving as much energy as possible and carefully controlling his movements, and whilst he was still dipping into that energy reserve every now and then, he wasn¡¯t at the risk of collapsing unlike the others. The girl, too, seemed to step away from the edge, although her smile had faded, falling back into the expressionless face that every slave seemed to carry.

    The mind was a powerful thing, so just simple, quiet encouragement could, in some cases, save people from surrendering to death.

    The pit they were dropping rocks into was close to being filled. The pit itself was ridiculously deep and wide. Almost a hundred slaves had worked on it, albeit inefficiently, for several days and it was just now being close to filled.

    John hadn¡¯t seen the old man that had encouraged him since the first day, but hoped he was okay working somewhere else.

    The first part of the day went by as normal, luckily with no one collapsing from exhaustion. Just as the afternoon passed, something weird happened.

    The bell that usually told them when they were having meals rang, and everyone not carrying rocks stopped. John wondered what was happening.

    The slave masters waited for every slave that had been carrying rocks to drop them into the pit, before they unceremoniously directed the slaves to go over to the side and sit quietly.

    John naturally sat at the front, hoping to figure out what was going on and didn¡¯t have to wait long before an old man appeared, strolling to the edge of the pit from the building the slave masters stayed in, a shoddy thing that just looked like a very large square cabin, the walls just being large logs, undoubtedly cut from the trees surrounding them.

    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

    it was much better than the not-very-windproof shed they were living in, however.

    The old man looked exactly like an evil military commander would look like in a video game. His white hair and slightly wrinkled face were the only things that told John he was old because he had a camouflaged sleeveless shirt that showed tanned heavily muscled arms, coupled with his short, trimmed hair and claw scar on his face.

    He held a dark green Jewel in his hand, as he stood staring down at the pit. He raised it above his head, and it started shining, a light so bright John could easily see it even in the sunlight.

    The jewel seemed to suck the surrounding light into itself, and the entire world darkened. The bright sun seemed to disappear from existence, and it was suddenly dark as night. The only light to be seen was from the jewel in his hand.

    Suddenly, a green glowing aura seemed to emerge from the jewel, the aura took the shape of a dozen tiny strings, strings that slowly and hesitatingly moved forward, as if unsure. The tips of the strings wiggled back and forth like they were searching for something, carefully drawing a dome shape around the pit, each string forming its own circle, getting smaller at the top.

    Then, the aura solidified, everything locking in place whilst it started shining even brighter than before.

    John heard howling wind. It sounded much like wind crashing against windows, a sound some people find comforting whilst drinking cups of tea.

    But John knew, no, he was certain, that the jewel was crying, it was crying in pain. He didn¡¯t know why he knew it, but that sound was its call for help. Whatever the evil commander was doing was hurting it.

    The howling intensified, as did the shining of the strings. The only thing he could see at this point was its light. He realized it wasn¡¯t light, because he couldn¡¯t even see his own hand. Only the cage was visible in a sea of darkness.

    Then, it pressed, John was suddenly pushed to the ground, every part of him that had joints moved closer to the ground, whether or not it hurt him, the pain was overwhelming, and he wheezed as air was squeezed out of him, and from the surrounding groans, this was happening to everyone.

    Gravity had increased. He couldn¡¯t breathe. He was being crushed under his own weight, not even being able to lift a finger.

    Just as he felt himself about to pass out, the ground shook and a deafening rumble followed shortly after.

    Then, it stopped.

    All at once, gravity¡¯s hold on him lessened. The light returned as if it had never disappeared, and the howling ceased.

    Whilst he was gulping back the air that had been squeezed out of him, John only had a single thought going through his mind:

    ¡®Okay, magic definitely exists.¡¯

    When he was finally conscious enough to get his bearings, he looked over at the evil commander.

    The first thing John noticed was that he was no longer standing above the pit, because it wasn¡¯t there. It had disappeared; it was completely gone.

    The ground they¡¯d walked on was completely smooth, almost unnaturally so. The giant pit in the middle of the clearing was gone too, like it had never been there.

    He was shocked, because there was no longer any physical proof of what they¡¯d been doing for the last several days. Even the giant pile where they were handed rocks had simply been wiped from existence.

    The evil commander surveyed the area and nodded satisfyingly.

    Then he disappeared into the building they stayed in, that somehow still stood untouched despite the increased gravity inflicted upon the area.

    John didn¡¯t have to wonder what was going to happen to them now that they were jobless, because one of the slave masters stepped up and plainly announced:

    ¡°Tomorrow you will start working again, so rest up, because you¡¯re going to need it.¡±

    That was all the encouragement the slaves needed, and they shuffled over to their shed and promptly laid down to sleep, despite it being in the early afternoon.

    John didn¡¯t go to sleep straight away, but found an empty corner and did some stretches. As an experienced athlete, he knew what he should do in order to minimize injury risk, something that could very well save his life in his current situation.

    No other slave had the energy to care as long as he didn¡¯t bother them, so he wasn¡¯t disturbed, although he didn''t even get a weird look.

    It took around 20 minutes, but when he was done, he also laid down to sleep, and passed out whilst only a single thought was going through his head:

    ¡®What did we just bury?¡¯

    He was woken up in the evening for his dinner, but they were otherwise undisturbed, and fell back to sleep.

    The next time he woke up, he again felt the furry animal beside him. He wasn¡¯t sure how long he had before the ¡°alarm¡± bell woke everyone else up, so he daintily moved his hand over to touch it, hoping it wouldn¡¯t run away like yesterday morning.

    And it didn¡¯t. When he lightly brushed his hand against it, it didn¡¯t dash away, but yawned and delicately crawled onto his chest. Only then did he dare to open his eyes, to identify his companion.

    It was¡­A mink? Or a weasel or stoat, he couldn¡¯t tell. It could be any of them. He wasn¡¯t sure how large they normally were, but it was larger than he expected, almost 40 centimetres long.

    When looking closer, he wasn¡¯t sure it was any of them. Its fur was brown, with a white stomach, but you couldn¡¯t fail to notice the green pattern on its body, that looked like symmetrical tribal tattoos.

    Its eyes were the strangest part of the animal. They were almost eerily intelligent, unlike those of a dog that were always happy. These eyes were studying you, like a predator stalking its next meal.

    But John wasn¡¯t scared. He felt like it was a familiar companion, his companion. He knew it wouldn¡¯t hurt him, just as he wouldn¡¯t hurt it.

    He whispered to it, ¡°We¡¯re leaving today, I don¡¯t know where we¡¯re going.¡± He was unsure if it understood him, but some part of him told him it was intelligent enough to do so.

    It stared at him for a few more seconds before it nuzzled him.

    That¡¯s when his heart melted, he¡¯d kept his guard up the entire time he¡¯d been here, never allowing himself to fully grasp his situation, not even being sure if his brother was searching for him, it was just a hope he carried with him to prevent him from giving up.

    He finally saw proof that something or someone cared about him in this new world, so he allowed himself to shed a single tear and a smiled happily.

    ¡®Maybe I can get through this. If this little guy believes in me, then I can¡¯t give up on myself.¡¯

    Then, the ¡°alarm¡± clock started ringing, and it was but a single moment before his companion had disappeared out of sight.

    He closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the moment for a while longer before finally getting out of bed and stepping outside.

    What faced him was several military trucks standing in line, probably to move them to their new working location.

    A man stepped up, armed with a gun, and started directing them.

    ¡°Alright, listen up people, hurry and get in the trucks. We don¡¯t have all day, and since you had such a nice day off, no breakfast today.¡±

    ¡®A gun? They have guns and vehicles in this world? They look to be from WW2, so there¡¯s been an industrial revolution. Probably.¡¯ John thought as they shuffled him into one of the trucks, none of the slaves resisting but just wearily doing what they were told.

    Most of them had turned into emotionless husks, which was an anomaly he didn¡¯t know how to figure out. Earlier he¡¯d just chalked it up to exhaustion, but even after resting almost an entire day, they still didn¡¯t show any human emotion, simply working until they collapsed.

    Only when facing death did they turn human again, some crying, some begging. John had grown numb to it, but never forgetting the faces of the dead, as they were thrown into the pit to be buried.

    ¡®But the girl cried without being near death, she showed emotion¡­Why? What makes me and her special? I know magic exists now, so maybe a curse? Or are we drugged? No, children should be more affected than others, so the adults should show emotion whilst children turned into robots.¡¯

    ¡®Hmm, my companion maybe? He¡¯s maybe what makes me immune to whatever is happening, but what about her? Does she have a companion as well? That could be a possibility¡­Wait, the old man as well. He showed emotion when he saved me and then immediately disappeared. What is up with that?¡¯ He mused, eventually just chalking it up to magic.

    The trucks took off. John was one of the last people in the truck so he could see out the back. A very bumpy and boring ride. A forest that seemed endless. He didn¡¯t know exactly how long they¡¯d been driving, a few hours at least, but the scenery didn¡¯t change at all. Just forest and road.

    After what felt like forever, with not a single person saying a word or even grunting, they arrived.

    ¡®It''s a mine,¡¯ John realized as he stared at the hole, ¡®straight into a mountain so tall I can¡¯t see the top of it.¡¯

    ¡®Is this where the rocks we carried came from?¡¯ He noted the rocks they carried and the mountainside, when he glimpsed the small areas weren''t covered in plants, had the exact same colour.

    Again, someone stepped up to announce instructions.

    ¡°You lot will be the new miners huh, are you sure they won¡¯t break after the first day? The last ones all died after only 2 weeks; I don¡¯t think these ones will last more than 1¡­¡± He said aloud.

    ¡°Alright, you can easily enough figure out what your job is, so I won¡¯t bother to explain what you¡¯re going to do. You¡¯ll find out when you get there.¡±

    Then he turned around and spoke to someone behind him: ¡°send them down, they¡¯ve rested enough.¡± He ordered smugly.

    They were simply handed picks, all the same adult size, and marched over to the mine.

    John realized that the mine was at an angle, and they were not mining into the mountain, but under it.

    The tunnel itself was very wide and well lit, with electric lights at equal intervals. The walls were, as you¡¯d expect, rugged and sharp, but shaped in an arch, to minimize the risk of collapse. That, at least, was done well. They didn¡¯t look too eager to cover up whatever they were trying to mine. In the middle of the mine were rails.

    ¡®Probably mine carts, or I hope so, as it¡¯s going to kill me very quickly if I have to carry whatever we¡¯re mining all the way up.¡¯ He thought as he stared down the tunnel, not seeing an end.

    Walking at the very front, he was the first to see, and only one to react to, the decomposing body leaning against the tunnel, a worn pickaxe lying beside it. The other slaves simply walking straight ahead with the pickaxes in their hands, ignoring the body, as if it didn¡¯t exist. Evidently, they didn¡¯t bother to cover up the bodies that died down here. Not that there was any obvious place to do so, unlike with the pits.

    ¡®But there isn¡¯t any ventilation down here. Are we all going to die from CO2 poisoning?¡¯ he shivered at the thought. He already wanted to go back to carrying rocks. At least he could see the sky. The only source of light were the lamps on either side.

    The tunnel never swerved, it just continued straight ahead at a continuous angle. They saw several corpses on the way, some more decomposed than others, all with worn pickaxes lying beside them.

    His feet felt like lead when they finally reached the end. There were a few movable platforms in order to get to the entire wall, and a pump trolley with a few carts at the end. That was it. No one was there, no slave master to check that they did their work.

    John became acutely aware that something was wrong with the slaves when they didn¡¯t pause, but simply started hacking at the walls robotically.

    Not reacting to John, who simply stood gaping at the scene in front of him, not speaking, only the sound of their pickaxes hitting the stone was heard.

    ¡°Hello?¡± He spoke.

    No one reacted.

    ¡°Hello! Can anyone hear me?¡± He spoke again, this time shouting as loud as he could.

    Still, no one reacted.

    He walked over to one of the slaves, pushed him lightly. Besides balancing himself, he continued to hack at the walls, and whenever a large piece fell off the wall, another slave picked it up and put it in one of the carts.

    Intermittently, a slave shovelled the gravel into a cart when there was enough of it.

    They looked like zombies; the only thing that convinced him they were humans was their heavy breathing and red faces from the exertion, but besides that they had glassy eyes and were expressionless.

    Eventually he went over to the girl he comforted the night. She was shovelling gravel onto the cart, and shoved her so she fell onto the ground.

    He waited for her to do something, anything. A reaction to getting pushed to the ground.

    Instead, she stood back up, and with her shovel, picked up the gravel she dropped, and walked over to the cart.

    Something was very, very, wrong.

 Chapter 8: Infiltration

    ¡°He spared no effort. He thought not of what was, but what could be. He spent his life creating the artifact that should remove pain and end suffering. He was ancient when his creation came to be. He¡¯d travelled far and wide. He¡¯d met fools, as well as Wisemen. They taught him, as he taught them.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    ¡°There it is, the Warlord¡¯s fortress. Hold on, Sandra, I¡¯m almost there.¡± David said, as they reached the top of the mountain.

    Edward whistled, ¡°I must admit, it¡¯s one thing to hear a description of it, and another to see it in person.¡±

    In the distance, the imposing structure was at the base of the mountain, leaning against it for support, making it seem a lot larger than it was.

    Edward could see the age on the structure, looking like a ruined fort from a classical fantasy.

    That didn¡¯t mean that it was barren. He could see the bustling activity from a mountain away. Trucks coming and going through the gate.

    They were far enough away that they were in no danger of being spotted, partly because the mountainside was covered in trees, and yet close enough that they could realistically make the journey from their current location in only a few hours.

    Unfortunately, neither of them thought to grab binoculars, so there wasn¡¯t much they could gleam from their current location except possible spots to investigate further.

    ¡°Hmm, should we set up a shelter before we go, so we have a place to hide after we¡¯ve freed them?¡± Edward suggested, being intimately aware he had no experience in this field outside of strategy games, and he wasn¡¯t sure how much that knowledge could be applied to the "real world".

    ¡°That¡¯s not the worst idea you¡¯ve had so far.¡± He thought for a moment before agreeing.

    ¡°How was I supposed to know that they were laxatives?¡± He grumbled at the answer.

    ¡°You forgot to tell me you were an idiot when you asked me to desert the army with you.¡± He said, deadpanned, before breaking out into laughter.

    They¡¯d warmed up considerably from the first night, the atmosphere becoming much more relaxed, as neither of them could maintain a serious demeanour for long.

    They¡¯d become good friends along the way, united by their purpose, although Edward admitted to himself that he felt slightly shallow having left the first night without really discovering anything significant besides his brother being a slave to a warlord, he¡¯d practically jumped into it.

    That didn¡¯t mean they hadn¡¯t made good progress. They¡¯d practically tarzaned their way through the forest on the first night. Edward estimated them to have travelled around 100 kilometres the first night alone, an amazing feat of physical endurance.

    They discussed what kind of shelter they should build before realizing and shelter the four of them could fit into would need to be too large and take too much time to build, so they eventually just dropped the idea.

    ¡°See, I told you it was a stupid idea. I don¡¯t know how you managed to convince me to even attempt it.¡± David said offhandedly.

    ¡°What! Liar, I most definitely heard you say it wasn¡¯t a bad idea, you just can¡¯t admit you didn¡¯t think far ahead either.¡± Edward countered back.

    ¡°Oh my, I have absolutely no idea what you¡¯re talking about. Are you sure those berries didn¡¯t do anything to your mind? Maybe their hallucinogens, who knows¡­¡± Refusing to take responsibility.

    ¡°Never mind that. Do you have any good suggestions of where we can infiltrate the fortress?¡±

    ¡°Hmm, if it¡¯s leaning against the mountain, can¡¯t we try to climb the shorter walls in the middle of the night? I mean, you keep assuring me the warlord¡¯s men are absolute dogshit at their job, so I assume they¡¯d be inattentive and distracted right before their shift is over¡­¡± Edward said, trying to remember if he¡¯d read any stories that had a castle infiltration.

    ¡°Absolutely, don¡¯t you remember the battle of Ramuda? Those idiots charged out of their fortified defensive position because commander Johnson gave them the tiniest bait possible.¡±

    ¡°Wait, that¡¯s why they charged. I was sure it was because they had no provisions left. I was a part of the reinforcements. So, I wasn¡¯t there at the start of the attack.¡± Edward played along. It was something he usually did with Caleb when he taught him about a new game¡­He paused, feeling slightly weird thinking about him, now that he would never see him again.

    ¡°Yeah, their leadership is the worst, everyone besides the warlord, it¡¯s because he really hasn¡¯t had time to give his troops any formal training, they¡¯re basically just thugs with guns.¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s hope it¡¯s that easy.¡±

    It was that easy. Right before morning broke, they¡¯d hiked to the shorter walls on the mountain, and were quite easily able to climb up onto the fortress walls.

    Because the warlord had just started his conquest, he¡¯d been unable to properly restore his residence to 100% functionality, leaving holes in its defences.

    Edward wasn¡¯t stupid enough to think that they¡¯d just been lucky or that the military hadn¡¯t thought to infiltrate the warlord themselves.

    ¡®In for a penny, in for a pound.¡¯ He thought to himself as he made it to the top. Beside him in the tower, a lone sleeping guard sat on a chair snoring softly, and an empty bottle beside him.

    He helped David up, and they made sure to walk as far away from the guard as possible without being spotted.

    ¡°So, what now, do we infiltrate as guards or slaves?¡± Edward asked. He¡¯d made the mistake of not thinking very far ahead, some part of him still being the kid in a fantasy world.

    David hesitated, ¡°you said the guards change shifts in the morning, right? We can change clothes with the guards and toss them off the walls, far enough that the trees will cover them, and just act like them, sleeping, before the shifts change. I also reckon the fortress is large enough that¡¯ll work because there are so many people.¡±

    ¡°That has got to be the riskiest plan I¡¯ve ever heard of, let¡¯s do it.¡± Edward acknowledged.

    Edward really didn¡¯t know how to kill someone that wouldn¡¯t cause them to bleed everywhere, so he stabbed them through the eye hoping it wouldn¡¯t dirty the clothes too much, feeling more than a little squeamish at the eye splattering like a grapefruit with his quick stab. David went to another tower and did the same, although he didn¡¯t know if he killed his guard differently.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

    David¡¯s height was somewhere close to the median, so he easily fit into whatever dirty clothes the guard had.

    Edward, however, was around 2 meters tall, and although his muscular physique had practically disappeared in the past few days they¡¯d travelled, could only hope the more-than-slightly too small clothes wouldn¡¯t be noticed.

    Since they were so strong, it wasn¡¯t difficult to toss the bodies far enough that it couldn¡¯t be seen from the walls.

    As planned, they laid down to sleep.

    Fortunately, Edward had practiced sleeping often enough when he was a child that snoring came naturally to him, and you¡¯d think he was one of the guards, dirty and skinny as he was.

    He must¡¯ve faked a bit too well because he didn¡¯t have to act surprised when he was kicked out of his chair. He rubbed his eyes as he looked at the two who''d come to take his and David''s place.

    ¡°Alright, as usual the night watch fell asleep, you owe me a crate of beer, Hammond.¡±

    Hammond glared at Edward, ¡°Why can¡¯t you jackasses learn that you¡¯ll get out of the night shift whenever you stop drinking on the job, it can¡¯t be that hard can it?! And fuck you Eric, that bet was entirely one-sided, I never agreed to that bet.¡±

    Edward thought quickly and acted impeccably drunk, ¡°Wha- Whad you say?¡± his Oscar award being Eric smacking him in the face.

    ¡°Sober up, or I¡¯ll throw you off the wall to sober you up.¡± Hammond got uncomfortably close to his face, blocking his view of everything else, so he could only lock eyes with him, and it didn¡¯t take an expert in reading faces to see that he was very annoyed, it seemed to Edward that he was, indeed, going to pay up that crate of beer.

    ¡°Y-yes sir!¡± He eked out, and almost didn¡¯t stumble when he stood up.

    A groan and a facepalm told him his self-taught acting skills weren¡¯t failing him.

    ¡°Jus-just go and tell the other guy that his shift is over, oh god this is so embarrassing, they¡¯re absolutely hopeless.¡±

    Edward didn¡¯t answer but walked mostly in a straight line towards the next tower to wake up David, who either had incredible acting skills or fell asleep like Edward, not that Edward would tell him that.

    ¡°It¡¯s me, our shifts are over, so let¡¯s go. Also don¡¯t forget to act drunk. I think the night shift we are, ahem, substituting is quite hopeless. Also, I¡¯m not forgetting that you actually fell asleep.¡± The smile he received at the last comment told him that he hadn¡¯t quite fallen asleep, which reassured him his partner-in-crime wasn¡¯t entirely incompetent.

    Stumbling down the wall under the disappointed gaze of their peers and eventually disappearing out of sight, they found a secluded place and dropped their act.

    ¡°Okay, now let¡¯s just find out where the slaves are, get out siblings, then we bolt.¡± David said, slightly adjusting his clothes to look less miserable, Edward copying him.

    ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t worry about getting recognized. If the guards on the tower are anything to go by, we¡¯ll be fine as long as we look like we¡¯re going somewhere. I remember someone once telling me: ¡®Confidence is key¡¯.¡±

    ¡°Sounds good. We¡¯ll meet up here after we find out where the slaves are kept. Then we cause as much trouble as possible and grab them in the chaos.¡± David concluded.

    They split up, David leaving first, with Edward following a few minutes later.

    He realized he didn¡¯t have any idea where the slaves would be. ¡®Where would you need slaves in a semi-modern environment?¡¯ He concluded they¡¯d be either used as servants or the girls as sex slaves, so he promptly and purposefully changed his direction to the centre of the fortress, the belly of the beast.

    The centre keep was more heavily guarded if you only counted the number of guards or that the guards carried guns instead of being nearly unarmed like the ones on the outer walls, who only carried knives.

    But it was obvious to pretty much everyone who looked at them with more than a glance that they were pretty much on a vacation. Only a minority was even standing up, and they were chatting with the other guards rather than keeping watch.

    ¡®No matter how you look at it, this infiltration was bound to succeed. If this is all their security amounts to, a child could do this. Then¡­A front? Is the warlord even here?¡¯ He mused whilst strolling through the keep. The guards had completely ignored him when he walked past them, too engrossed in their card game. He freely explored the entire keep and found nothing except a relatively important looking person passed out on the floor smelling strongly of alcohol.

    ¡®This has to be a front; I have a feeling that I could practically enter through the front door without being caught. I should figure out what all the activity we saw yesterday is about, if they were just driving trucks in and out of the fortress or if something is actually going on.¡¯ He concluded and headed to investigate, stopping briefly to check if David had returned to their meeting spot, he hadn¡¯t, before continuing.

    The fortress, large as it was, wasn¡¯t very difficult to navigate, all the same, he walked through the inner walls, as their gates weren¡¯t closed either, as such strolled from the centre of the keep to the main gate in less than 10 minutes.

    He immediately realized that whatever the trucks were doing wasn¡¯t a front. They used them for something.

    First, the soldiers that were standing on and around the main gate and on the surrounding walls were the real deal. They attentively scanned the area on the outside searching, stoically keeping watch.

    Second, the soldiers coming with the trucks were heavily armed and had some form of body armour, though if it was just metal covered plates or actual Kevlar remained to be. There was also the issue of the weird mishmash of technology. He hadn¡¯t been able to confirm the existence of magic yet, only gleam its existence from conversing with David, and yet, there was a bigger problem.

    The society needed to create such technology was non-existent. He¡¯d travelled for a dozen days to get to the warlord¡¯s fortress, and it was the only proof he had of large structures even existing.

    It didn¡¯t fit. Where did they innovate and produce that many weapons? He¡¯d seen several hundred automatic rifles since he entered the fortress and none of the infrastructure to support the production.

    ¡®How and why would there be a wide, maintained road to a broken-down fortress in the middle of nowhere? It doesn¡¯t make sense! Why would the warlord have a possibly fake base with no slaves? Why not just stay hidden?¡¯

    His thoughts were interrupted when a truck arrived, empty.

    Several grunts, those that looked and acted less professional than their gate and truck counterparts, started moving, they all went into a large building that looked like a warehouse and started pushing several cages on wagons over to the trucks.

    He felt more than a little horrified when he realized what was inside the cages.

    Rasts, all of them, large or dangerous looking beasts, were inside every single cage.

    They looked mistreated, starved, and wounded, several of them weakly covering their eyes, as if they¡¯d been kept in the dark, and were blinded by the light.

    Then it clicked.

    ¡®It¡¯s because it¡¯s in the middle of nowhere. That¡¯s why they¡¯re here, to gather Rasts! There is nothing but forest and mountains in a thousand-kilometre radius.¡¯

    ¡®That brings the question, what the fuck do they need mistreated, possibly magical creatures for? Why would you specifically need them alive? And where are they taking them?¡¯

    ¡®This is not good; this is very obviously not good.¡¯

    He felt like the thing that had kept him stable since his arrival almost 2 weeks ago, rescuing his brother was slowly destabilizing.

    He¡¯d mostly ignored the world around and dealing with the obvious bottled-up emotions and reality of another world. He wanted his brother to be there, to figure out how they were going to deal with it. The pressure was getting to him.

    He shook himself out of his stupor ¡®Not now, I can¡¯t give up yet.¡¯ he was quite obviously staring in shock, and quickly walked away to their meeting spot making sure he wasn¡¯t followed, although that mostly involved just quickly looking behind him several times to see if he recognized anyone.

    What? He was new to this. He wasn¡¯t some secret service university spy. That¡¯d be ridiculous. He was mostly just winging whatever obstacle was coming at him, relying solely on his wits, and so far, it had worked brilliantly, well mostly brilliantly.

    He wasn¡¯t followed, he hoped, and speedily, but not too obviously, made his way to their secluded meeting spot.

    He was quite relieved when David was there, looking visibly anxious.

    ¡°I searched the entirety of the inner walls and living areas, I didn¡¯t find a single trace of slaves, not a whiff, I really hope you had any luck, because otherwise I don¡¯t think they¡¯re here, we made this journey for nothing.¡± He was almost deflating as he said it, seemingly quite sure that Edward hadn¡¯t found anything either. Like a popped balloon. Edward could see the hope drain out of him and dissipate into the air.

    He took a deep breath, locking eyes with David, and confidently started: ¡°No, I didn¡¯t find anything either, but I¡¯m very sure this base is mostly just a front, there is nothing here other than wasteland in the shape of forest and mountains. I went to the outer gate. You noticed how all the guards and grunts here are basically just relaxing and drinking, right?¡± David nodded cautiously. He had of course noticed it, but assumed it was just that the guards weren¡¯t trained at all.

    ¡°Yeah, well, the guys at their front door are the real deal. There wasn¡¯t a bottle of alcohol in sight, and all of them were heavily armed with armour, although I don¡¯t know what kind of armour as it was covered with cloth. They were definitely well trained, there¡¯s no doubt about it, some looked even more dangerous than our guys back at camp.¡±

    David¡¯s eyes widened when he heard that. ¡°anyway, you remember the hive of activity we saw yesterday? I know what they were doing, they¡¯re capturing Rasts out here and sending them somewhere, they are putting them into cages, all of them looked starved and worn-ragged, they¡¯d for sure been kept there for a couple of days at least.¡±

    ¡°The warlord must be using them for something, so I want to follow them. We¡¯ve basically confirmed that the slaves aren¡¯t here, so our only option besides giving up is following them to see where that leads us. And giving up isn¡¯t an option.¡± Edward finished, having already made up his mind on the way to their meeting spot if David didn¡¯t find anything, and gave his best motivational speech.

    ¡°Let¡¯s get out of here before they realize that we¡¯ve been here.¡± David nodded resolutely.

    They quickly made their way to one of the outer walls and searched for a tower where the guard was passed out drunk, there was a jarring contrast between the professionals at the main gate, who Edward didn¡¯t doubt would shoot them they moment they suspected them to be spies, and these grunts that came out of a b-rated movie.

    They jumped down and made their way to the mountains, seeing if they could see where the road lead from a higher vantage point.

    Edward confirmed that this was almost as far north as you could get before you hit the ¡°edge of the continent¡± and saw the road heading southeast before it disappeared around the curve of a mountain.

    They started their stroll, opting to travel during the day rather than night, as they wouldn¡¯t be able to see the road very well in the moonlight and could possibly veer off course.

    Edward confided in David something that had been troubling him for a while, ¡°I don¡¯t think the army isn¡¯t attacking because the slaves are being used as human shields, there has got to be another reason, even if there are a few trained soldiers amongst the enemy, we should have enough resources to simply outnumber them, right? I will reluctantly admit this. I don¡¯t really know anything of the army. We¡¯re a part off, so I need to ask you, how big was it really?¡±

    At this point, David had really committed to following through with what they were doing. Because of that, Edward admitted to a gap in his knowledge. Something he¡¯d been deftly avoiding their entire time together.

    Perhaps in part because of that, he really didn¡¯t know very much about his companion, despite being the only being he could interact with for over a week.

    David stared at him intently, having composed himself from the earlier doubt and regret.

    He opened his mouth and pronounced every word slowly and deliberately:

    ¡°Before I answer your question, I want you to answer a question of mine before we go any further.¡± Pausing briefly to make sure he had Edwards¡¯ full attention, ¡°who are you really?¡±

 Chapter 9: Predator

    ¡°Nothing would stop him. He fought with beasts. He travelled below the sea. Under the ground. He searched for ancient knowledge. Talked with Rasts that were even older. He discovered prehistoric ruins. He explored fallen civilisations. He brought forth untold secrets. He touched the world itself.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    Edward felt the blood in his veins freeze solid.

    ¡°What? You thought I wouldn¡¯t realize? It was really quite obvious after only the first night, you couldn¡¯t make a shelter to save your life, and instead opted to ¡®survey the area¡¯ every time so I could set up camp, normally it would mean that you were just really lazy, but I noticed you studying the makeshift tents I made, as if you were trying to learn how to do it.¡±

    Edward tried to stammer out a response, his brain working overtime, trying, and failing, to suddenly come up with a suitable explanation, one he hadn¡¯t been able to think of the entire time he¡¯d been here.

    David was trying to force the answer out of him, and he was succeeding. He¡¯d caught Edward completely off-guard despite him believing he had it up.

    ¡°You obviously try to not mention where you¡¯re from, and you haven¡¯t named a single area, landmark or even mountain since we started travelling, you¡¯re completely ignorant of the landscape of the entire northern side, I¡¯m certain the only reason you asked me to travel with you is because you don¡¯t know where you¡¯re going¡­And yet,¡± he paused, his eyes inspecting Edward''s body, ¡°you look and sound like Edward, fight like him too, the Edward that was famed in the army for his immense strength and deadly speed.¡±

    ¡°And that too, you keep calling it an army. We¡¯re not an army! We¡¯re a militia! There hasn¡¯t been an army since the empire almost 300 years ago!¡±

    He paused, ¡°You have his strength and speed, easily cutting Rasts into pieces, but most importantly, I don¡¯t care about that. You could be someone from a thousand years ago. I don¡¯t care.¡±

    He stepped closer, getting face to face with Edward, who felt immensely intimidated despite David being a lot shorter than him.

    ¡°What I want to know, why are you doing this? What is your reasoning for leaving the militia and infiltrating the warlords¡¯ god-damn-fortress? Sure, it turned out to be quite easy, but we didn¡¯t know that beforehand. We could¡¯ve just as easily been spotted and shot down before even getting to the wall!¡±

    ¡°What reason does someone who has no clue about where he is and what he¡¯s facing. Leave relative safety just before nightfall to travel a thousand-kilometres to the middle of what he¡¯s told is quite obviously enemy territory?¡± He concluded, and smoothly stepped back, allowing Edward to release the breath he didn¡¯t know he¡¯d been holding.

    Edward could only give one unsatisfactory explanation, one that he had thought of beforehand, but found really wanting.

    ¡°I¡­¡± He started, David impatiently waiting for his answer, and raising an eyebrow, ¡°I¡­Didn¡¯t lie to you, and try not to lie about anything else.¡± He swallowed before continuing, ¡°I am Edward,¡± he lied, ¡°and I am really searching for my brother.¡± He said truthfully, ¡°But I also don¡¯t have any common knowledge, and no memories. I don¡¯t have amnesia. I¡¯m pretty sure my memories are lost forever. The Edward that was in the militia is gone.¡± He said, unsure.

    David narrowed his eyes, and waited for Edward to finish, ¡°I can only promise you one thing, the only thing I want right now is to find my brother, although I don¡¯t have any clue of where I am without you, I will try my damn hardest to find him. I know, I know, that he¡¯s a slave somewhere, and I will free him, and if possible, save your sister too, with or without you.¡± He said, resolute.

    David said nothing.

    Precious moments went by without either backing down, feeling like an eternity to Edward, he''d resolutely locked eyes with David, who stared back with narrowed eyes.

    Then, David said, unwavering, ¡°That¡¯s all I need to know.¡± And stepped back, turning to face the road cutting through the trees.

    Edward didn¡¯t know when his limbs had gotten so cold, but they were freezing when he finally released a tense sigh.

    ¡°Let¡¯s go, and I¡¯ll teach you all the skills, since you might need them if we get separated.¡± David said, having already started walking ahead.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

    Edward followed, hectically trying to get some blood back to his limbs, so they¡¯d function properly.

    They travelled quickly, as usual, their strong bodies, though not as muscular as when they started, they were still as dangerous, and traversed the treacherous terrain with ease.

    Edward thought that their relationship might chill significantly now that his secret was out, but his worries were mostly unfounded.

    Their equal status had been maintained, since Edward¡¯s frankly inhumane strength still helped them when they were facing dangerous Rasts, whose territories they frequently passed through, and David¡¯s skill in tracking and living in the wild, had probably saved his life more than once.

    A skill he freely taught Edward whilst they were travelling, what berries to eat, what trees were ideal for building shelters, and where he should build said shelters in order to avoid the worst of what the weather had to offer. He knew so much, in fact, that he had a sneaky suspicion that David had a more thorough education about surviving in the wilderness than what most of the other militiamen had, but he assured him that wasn¡¯t the case.

    Most importantly, he taught Edward what Rasts to avoid rather than face, and rightfully chastised Edward when he got too lost in the battle, frequently having to snap him out of it, a quirk, it seemed, came with his supernatural body.

    It was quite addicting, Edward recognized, he wanted to fight almost every Rasts and beast he laid eyes upon and got twitchy when he hadn¡¯t fought anything for long periods.

    The journey wasn¡¯t as long as the journey to the fortress, and it wasn¡¯t more than a week before a large clearing came into view, settled in a massive valley between two equally colossal mountains.

    The clearing had 2 other roads leading to it, one going straight north and the other going southwest. They had no clue where the northern road was heading, but the southwestern road was likely where they caught slaves, as David confirmed the centre of the continent was the most populated.

    The massive clearing was quite empty save for 2 buildings, 1 large and 1 small, a very large pile of rocks, and a giant pit.

    David immediately frowned when he laid eyes upon it. ¡°That doesn¡¯t seem right. The ground should be mostly mud. That pile of rocks shouldn¡¯t be there.

    ¡°That means it they¡¯ve specifically moved those rocks here for a purpose. The only obvious interaction would be to eventually fill the pit with the rocks, but that seems pointless unless they¡¯re trying to bury something specific with them.¡± Edward theorized, still not quite sure how magic worked in this world, although David had confirmed its existence.

    ¡°Look, a truck from the fortress is arriving!¡± David said, fixing his gaze on it as it speedily arrived at the clearing.

    They tensed, waiting to see if the truck would continue on to either road, or if it would stop.

    It stopped.

    People came out from the larger building lifting the cages of the truck, they were too far away to see if they did anything to the animals specifically, but they placed the cages around the pit in the ground, and promptly stepped away, bunching together against the building.

    ¡°No, that¡¯s not right, there¡¯s one guy left, standing right on the edge of the put, look!¡± David pointed to the cages, and Edward could barely see a figure if he squinted his eyes.

    Then, even at this distance in the sunlight they could see a bright green light emerge from him, then the world suddenly darkened around them, as if the sun was put out, and the moon was destroyed, a pitch-black darkness befell the world.

    The green light brightly emanating from the man still remained, stronger than ever, as if it fed of off the light from the sun, absorbing it.

    Suddenly, the light took shape, several strings suddenly materialized from the light, before Edward could really comprehend what he was looking at, they instantly pierced the Rasts in the cages, 1 string for each cage, probably spearing the animal inside, as the light was shining so brightly, they couldn¡¯t be sure what was happening inside the cages.

    Whatever happened, the light got stronger and stronger, as if it was the sun unto itself, feeling like they¡¯d be blinded if they kept staring, yet refusing to look away.

    Eventually, it shined so brightly that all they could see was a bright green before it abruptly dimmed.

    The strings slowly retreated from the cages, and formed a dome with several layers of strings, eventually looking like they completely solidified, as they stopped wiggling.

    The green light again began to shine brightly, though not as blindingly bright as before.

    A strange sound was heard, it sounded as if wind was violently colliding with a window in a house, something he frequently heard in the harsh winters, where they lived, or where he used to live.

    It was completely quiet save for that one sound, so he heard it quite clearly when David muttered, ¡°It¡¯s crying¡­¡± He¡¯d have to question him about that later.

    The sound of the wind, as well as the brightness of the light, intensified.

    The wind was deafening. It was so loud that it felt like they were in the middle of a tornado, and their house was being torn apart around them.

    Then, Edward felt heavy, like he¡¯d just put on a very weighted vest, on his entire body, like the world was compressing every square inch of him, and it wasn¡¯t being nice about it.

    He tensed his muscles, barely staving it off the pressure he was facing. He heard David grunt, as he was no doubt experiencing the same thing.

    He¡¯d been kneeling on one knee whilst he was watching the events unfold, and he felt himself be pushed into the ground.

    ¡®Gravity, gravity has increased, that¡¯s what¡¯s happening.¡¯

    He refused to let his head fall, staring intensely at whatever was happening before him.

    Then, as quickly as it appeared, it vanished.

    The weight he¡¯d been experiencing was gone, and gravity returned to normal. The sunlight, too, shone down on the valley below, as if it had never left, the previous darkness almost feeling like an illusion.

    He jumped a bit up into the air because he¡¯d been under such high pressure but was able to stop himself before he¡¯d completely extended his legs, so he didn¡¯t entirely lose his balance.

    Edward warily glared at the pit and felt his bones chill when he saw the empty cages.

    Completely empty, as if the Rasts had never been there in the first place.

    The people bunched up at the large building scurried over to move the cages back onto the truck. Edward and David glancing at it as went southwest, meaning it was probably going to the populated areas.

    Only glancing at it though, not daring to take their eyes off the figure still standing on the edge of the pit.

    They were at least a dozen kilometres away from the clearing, and yet they still felt the effect of his magic. If it was that strong so far away, what must it be like up close? They shivered at the thought.

    The figure turned, much easier to see now that their view wasn¡¯t obstructed by the cages and faced their direction.

    Then they felt it.

    His gaze.

    A predator''s gaze.

    He was definitely looking at them.

    The surrounding temperature dropped to the freezing point, the blood in their veins froze solid.

    Edward felt himself become pale, all the blood draining from his limbs collecting in his torso, trying to save his life.

    Then, the figure smiled.

    And they fled.

    Like prey.

    Like their very lives depended on not stopping.

    Every single instinct in Edward''s body told him that he¡¯d be devoured if he turned around. He¡¯d vanish from existence.

    Every fibre, every blood cell, screamed at him:

    ¡°Do not turn around, run, because your very life depends on it.¡±

 Chapter 10: Puppets

    ¡°The Rasts had guided him. Here, where he stood, he would meet the Wisest Rasts. He was not yet worthy. He was to be tested. He would not be given knowledge without the wisdom to use it. The Wisest Rasts told him: ¡®perch until the light shines.¡¯ He did as he was told. It was the middle of winter.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    ¡°Puppets, puppets everywhere, but not a single string to cut.¡± He murmured to himself.

    John sat on the ground leaning against the wall, observing another one collapse from exhaustion.

    He stood up to move him out of the way, lest he be stepped on, but sighed when he noticed the blood dripping from his mouth. Dead.

    He was numb. Numb to it all. This wasn¡¯t what he wished for, not at all. He wanted to go home.

    He¡¯d been in the mine for an entire week. His hope for survival slowly seeping out of him with every death he saw, numbering almost 2 dozen. He didn¡¯t count.

    He¡¯d long since gotten past thinking that this was a game. The reality of what was in front of him was too strong. Too heavy.

    Every day, when the sun rose, they were given a hearty meal, unlike when they were carrying rocks, a thick but tasteless soup full of meat, or what he assumed to be meat, who knew what existed on this new planet he was on.

    Every slave ate mechanically, chewing exactly 6 times with every spoon before swallowing, and finishing almost at the same time.

    Puppets.

    Then, without being prompted, walked over to the rack where the pickaxes were, took one, and walked down the mine.

    John followed suit, and like a robot, mimicked what the others did, before sitting down when they reached the bottom, watching the slaves die of exhaustion.

    The guards kept a tight watch over the surrounding area, something he¡¯d missed on the first day.

    The entire mine was surrounded by a fortified encirclement, barbed wire, mounted machineguns, watchtowers, and more guards than he could count, at least in the triple digits.

    And in the middle of it all, they were mining directly under a mountain. You¡¯d be incorrect to assume that there were different minerals and layers of rocks. It was all just one uniform and unassuming brown-grey layer of solid stone.

    John had tried and failed several different methods to stop the slaves from working. All of them had failed. If he forcibly held them, they started to struggle tremendously after a period, hurting both him and themselves, if he didn¡¯t let go. The only thing left to try was knocking them out, but he didn¡¯t know how much strength to use.

    The only time he¡¯d ever knocked someone out was against another trained boxer, and they were probably more durable than someone about to die from exhaustion. He wouldn¡¯t be able to live with himself. If he accidentally killed someone instead of knocking them out, the final little light of hope inside him that had yet to give up, would be snuffed out.

    His one solace in all this, was that the girl he¡¯d comforted was still alive, her arms had given out before her body could and wasted time trying to pick up her pickaxe instead of hacking away, something that likely saved her life, although it was a minor thing in such bleak circumstances, and that she¡¯d likely torn her arms up so badly that she was disabled for life, John took it as a positive thing that she wasn¡¯t dead.

    Whenever someone collapsed and was unable to get back up. Someone else would eventually take their place and they¡¯d drop the collapsed person into an empty cart to be transported up and disposed of.

    No guard, grunt, soldier, or supervisor was here, just slaves. No, that didn¡¯t fit them anymore. They were puppets.

    That was perhaps the biggest mystery he couldn¡¯t figure out. Was why did they only send slaves down here? For what reason did no one come to make sure they were working? Were they that confident in their mind control over the puppets that they just left them to it?

    He adjusted himself into a meditation pose, after quickly making sure no one else had collapsed.

    If he looked at it selfishly, something he was more and more inclined to do as his hope started to fade, he was in a better position than he was when they were carrying rocks, he could relax and even sleep down here provided he wasn¡¯t in the path of the other slaves, getting 2 large meals, one when they were woken up and one when going to sleep.

    He was still skinny but looked less like a starving child, and unsupervised as they were, was somewhat confident they wouldn¡¯t notice him as he gained weight.

    He was still far from the point of being able to exercise, however.

    He mostly spent his time in stretching out his worn body and meditating. The only other choice was despairing at his current situation, and that wasn¡¯t a very pleasant option, so he avoided it with a passion.

    He slowly moved his attention to the monotonous clinging of the pickaxes and let himself get lost in the sounds.

    This was just standard meditation from back home, really, it was just focusing on the sounds around you, then yourself, then finally landing on the movement of the breath, he could practically do it in his sleep, since he didn¡¯t have much else to do besides meditating.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

    Thoughts of hopelessness and despair came, he accepted them and let them go. Then a memory of his brother, one that very likely looked quite different now, and he let it go as well.

    Memories, emotions, hopes, dark thoughts, all of it came and he let it go, choosing to simply feel his breath, the air traveling in through his nose, moving down his throat, and settling in his lungs, as he felt them expand.

    Releasing it gently through the mouth, feeling his muscles relax.

    A jarring ¡®clang¡¯ shook him out of it. A very different clang than what usually sounded when the pickaxes struck stone.

    His thoughts were mildly disarrayed, because he was brought out in such a rough manner, but he nevertheless searched with his eyes trying to locate the source of the sound.

    His eyes landed on something emitting a soft green glow, easily seeing it due to the contrasting background.

    He stood up and approached it, wanting to inspect it further.

    When getting a closer look, he recognized what he was looking at.

    It was a Jewel.

    The jewel.

    The same one that he¡¯d seen the evil commander guy hold when he conducted the magical ritual to make the pit disappear.

    That jewel.

    The slaves had all stopped what they were doing, dropping their tools and simply staring straight ahead in whatever direction they were facing at the time.

    He reached out to touch it, ready to jump back at a moment''s notice, should the jewel prove to be dangerous.

    It was still mostly covered by the unassuming uniform rock, and but even with just that, he realized it was larger.

    Much larger.

    The other jewel that the evil commander had wasn¡¯t larger than what you could comfortably hold inside your fist, but this one, was way larger, he couldn¡¯t tell exactly how big, but he knew for sure he had no chance of moving it. Glowing softly, unlike the smaller one, which remained a dark green until it was used.

    His outstretched hand was inching closer to it, hesitatingly letting a finger feel the smooth surface.

    He suddenly jumped backwards, scrambling to get as far away from it as possible.

    It was like putting his hand in a fire, a pain that instantly engulfed his hand when he touched it.

    The burning pain disappearing just as quickly as it came. It was so sudden that he was starting to doubt he even felt pain at all, though his gut told him otherwise.

    It started shining brightly, just like the other one had, but the green light had an ominous hue, some part of it making John very uncomfortable.

    Sounding like thunder struck him. It was deafening, growing louder and louder until he wasn¡¯t sure he could hear anything at all.

    In a flash, several dozen strings shot out from the jewel, instantly piercing everyone there, ignoring any obstacle in the way, going straight through them.

    John felt fear.

    Genuine fear.

    He hadn¡¯t been able to react to it. From one instant to the next, they appeared and pierced everyone.

    Including himself.

    He looked down and saw it go straight inside his chest. He froze, unable to move from shock.

    He didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been staring at it, but it finally occurred to him he wasn¡¯t feeling any pain.

    Shakingly, he raised his arm to touch the string, not really knowing what else to do.

    His hand passed straight through it.

    Not really comprehending what had just happened, he moved to touch it again.

    And again, his hand passed straight through, like it didn¡¯t exist.

    He did it again, to confirm a third time, then a fourth time, a fifth time.

    Repeating it until he was certain he wasn¡¯t harmed.

    Being able to see the string, but not being able to touch it.

    He sat down as he felt his tense body relax and slumped against the wall, even though the thundering sound emanated from the jewel just as the strings did, never quieting.

    The string followed him as he sat down, attached to the centre of his chest.

    He had the attention to look around him to check on the others. They, like him, had a softly glowing string piercing into the centre of their chest, they still hadn¡¯t moved, vacantly staring straight ahead, like they¡¯d been paused.

    He could still see them breathing. He felt a little comforted knowing they weren¡¯t dead.

    And that they were getting a break, so perhaps some of their lives would be saved.

    His relief was short-lived though, as the jewel pulsed with light, a light that came like a wave through the strings.

    The strings started growing in size, becoming thicker and brighter, still attached to their chests.

    Swiftly turning from being slightly bigger than a yarn string to becoming almost as thick as John¡¯s forearm.

    Suddenly, a wave of light come from John¡¯s body, instead of from the jewel, he watched in terror as the light wave travelled from the chest of all of them into the jewel, and as soon as the wave of light touched them, they collapsed.

    Like puppets whose strings were cut, they all collapsed.

    His face was no doubt as white as paper, having no idea of what was happening.

    The strings retreated into the jewel as quickly as they appeared, and he stared at it as an explosion of light knocked the air out of him, flinging his body backwards away from the jewel, before smacking his head against something and everything going dark.

    ================================================================

    He tried his very best to lie as still as possible, hearing the heavy footsteps entirely ignoring him, murmuring in the background and the casual conversation just beside him, he directly faced the wall, unable to see what was going on.

    ¡°Hahah, we finally found it, boss has been searching for it for ages. I wonder what it is, do you know?¡±

    ¡°Be quiet, let¡¯s not ask too many questions, a sorcerer¡¯s powers are mysterio-.¡± The voice choked.

    Everyone went silent, even the murmuring, he could practically feel the tension in the air.

    Barely perceptible footsteps were heard. So light that he felt he could be imaging them.

    ¡°It is not a problem; we are curious creatures, after all.¡± An ethereal voice said casually, cutting the silence.

    ¡°And to answer your question,¡± the voice continued, ¡°It¡¯s a Mountain Jewel.¡±

    ¡°Something magical.¡± The voice finished. John couldn¡¯t tell if the voice was male or female.

    John did everything he could do to not move, whilst his captors slowly and carefully dug out the Jewel from the wall and moved it onto the rail cart and listened in agonizing terror as they worked on the pump trolley, hoping the person with the ethereal voice was leaving, as he couldn¡¯t hear their footsteps in all the commotion.

    He felt a gaze land on him.

    The gaze of a predator.

    And knew at once he¡¯d been caught.

    The gaze knew he was alive and conscious.

    It smiled.

    And¡­ Moved on, barely perceptible footsteps slowly walking up the mine.

    He didn¡¯t dare move.

    He was shaken to his core.

    It knew he was alive. It knew.

    And yet it let him go.

    Not knowing how much time at passed was scary but he could still hear tons of activity at the top of the mine if he strained his ears, so he laid there, as if he was dead.

    Too afraid to move, not daring to even adjust his position until the noise had died down, lest he be discovered.

    He waited at least a few more hours after that, just to be sure.

    Then he extremely carefully lifted himself up from the ground, cold, and in pain from lying in such an awkward position.

    His worst fear came to pass when he looked around him and saw all the slaves lying on the ground too, knocked away from the explosion.

    Scrambling over to them, hoping, no, wishing they weren¡¯t dead.

    He almost cried tears of joy when he saw the girl¡¯s chest rising and falling softly.

    She was still alive.

    He checked each and every person there, totalling 52 people. Everyone was alive but comatose.

    ¡°They¡¯re alive!¡± He shouted, the only positive thing he¡¯d said in a very long time ¡°They¡¯re alive.¡± He repeated. ¡°They¡¯re alive¡­¡± He said a third time, barely whispering the words.

    ¡®Alive but dead.¡¯ A voice said to him, coming from within.

    No matter how much he shook or pinched them, they didn¡¯t react at all. The only proof he had that they weren¡¯t corpses was their slow heartbeats and weak breaths.

    He turned all of them on their backs, lest they start breathing in dirt, and looked towards the exit of the mine.

    Not seeing any sunlight shining in through the entrance, only that it was pitch black. His only source of light were the lamps hanging on the walls.

    Not daring to venture out, yet left with no other option, he hesitatingly began the walk up the mine, unsure of what he wanted to find.

    Nothing was different on his walk up, besides the pump trolley and carts being missing. Even the corpses were untouched, just more decomposed than on the first day.

    Carefully approaching the mine¡¯s entrance, he slowly saw the dark night sky.

    As his view finally levelled with the ground above, he saw¡­

    Nothing.

    No lights, no soldiers.

    Nothing and no one was there.

    He took a step outside to properly confirm what he was seeing.

    In the large clearing, formerly protected by a fortified camp, was nothing.

    An empty semi-circle with no trace of human activity bordering an unknown forest.

    They¡¯d left and removed any proof that they were ever here.

    Not quite comprehending his current circumstances, he turned around back down the mine and walked all the way to the bottom, promptly finding a comfortable position and falling asleep.

 Chapter 11: Dire straits

    ¡°Once again, his body suffered. His fingers turned black. His remaining toes fell off. His lips turned blue. His face turned white. His breath turned solid. And yet, he never moved. His core turned to ice. The blood stopped flowing. His heart stopped beating. His mind turned still. He was dead.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    Edward didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been fleeing. All he knew was his throat burned, his vision was narrow, his legs and arms felt heavy. He hadn¡¯t felt physically tired the entire time he¡¯d been here. He couldn¡¯t reason with his body; it took control the moment it felt the gaze. His gaze. The threat of death had long since disappeared. Hours ago. He was just fleeing because he didn¡¯t know what else to do.

    He ran more like an animal than a human at that point. He used his arms almost as much as he did his legs, like a canine.

    Being stuck as a passenger in your own body wasn¡¯t a pleasant experience, Edward wouldn¡¯t recommend it. He tried and failed to wrestle back control. His body¡¯s instincts had flared so strongly that you couldn¡¯t reason with it.

    An opportunity finally presented itself when he leapt from a cliff without seeing what was below. It was a lake. Small by this world¡¯s standards, but a lake, nonetheless.

    The cold, refreshing water shocked his system. Finally, allowing him back to being the pilot. He slowly swam out of the water.

    Determined to stay in controlled, he did whatever he could to calm himself down. The adrenaline still flowed freely in his veins; his hands were shivering.

    Taking as much conscious control of himself as he could, he sat down to meditate. He¡¯d never actually tried it, only heard of the basics. Not thinking, focusing on the breath. That sort of thing.

    And it worked. Somewhat.

    The act of sitting still probably did more than the mediation did. Whatever the cause, the result was his heartbeat slowed to normal, and his body settled itself. Although ready to take back control at a moment¡¯s notice, should any danger present itself.

    Edward opened his eyes to survey his surroundings. It was a beautiful place, one that fit right into the fantasy.

    A soft waterfall beside the cliff, the one he jumped off. The lake itself was a crescent shape, backed against the cliff. The waterfall in the middle.

    In the middle of the crescent was a tree, one he didn¡¯t recognise. Not unusual given his short time in the mountains and forests.

    He purposefully walked over to it to lean against.

    And closed his eyes, trying to make sense of what happened.

    He saw them! From at least a dozen kilometres away!

    That¡¯s the second thing. He¡¯d finally been able to witness magic. Actually witness it. He¡¯d heard from David, who confirmed its existence, but nothing more. It was¡­ Mystical, mysterious, and all other kinds of adjectives used when you didn¡¯t know what the fuck happened.

    First, the green light. It solidified and made the Rasts in the cages disappear, after which the light shined brighter than before.

    Then came the gravity. Heavily pressing down, threatening to crush him. Even at such a distance. He was certain it did not target them. And assuming it got weaker at a distance, would¡¯ve squashed them had they been much closer.

    Then the light disappeared.

    No, that¡¯s not right.

    The sunlight disappeared, and then the bright green light appeared. Or did it?

    Why could he not remember? That made little sense. It had just happened hours ago.

    No matter how hard he tried, the memories were like fugitives just outside his grasp when he tried to articulate the order of events. Like a hand gently stopped him from seeing certain memories.

    He shivered; it was like he¡¯d repressed his memories.

    Like his mind didn¡¯t want to think of it. But it couldn¡¯t forget. The gaze had been burnt into his mind, so it hid the surrounding memories.

    He couldn¡¯t remember the details of what happened. His gaze and his smile overwhelmed everything else.

    He shook his head, trying to rid himself of those thoughts. He tensed when just thinking of them.

    Accepting that it had happened and hoping his memories would return later should he need them.

    Who was that? He didn¡¯t know. Perhaps David would.

    Speaking of which, where was David?

    Then it dawned on him.

    ¡°We got fucking separated, of course, that would happen.¡± He groaned.

    ¡°Bitch ass body, why couldn¡¯t you keep pace with him? Why run away?¡± He complained unfairly. He knew he¡¯d have reacted just as instinctually. Foremost, thinking of himself when experiencing so much fear.

    His body had a mind of its own. That thought hit him like a truck. He¡¯d been a passenger in his own body!

    ¡°How the fuck do you deal with that?!? Oi can you hear me?¡± Another groan escaped him when he didn¡¯t get an answer.

    ¡°So, I have a body I¡¯m only partly in control of? Is that it?¡±

    ¡°I thought they were instincts, but they¡¯re not, are they? I thought my body had some combat instincts that knew what to do, but no. It has a full-blown mind of its own. That can take control whenever it wants. Fantastic. An Animal mind. A-mind? Amind. Yes, I¡¯ll call you Amind.¡±This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    ¡°What the fuck, Amind? Why are you in my body? What are you even?¡±

    ¡°John¡¯s name had the Latin word for monkey in it, so do I have a monkey placed in me? Does that mean John has one too? Is that what you are, Amind? A monkey? Maybe my Latin word meant stro-.¡° He trailed off. His brother.

    He¡¯d forgotten about him. He was searching for his brother when the gaze landed on him. That¡¯s why he was there.

    Did that mean he had to go back? Go back and experience that again?

    He paled and started shuddering uncontrollably, ¡®Amind¡¯ threatening to take over again.

    Resolutely shaking his head to rid himself of thoughts, he stood up and began walking.

    He didn¡¯t have a destination in mind, but standing still made him uncertain. Moving forward, even in the wrong direction, beat doing nothing and letting his brother suffer as a slave.

    Edward didn¡¯t make it very far before inadvertently stepping into a Rasts¡¯ territory.

    His body took over before he even realised what happened. Instantly falling to the ground.

    The Rasts leapt straight over his head, barely catching its silhouette in the corner of his vision.

    It landed gracefully, not pausing for a moment, instantly turning into a blur, and hiding in the underbrush, disappearing as quickly as it came.

    Edward was instantly alert; he hadn¡¯t come across such a Rasts during his time traveling with David in search of their siblings.

    Usually stunned for a split second when they missed their ambush.

    It was a minor thing; he supposed. A Rasts not pausing after a failed ambush. But it made him very vary. His instincts told him that something dangerous was nearby, and his instincts hadn¡¯t failed him yet.

    He knew it was a Rasts. Rasts always had some distinguishable trait about them, most had tribal tattoos on their body. Besides that, unnatural speed, stealth, or a physical distinction like extra limbs were all variations he¡¯d seen during his short time in his new world. He¡¯d met several non-Rasts creatures during his almost 3 weeks in the wild. More often than not, they were simply normal animals. They looked much like normal creatures from Earth.

    He was told they evolved from normal animals. And that they couldn''t procreate. Every Rasts had a story behind it, only the strongest, the smartest, or the oldest turned into Rasts.

    He thought it was perhaps because the environment shaped the animal. Animal traits similar, or perhaps even identical to those from Earth, could deal with the similar environments here. Animals had no reason to evolve to be radically different from those he knew.

    Of course, there a few exceptions here and there, like ferrets. He¡¯d met an animal that look like a ferret, only it was larger. Much larger. It was the size of a wolf, with equally sharp teeth and claws.

    He¡¯d curiously approached it to study it closer, as it seemed quite cute.

    It looked cute, but it was anything but harmless.

    A pack of them instantly surrounded him.

    Needless to say, he made David swear to never mention it to anyone.

    When David eventually stopped laughing, he grinningly promised that he¡¯d never tell another soul.

    The Rasts that had just attacked him, was preparing for another attack, not giving up after the first one failed.

    It was hiding in the heavy underbrush. Leaves rustled unnaturally as it was no doubt circling around him to find the best angle to attack.

    He couldn¡¯t sense where it was. He crouched, aware of the danger the Rasts in front of him posed.

    Edward frantically leapt to the side as it attacked again, this time from the front.

    He turned to look at it properly. All he¡¯d seen was dark green fur. But it had disappeared again.

    He was stuck in the small clearing surrounded by underbrush.

    Not being able to dash away as it would simply attack him. Nor being able to counterattack because of its speed and stealth.

    The situation had quickly become in the unfavourable for Edward. Hastily dodging its attacks from his blind spots.

    ¡®Okay, what do I do? My body can¡¯t think its way out of this.¡¯ Edward thought, having the extra brain capacity that his body lacked.

    ¡®I can¡¯t keep dodging forever. I¡¯ll make a mistake before it does. I¡¯m burning stamina at a faster rate. I haven¡¯t recovered yet.¡¯

    ¡®Okay, this is nothing, I¡¯ve faced worse danger.¡¯

    ¡®Okay, okay, I know what to do. I¡¯m going to have to block an attack from it. I¡¯m strong, I¡¯ve got this.¡¯

    Edward patiently waited for another frontal attack. Dodging whenever it attacked from behind or the sides, hoping that blocking one of its attacks would give him an opening to counterstrike.

    He¡¯d quietly unsheathed his knife, keeping it close to his chest.

    The opportunity came. It dashed at him head-on.

    ¡®Now!¡¯ He stood up straight to get a better angle to attack, powerfully stabbing his knife into its side.

    Because he stood up, and it had adjusted its attack angles during their fight, its attack hit him in the stomach.

    And it burned.

    He¡¯d never felt such pain in his life.

    The pain instantly paralyzed him. It travelled from his stomach to the rest of his body. The pain muddling his thoughts and he couldn¡¯t think straight.

    The Rasts roared in pain from his stab. It didn¡¯t matter to him. He was sure he could handle whatever pain he¡¯d experience. He¡¯d sorely overestimated himself.

    He couldn¡¯t form any thoughts. Weakly stumbling backwards and collapsed on his back. The Rasts disappeared, taking his knife with it.

    The pain was so strong he couldn¡¯t breathe. He was entirely defenceless.

    Suddenly, he felt himself move, though not under his own power.

    His body at taken over completely, covering the wound with his hand and slowly crawling away from the clearing, trusting that his attack had scared it away.

    That¡¯s all Edward remembered before he blacked out from the pain.

    Unbeknownst to him, his body didn¡¯t fall unconscious when he did, but kept walking. Crawling, really.

    Amind, as he¡¯d aptly named him, had taken over.

    When Amind had taken control as they fled from the gaze, he hadn¡¯t been running without a destination in mind.

    A wounded and scared animal would always want to go back to its den.

    And that¡¯s where Edward¡¯s body had been heading.

    Amind stumbled through the underbrush, fuelled only by seemingly never-ending stamina, but even that was running dry as the lifeblood was leaking out of him.

    Nevertheless, He persisted, resolutely going in the same direction.

    The forest was full of wildlife, and he didn¡¯t have a moment of peace. The moment Amind, who was inside Edward, left the Rasts¡¯ territory, normal animals immediately assaulted him. Those normal animals that only saw a weakened prey.

    Edward¡¯s body was weakened, yes. Far from weak. For normal animals, anyway.

    He couldn¡¯t stop the bleeding, so the blood attracted many predatory animals.

    Wolves, bears, giant ferrets.

    They were dealt with.

    Normally Edward, and by extension, Amind, could hunt normal animals without a problem.

    But his heavily wounded body wasn¡¯t exactly what you¡¯d call in top condition, and Amind couldn¡¯t fight the animals off without a bite or scratch here and there.

    The bloody way animals fought unfortunately attracted more predators to the scene. Unarmed, Amind had to defeat them with only his wits and strength. Quite difficult when you didn¡¯t have any claws or fangs.

    He was slowly getting more injured with each fight, though none were as serious as the wound on his stomach from the Rasts. Amind desperately clinging onto life as he made his way through the forest.

    Then disaster struck.

    A huge Rasts came into view.

    A Direbear, larger than the one he¡¯d killed on his first day.

    It walked slowly, with the pace of an apex predator, towards him.

    In no hurry to devour him, it approached head-on, as if to make him despair at the encroaching death.

    Unfortunately, or rather fortunately, Amind didn¡¯t know what despair was. He calmly searched his environment, looking for any opportunity to exploit. He was quite smart compared to other animals.

    There was one. To the right of the approaching Direbear was an almost dead tree. It looked nearly eaten through from one side.

    It was one of the larger trees that stretched more than a hundred meters into the sky.

    Amind waited patiently for the Direbear to step closer.

    Then, leapt resolutely at the tree and punched it at its weakest point.

    The fist smashed powerfully into the tree, punching a large part of the remaining log away.

    He jumped to dodge the falling tree, hoping that it would land on the Direbear.

    Ever so slowly, the tree fell.

    The remaining wood creaked loudly before violently snapping under its own weight. Shooting splinters everywhere.

    The tree fell slowly, breaking and destroying every branch and smaller tree it encountered on its way down to the forest floor.

    Booom!

    It sounded like a bomb went off when it finally hit the ground. Every branch on the tree itself was crushed or shattered when it touched the ground. Furthering the destruction by firing splinters in all directions.

    But¡­ It missed. Not entirely, though.

    The Direbear got the shock of its life. Shocked that it had barely dodged such a sudden death.

    It was quite close to where the tree fell, so thousands of splinters easily pierced its hide. Covering its entire side in both large and small wounds, like a reverse hedgehog.

    Enraged from the pain, it dropped its slow walked and charged at Amind, having almost lost its rationality.

    As if it was an unstoppable force, it easily destroyed every small tree in its path towards Amind.

    Amind scrambled to get away from the angry Direbear. He could¡¯ve easily outrun the Direbear normally, but was so weakened that his only option was to hide rather than run.

    He jumped into the underbrush, silently creeping through it to get away.

    The blood would inevitably give him away, but he was almost there!

    The Direbear roared in anger at the prey that had disappeared and used its great sense of smell to track it.

    It charged through the underbrush whenever it smelled blood, always missing the prey. The smell was getting stronger each time, so the Direbear knew it was on the right path.

    Amind stealthily crawled away, tensing whenever he heard the bear charge into a tree or bush, before continuing when he realised it had missed.

    It was getting closer with each charge, though. It wouldn¡¯t be long before it found him.

    He kept crawling, determinedly searching around for any opportunities to escape or counterattack.

    Suddenly, he rolled to the side, barely dodging its ferocious charge. The Direbear had charged at the bush he was in.

    He¡¯d rolled straight out of the underbrush and into a clearing.

    Unfortunately, the bear saw him.

    It almost seemed as if it smiled. An eery and evil smile. And it yet again started a slow walk towards him, assured of its victory.

    He¡¯d lost too much blood, so he weakly pushed himself away from it with his legs, too weak to run or leap away.

    He felt a hard surface behind him, stone.

    He couldn¡¯t back away and could only stare at it as it approached.

    Seeing the blood dripping from its right side where the splinters had exploded into it.

    Its large canines and open mouth that was dripping with saliva spelt all but certain death.

    It was less than a meter away when it opened its mouth to tear him to pieces, when his vision was covered in red.

    The bears entire head had disappeared. Blown to smithereens by an arrow. Its heavy body collapsed with a large thud.

    He weakly looked to the side. All Amind saw before he blacked out from the blood loss was a human silhouette.

 Chapter 12: Collapse

    ¡°He felt the sunlight. All at once, it came. The light burst forth from the skies. His fingers thawed. His face regained colour. His breath flowed freely. And yet, he never moved. His core melted. The blood flowed. His heart started beating. His mind was active. He was alive.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    John felt something gently but repeatedly prod his face, making him sneeze.

    ¡°Go away Cary, it¡¯s Saturday.¡± He mumbled, not really ready to wake up yet.

    Something sharp scratched his forehead, causing him to jump up from his bed.

    ¡°Ow! What the hell, man, that hur-.¡± He wasn¡¯t on his bed. It took a moment. He froze when it occurred to him, but eventually he accepted it. He was still in the mine.

    Suddenly all the sensations the leave you when you fall asleep came back, and he immediately winced from soreness, having sleep on the hard ground.

    ¡°Ow, ow, ow, why does it never get better? Every time I wake up, I¡¯m sore as fuck.¡± He groaned to himself.

    He abruptly fell on his ass when something jumped and kicked him on the chest.

    ¡°Ow.¡± He said, for the fifth time in the span of 15 seconds. Finally, becoming entirely lucid.

    His eyes immediately landed on the furry thing in front of him. His companion. A stoat shaped silhouette stood tall in the dim light.

    It was quite dark; he realised the lights that had still been on before he went to sleep had turned off sometime during the night.

    That¡¯s when everything that had happened finally rushed into his attention.

    The jewel, the empty mine, being left behind, the slaves. The slaves! He scampered over to the nearest slave, checking to see if he was still alive. Sighing in relief when he heard a slow heartbeat.

    ¡°Still alive.¡±

    His relief was short-lived.

    He heard a loud rumble followed by an earth-shaking explosion.

    He rushed out of the mine. Momentarily blinded by the sunlight, trying to locate the source of the noise.

    Coming out just in time to see a massive boulder fall from the sky, shattering with a noise like thunder when it hit the ground.

    He became pale as a ghost. The mine could collapse! He had to save the slaves!

    As quickly as his little legs could carry him, he sprinted down the mine to drag the slaves out of a terrible death.

    Quickly dragging the smallest slaves first, he saddled the girl in a pack-strap carry and slowly but determinedly beginning the walk up the mine again.

    During his days in the mine, he¡¯d recovered some of his strength, as he hadn¡¯t been brainwashed like all the others. He was still skinny by every measure, and he¡¯d simply done his best to recover as quickly as possible, stretching and meditating whenever he wasn¡¯t moving collapsed slaves out of the way.

    Now, he was pulling on his energy reserve relentlessly, and practically stomped all the way to the exit.

    He couldn¡¯t ignore the toll it took on his body. When he was only halfway up the mine with the first slave out of more than 50, he was breathing harshly, his throat burning and his legs quivering from the exertion.

    ¡°Come on John. Come on! YOU GOT THIS! EASY! EASY WORK EASY WORK.¡± He shouted with all his might, feeling the refreshing adrenaline flood his veins.

    Another rumble.

    He paused slightly, waiting for the following explosion, holding tightly onto his determination, not letting it slip away.

    The explosion was louder this time. Closer.

    ¡°John, you got this, easy, not even close baby. It¡¯s just loud, a bit larger than the other one.¡± Again, shouting to himself.

    Made it!

    He made the extra effort to carry her all the way over to the edge of the clearing, lest she be hit by any rogue boulders.

    ¡°51 to go.¡± He mumbled to himself and hurried down the mine again.

    Again, dragged the smallest slave. Another child, amongst the 3 that were there at the beginning, only 2 had made it.

    He was getting dizzy from the effort. His legs wanted to shut down, purely moving forward through desperation.

    Made it!Stolen story; please report.

    Another rumble.

    And began the long walk over to the edge of the clearing.

    He put the boy down. Looking up just in time to see another boulder explode as it hit the ground.

    It wasn¡¯t larger. It was closer.

    ¡°It¡¯s just louder than normal, only 50 to go!¡±

    Scampering over to the entrance, he almost fell in a mildly controlled manner down the slope of the mine. Hanging onto the adrenaline as much as he could.

    ¡°Okay, who¡¯s the lightest, I need to warm up properly to carry all of you, you see.¡±

    ¡°There, you look the lightest, you¡¯re next, you¡¯re gonna be just fine.¡± He said as he took the nearest teenager, only perhaps 13 years old.

    The teenager was too large to carry the same way, so he dragged her rather than carried her.

    He obviously knew what it felt like when you¡¯d overexerted your muscles, and he was way past that point. He¡¯d felt more than one ligament tear, but resolutely ignored the pain, despite it being so bad it muddled his thoughts and made him dizzy.

    ¡°You ate a bit too much, so I¡¯ll have to drag you like this instead. But that¡¯s a good thing! It just means that I¡¯m closer to getting all of you out here. Trust me, you¡¯re all gonna be just fine.¡±

    Made it!

    It took a lot longer than with the children, but he dragged her all the way over to the other 2.

    ¡°See told you, you¡¯re going to be just fine, enjoy the sunshine, I reckon the sun will be up all day.¡±

    Another rumble, louder this time, and different.

    He ignored it; it wouldn¡¯t help him in his current situation.

    Turning around to pick up another slave, he quickly started limping over to the entrance, the pain finally having caught up with some parts of him.

    He was knocked over.

    A screeching animal loomed over him. His companion.

    He¡¯d forgotten it in the commotion.

    He smiled brightly: ¡°Hey! I forgot about you, let¡¯s go, we need to save all of them, I think the mine might be collapsing. I need your help to carry them out of there.¡±

    He picked himself back up and didn¡¯t take a step before he was knocked over again by his companion.

    ¡°Oi, stop that. We don¡¯t have time to play, we need to go save them. They¡¯re possibly in danger. I need to save them, you can help me.¡± Pushing himself off the ground yet again.

    His companion knocked him over again.

    ¡°Stop! I don¡¯t wanna play, I don¡¯t have time, I¡¯ve got to save them!¡± shakingly, pushing himself up again.

    Again, he was pushed off his feet and fell to his side.

    ¡°Stop it! Why are you interrupting me, can¡¯t you see! Boulders are falling from the top of the mountain!¡± He desperately tried to convince his companion, but in his blurred vision, it was looking more like a rabid animal than a companion.

    This time he didn¡¯t even get on his feet before he fell on his side for the 5<sup>th</sup> time.

    ¡°Fine! I¡¯ll just crawl then. You can¡¯t knock me over!¡±

    It was in part because of his companion, but also in part because he couldn¡¯t stand up. His companion hadn¡¯t pushed him. He¡¯d fallen on his own.

    He ignored the weakness he felt. Ignored it with all his might, desperately making his way over to the mine entrance in the distance.

    ¡°One leg at a time. I got this. Easy work. See! I don¡¯t even need to walk. Maybe that¡¯s why you knocked me over, because it¡¯s more efficient?¡±

    For the 5<sup>th</sup> time, his companion charged at him, and for the 6<sup>th</sup> time, he fell.

    ¡°Don¡¯t stop me. Please. I need to-.¡° His eyes started tearing up. ¡°I need to save them; they¡¯re depending on me.¡±

    His entire body was shaking from the cold. Even in the warm sunlight, he¡¯d spent every last drop he¡¯d saved up.

    ¡°No, I¡¯m not done yet, I have plenty of energy.¡± He clenched his fists, feeling his nails being torn off, and the dirt clumped together in his palm. Gathering his will, and with single-minded determination, he got back up into a crawl.

    Barely making it half a meter before being knocked over once again.

    ¡°Stop it!¡± He screamed, begging for his companion to let him move. ¡°I can¡¯t let them die! Please let me get up!¡± tears streamed down his face, his body faltering despite the rest of his being wishing otherwise.

    ¡°Please, let me get them. I need to get them out of there, it could collapse.¡± His voice barely louder than a whisper.

    He was squirming, sending whatever signal he could to his body to get up, a body long past the point of breaking.

    He stilled, his hope finally breaking when he finally looked at the mine.

    It had collapsed.

    The entire entrance was nothing but rubble.

    Trapping almost 50 people inside.

    ¡°No¡­.¡± He whispered. ¡°Someone¡­ Anyone¡­ Please. Help me. Save them. I ca-.¡± He choked; his voice no more audible than a newly born kitten.

    ¡°I ca-. I can¡¯t ge-. I can¡¯t get up. I can¡¯t get up. I need to save them.¡± He said, defeated.

    His eyes were tearing up, blurring his vision even further.

    ¡°Someone. Anyone. Help them.¡± He repeated, not even able to muster the force to put those words into sound.

    There he lay. Unable to move. Hearing approaching explosions of shattering boulders, as the mountain was collapsing.

    He drifted in and out of consciousness, not knowing how long he¡¯d been there on the ground. His body had spent every drop of energy in his desperate attempt to save the slaves.

    A memory he¡¯d from long ago surfaced during this time. It was when John and Cary were children. Their mother was out of town, and they were left with their father for the weekend. He knew Cary had forgotten this particular memory. He couldn¡¯t even remember that they¡¯d had 2 fathers. Only remembering the second one.

    John remembered it, though. It was the only time in his life he¡¯d felt helpless.

    He suspected it was why they¡¯d drifted apart. The core memory that John cherished of Cary, Cary didn¡¯t remember. He¡¯d repressed it. Hidden it away as if it never existed.

    They still didn¡¯t know why their father did what he did, but John knew one thing about that weekend. It was that Cary stood up for him, on the grounds that he was the older brother he took all of it. Cary was only older than John by less than a year. He never allowed a single thing to reach John. Cary promised their father he wouldn¡¯t tell a soul what had happened if he didn''t touch John.

    He supposed it was why he sent that one bully to the hospital. He¡¯d threatened Cary to help him with his homework. Cary had easily done it for him and complained about it to John. Not expecting him to do anything about it. John was certain he could never repay his brother for what he¡¯d done for him, but he would damn well try.

    He remembered clearly how calm Cary was, the entire time with their father and when their mother finally came home. He¡¯d not cried a single time and didn¡¯t cry until John was well out of sight, or so he was told. He¡¯d smiled reassuringly, telling John that he should talk to the nice adults.

    He never saw his biological father again, neither did Cary. They were 5 and 6 years old when it happened, and he was told the bastard had gotten 14 years in prison for what he did. That meant he was about to be released or was already released when they entered this world.

    John knew he wasn¡¯t the smartest person around, but he knew one thing. It¡¯s that feeling powerless is the worst thing anyone could ever experience. Nothing came close to it.

    The memory played on repeat like a broken record. John lying on his stomach grey from the dust the boulders had kicked up. He could count himself lucky, although he¡¯d no doubt not see it as such.

    There were documented instances of the body killing itself during particularly strenuous exertion, although it was significantly more likely to simply pass out rather than die under extreme duress.

    John, however, in his desperation, had truly spent all the energy available to him and then some. Normally he would¡¯ve died, but as weak as he was, his body wasn¡¯t strong enough to even overexert itself enough. It was like having a heart that could easily reach 200 beats per minute, but only a body strong enough to reach 160. The inherent strength of his organs outlasted the rest of his body. His organs hadn¡¯t deteriorated as quickly as his muscles had, so they hung on with little trouble.

    He¡¯d survived despite his best efforts.

    During his days in the mine, he¡¯d gotten a tiny layer of fat on his body. A depot of energy that was now keeping him alive, giving his body the precious nutrients they needed.

    At some point, the boulders had stopped dropping, and an eerie silence enveloped the area.

    John once again felt something gently prodding his face. At the same time, the smell of earth and dust was replaced with something that smelled of flowers and sweetness.

    Something touched his lips; John instinctually opened his mouth to take a bite out of it.

    A bittersweet juice entered his mouth, and he weakly but greedily started chewing whatever he¡¯d taken a bite out of. A berry perhaps?

    It was the first thing he¡¯d tasted in however many days he¡¯d been here. All the food given to him was as bland as could be.

    It was nice.

    In fact, the more he chewed, the more relaxed he felt. Every single drop that went down his throat seemed to melt whatever stress was knocking at his mind. A sort of serenity enveloped his mind. He felt normal.

    ¡®That doesn¡¯t make sense, does it? Why wouldn¡¯t I feel normal?¡¯

    He felt the berry touch his lips again and took another bite out of it. Feeling the juice smoothly flow down into his stomach whenever he chewed and swallowed.

    ¡®It can¡¯t be that important if I don¡¯t remember it.¡¯

    In his state of half-consciousness, when he couldn¡¯t remember the terrible things he¡¯d experienced, he had a pleasant moment. One he¡¯d remember.

    He gently opened his eyes. The silence seemed welcoming. Peaceful.

    He sat up. Petting the large stoat that was standing beside him, it looked cute. It even accepted his hand as he caressed it.

    A small heap of red berries stood beside him, and he reached over and took one.

    Biting it gave the same bittersweet juice he¡¯d tasted just a moment earlier, and his worries melted away.

    ¡°Did you place those berries here for me? How nice of you.¡± He said, smiling gently at the large stoat.

    He looked at his surroundings. The grey landscape that almost seemed like ash was beautiful. It was almost as if the grey colours were shining.

    Looking around, even the trees were covered in dust. It was still in the process of settling on the ground.

    Had the world ever been this beautiful?

    A relaxed sigh escaped him; it was just too peaceful.

 Chapter 13: Berry Good

    ¡°He had passed the first test. He had learned the virtue of patience. In awe, he was. Of the wisdom portrayed by such a simple test. His ordeal, however, was not yet over. For the first time in many months. He moved. He appeared before the wisest Rasts. He had not yet received what he came for. He was ready for his next test. He bowed before it.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    He didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d enjoyed the scenery, but he knew it had to be a few hours at least. John had never felt so serene. He had at some point remembered what had happened, but it seemed solvable, so he didn¡¯t worry too much.

    He simply enjoyed the sunlight, and peacefully munching on the berries his companion had gathered for him. So very nice of him. He¡¯d thanked him several times. John had never tasted berries that were as good. He felt close to the nature surrounding him.

    Whilst John sat there, his companion, the Stoat, sauntered over to him and sat on his lap, watched him.

    The stoat had surprisingly human expression. Or maybe he was just imagining it. He thought it quite funny that a stoat had human expression. Because the stoat shouldn¡¯t have human expression. It was a stoat, after all. But if it had human expressions, then it looked like it was in some kind of pain. Regret perhaps, or maybe guilt. He couldn¡¯t be certain. But why would it be in pain? He was petting it gently. Caressing from the head to the tail.

    The scenery was so different compared to what he was used to. He¡¯d just never had to spare energy to enjoy it. They had worked him to the bone, so when he finally sat down to simply enjoy the world, it felt amazing. The trees especially. They had tiny little markings on them; he was too far away to see exactly what the markings were, but he was sure they followed some sort of pattern.

    Then were the boulders behind him. It looked as if it was a mixture of a barren battlefield and a burnt down forest. The combination of which created something truly beautiful, if also haunting.

    He reluctantly stood up when he felt he¡¯d finally rested enough. Longingly staring at the spot he¡¯d just sat before. But then amusingly shaking his head at the butt shaped pattern in the dust.

    Heading over to the 3 slaves, he calmly went to check how they were doing. They were breathing just fine. He blew the dust off their faces as the exploding boulders had covered them in it. Like he was, only he didn¡¯t mind. He noticed they had leaked somewhat, for a lack of a nicer word.

    So he went over to the edge of the forest to gather some leaves to clean them up. He¡¯d never done this before, so he took quite some time and used quite a lot of leaves before he finally scrubbed them clean.

    ¡°Hello, my companion. Those berries were excellent. Could you perhaps gather some more? I think the people in our care are hungry and thirsty. We must take care to feed them properly.¡±

    The stoat shook its head before quickly dashing into the underbrush to search for more berries.

    John took care to remove the used leaves and drop them somewhere close to the edge of the clearing so they wouldn¡¯t smell.

    He went over to the minefield of rocks and boulders and looked for one he could use as a pillow. He¡¯d missed having one during his stay. Since he had a great selection of rocks to choose from, he decided that now was a good time so see if he could find something suitable.

    He hummed a tune he remembered from somewhere, while he searched for the perfect rock to use as a pillow.

    Most of the rocks he picked up had nasty and uncomfortable protrusions, so he couldn¡¯t use them even if he wanted.

    ¡°Ah-ha! I found one, this¡¯ll do nicely.¡± He said as he picked up a rock that look like a squashed American football.

    It had sandpaper like sides, and some sharp and rugged edges. It was obviously a piece from one of the exploded boulders, although he wasn¡¯t worried. He was sure that they wouldn¡¯t bother him too much as long he felt a comfortable position and adjusted the rock correctly.

    When he returned to his patients, he saw the stoat had returned as well!

    ¡°Hello! Welcome back!¡± He said happily. ¡°Did you find any berries that we can eat? Or any berries to feed them?¡± he gestured towards the slaves.

    It nodded in a very humanlike manner.

    Then it showed him two piles of berries! Two!

    One pile was a familiar red berry, the one he¡¯d eaten all day. The other pile had something that looked like a yellow strawberry.

    It pointed towards the red berries and then him. Then the yellow strawberries and the slaves.

    ¡°So, the red berries are for me, and the yellow strawberries are for our patients?¡±

    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    He thought for a moment, ¡°Ah! Is it because they¡¯re medicine? The yellow ones?¡± It hesitated for a moment, then nodded.

    ¡°Excellent, then you¡¯ll gather red berries for me, and yellow strawberries for them. If you need help, I-.¡° It quickly shook its head, a very clear no. ¡°Oh, okay then, but don¡¯t forget to gather more yellow strawberries. They¡¯re three people and I¡¯m only one.¡±

    He sat down to think. ¡°Now, how do we feed them the berries? I suppose they can¡¯t chew, so we¡¯ll have to crush the berries so they can swallow them, right?¡± He said to the stoat sitting opposite him.

    He mulled deeply over the problem whilst munching on a red berry. ¡°How do I crush the berries and keep the juice from going everywhere? Hmm¡­¡±

    ¡°Wait! I got it! We just need to make a bowl! And crush the berries in there, that way the juice can¡¯t spill onto the ground!¡± He smiled brightly and rose to celebrate. He did it! But then he suddenly frowned and sat back down.

    ¡°But how are we going to make a bowl? Hmm¡­ We could carve one out of wood?¡± He said questioningly to the stoat. It shook its head.

    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so either, they¡¯ll die of thirst before we make one.¡±

    ¡°Maybe¡­Maybe there¡¯s a bowl-shaped rock amongst the rocks! They¡¯re shattered in so many ways that we could probably find one that is usable.¡± He confidently stood up and started walked over to the rocks and shattered boulders.

    He motioned to the stoat. ¡°You come on too, you can help me look. Oh! Since they shattered so easily, maybe we can find one that¡¯s almost good enough and then break a few pieces off, so that it¡¯ll be perfect! Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.¡±

    He skipped all the way over to the minefield of rocks. Thinking of happy times whilst searching for the perfect or almost perfect rock.

    Once again, he was mesmerised by the landscape. Every rock and boulder was covered in dust. Most of not all of them were roughly shaped, what you¡¯d expect from explosion-formed rocks. All of them had jagged or sharp edges. John could easily cut himself if he wasn¡¯t careful. Once in a while he felt stepped on a sharp stone hidden by the dust and yelped in pain.

    None of them cut too deeply, barely past his thick skin, so he was fine, only the occasional sting hurting him slightly. The pain seemed to melt away whenever he stopped focusing on it and focused more on the task at hand.

    Whilst he was looking, picking up stones before dismissing them, the nice stoat occasionally came to him with some red berries.

    They tasted really nice.

    He searched for a few hours, each time the rock was too flat or had an unfortunate deformity made it impossible to shape.

    John eventually gave up, as he¡¯d searched basically the entire minefield and didn¡¯t find a single one that was usable. He assumed rocks shaped like bowls were a rarity.

    He once again sat down to mull over the issue.

    ¡°There¡¯s got to be a way. The only problem is having something to temporarily hold the juice whilst I pour it down into their mouths.¡±

    ¡°Wait! If I just had a bowl-shaped leaf, the stoat could hold it while I crushed the berries with my hand! Yeah, that could work!¡±

    He quickly called to see if the stoat was nearby. It promptly appeared from the minefield, covered in dust. It probably had also been searching for the perfect rock.

    ¡°I don¡¯t think we can find the perfect bowl-shaped rock, so I wanted to ask you if there are any leaves that can hold water. You see, then you could hold the leaf up while I crush the berries with my fists, then we slowly pour it into their mouths. Do you think that could work?¡±

    He smiled looking at the stoat looked so cute when it was thinking. It nodded and rushed into the forest to search for a bowl-shaped leaf, if it could find one.

    He sat down on one of the larger boulders and watched as the sun set. It was a beautiful sunset, the sun becoming more and more red as it slowly disappeared from view beneath the treeline.

    The view reminded him of a particular memory. Their whole family sat on a quiet beach. A warm tropical climate. They were on a holiday. He couldn¡¯t remember where. Cuba perhaps? No, it didn¡¯t matter.

    He remembered they weren¡¯t much older than 9 or 10 years old. They¡¯d spent the entire day playing in and around the water. Throwing frisbees, playing volleyball, eating delicious ice cream. The best part of the day were the pranks. They had a prank war that day. Finding new and creative ways to surprise and annoy each other. Eventually, they teamed up to prank their parents. They sorely underestimated them.

    Their parents blocked every prank they could come up with and often counterattacked with their own, always outwitting and outdoing whatever he and Cary could come up with. They had access to money, after all. They could buy stuff, whilst he and Cary had to make do with whatever was in the hotel room.

    The day ended calmly. Both groups had a tacit agreement on when to stop. It was when evening arrived and the sun was setting. Everyone had calmed down, and they strolled down to the beach to watch it be swallowed be the beautiful sea. He¡¯d never felt so content in his life.

    He almost matched the feeling of contentment watching an entirely different sun set beneath a treeline. Surrounded by ash-like dust and a mystical forest, he felt content.

    The quiet and relaxed atmosphere made him drowsy. Even more so when the moon rose.

    The sky was as clear as could be. He could see the stars glow in the sky. Twinkling.

    The moon shone brightly; he could see clearly, even though the sun had disappeared.

    His eyes tracked the stoat as it appeared from the forest, carrying something in its mouth.

    It beelined straight towards him. He smiled when he saw what it carried.

    A cone shaped leaf. Much like a wine pouring spout, only a lot larger. The things you put on fancy wine bottles, so make sure they don¡¯t spill, and the wine pours out in a smooth pattern.

    He gratefully accepted it. ¡°Thank you. This is perfect. Could you please hold it while I crush the berries?¡±

    The stoat took the leaf and held it upright, whilst John squeezed as best he could to get the juice out of the yellow strawberries.

    It worked brilliantly. Usually, berries were composed of 70% to 90% water, and that seemed to be the case as here as well, so each of the yellow strawberries provided plenty of water. He only needed to squeeze 5 before the leaf was almost full.

    He carefully took one of his patients, the teenage girl, and placed her head on his lap so the juice would smoothly flow down their throat.

    It didn¡¯t work exactly as intended, as they started coughing the moment he started pouring.

    He kept at it, hoping at least some of the juice would go down. When he¡¯d emptied the leaf, he felt moderately satisfied. Less juice was coughed up than swallowed.

    He was quite unsure how much liquid a person needed, especially when they were in a coma and didn¡¯t do much besides breathing and excreting, so he estimated it to be 4 or 5 leaves worth of berry juice. About 2 or 3 cups, he couldn¡¯t be certain.

    Experimenting slightly with every try, he discovered that massaging their throat seemed to help and had less juice be coughed back in his face with every attempt.

    ¡°That¡¯s one down, two to go.¡± He proceeded to help with the other two. Gently pouring it into their mouths. stopping whenever they started coughing and resuming when their breathing normalised.

    When he¡¯d finished, he nodded, satisfied with the fact that his plan worked. They¡¯d live, he would make sure of it.

    He yawned. He supposed it had been a busy day, so he went to his rock-pillow and fell into a deep sleep.

    John didn¡¯t notice that his companion, the stoat, looked at him worryingly, before sighing, turning around and disappearing into the forest.

    While it ran, the stoat grew larger. It grew from a slightly larger stoat to something that was bigger than a wolf.

    Its claws and fangs grew in size and sharpness. A perfect fit for a predator. Its eyes turned an ominous blue, glowing softly in the dim light. The tribal tattoos on its body grew larger and more obvious.

    It would not let any other predators, animal or otherwise get near this area. It had sworn a bond, and it was going to honour it.

    This was now its territory, and it was going to mark it in blood.

    John slept deeply; no doubt exhausted from the day¡¯s work. Tomorrow, perhaps, he¡¯d figure out what to do, now that they had abandoned him in a forest, and was technically free to do whatever he wanted.

    But tonight, he¡¯d have pleasant dreams. If he were awake, he would have no doubt heard the occasional roar of anger, or cry of pain. Noises seemed to fill the quiet forest. That night, not a single animal or Rasts had a moment of peace. Those who survived were those who fled in terror. Not a single being that didn¡¯t flee survived. The seemingly harmless stoat ripped all those who dared to face it to pieces.

    Then, all was quiet.

    A single stoat, no bigger than 40 centimetres from head to tail, strolled from the forest, limping slightly.

    It sauntered over to the sleeping boy. The snoring child that rested his head on a coarse rock, so he could sleep on his side.

    The stoat stealthily crept over to him, staring for a moment, and curled up beside his head.

    It glanced at the moon one last time, before it too went to sleep.

    Despite it being the middle of the night, the boy felt warm, like little fire kept him heated whilst he slept.

 Chapter 14: Head In The Clouds

    ¡°The Wisest Rasts stood up. He followed. For many steps, they travelled. Day and night. Without pause. They stopped. In the distance was a village. A small one. Like his. He wept at the sight. His journey had led him here. He would not stop. They edged closer. In front of them was a tree.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    ¡°Hello, my name is David. What¡¯s yours?¡± An imposing figure stood in front of John. Smiling kindly.

    ¡°My name is Jo-.¡± He stopped to clear his throat. ¡°My name is Thomas. Thomas Smith.¡± He¡¯d nearly given away his real name without thinking. He hadn¡¯t really thought of his new name since he first arrived, and that was at least 3 weeks ago, maybe more.

    The man, David, seemed dumbfounded for a minute. Then inquired: ¡°Thomas, huh. You wouldn¡¯t happen to have a brother named Edward, would you?¡±

    Now it was John¡¯s turn to be surprised. ¡°You know my brother? Do you know where he is? I think he must be searching for me.¡±

    ¡°I do actually know your brother. We¡¯ve been traveling companions for the past few weeks. We got separated, unfortunately.¡± He explained.

    ¡°Can I ask what you¡¯re doing out here?¡± He inquired further.

    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s easy to explain. I was kept me as a slave, don¡¯t know by who, first filling a pit with rocks until some evil wizard came along and did the rest. Then we were all shovelled down into a mine to search for a large green jewel called a Mountain Jewel. We¡¯ll we mined for a few days, then we found it, and all the slaves fell into a coma, except for me.¡± Clarifying quickly: ¡°I don¡¯t know why I didn¡¯t fall into a coma, but anyway, the day after the jewel was taken, boulders started falling from the sky. I think from the top of the mountain, but I¡¯m not sure.¡± He gestured behind him to the minefield.

    ¡°I was the only one not in a coma, so I carried as many as I could out of the mine before it collapsed. And I¡¯ve been here ever since. I think it was a week or two ago. I¡¯m not sure. Every day is the same.¡±

    While John explained what had happened every he noticed David getting paler and paler, when he finished the explanation David was as pale as a ghost. So, John questioned: ¡°Are you okay? You¡¯re really pale. Are you sick?¡±

    Instead of responding calmly, David grabbed John and started shaking him: ¡°Where are the other slaves you rescued! Are they okay!¡± He practically demanded an answer.

    John giggled a bit, the shaking feeling felt quite funny. ¡°Relax, the ones I managed to rescue are fine. Although they¡¯re still in a coma. I¡¯ve been feeding them berry juice from berries my companion gathered. He¡¯s a stoat.¡±

    ¡°Here, let me take you to them.¡± He said, as David let him go.

    He¡¯d moved the slaves slightly further in, near the minefield, so they were hidden from the road leaving the clearing.

    ¡°I¡¯m not big enough to carry all of them, so I¡¯ve just taken care of them, waiting for someone to come.¡± He clarified while he walked.

    David seemed impatient and rushed ahead when he saw the three of them, quickly crouching to get a closer look.

    He hugged the youngest girl. ¡°Sandra¡­¡± He said breathlessly.

    John casually walked over to them and sat down.

    ¡°Yeah, she was the smallest one there, so I grabbed her first. She¡¯s really lucky. Her arms gave out before she could, so instead of dying of exhaustion, she spent most of her time trying to pick up the pickaxe instead. She was so fervent that I¡¯m pretty sure it permanently damaged her arms in some way. It was pretty funny to watch.¡±

    His eyes locked with John¡¯s, and he glared at him, before he suddenly seemed confused. John giggled at the sight.

    ¡°Are you okay?¡± He asked, looking worried.

    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine. Why?¡± He picked up a berry he¡¯d piled up beside the slaves.

    Again, David became as pale as a ghost. He asked, his voice quivering: ¡°You haven¡¯t been eating those, have you?¡±

    ¡°These?¡± He held the red berry between his fingertips. ¡°Sure, I have. It¡¯s the only thing I¡¯ve eaten since the mine collapsed.¡±

    Now he was truly white as snow. John giggled at the man that kept making the funny expressions.

    ¡°I¡¯ve only eaten them myself. I¡¯ve fed them some yellow strawberry juice. My companion said it was medicine.¡±

    ¡°¡­Where did you get those berries?¡± He asked, as if afraid of the answer.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know where they¡¯re from, but my companion keeps gathering them for me. I don¡¯t know where he finds them, though. Do you know what they are? They¡¯re really delicious.¡±

    ¡°¡­They¡¯re called Cloudberries. Who is your companion?¡± His eyes sharpened.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    ¡°I told you, he¡¯s a stoat. He¡¯s been keeping me fed, gathering berries for me and them every day. He¡¯s really smart. I think he can understand human speech.¡± He said, popping another berry into his mouth.

    Inwardly, John thought it was quite funny that they had the same name as a berry from Earth.

    Right on cue, his companion appeared from the forest, madly dashing towards the two of them.

    David¡¯s eyes locked onto it, he instantly tensed.

    ¡°Hey Stoat. I finally found another human. Maybe they know why these people are in coma!¡±

    He¡¯d called him Stoat, as he didn¡¯t know his name and simply called him what he looked like, a stoat.

    Stoat slowed down as he approached them, circling to John¡¯s side.

    David glared at his companion. Saying through gritted teeth: ¡°You didn¡¯t¡­¡±

    He looked truly furious, basically growling out the words: ¡°Tell me you don¡¯t know what these berries are. TELL ME!¡± He said, loudly shouting the last part.

    He giggled again; David was truly good at making faces.

    John looked over at his companion. It looked guilty. ¡°Look, he¡¯s great at making expressions. It¡¯s almost humanlike!¡±

    David looked lost. ¡°He doesn¡¯t know what you are, does he?¡± He trailed off. Looking to be in deep thought.

    ¡°He¡¯s a stoat, so I¡¯ve called him Stoat. I think he¡¯s someone¡¯s pet and I don¡¯t want to call him a different name. He¡¯s really smart, so I think someone has trained him.¡±

    ¡°He hasn¡¯t. His species is just really smart. Or it¡¯s supposed to be really smart, I¡¯m not so sure anymore.¡± Not taking his eyes off his companion.

    John broke the silence: ¡°Do you know how we can carry them or wake them up? I think they need medical attention from a professional.¡±

    His eyes slowly left his companion, locking eyes with John instead. All John could see was pity. Not anger.

    ¡°I know a safe place we can go, only I can¡¯t carry all three of them. I can lift them easily enough, but they¡¯re too big to carry without possibly falling off. I can tie one person to myself easily enough. 2 should be doable if I strap one on my back and the other on my chest.¡±

    His anger flared as he added: ¡°Your companion should be able to carry the third person. If you can walk by yourself, we can leave right away.¡±

    John laughed. ¡°You¡¯re funny. How in the world can a tiny stoat carry a person?¡±

    His laughter died down in astonishment as he stared at the spectacle in front of him.

    His companion was rapidly growing in size. He watched in awe as the tiny stoat was growing bigger at a clearly visible rate.

    He grew and grew until he was larger than a wolf!

    ¡°Awesome, that is so cool! Why didn¡¯t you tell me you could do that, Stoat?¡± He was practically jumping up and down in excitement.

    His companion was so big he could ride on it! He was only 10 years old, so he wasn¡¯t too big.

    David still hadn¡¯t let his anger go: ¡°You¡¯re a Ba-Rasts, and you fed him cloudberries?! A CHILD?! YOU. FED. A. CHILD. CLOUDBERRIES?!?¡± Once again shouting at his companion.

    ¡°A BaRasts? What¡¯s a BaRasts? Is that what he is?¡± John questioned curiously, still giddy at the thought of riding a giant stoat. Entirely ignoring David¡¯s outburst.

    ¡°Please ask me again later. I¡¯m really not in the mood to explain.¡± He said, clearly furious at his companion.

    ¡°Aww. Okay. But then should we leave straight away, I think we might need to hurry and get the slaves to wake up, it can¡¯t be good for them to simply lie here.¡± He said, his logical side winning over his curiosity.

    ¡°Yeah. Let¡¯s.¡± David answered. Obviously trying to calm himself down, taking deep breaths. ¡°I need to make some rope to tie them to myself and your companion.¡±

    ¡°Ooh, can I watch? I don¡¯t know how to make rope. Can you teach me? We can go to the forest. I bet there¡¯ll be something to make a rope out of there.¡± Excited at the prospect of getting away from the clearing. He¡¯d been here for far too long.

    He got a strained smile in return. ¡°Yeah, sure.¡±

    They both stood up, David glancing longingly at the youngest girl, Sandra, before following John, who had excitedly run ahead.

    The large stoat sat quietly, not following them. It knew that its very presence infuriated the shaman. It didn¡¯t care what the shaman thought of it. It did what it had to.

    David, on the other hand, was as scatter-brained as could be. He¡¯d gotten separated from Edward and had determinedly retraced their steps. He¡¯d circled in a wide area around the clearing where the warlord had been and started following the northern road to see where it led. When he finally arrived at where it ended, almost entirely abandoned except for a child eating cloudberries and 3 unconscious slaves. One of them being his sister. The child told the disastrous tale of the warlord digging out a Mountain Jewel. The worst news he¡¯d heard the entire year. He supposed he forgot to thank Edward¡¯s brother, Thomas, for saving his sister amongst probably dozens of other slaves, but he was too focused on getting all of them out of there. And warning the militia that the warlord now had a Mountain Jewel, if it wasn¡¯t already too late.

    Distractedly, he went into the forest, barely responding to Thomas¡¯ continuous chatter. Luckily, the Ba-Rasts had carved its territory in blood, so there wasn¡¯t any danger.

    He found the plant he was looking for quite easily as they grew in every environment. It was a long spindly thing that had extremely tough leaves called Redlarg, excellent for making ropes. Though he would probably have to make new ones every few days as they expired pretty quickly.

    He took way longer than usual, as he had to start over several times when he tore the leaves by accident, his mind wandering too much.

    He sighed in frustration at his tenth failure. He¡¯d only made half the rope he needed. In double the normal time. The frustration coming from the fact that there wasn¡¯t any immediate danger to focus on, and the chatterbox child sitting right beside him. His only consolation was there were a lot of Redlarg plants, so he had the extra luxury of being able to waste a few.

    ¡°Woah. That¡¯s so cool!¡± John said as he looked at the weaved rope. David having finally made enough for them to use.

    David hummed in agreement. ¡°Let¡¯s go. We need to start walking before it gets dark. I wanna get away from this place as quickly as possible.¡±

    It was true, if the warlord, for whatever reason, returned here, they were dead.

    ¡°Hurray! Let¡¯s go!¡± John said, celebrating that he could finally explore the world. He¡¯d been stuck in what amounted to a zoo the entire time he¡¯d been in Thomas¡¯ body.

    He watched expectantly as David tied the teenager to his companion and tied the 2 children to himself. Practically giddy with excitement when they finally started walking.

    He watched in wonder as they stepped into the forest. Watching wide eyed at everything around him. Except for the brief trip with David to make rope, he¡¯d never been in a veritable forest before. Only in those tame versions back on earth. This was the real thing.

    It wasn¡¯t as fun as they made it out to be in the movies. They had to go around practically every obstacle the long way.

    He grumbled whenever they did. He wanted to see some action!

    An enormous beast emerged from the forest at one point. He stared at it like a child seeing an elephant for the first time. It looked like a buffalo. A super-sized buffalo. With Tattoos like Stoat had!

    He watched as it approached their group, not changing direction or pace as it passed them. Merely a curious glance.

    After it had passed them, David commented: ¡°And that. Is a Rasts.¡±

    ¡°So that¡¯s a Rasts? That was amazing! Are all Rasts big like that? Do they get smaller when they evolve into Ba-Rasts? And can they evolve further? Like pok-.¡±

    ¡°Woah, woah, one question at a time. I¡¯ll answer them, just be quiet.¡± John shut up as quickly as he could.

    ¡°First,¡± He started. ¡°Rasts are already evolved from normal animals, so Ba-Rasts are the third step on the chain. Second, they don¡¯t all get smaller when they evolve, some get larger, way larger. Defying logic large. Some would argue they¡¯re the most dangerous kinds of Rasts simply due to their sheer size.¡± David said, happy that he¡¯d finally gotten John to shut up. Even though it wasn¡¯t his fault.

    ¡°Third, they can evolve further. They¡¯re called Ka-Rasts. There have been very few documented cases of it happening naturally. Although extremely large amounts of them are at the edge of the continent. And given their large numbers, some theorise that there they can evolve further, although there has been no proof of this.¡± He added one final comment, eyeing John with pity: ¡°I must say, you must¡¯ve lived a very sheltered lifestyle before you were kidnapped by the warlord, to not know what a Rasts is.¡±

    ¡°Where are we even going?¡± John asked.

    David sighed. ¡°We¡¯re going some place very few people even know exist.¡±

    That immediately had his interest. ¡°What¡¯s it called? Where is it? Why do few people know it exists?¡± He fired back questions as quickly as he could think of them.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you after we¡¯ve made camp.¡± David said, eyeing a cave he saw on a mountainside in the distance.

    John, David, and Stoat all walked as quickly as John allowed them to. He was still far from having any muscles at all, so they had to frequently stop to allow him to rest.

    The Rasts inside the cave almost ambushed John, as he¡¯d practically rushed inside before David could stop him.

    Luckily, David was quick to react and killed it with a single stab of his knife before it could hurt John.

    ¡°I guess there¡¯s our dinner. Stoat, would you be so kind to fetch some cloudberries for Thomas?¡± Having already resigned to what needed to be done until they reached their destination, which was at least more than a week away, probably 2 with Thomas¡¯ physique. ¡°Dinner will be ready when you return. Come, Thomas, help me start a fire.¡± He added. Watching him dash out with haste. He¡¯d get an explanation why ¡°Stoat¡±, as Thomas had named him, did what he did, but not until the children were all safe.

 Chapter 15: A plan never survives first contact with the enemy

    ¡°The Wisest Rasts asked: ¡®Why does this tree stand?¡¯ It was an Ashfern tree. The tree was gnarly. The tree was beautiful. The tree was tiny. The tree was short. The tree was old. Older than any tree. Its crown dwarfed any he¡¯d ever seen. It was close to the village. It was perfect for shade. Children came over. They napped. They played. They Danced.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    ¡°Ohh! What is that?¡± John asked David, staring at the enormous tree in the distance.

    ¡°That, Thomas, is an Ashfern tree. It¡¯s said to rise from fallen Rasts. Feeding off their powerful bodies to grow to such tall heights. It is one of the tallest known species on the continent.¡± He explained, as if talking to a little child who was just now seeing the world for the first time.

    ¡°Especially interesting is the wood. When exposed to air, the wood quickly changes colour from a bright yellow to an ash grey. In the process, it becomes as hard as steel. However, because of the rarity of the tree, it¡¯s quite hard to find anything made from Ashfern wood.¡±

    ¡°Woaah, that¡¯s so cool! It has to be at least 300 meters tall! I wonder if anyone has climbed to the top.¡± John said with his usual childish excitement.

    ¡°I believe I have heard of a certain tribe in the south that incorporates these trees in their magical rituals. They¡¯re known to be able to grow these trees.¡± He neglected to mention that he himself had climbed Ashfern trees several times when he was younger. He¡¯d never hear the end of it. Thomas would demand they climb to the top or he¡¯d throw a tantrum.

    He adjusted the 2 children strapped to his chest once again. It seemed the rope he¡¯d made a few days ago was becoming stiff. They¡¯d need to be replaced soon.

    He didn¡¯t trust Thomas¡¯ bonded. Although he¡¯d calmed down considerably after his initial outburst. He could show gratitude towards it. Whilst he strongly disagreed with the decision of giving Thomas Cloudberries, as it possibly ruined the boy for life, even if it kept him going at that moment. It had kept them all alive despite the terrible odds they faced. It had ruthlessly culled the entire population of animals and Rasts around the clearing. Even stopping Thomas when he planned to go back in the mine for the fourth time, likely saving his life.

    As much as it pained him to hear how almost 50 people had slowly suffocated, it relieved him much more to see his sister still breathing.

    Speaking of Thomas, David was indebted to him. For saving his sister. Although Thomas did no doubt did not see it as such, he¡¯d made a very brave decision when he went back down into the mine to carry them up. Most people would simply have escaped, leaving their fellow slaves to die.

    David could only hope that the boy would be able to pull through. They¡¯d stop feeding him cloudberries when they reached the village. The rest would be up to him.

    It would be a tremendous loss to everyone should such a promising boy be unable to face the world¡¯s horrors.

    ¡°We need to find some more Redlarg. The ropes I made before we left are becoming stiff. We¡¯ll have to make camp soon, so that me and Stoat can search for some.¡± David said. Carefully measuring the boy¡¯s reaction, to see if he could be trusted, or if one of them would have to stay behind.

    ¡°Ehh!? Has it already been that long? It¡¯s so cool to see all these things. The giant trees and the unique Rasts. I guess time passes quickly when you¡¯re having fun.¡± Thomas said. He looked mildly dejected that they¡¯d have to make camp so early in the day.

    He¡¯d had learnt the boy to be careful. Listening to what David had to say despite being affected by the cloudberries. David had to wonder what he was like normally, if he was this prudent now.

    ¡°Do you think you can manage on your own? Stoat and I will have to go search for some, but one of us can stay behind if you feel unsafe. This area should be secure, otherwise I wouldn¡¯t dare to simply leave you.¡± David was in a hurry. He wanted to get to the village. He didn¡¯t how both Thomas and his sister could be affected by the cloudberries and coma, respectively.

    ¡°Yeah, we¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯ll protect them if anyone comes!¡± Thomas answered, flexing his emaciated arms.

    David simply shook his head and scrutinised the surrounding area for an ideal place to camp.

    It didn¡¯t take long for them to find an adequate place. They¡¯d found an alcove in the distance, hovering slightly above the treeline. Safe from most predators. Although they¡¯d have to carry Thomas up there, as he wasn¡¯t strong enough to climb.

    ¡°See that alcove up there?¡± David said as he pointed at the mountainside.

    ¡°Yeah? What about it?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯re going to be sleeping there tonight.¡± The look of disbelief on Thomas¡¯ face made it all the more worth it.

    David Gently put down his sister and the other child, placing them close to the fire. Then helped Stoat untie the teenage girl on his back.

    He made sure that to tell Thomas that he shouldn¡¯t get close to the edge and then promptly jumped off of it himself. Stoat following shortly.

    Once he landed, he immediately started running through the forest to search for Redlarg.

    He searched in a grid pattern to cover as much ground as possible. Running in straight lines lest he miss anything by accident. The entire area around the alcove was a potential place for the Redlarg to grow. It could grow practically anywhere with even a miniscule amount of dirt and sunlight.

    ========================================================

    ¡°I wonder if I can ever do that¡­ David says he¡¯ll teach me how when we get to the village. You see, I really travel too. I need to find my brother. But we have to wake you up first. I¡¯ll be patient until then. When you¡¯ve woken up, I¡¯ll pester him until he teaches me.¡± Thomas said to the slaves, while he threw another stick into the fire.

    ¡°Have you ever heard of my brother? He¡¯s apparently famous in the militia! He¡¯s known for being super strong and super fast! I¡¯m really excited to meet him again. It¡¯s been weeks since we last saw each other. We have a lot to catch up on.¡± He Trailed off as he said the last part. He was curious if the wish had changed Cary as much as it had changed him.

    He looked down at his thin arms and legs. He was gaining some weight back. He no longer looked like a starved child, but he wasn¡¯t better than your average anorexic.

    John hadn¡¯t forgotten his title, Apprentice. So far, it hadn¡¯t been very fitting. He hadn¡¯t learnt a damn thing! Except some bits and pieces on how to live in the wild. How to clean up and feed coma patients. Magic and Magical creatures existed. And that cloudberries were delicious.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    It was frustrating. Everyone was always vague. He wanted concrete answer, dammit.

    ¡®Well, I guess it IS magic, not science¡­ Then again, does the scientific method apply to magic? Probably. The scientific method should apply to anything with consistent rules, right? Then it should already have been turned into a science. The vague answers are BS. They already have trucks! And iron for large projects¡­ I don¡¯t get this world.¡¯

    His musings were interrupted by scratching sounds from below him.

    ¡®What do I do. David said not to go over to the edge¡­ But I want to investigate. Well, it¡¯s sounds like it¡¯s getting closer. Is it a Rasts? Then I should probably get ready to throw a rock at it, right?¡¯

    He picked up a rock and crawled closer to the edge, but not too close. Ready to ambush it should it turn out to be a predator or a Rasts.

    He impatiently waited for the scratching to get closer. He wanted to see what it was! Was he in danger? Would he be able to fight it off? He didn¡¯t know! It was spine-tingling!

    A large stoat head popped up, carrying long red leaves in its mouth.

    ¡°Aww, I wanted to fight a Rasts. Anyway, welcome back Stoat!¡±

    His companion gave him a strange look when he said that, before shaking its head. Stoat lightly jumped up on the alcove. Dropping the leaves in the corner and placing a rock on them, lest they be taken by the wind, delaying their journey even further.

    Thomas unhesitatingly approached the pile of leaves and started weaving. Much to his delight, he discovered it wasn¡¯t as complicated as he feared. It was just like braiding paracord. Something he¡¯d learnt off the internet. He could easily do a 4-braid rope like David did, even though he hadn¡¯t taught him very much. Stoat watched intently, intending to stop him if he proved to be wasting the leaves, but relaxed when he saw how adept Thomas was at braiding.

    He experimented slightly, when he¡¯d eventually braided 4 leaves and had to tie new leaves onto the ones he¡¯d braided. But the leaves were so tough and easy to work with, he didn¡¯t have much trouble.

    Within minutes, he had almost 3 meters of braided rope. He smiled proudly! Surely David could use these.

    He was promptly tacked to the ground by Stoat. He heard a loud screech right behind him.

    Quickly turning around, he saw a humongous bird. Easily 4 or 5 meters tall. It was starving. It had bright yellow leathery and spiky wings, with a sharp and pointy beak. Its eyes looked unhinged. Mad. The intelligence he¡¯d seen in every Rasts wasn¡¯t present in the bird.

    Stoat stood above him; its tightly wound muscles ready to leap into attack.

    ¡°Woah, that also looks like a pok-. Wait, why am I so sure that it¡¯s starving? I know almost nothing about birds.¡± He murmured to himself. Mulling over why he knew how the bird felt.

    The stare down continued, neither willing to back down.

    John inspected the bird closer.

    ¡°It looks ragged and worn. But that doesn¡¯t make sense. If Stoat hasn¡¯t attacked yet, that probably means it¡¯s a Ba-Rasts, then why is it starving? Much less injured, it should easily be able to hunt any animal it saw¡­ Wait, is that blood?¡± He said to himself, looking at a red spot on its chest. ¡°It¡¯s wounded? It got into a fight with another Ba-Rasts, maybe?¡±

    Stoat crouched slightly, as if preparing to attack.

    ¡°Hey bird!¡± John yelled, startling both the Bird and Stoat. Its enormous head jerked down, locking eyes with John. Ravenous. ¡°I think you should go; I don¡¯t think you can win against Stoat. He¡¯s pretty strong. And David will be very cross if you swallow our patients, so you can¡¯t eat them either. He is very smart, so he can probably treat you. I think you should just relax. Stoat can help you find some food.¡± John commanded.

    The bird stared at him. John didn¡¯t look away, but curiously inspected it further. He¡¯d seen Rasts, but he¡¯d never been this close to one either, not counting Stoat. He was so cute, he didn¡¯t count.

    He eventually crawled out from under Stoat, much to his companion¡¯s dismay. He wanted to examine the bird¡¯s wound.

    It looked even more magnificent the closer he got. Almost like a dinosaur, only larger and more dangerous.

    Its wings were still spread out, ready to escape or attack. John could see the thick leather between its¡­ fingers? Whatever. They were a combination of leather and feathers. That¡¯s why he mistook it as a bird at first. Was it still a bird? What made a bird a bird? He didn¡¯t know, but the Rasts in front of him looked cool. Whatever species it was.

    ¡°Hi, my name is Thomas. Can I see your wound?¡± He made sure to ask first. He had to be polite.

    Its eyes hadn¡¯t left him whilst he walked over. It gazed at John. John stood unflinching in front of it and curiously inspected it.

    ¡°Woah, this looks terrible. There¡¯s pus leaking out if it.¡± He said as he¡¯d gently lifted the feathers covering the wound.

    ¡°Thomas!¡± A shout startled the wounded bird. Thomas casually turned around. ¡°Hey David, this is my new friend. He¡¯s a bird.¡±

    David had scrambled up from the edge of the cliff, warily looking at the Ba-Rasts in front of Thomas. He¡¯d rushed back as soon as he saw it, hoping they hadn¡¯t already been eaten.

    When Thomas said that so casually, David really wanted to strangle him. He stood so nonchalantly in front of a Ba-Rasts, completely disregarding the danger he was in.

    ¡°Hey David, can you fix his wound? He¡¯s injured, and I told him you could fix him up.¡± Thomas continued.

    ¡°This really isn¡¯t a good time to go around helping others Thomas¡­¡± He spoke, equally annoyed and wary.

    ¡°Aww, come on, I already told him you could, can¡¯t you just check it out at least? Here, look, there¡¯s pus leaking out of it¡¯s wound, I think the wound has been there¡¯s for a long time.¡± He moved the bird¡¯s feathers so David could see.

    The wound increased his uncertainty.

    ¡®This stinks of foul play. Its emaciated, heavily wounded and starving. It shouldn¡¯t be calmly standing in front of him letting him inspect it. It should be swallowing him whole. Why isn¡¯t it? Why is it even emaciated in the first place? And its vitality should¡¯ve long since removed any trace of an injury like that.¡¯

    He glanced at Stoat, who¡¯d been largely ignored the entire time.

    Thomas¡¯ companion sat calmly. Not a hint of tension. Curiously observing their surroundings.

    ¡®First, it feeds Thomas cloudberries, and know it¡¯s completely calm in front of another Ba-Rasts? This journey to find my sister and Edward¡¯s little brother has been abnormal from start to finish.¡¯

    ¡°Hurry up, can¡¯t you do some magic to fix it right up?¡± Thomas urged impatiently.

    David had told him a dozen times he couldn¡¯t do magic, and yet Thomas had refused to believe him.

    He slumped in defeat. He just couldn¡¯t win, could he?

    ¡°Hey Stoat, can¡¯t you find some food for it? It¡¯s starving. It might get healthier faster if we give it something to digest.¡±

    Stoat glanced at David to see if he agreed with the decision. Stoat then dashed off the cliff to search for the food to feed the injured bird, when David desperately shook his head to say no.

    ¡®Why would you leave Thomas!? Why now, of all times?! He¡¯s your bonded! Stick with him! I swear, they¡¯re both going to be the death of me.¡¯

    He hesitatingly approached the tall Ba-Rasts, hoping it didn¡¯t decide to end his life on a whim.

    Thomas hadn¡¯t moved his hand away from it, and David could visibly see the pus leaking out. He still had the bandages from the camp, as there hadn¡¯t been a need to use them yet.

    He¡¯d considered using them to make shoes for Thomas, but he didn¡¯t seem to be bothered by his lack of footwear, so David had saved them instead.

    The wound would first have to be treated. And he certainly didn¡¯t carry the tools around. He¡¯d have to boil water, somehow.

    Not something he thought he¡¯d spend his day on, but apparently, his plans had changed.

    ¡°I¡¯ll have to clean the wound of that much pus, so I¡¯ll have to boil some water first. I have to make a bowl to boil the water. It¡¯ll take some time, but I can do it. Your friend just has to be a bit patient. Think he can manage?¡± David said, trying to sound as relaxed as possible.

    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine. He just wants to get healthy again. He¡¯s a bit fidgety but he¡¯ll manage.¡± Thomas answered reassuringly.

    Sometime during the conversation, ¡°it¡± had changed to ¡°he¡±.

    David practically sprinted to the nearest tree and violently punched it.

    The tree collapsed as his fist struck it. Ungracefully falling over to the side. He tore a sizeable chunk off of it almost before it hit the ground and ran back to the alcove.

    Once there, he quickly pulled out his knife to whittle a crude but thin bowl, as he needed the bowl to be thin enough for the heat to pass through the wood.

    His hand was a blur as he worked as fast as he could. It wasn¡¯t long before he had a large wooden bowl in front of him.

    He dashed to the nearest river to fill it with water and returned to the alcove to keep it above the fire.

    By that time Stoat had also returned, and David internally sighed in relief as Stoat had found a Rasts and hunted it down.

    The bird gracefully but ravenously pecked the Rasts, in mere moments swallowing the entire thing.

    He still didn¡¯t trust the Ba-Rasts in front of him at all. It had yet to attack them. Emphasis on yet. For some mysterious reason. Thomas definitely had a hand in it, though.

    Quickly, but never fast enough, the water had started boiling.

    David took the bowl of the fire and carefully approached the Ba-Rasts.

    ¡°Can you tell him that this is going to hurt a lot?¡± He inquired; he¡¯d rather not be attacked because it assumed he was hurting it.

    ¡°He already knows. I told him it¡¯s a good kind of pain.¡± Thomas smiled.

    David was sweating from fear when he gently started pouring the simmering water on it. Ready to jump back with Thomas at the smallest sign of it attacking them.

    It flinched slightly when it felt the hot water, but didn¡¯t otherwise move. David tried to be as quick and efficient as possible. And hopefully get away from the Ba-Rasts.

    Thomas¡¯ hand never left the Ba-Rasts, and he caressed it gently while David cleaned the wound of pus and debris.

    He carefully put on the bandage, hoping he¡¯d taken enough with him to cover the entirety of it.

    Luckily, he¡¯d taken just enough for it to work and cover the worst of it, until the no doubt ridiculous regeneration of a Ba-Rasts would make it look like it had never been there.

    David audibly sighed when he¡¯d finished bandaging the Ba-Rasts. He turned to Thomas and said:

    ¡°Should be alright now, he¡¯ll be fine. He can scrape the bandages of himself when the wound no longer hurts.¡± The tension drained out of him. This had been one of the most intense moments of his life. Ba-Rasts were far and few in between, especially in the inner areas. He hadn¡¯t seen many, and always avoided them if possible. Much less treated one.

    ¡°He says you¡¯re okay now. You can take off the bandage when it no longer hurts.¡± Thomas repeated what David had said.

    It shuffled about slightly, and Thomas laughed.

    David tensed up again when it didn¡¯t fly away. And he turned pale when he heard what Thomas said.

    ¡°What¡¯s that? You want to stay? Of course, you can stay. We¡¯d love to have you!¡± Thomas said happily, before David could stop him.

    ¡°Hey, do you think you can give us a ride? We¡¯re trying to get to the Village where David is from, and it¡¯ll take us several weeks to travel there by foot. Do you think you can carry 5 people? Stoat can make himself tiny, so you don¡¯t have to worry about him.¡±

    David buried his face in his hands. ¡®Why me¡­¡¯ He was stuck with a child heavily affected by cloudberries with even more ridiculous shamanistic abilities. Had to care for several patients. And had to deal with an unreliable Ba-Rasts who was bonded to the child affected by said cloudberries. The list goes on.

    John giggled. ¡°You¡¯re so good at making those funny faces.¡±

 Chapter 16: Covers Blown, Truths Uncovered

    ¡°He sat. He wondered. His face grew wrinkled. The children grew old. Men and women. New children came. They napped. They played. They Danced. Quietly, another Ashfern tree had grown. It was a child of the old Ashfern tree. The tree was wide. The tree was huge. The tree was straight. It soon dwarfed its parent. Its crown was small and trunk large.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    Edward bolted up from the bed he was lying on and immediately flinched from the pain.

    ¡°OW FOR THE MOTHER OF FUCKING GOD THAT HURTS! HOLY SHIT.¡± He yelled at the top of his lungs, hoping it would help a bit with the pain.

    It did, a little bit.

    But the pain didn¡¯t really stop. It eased a bit when he lay down again, but it didn¡¯t stop. His brain was constantly receiving signals from his stomach that he¡¯d been hurt.

    Someone burst through the door.

    ¡°Edward?! You¡¯re awake!¡± Was all he heard before he was hugged by said person. He felt like he was being crushed and felt faint headed from the pain.

    ¡°You¡¯ve been out for 2 days!¡± The person released him and looked him straight in the eyes.

    It was a girl, he realised.

    She had dark brown hair, and chestnut-coloured eyes. Her tanned skin fit in perfectly with the rest of her face.

    ¡°Wh- Who are you?¡± Edward choked out, having a hard time formulating thoughts because of the pain.

    ¡°Who-?! Ed!? I¡¯m Malissa. Do you not know who I am?¡± Her tanned face was caked with worry.

    ¡°¡­No? Should I?¡± He answered, composing himself slightly.

    She flinched at his answer. ¡°I-.¡± She backed away from him, shuddering. ¡°-I¡¯ll get the shaman. Wait here!¡± She practically sprinted out through the door again. Leaving him alone with his thoughts.

    He took several deep breaths to adjust himself to the pain. It was a constant stream of hurt.

    ¡°Okay, okay, what¡¯s the last thing I remember¡­?¡± He talked to himself.

    ¡°I¡­ Was fleeing. Yes, good. And then, I jumped from a cliff and landed in a lake, right? Yeah, that¡¯s what happened. John! I was looking for John when it happened. Then, there was this really strong Rasts? I fought it¡­ And?¡± And what? He couldn¡¯t remember what happened afterwards. How, then, did he end up here?

    Edward looked around the room. It was a room. It had a bed, a window, and a chair and table.

    She left the door open, but he couldn¡¯t see very far into the hallway, so that didn¡¯t tell him anything.

    ¡®She recognised me! And I said I didn¡¯t know her!¡¯ Oops. In his defence, she was the reason he couldn¡¯t think straight. It was her fault. Cover blown.

    He heard 2 pairs of footsteps coming from the hallway. The girl had returned with a man in tow.

    His skin was tanned like the girl¡¯s, his face covered with wrinkles, and¡­ Tribal tattoos? He had weird bright blue markings on his hands and face. He had a cane too, looking exactly like a shaman.

    He had a stern look on his face, intensely scrutinising Edward. Edward didn¡¯t really know what to do, so he simply sat on his bed and leaned against the wall, looking back and forth between the two of them.

    The shaman stepped forward and locked eyes with Edward.

    The shaman spoke: ¡°Do you mind telling me your name?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, my name is Edward Smith, why do you ask?¡± He answered back, not really sure where he was going with this.

    ¡°I see. Could you tell me her name?¡± He asked, ignoring Edward¡¯s question.

    Edward sighed, ¡°Yeah, she told me her name is Malissa.¡±

    ¡°Do you know my name?¡± The shaman¡¯s face was less than a hand length from Edward¡¯s.

    ¡°No? She called you the shaman, so I assume that¡¯s what you are, but I don¡¯t know your name nor what a shaman is.¡±

    Suddenly the chair fell over, both the Shaman and Edward turned their heads to face the noise. The girl was shivering. Her hand covered her face as she slowly backed away. She turned and fled through the door.

    ¡°What¡¯s her problem?¡± Edward wondered out loud.

    The shaman righted the chair that she¡¯d overturned and sat down with a slump.

    ¡°The last word you said to her were, and I quote: ¡®I¡¯ll never forget you.¡¯¡±

    His mouth hung open at what the shaman said.

    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ Sorry?¡± Stumped on what to stay.

    ¡°She¡¯s your wife, Edward. Those were the last words you said to her were just before you left to join the militia.¡±

    That sounded like a mess he definitely didn¡¯t want to solve right now.

    He shook his head. ¡°Never mind that. When can I get out of here? I need to find Thomas. The Militia doesn¡¯t do shit, and I¡¯ll go crazy if I¡¯m forced to be in a bed for several weeks.¡± His cover was blown, but he couldn¡¯t really care at this point. He wasn¡¯t in the military anymore.

    The shaman sighed and said: ¡°You¡¯ll need to stay here for at least 2 more days. But you will stay here for 2 more days. Tell me, you remember your brother, but not your wife? And how did you end up here if you¡¯re searching for Thomas?¡±The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    Edward slumped in his bed. There was no getting out of this, was there?

    ¡°I was travelling with someone else. His sister was also taken. We deserted the militia to find our siblings by ourselves.¡± Edward said honestly. He had no reason to lie. He was at their mercy until he could recover.

    ¡°We went to the warlord¡¯s fortress, but nothing was there. It¡¯s just used for capturing Rasts. Then transporting them somewhere else. Anyways, we followed the road from the fortress and found a clearing. There were 2 buildings, a pit and a pile of rocks. They took the Rasts they¡¯d captured and put them around the pit. All of them were in cages. All of them stepped back and stood by the building except for one person, don¡¯t know who, but suddenly a bright green light shone from where he stood, and the world got all heavy and the Rasts disappeared.¡±

    ¡°We got separated when the magic guy saw us. We were a dozen kilometres away, and he saw us. I lost control of my body and it fled in this direction. I don¡¯t even know where I am, though. The last thing I remember is being wounded by a particularly dangerous Rasts whose territory I stepped into.¡±

    Edward didn¡¯t fail to notice that as he spoke, the shaman¡¯s knuckles were white from clenching his cane so hard.

    ¡°What¡¯s the last thing you remember?¡± The shaman said, slowing down the conversation and relaxing his grip on the cane.

    Edward answered it easily. The impression the memory made was extremely strong. ¡°I stood above a cliff, looking down on a village the warlord had raided. A Direbear attacked me, which I killed and brought back to camp.¡±

    ¡°And what do you remember about your brother?¡±

    Edward took a deep breath. ¡°His name is Thomas Smith. He was captured by the warlord sometime within the last 7 months. He¡¯s 9 years old. And¡­ That he¡¯s an apprentice.¡±

    The shaman tapped his cane on the floor several times. ¡°That¡¯s it? That¡¯s all you remember about him?¡± He mulled over it for a moment, then asked: ¡°You said he was an apprentice. Who¡¯s apprentice?¡±

    Edward said confidently: ¡°Yours. He was your apprentice.¡± In all honesty, he had no idea if that was true, but it didn¡¯t seem too far-fetched. He hoped his acting skills didn¡¯t fail him.

    The shaman hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

    ¡°If you remember so little about him, why the obsession? Your travelling companion must¡¯ve warned you several times how dangerous the warlord is.¡±

    ¡°He did. But I need to find him. I have little interest in anything other than finding, and rescuing, him from the warlord.¡±

    Again, the Shaman tapped his cane on the ground several times before speaking. ¡°And then? What will you do, after you¡¯ve found him?¡±

    Edward already had an answer prepared: ¡°Come to terms with my lost memories. They¡¯re very unlikely to ever come back.¡±

    Tap Tap Tap Tap

    The shaman closed his eyes and quietly sat in deep contemplation. Tapping his cane on the ground.

    ¡°You said you lost control of your body? And your body fled here?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, I did. I¡¯m pretty sure I have a¡­ An animal, inside of me. It takes over when I¡¯m fighting, it has got better instinct. I¡¯ve forgotten how to fight, so it does it for me.¡±

    Tap Tap Tap Tap

    ¡°A particularly dangerous Rasts. Tell me, was it a Direbear?¡±

    Edward thought for a moment before shaking his head. ¡°No, it was extremely agile and quick. It tried to ambush me, and I barely dodged its attacks. It injured me when I traded blows. I stuck my knife into its side, and it ran away. I blacked out from the pain of the injury.¡±

    ¡°When we found you, you were being attacked by a large Direbear that had wandered into the village territory. You were covered in blood. We were alerted to your presence because one of the trees was felled and made quite the noise when it landed.¡± He said and looked through the window.

    ¡°The person who found you, Edward, said you were conscious when he found you, only passing out after he¡¯d killed the Direbear.¡±

    Edward frowned; he didn¡¯t remember any of that.

    ¡°An animal inside you, you said.¡±

    Tap Tap Tap Tap

    The shaman approached Edward and requested to touch his hand.

    Edward felt a jolt when the shaman touched his hand. He felt Amind stir. That hadn¡¯t happened before. Edward didn¡¯t have any conscious control over him. Although he had to admit, he didn¡¯t have a lot of time to try. He fell unconscious shortly after he found out he even existed.

    The shaman smiled. ¡°Hello, little one.¡± Edward was certain he wasn¡¯t speaking to him, but Amind.

    ¡°Amind? What a curious name.¡± Edward flinched and paled. Could the shaman read his mind?!

    The shaman had stopped looking at Edward¡¯s hand and looked at his face instead.

    He was smiling gently. ¡°No, I can¡¯t hear your thoughts. He told me his name.¡± The shaman said, pointing at his chest.

    ¡®So, now it can talk too? Is that it?¡¯

    ¡°No, it can¡¯t talk either. But many animals can recognise their names.¡±

    Edward narrowed his eyes, ¡®Can¡¯t hear my thoughts, my ass.¡¯

    The shaman smirked in response. ¡°You¡¯re not as good at acting as you think.¡±

    ¡°Nevertheless, most of what you said was true. I will give you the benefit of the doubt. I do not know why or how you¡¯ve lost your memories, but it doesn¡¯t seem to bother you. So I assume you do. It may be because you gave them up for this animal inside you, or for some other reason. What I know is you were honest with me when you said you were searching for your brother. Few things can contain you here. You are driven.¡±

    ¡°I shall let you go and search for him. I¡¯ll even help send you away.¡± He sat down again and tapped his cane on the ground.

    Tap Tap Tap Tap

    ¡°However, you must do something for me before you go.¡±

    ¡®Ugh, what is this gonna be, a fetch quest? I have to find some magical item from some dragon?¡¯

    Edward impatiently waited for him to continue, but he didn¡¯t elaborate further. Instead asking:

    ¡°What can you tell me about the Rasts that wounded you?¡±

    He shrugged. ¡°I told you almost everything. It was green, whether it was light or dark green, I couldn¡¯t tell you. It was annoyingly fast, and smart too. It didn¡¯t pause after its first ambush failed. It disappeared the moment it landed.¡±

    ¡°If it could fight you, and end in a draw, then it was probably a Ba-Rasts.¡±

    ¡°A BaRasts? What¡¯s a BaRasts?¡±

    Tap Tap Tap Tap

    ¡°Curious. No matter. And it¡¯s Ba-Rasts, not BaRasts. They are the evolved form of Rasts. Just like how Rasts evolve from normal animals, Ba-Rasts evolve from Rasts. And I pray you never meet one, but Ka-Rasts evolve from Ba-Rasts.¡±

    ¡°Okay then, why are you sure that it was a Ba-Rasts then?¡±

    Again, the shaman smirked. ¡°Because very few Rasts could even put up a fight against you. I¡¯ve trained you, so I would know.¡±

    ¡°What? Are you some hidden combat master too?¡± Edward scoffed.

    ¡°Hidden? I¡¯m not hiding, though? I¡¯m sitting right here.¡± The shaman said, looking down at himself.

    Goddamnit.

    ¡°Ohh, my dear combat master, please correct this disciple¡¯s failure. Tell him about the world, so that he may impose his just will upon it so that he may correct the evil ways.¡± Edward said dramatically.

    The shaman snickered. ¡°I see you haven¡¯t lost your sense of humour.¡±

    Edward smiled. The shaman wasn¡¯t anything if not good company.

    He thought back to what he and David had discussed. They¡¯d made several contingencies should they get separated. Might as well get on solving that problem right away.

    ¡°Do you have a map of the entire region? I have absolutely no clue where I am right now. I wasn¡¯t really in the right mindset while I made my way here.¡±

    The shaman hummed. ¡°I do have a map. Let me get it for you.¡± He stood up and left the room.

    Edward was stuck in contemplation once again. Everything here seemed so real. He¡¯d been here for almost 3 weeks. He still hadn¡¯t come to terms with it. Not properly, anyway. He needed to find his brother, at all costs. And then? Then¡­ He¡¯d figure out what happened to people when they got what they wanted. He got a magical wish. It was even his own. He was responsible for his own situation.

    He wasn¡¯t totally without purpose when he¡¯d finally found his brother. He wished to be a hero, well, now the opportunity was in front of him.

    He¡¯d need to defeat the warlord.

    He couldn¡¯t confirm it, of course, but he was pretty sure that the gaze belonged to the warlord. If it wasn¡¯t him, then Edward would cry. If the warlord had several of those under his thumb, then that would just be unfair¡­ But it was the Hero¡¯s journey, after all.

    David hadn¡¯t been very helpful when Edward voiced his suspicions about there being another reason for the militia not attacking. Nothing he¡¯d seen so far was immune to bullets. Otherwise, there¡¯d be no reason to carry guns. So, it was a safe bet that the warlord wasn¡¯t invulnerable. So why not just snipe him from a distance? Sure, he knew where we were, but he can¡¯t outsmart a bullet, right?

    Edward realised he felt a tinge of excitement at the thought. He was actually planning to take a proper villain down. An evil warlord! Few could say that they¡¯d done that. The normal life was behind him.

    A cane and a pair of footsteps brought him out of his pondering.

    The shaman casually sat down with a scroll in one hand and the cane in the other.

    Tap Tap Tap Tap

    He sat down and began tapping his cane on the ground.

    ¡°You know, when I think about it. You¡¯re a deserter. A sergeant at that. They¡¯re gonna be quite cross that one of their star soldiers disappeared one night with another one in tow.¡±

    ¡°What am I gonna do if they suddenly show up at my front door demanding compensation or try to imprison me for something I have no control over? What do I tell them then?¡± Edward opened his mouth to speak, but the shaman continued:

    ¡°And I can¡¯t lie. You see, someone in the village might squeal that you were here and then I¡¯m in trouble. I don¡¯t believe that they¡¯d go so far as to deliberately rat you out, but children and teenagers like to gossip. Their innocence could be their downfall.¡±

    Tap Tap Tap Tap

    Edward became a little tense at the shaman¡¯s words. After all, he couldn¡¯t be the hero if he simply caused chaos whenever it didn¡¯t fit with his goal. He realised he didn¡¯t really understand how the militia worked. he¡¯d never questioned it. He¡¯d never heard of a militia in a developed country on Earth, so the thought hadn¡¯t ever crossed his mind.

    ¡°How does the militia even work? Did everyone just decide to go: ¡®Hey let¡¯s make an organised army out of all the able-bodied men and women from all these villages to specifically fight against this warlord who¡¯s kidnapping people and turning them into slaves?¡¯¡± He decided he didn¡¯t know enough to answer the shaman¡¯s question. He needed more details.

    ¡°No, my dear boy. That wouldn¡¯t ever hold up in reality. They¡¯d start clashing about who¡¯s in charge the moment it was formed. This was decided long ago, by a treaty formed after the fall of the empire.¡±

    Edward¡¯s ears quirked up at that. ¡®David mentioned something about an empire, right? The emperor was the one who made the fortress.¡¯

    ¡°Wait, what is this about an empire? The person I travelled with, David, mentioned something about the fortress of the warlord being from the empire.¡±

    The shaman got a distant look as Edward mentioned the empire. He stared out the window at the sky.

    ¡°There aren¡¯t many of us left that remember the time of the empire. People consider it a great insult to even mention him. His very existence, although long dead, has left wounds upon the continent that still fester.¡±

    ¡°The emperor never thought what he did was wrong. But after his fall, a council of the strongest shamans gathered. To make sure another person like him would never arise.¡±

    ¡°It was The Council Of Sortilege. Named after the mountain on which it was held.¡±

    Tap Tap Tap Tap

    ¡°Would you stop tapping your cane on the floor? It¡¯s really annoying to listen to it all the time.¡±

    ¡°No, I shan¡¯t.¡±

    Tap Tap Tap Tap

 Chapter 17: Why cant anyone ever talk straight? I want an info dump, dammit.

    ¡°The young Ashfern tree was cut down. He watched. They sawed it. Cut it to pieces. They made chairs. They made tables. They made houses. They made toys. Soon, the large, the wide, the straight, Ashfern tree, was gone. He had gotten the answer. He turned to the Wisest Rasts and spoke.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    ¡°The Council Of Sortilege. The strongest shamans gathered. They formed the treaty. The smartest shaman was given command of the militia. The strongest was ordered to train them. The most articulate was to open diplomatic relations with the enemy, to make him surrender. Each shaman was given a role they should fill in times of crisis.¡±

    ¡°Other than that, it¡¯s very much like how a normal army would work. The treaty has been invoked three times since its creation.¡±

    Something bugged Edward. ¡°What would you know about how a normal army should work?¡± That didn¡¯t make sense. Why would it? If he understood it correctly, then the entire continent was a collection of scattered villages and small cities. Why would they know about modern warfare?

    ¡°Ah, well, that¡¯s easy. What we know comes from the emperor. In his war against the Rasts. How they fought, their tactics, training, and so on. What¡¯s more interesting is why you¡¯d question that specifically.¡±

    Edward shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m smart. Why can¡¯t I question inconsistencies?¡± The shaman had no grounds for any accusation. He was just trying to unnerve him.

    ¡°Back to the point. What shall I do when they come knocking?¡± The shaman smiled.

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s easy. If the militia is composed of barely trained villagers, you just deny ever seeing me. Sure, the children and teenagers might speak. But as long as all the adults deny it, they have no ground to stand on. After all, they¡¯d be pointing their rifles at their own people. The soldiers¡¯ loyalty is with the people, not to their commanders.¡± Edward quickly pointed out how hard it would be for anything to actually happen to them.

    ¡°If I¡¯ll be sitting here for 2 days, at least give me something to do, or learn. I need to know what I¡¯m up against.¡±

    ¡°Young people are always so impatient. They never want to talk with their elders, who in reality have no reason to listen to their requests. For example, why should I believe you are Edward? You look like him, sure. But you have neither his memories nor temperament. All you remember about your brother is something you could¡¯ve learned from simply asking around.¡±

    ¡°You might as well be a stranger lying in that bed. You can¡¯t give me a single logical reason why I shouldn¡¯t keep you here indefinitely.¡± Despite his ominous word, the shaman was as relaxed as he could be.

    Tap Tap Tap Tap

    ¡°You¡¯re absolutely right. I don¡¯t. All you have is my word.¡± Edward was outwardly as relaxed as he could be. They¡¯d either let him leave, or they wouldn¡¯t. He didn¡¯t believe he could convince them to let him leave if they¡¯d decided otherwise. Judging by how casual the shaman was around him, he was damn sure his physical strength wouldn¡¯t help him.

    The shaman suppressed a chuckle. ¡°Ah, it¡¯s been a while since I had a verbal sparring partner. It¡¯s quite boring when everyone takes your word as truth. I miss my master, truly. He never shied away from a good verbal sparring match.¡±

    ¡°No, I believe you¡¯re searching for your brother. But your information is a bit outdated. He is 10 years old now, not 9.¡±

    Although it looked like he wanted to elaborate further, he stood up and handed him the map he¡¯d requested and left.

    Just before he went through the door, he paused and said: ¡°I¡¯ll be back later to tell you what you¡¯re up against. Do take a walk around the village meanwhile, it¡¯s bad for you to simply lie in bed.¡±

    Edward carefully opened the map, surprised at the seemed quality of the paper. The images were clear, and he doubted he could rip the paper by accident. Perfect for travelling.

    His eyes searched the map for the city in question. It was near the centre. David and Edward had planned for the occasion should they get separated. They planned to meet up at a city. Granted it was small by Earth standards, but it was the largest city on the continent. He¡¯d forgotten to ask where he was, but the city in question, Metralia, was marked in bold letter. Coupled with obvious landmarks surrounding it. Despite him knowing little about navigation, he was quite sure he¡¯d be fine.

    He winced slightly when he adjusted his position. The pain had almost been forgotten in his chat with the shaman. He supposed he would need to know where he was before he could figure out which direction to take.

    He moved slowly and carefully. Gently moving his upper body lest he disturb his healing wound, covered by bandages.

    His feet touched the cold wooden floor. He hadn¡¯t really taken his boots off during his time here. Except when he switched clothes with the guard on the fortress wall, he hadn¡¯t taken his boots off at all. Edward wasn¡¯t sure if they cleaned him while he was injured, but if they didn¡¯t, he was probably smelling quite badly. He hadn¡¯t thought much of it while travelling. He and David were outside. The dirt and sweat hid their trail from any curious Rasts, more than it bothered them.

    He felt clean, at least. Edward supported himself while he tried to stand up with as little pain as possible. It was quite debilitating. He wasn¡¯t used to pain at all. At worst, minor scrapes and aches. The shaman had said 2 days, so he was quite sure it wasn¡¯t crippling or debilitating at all. Maybe his high vitality and stamina was covering for him.

    There was a pair of shoes placed by the bed for him, which he tediously put on. He saw the sun shining brightly through the window beside his bed, but wanted to see the village from the door rather than the window.

    He cautiously took a deep breath of fresh air. Slowly breathing in to make sure he didn¡¯t agitate his injury. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the light. But when they did, his breath was taken away by the sheer beauty of it. The village that he saw wasn¡¯t at all like what he imagined it to be.

    He expected to see children playing in worn clothes. Badly built houses. A general atmosphere of longing, perhaps. You know, the kind of village you see in fairy tales, the poor villages. What greeted him, however, was an entirely different reality. The first thing he saw was the wide street. It was paved with stone, beautifully greeting him when he stepped down onto it.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.

    The houses weren¡¯t shaggy or debilitating. They stood proudly. All of them were large. Some were uniquely coloured or shaped. He saw children playing in a field in the distance. They played some kind of ballgame. All of them looked healthy and fit. He even saw them doing flips when they kicked it. This wasn¡¯t some poor fantasy village. It was a hidden paradise.

    If he squinted just right, he could see walls of stone. He guessed them to surround the entire village, to protect them from most casual predators.

    He took a wonderous step onto the road. With wide eyes looking at the beauty he¡¯d found himself in. It was breath-taking. The people gently greeted him as he walked by. It was full of life. The paved roads were flanked on either side by berry bushes. Children dashed over to a bush and plucked a few before running back to playing, smiling happily.

    The shaman, Edward decided, was doing a damn good job, if this was how his village looked like.

    He slowly wandered outwards from the centre of the village where¡¯d recovered. As he got closer and closer to edge, his guess that the walls of stone surrounded the entire village proved to be true. The entire area within the walls was levelled. Not a single wild tree in sight.

    Approaching one of the fields, the children were playing on, he curiously observed their game. The field was littered with small, flat rocks. The children were barefoot and only walked on the rocks. Jumping between them. There were two goal-like structures. The children could kick and punch the ball, but not hold it. It was like a combination between the floor is lava and football.

    He was quite startled when all the children ran over to him when he approached.

    ¡°Hey, Eddie¡¯s here! Pause!¡± one of the older kids said and dashed over to say hello.

    ¡°Finally back from the militia? Did you kick the warlord¡¯s ass?¡± He said excitedly.

    ¡°Hahah, not quite. Just stopping by. I did see him, though, while I was on a secret mission. I waved hello when he saw me and fled.¡± He embellished his story a bit for the children to wonder at.

    He¡¯d barely answered his first question when he was surrounded by a veritable sea of kids, all excitedly asking him about what he¡¯d been doing since he left. Something still didn¡¯t fit. Why was Thomas taken when others weren¡¯t? They looked happy as could be. He doubted they¡¯d experienced a village raid. They looked to innocent to have been through that. He¡¯d have to ask the shaman later.

    ¡°Why don¡¯t you show me your best moves on the field, I¡¯ll be judging a winner.¡±

    ¡°You bet. I¡¯ll win.¡± The first kid said confidently. Another argued ¡°You? Winston you can barely stay alive. You always touch the ground.¡±

    Edward realised 2 things whilst the kids were bickering.

    First, he was at peace. He wasn¡¯t itching for a fight like he had when travelling with David. He was calm and placid. He had clarity. He started to laugh because the kids reminded him so much of himself and John, when they were children. His heart melted at the sight. They drove their parents mad sometimes. And, although they never tell them that, they did it specifically to annoy them. When they were young, they could practically read each other¡¯s minds. They always got along. Only arguing and fighting for the heck of it.

    Second, he truly realised the scale of what he was a part of. This was one village amongst thousands. And several dozen cities. The warlord was threatening all of this. He didn¡¯t know why. No one knew why, or so he was told.

    He watched, amused, as the children started their game. All of them had gathered onto a single field so there were almost no stones to stand on. They bumped into each other constantly, pushing either themselves or the person they bumped into on the ground. It was pure chaos.

    ¡°Will Thomas be okay?¡± sometime during the match, a child had snuck up on him. Edward glanced down. Unlike the other children, he was full of sorrow. He¡¯d lost the innocence the others had.

    ¡°Yeah. He will. I¡¯ll make sure of it. Or the shaman will have my head.¡± The kid chuckled.

    He paused. ¡°Can I talk to you? In private?¡± the kid looked around, as if a bit troubled.

    ¡°Sure kid, give me a moment.¡± Edward turned to the field; it had almost turned into a brawl.

    ¡°Make sure you keep playing. I¡¯ll crown the winner! I¡¯ll be right back!¡± He boomed.

    He turned around and started strolling to the stone walls. He wanted to see them up close.

    ¡°It¡¯s about Thomas.¡± He said after a moment.

    ¡°What about him?¡± Edward answered casually, enjoying the scenery.

    ¡°I think he¡¯s dead.¡± I stopped. What?

    ¡°Why do you think he¡¯d dead? You just asked me if he¡¯s going to be okay? Why did you suddenly change your question into a statement?¡± Edward crouched to lock eyes with the kid. Insecure brown eyes stared back at him.

    ¡°His bonded is gone.¡±

    ¡°His What?¡±

    ¡°His bonded?¡±

    ¡°Okay, let me clear one thing first. I¡¯ve lost a lot of memories. I don¡¯t know what a bonded is, I don¡¯t even know your name.¡±

    ¡°What?¡±

    ¡°Never mind that. Could you clarify what you mean by bonded? I¡¯m thoroughly annoyed that people can¡¯t ever be straight with me.¡±

    ¡°H-, he¡¯s the shaman¡¯s apprentice. Upon his apprenticeship, the shaman helped bond him with an animal, so they could grow side by side.¡±

    Edward rubbed his temples in frustration. His brother has a missing magical pet now? Of course he does. Why wouldn¡¯t he?

    ¡°Why do you know it¡¯s gone? And why does it being gone mean that he¡¯s dead?¡±

    ¡°Is that why you¡¯re here? Because you lost your memories? What memories have you lost?¡± The kid looked suspiciously at Edward.

    ¡°Ugh, I should never have admitted to it. Yes, I¡¯ve lost almost all my memories. No, it isn¡¯t why I¡¯m here. I got lost. I¡¯ve lost all of them except some specific ones of Thomas.¡± Edward said blandly.

    ¡°Why did you los-¡°

    ¡°Focus, kid. Why do you know his bonded is gone? And why does it being gone mean that he¡¯s dead?¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s bonded to his soul. It dies if he dies. And it was left in the Shaman¡¯s house when Thomas was taken. I was the one taking care of it. And when the shaman returned without Thomas, he put it away. It¡¯s no longer there. I looked everywhere.¡±

    ¡°Okay¡­ Let me get this straight. Thomas, as the shaman¡¯s apprentice, gets a cool magic pet that¡¯s bound to him. What benefit does this have? Why would anyone bind an animal to their soul?¡± He said, trying to keep his frustration from showing.

    This day was just getting better and better. First, he finds out he¡¯s been out for 2 days. Unceremoniously told he has a wife. A wife that¡¯s now deeply hurt, he doesn¡¯t remember her. That he¡¯s in his home village. That he has to stay here for another 2 days to recover properly. The list just keeps going.

    ¡°It¡¯s- it¡¯s because it will act as his guardian when he grows up. It evolves to a Rasts, or if he¡¯s lucky, a Ba-Rasts, when he succeeds in the role of shaman.¡±

    ¡°Deep breaths, Edward. Deep breaths. So, kid, I just spoke to the shaman. Is there any reason why he wouldn¡¯t tell me that?¡±

    The kid fell quiet, and he looked down. ¡®Okay then. That tells me absolutely nothing.¡¯

    He groaned internally that the easy ¡®fetch his brother.¡¯ quest turned more and ridiculous. It was supposed to be easy if he went right away, dammit. ¡°Let me tell you, kid. He¡¯s going to be fine. The shaman is sending me to get him. I¡¯ll bring him back in perfect condition.¡±

    The leaves rustled unnaturally. Edward instantly let Amind take over. He grabbed the kid and threw him out of harm¡¯s way. The pain from that action alone caused him to feel lightheaded from the pain. Luckily, Amind wasn¡¯t affected by said pain, unlike Edward.

    It disappeared just as quickly. Fuck, the Ba-Rasts was here.

    ¡°Kid.¡± He growled, not taking his attention off his surroundings.

    ¡°Listen to me very very carefully.¡±

    ¡°I need you to fetch the shaman. Right now.¡±

    The Ba-Rasts had obviously recovered faster than he had. It had come for revenge. He felt it instinctually. He had no idea if the village was safe, or had any defence¡¯s other than the stone wall, which it could obviously cross.

    He couldn¡¯t turn his back on it. He was still injured. And worse, he was unarmed. He instantly saw his only opportunity was to stall for reinforcements.

    The kid, whom he still didn¡¯t know the name off, didn¡¯t say a word. But perhaps understand the seriousness of the situation, immediately took off.

    He tackled the Ba-Rasts as it leapt at the kid. ¡°Sorry buddy, he¡¯s my only hope you see. Can¡¯t let him be killed.¡± He said, reassuring no one but himself.

    The Rasts easily slipped out of his grasp, but he got a good look at it for the first time. It was¡­ A predator? It was the most uniquely Rasts he¡¯d laid his eyes on. Like a sleek combination between a leopard, a wolf, and a bear.

    He carefully listened if it had chased the kid, but the leaves rustled around him instead. It was going to kill him first, then the boy.

    He mentally flinched from the sudden dodge he made. The pain was completely paralyzing his thoughts. He had no mental fortitude left to think besides enduring the pain.

    He dodged a few more times before the kid was finally out of earshot, feeling more and more faint headed from each dodge. The pain amplifying with each sudden movement.

    That¡¯s when adrenaline started flooding his veins. He could practically feel it travelling from his adrenal glands to the rest of his body with each heartbeat.

    Not a single drop of adrenaline was released until that moment. Now, it all rushed into him at once. The pain faded to almost nothing in an instant. He could devote the entirety of his attention to surviving the next few minutes.

    The Ba-Rasts changed its methods. It clearly wasn¡¯t working. He would outlast it if it continued. It stopped hiding. It stepped out from the berry bushes it was hiding in.

    It growled. It had been entirely silent until it stepped out. He only heard the leaves rustle. Now a primal growl shook his eardrums.

    He stared straight at it. What he saw wasn¡¯t elegant in any way. It was rabid. Its eyes were unnaturally red. Saliva dripped from its open mouth. What he saw was barely the same animal as the one he¡¯d fought earlier.

    Its claws were fully extended, ready to attack.

    Its growl sounded like a combination of a lion and bear, turning into an unholy symphony that trembled the soul.

    Unarmed as he was, he couldn¡¯t execute any eye for an eye tactics. He also assumed they wouldn¡¯t work. It didn¡¯t look conscious enough to feel pain.

    Edward backed away. Taking one careful step backward at a time. All he had to do was stall for time.

 Chapter 18: Truths uncovered, info dump gained.

    ¡°¡®Because it is useless. If it was useful, it would¡¯ve been cut down long ago. Turned into chairs. Tables. Houses. Toys. Because it is useless, it stands here. Its crown so wide. You can sit in the shade. Hide from the harsh summer sun. You can nap. You can play. You can dance. You can only do that, because it is useless.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    ¡®Just keep stalling. Stay calm. They¡¯ll be here anyone minute now. Back away slowly. Keep the same tempo as it is.¡¯ Edward breathed tensely in and out and smiled. His heart rate had skyrocketed because of the adrenaline.

    Slowly baiting it to an open area with no fauna or bushes.

    It crouched slightly, Edward¡¯s cue to dodge.

    It exploded at Edward. Its body was like a tightly wound spring. Bursting forward when the tension was released.

    The Ba-Rasts overshot its target massively. Edward grinned and sprinted at it to attack.

    The moment it landed, it frantically turned around to face Edward, but he was already upon it.

    He kicked it with the sole of his shoe. Practically stomping on it with his height advantage, knocking it down onto the ground. He jumped backwards off his stomp, barely avoiding its swipe.

    He agilely landed several meters away. He saw it stand up, easily recovering from his attack, and charge at him once again.

    Edward frowned. ¡®Something is wrong. This is barely the same one I faced. It didn¡¯t react to my attack at all.¡¯

    He sideswiped it with a kick again to confirm. Despite it being ploughed into the ground from his attack, it stood up with a simply shake of its head. It charged again.

    The battle turned weird. He couldn¡¯t escape it, but he couldn¡¯t hurt it either. It shrugged off every kick and punch he threw at it. It charged again. He felt a sharp prick of pain when he kicked it away this time.

    Glanced down at his foot to see it bleeding and turned his attention back to the Ba-Rasts, its mouth dripping with his blood.

    He stepped on his injured leg, deciding to dodge rather than attack. The foot tingled a bit when he jumped with it, but otherwise felt okay.

    Being at an advantage in his current environment, he tried to counterattack at every opportunity.

    Rolling to the side, he flinched when a claw found its way onto his back. At once, it was upon him. It wouldn¡¯t let him go now. It bit his forearm in his attempt to get it off him. Piercing deeply into his muscles. He felt its claws tearing into his sides and thighs. Easily ripping into him.

    He frantically punched its head with his other hand, trying futilely to make it release its hold on his arm. Continuously trying to get it away by kicking it in the stomach, but it had locked itself in place by his arm.

    Planting his feet solidly onto the ground, he sprung up, jumping into the air with the Ba-Rasts in tow. He flipped them while in the air, so that Edward lie on top of it instead.

    They landed with a thud. It still refused to let go. It started tearing into his back with its hind limbs. Edward did the only thing he could think of and stabbed his fingers deep into its eyes, blinding it.

    That finally got it to let go of arm. It roared in pain. Edward quickly leaping to the side, spraying blood from his wounds everywhere.

    Despite the bloody wounds, he grinned savagely. Covered in blood and heavily injured, he glanced at his surroundings to find any weapon he could use. Nothing. He froze when he saw it stand back up.

    It warily listened; he saw its ears twitch and turn like a cat. It sniffed the air, trying to locate him.

    ¡°Quite the fine mess you got yourself into.¡± A calm voice sounded beside him. He recoiled in surprise. A brown-robed man supported by a cane stood beside him.

    The voice had alerted the Ba-Rasts of his presence. It faced him and exploded in his direction. It was a wounded beast; it charged towards the source of the noise, viciously roaring in anger as it leapt at him.

    Edward prepared to tackle it away from the shaman, and -.

    ¡®What?!¡¯

    He¡¯d seen nothing. The shaman suddenly disappeared from beside him.

    He stood curiously over it, calmly inspecting its corpse. His cane smoothly pierced its skull, all the way through into the ground. It looked instantaneous. The rest of the body was slightly squished from head to tail. As if the rest of the body hadn¡¯t caught up with the head that was suddenly locked into place.

    ¡°Don¡¯t relax yet. I won¡¯t carry you to the bed. I told you to walk around the village, not get mauled by a rogue Ba-Rasts. This wasn¡¯t a part of our agreement.¡±

    He chuckled weakly. ¡°You¡¯re late, I did all the work¡­¡± His voice trailed off, the tension seeping off his body. Like air leaking from a balloon, he slumped to the ground. As his mind faded to black, he heard the shaman complain:

    ¡°Kids these days, no respect for their elders.¡±

    He felt as if he submerged in water. He floated in and out of consciousness. When he rose to the surface, he could hear voices talk beside him.

    ¡°Why has he lost his me-.¡±

    ¡°-uould be because h-. ¡°

    ¡°-ean he¡¯ll never reme-.¡°

    Then he sank back to the bottom, and he was out again.

    ¡°-en is he gonna wak-.¡°

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. His insti-.¡°

    ¡°-Oma?! They can do that?!¡±

    Whenever he floated to the top, he heard bits and pieces of conversation, never quite getting above the water.

    He didn¡¯t know how long he¡¯d been submerged in water, but he slowly felt something push him to the surface, gently coaxing him to swim the last few metres himself.

    Slowly twitching himself out of inaction, he pulled towards the surface and opened his eyes.

    Silence.

    His eyes searched around the room. They landed on the table standing opposite him, the window to his right, softly letting sunlight shine through. Finally, his eyes landed on the chair, and the person sitting on the chair.

    If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    It was situated right beside him. A small, hunched figure leaning on the bed, snoring softly while their arms supported their black-haired head.

    His eyes wandered down to his arms. Not bandaged. He could see scabs covering large parts of his arms. Large puncture wounds on his right arm where the Ba-Rasts had gotten its teeth around his arm. They weren¡¯t bleeding, but he could see the muscles underneath the skin. The bite had entirely removed parts of his skin.

    Supported by several pillows, he sat up slightly, like on a hospital bed.

    He twitched one finger at a time, replaying the battle in his head while he regained control of himself. He¡¯d felt serene during it, single handedly focused on winning in the fight for his life. Despite his original intentions, he¡¯d enjoyed every moment.

    At some point when he moved his thigh, he awoke the sleeping figure. It awoke with a start, slowly gathering its bearings. The kid¡¯s eyes slowly met Edward¡¯s.

    Edward chuckled a little when the kid¡¯s mouth formed a perfect ¡®O¡¯. He adjusted himself to sit a bit higher on the bed, surprised when his stomach didn¡¯t hurt at all. He was just sore all over.

    The kid collected himself and said softly: ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m awake.¡± He stretched his neck slightly, feeling his joints pop with every movement.

    ¡°And thirsty.¡± Smacking his lips, wetting them slightly from their previous drought.

    The kid didn¡¯t move, simply staring at him in wonder. ¡°How are you alive?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m the protagonist. I can¡¯t die. It¡¯ll need to be much more tragic story for that to happen.¡± He extended his arms and clenched his fists. ¡®Good, no problems there.¡¯

    ¡°No human could survive injuries that bad. They¡¯d have bled out long ago. And fighting a Ba-Rasts? Only a shaman can do that. But you¡¯re not the shaman, or even his apprentice¡­¡± He looked at Edward in confusion.

    ¡°That¡¯s easy then, I¡¯m no human.¡±

    The kid¡¯s eyes widened like they¡¯d seen a ghost.

    ¡°You¡¯re a Rasts!¡± He triumphantly said.

    ¡°What? No. I¡¯m superhuman. Wait, what do you mean by ¡®you¡¯re a Rasts!¡¯ Rasts can turn into humans?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, supposed-¡°

    ¡°No, they can¡¯t,¡± a voice blandly cut in. A brown-robed man stood in the doorway, supported by his cane.

    The shaman nodded to Edward and turned to face the kid. ¡°I¡¯m sure there might be a few Ka-Rasts that can transform into a human, but their presence would be far, far too strong. You wouldn¡¯t even have to be a shaman to know something was off.¡± He turned to Edward, ¡°Amind would probably warn you from kilometres away if a Ka-Rasts was nearby, they¡¯re quite hard to hide. If it could hide from him, it would, for the same reason, be unable to transform, so you have nothing to worry about. They only have one ability, and one ability couldn¡¯t cover both aspects.¡± He tapped his cane on the ground as he walked inside.

    Tap Tap Tap Tap

    ¡°So, what ability did the Ba-Rasts I had a little bout with have?¡± Edward asked curiously.

    ¡°It had the ability to hide. But since it was only a Ba-Rasts its chief strength was still its physical body. That¡¯s why it escaped my detection and could pass through the wall without being discovered. When it becomes a Ka-Rasts its ability often outshines¡¯ its physical strength, so beware of that.¡± That¡­ Made a lot of sense. Edward had been wondering why he couldn¡¯t sense where it was, only barely reacting when it attacked. He¡¯d always been able to easily sense other ambushes by normal Rasts.

    ¡°Nathan, would you go fetch him some water? He looks quite thirsty.¡±

    The kid, Nathan, jumped up and ran out of the room, allowing the shaman to take his chair. ¡®Did he do that, just so he could sit on the chair? Or¡­ Did he stand in the hallway the entire time¡­¡¯

    He gave a deadpan look to the shaman, who only chuckled in response. ¡°Now Edward, I¡¯m going to make good on what I said.¡± He leaned forward in his chair.

    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you what you¡¯re up against.¡± Edward sat a little straighter in his bed, listening intently to what the shaman said next.

    ¡°You mentioned seeing a green light and feeling a heavy pressure, despite being a dozen kilometres away, correct?¡± Edward nodded solemnly.

    ¡°If you felt it from that far away, it was definitely the warlord you saw. However, he has several under his command who can also conduct similar rituals, so don¡¯t think it¡¯s him every time.¡± Edward nodded again. That wasn¡¯t outside his expectations.

    ¡°The green light you saw is from an artifact that he¡¯s crafted. And we¡¯ve kept this very secret, but, it can be used to tear people¡¯s soul from their bodies.¡± He paused to let the significance of what he¡¯d just said sink in.

    Edward¡¯s eyebrows were knitted tightly together. ¡°What does that mean, exactly? I can guess what it would do, but what exactly happens when you lose your soul?¡± Did that mean his brother was already dead, or missing his soul but alive?

    He sighed. ¡°It erases your mind. Losing your soul causes you to fall into a coma. The soul cannot survive without a container. So, it will slowly dissipate with time. If the soul dies, so does the body. The pit you mentioned? That¡¯s where he¡¯s sealing the souls. The pile of rocks? They¡¯re the containers.¡±

    Edward intensely stared at the shaman. ¡°Why do you know that? And why haven¡¯t you stopped him, or released the seal?¡± That didn¡¯t fit into the narrative at all. If the shamans already knew that much, why hadn¡¯t they stopped him? The part where they said he¡¯s hiding in some fortress up north was a complete sham.

    ¡°Because,¡± the shaman chewed on his words for a moment. ¡°He¡¯s extremely strong.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s it? He¡¯s extremely strong, so we¡¯re gonna do nothing and the war is already lost? Some treaty you have going on. Let¡¯s just crown him emperor right now, that¡¯ll fix it! Is that everything you know about him?¡± Edward leaned closer to the shaman. ¡°If that¡¯s all then I¡¯ll be on my way. You obviously have very little to tell me, besides ¡®Oh, we can¡¯t stop him.¡¯¡±

    He moved to get out of bed.

    ¡°Sit.¡± Edward felt a cane on his shoulder, blocking him from moving further. ¡°I¡¯m not finished.¡±

    Edward narrowed his eyes, but stopped, allowing the shaman to continue.

    ¡°What you saw was the charging part of the process. He gathers Rasts to power his ritual, stealing their power.¡±

    ¡°I already know that. Why else would it release so much energy? It¡¯s obvious that such a complex ritual would require a lot of energy.¡± He dismissed the shaman. Edward didn¡¯t know very much about magic and assumed he wouldn¡¯t know much until someone shoved it in his face. But even a simpleton could see that souls were obviously high-level magic.

    ¡°Sit.¡± The cane pushed harder on his shoulders, pushing him back down into the bed. ¡°I¡¯m still not finished.¡±

    ¡°No, I won¡¯t sit.¡± He knocked the cane from his shoulder and got up. ¡°That¡¯s the shittiest reason I¡¯ve ever heard. If that¡¯s all you have to say, then I¡¯m leaving. I¡¯ll be finding Thomas, Alive¡­ Or dead.¡±

    ¡°Sit. Down.¡± The cane pierced his shoulder, drawing blood. ¡°Listen to me very carefully. You might think I¡¯m on your side just because you¡¯re looking for someone who happens to be my apprentice. You¡¯re wrong. My responsibility is first and foremost to this village. If you try to leave one more time, I will kill you. You endanger everyone here if you go search for him without properly understanding what¡¯s going on. So, you will sit down, and let me finish what I¡¯m about to tell you.¡± The amount of bloodlust leaking from the shaman made his blood freeze. Amind screamed at him to not move, or he¡¯d take over himself. Giving Edward no say in what was going to happen next. He¡¯d never felt bloodlust before, but he instinctively knew that it was what he was feeling, even without Amind telling him.

    Edward¡¯s fists were clenched white. He knew the shaman was stronger than him, but he wouldn¡¯t give up on finding John, but he couldn¡¯t search for him if he was dead.

    Edward sat back down.

    The bloodlust slowly faded, but he could see it, feel it, simmer beneath the shaman¡¯s eyes.

    Edward glared at him, and politely spat out: ¡°Oh please, continue with what you were saying. I¡¯m sorry for interrupting you.¡±

    The shaman slowly pulled out the cane from his shoulder, wiped the blood on his sleeve, and carried on speaking:

    ¡°When in the container, he has, through a second artifact, full control over the body of the person. And as such, knows where they are at all times. Thomas has very likely lost his soul, so even if you take him from them, they¡¯ll know where he is, and he¡¯ll probably resist you.¡± That gave Edward a pause. Would he need to destroy the container, then?

    The shaman read Edward¡¯s mind and continued: ¡°He has several dozen containers for all the people he¡¯s abducted, you¡¯d have to either destroy all of them thereby giving the people their souls back, as they¡¯ll instinctively find their way back to their body. Or find the one he¡¯s in and destroy that one.¡±

    Edward sighed; he knew too little about magic. ¡°How would I find the one Thomas is in? I assume you have a way?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡±

    ¡°You did?¡± Edward felt his anger flare.

    ¡°Yeah, I did. Unfortunately, it¡¯s escaped.¡± The shaman said with a sigh.

    Edward thought for a moment. ¡°His bonded. The kid said it was gone. That¡¯s why he was sure Thomas was dead.¡± That meant he¡¯d have to destroy each and every pit. Then he might as well launch a full-scale attack against the warlord. He might be the protagonist, but he didn¡¯t see himself winning that. Especially because he wasn¡¯t trained in warfare.

    ¡°His bonded evolved. It destroyed the cage it was in.¡± He sighed regrettably. ¡°I¡¯d kept it there because it would¡¯ve run off on its own and get killed on the way there.¡±

    The shaman shook his head. ¡°It evolved to escape. The cage I kept it in was just a normal cage, so it easily tore it to pieces as a Rasts.¡± At some point during the conversation, he¡¯d stopped tapping his cane on the ground.

    ¡°Thomas¡¯ talent as a shaman was truly head and shoulders above any I¡¯ve ever seen. He may have become something unmatched. He could¡¯ve easily become the strongest shaman without even trying.¡± He digressed and looked sorrowfully out the window.

    ¡°Who knows if it made it there. Maybe it did. But someone definitely killed it when it reached him. It would¡¯ve rushed over to him to futilely attempt to protect him or attack the guards and get shot while doing that. I can only hope it died on the way.¡± If what the shaman said was true, then Edward could only hope it did, too.

    Edward darkly returned to the reality. ¡°That means¡­ I¡¯ll have to destroy all of the pits, doesn¡¯t it?¡±

    The shaman looked away from the window and faced Edward. ¡°It¡¯s not that simple. He doesn¡¯t just leave giant holes in the ground for everyone to find. He covers them. Seals the entire area so you can¡¯t know where it is. You¡¯ll have to dig up the entire clearing they¡¯re in to find them. And you can¡¯t rescue your brother before you¡¯ve destroyed all of them. They¡¯ll have his soul; you¡¯ll just be rescuing a walking corpse.

    Edward looked down at his hands. He didn¡¯t like the situation at all. It was like throwing a match into an ocean of gasoline. He¡¯d be the one to start the conflict. The shamans had maintained a stalemate so far. He¡¯d be destroying all of their efforts. He¡¯d do it. He¡¯d feel wretched about it. But he¡¯d do it.

    ¡°What is your point? Why are you saying all of this? Are you trying to stop me from waging war on the warlord by myself? Because you can¡¯t dissuade me like that.¡± Edward said bluntly. He couldn¡¯t lie and say he wouldn¡¯t pursue him; the shaman would see through it in an instant. It would be an insult to underestimate him that much.

    He shook his head at Edward¡¯s comment. ¡°No, I¡¯m not. I¡¯m just trying to get you to wait. Our preparations to attack are almost complete. You can search for your brother. If you¡¯re confident in your ability to protect him, you can even take him. But I¡¯m telling you to not attack the pits. We¡¯ll take care of that.¡±

    ¡°I- I got you something to drink, uh, sir.¡± A meek voice cut in.

    ¡°Ah, yes, thank you Nathan. Could you please hand it to Edward? He must be thirsty after being in a coma for 5 days.¡± The shaman changed his tone to lighten the mood while Nathan was there.

    ¡°Woah. Woah. Woah. I¡¯ve been what? In a coma for 5 days?¡± Edward asked incredulously.

    ¡°Well, yeah.¡± The shaman said, grinning. ¡°You would¡¯ve been in too much pain otherwise, so Amind kept you in a coma while you were recovering. He did wake up occasionally to eat, drink and go to the bathroom. He¡¯s been the best patient I ever had. Didn¡¯t even complain once.¡± His grin widened with each sentence.

    Damn traitor. I could handle a bit of pain.

    He didn¡¯t even know how to feel, because on one hand, the animal mind inside him had saved his life dozens of times. On the other, he could take control of his body if he didn¡¯t focus. Unless he focused 100% of his attention on gaining and remaining in control of his body, Amind could take over. Which basically meant all the time. Someone inside him could manipulate his movements whenever it wanted. Not a nice thought.

    Edward sighed in acceptance. Whatever, there were pros and cons to everything.

    ¡°So, when can I get out of here?¡± He asked, expecting to not like the answer.

    ¡°Whenever you like. Preferably now. I don¡¯t want you in my house anymore.¡± Nathan chuckled at the shaman¡¯s flat humour. Although Edward was only half-certain, he wasn¡¯t joking.

    With that pleasant surprise, Edward prepared to leave.

    He hadn¡¯t much to do, and they gave him everything he asked for to him free of charge. Perhaps, somewhere, the shaman did indeed hope that Edward would bring back his apprentice. Edward thought so, at least.

    His departure was quiet. The shaman said there was no reason for a large farewell, it would only increase their troubles.

    Only Nathan and the shaman came to say goodbye as he stepped through the gate with a small backpack of supplies and the map given to him by the shaman. Nathan sniffled the entire way. The shaman had mentioned something about Thomas and Nathan being best friends. Nathan, more than anyone else in the village, wished for Thomas to have a safe return.

    He¡¯d taken one step before he swung back around to the shaman and asked:

    ¡°I forgot to ask, what¡¯s this village even called? And which direction am I facing?¡±

    Nathan laughed at the sheer ridiculousness. The shaman simply shook his head and answered:

    ¡°Our village is called Kaina Village. You¡¯re facing north.¡±

    ¡°Alright, thanks.¡±

 Chapter 19: As-a-matter-of-fact

    ¡°The wisest Rasts agreed. It had stayed with him. His body was old. His face was wrinkled. His vision was fading. His hair was grey. And yet, he smiled. He had solved the riddle. He was given the virtue of wisdom. For many steps, they travelled. Back through the forests and mountains from which they came. Day and night. Without pause. They stopped. They were back at the abode of the Wisest Rasts.¡±

    ==========================================================================

    ¡°You can open your eyes, David! It¡¯s really cool!¡± John shouted at David over the sound of the wind whistling by the at a terrifying speed.

    David said nothing. In fact, he hadn¡¯t said anything since they took off. At which point he¡¯d screamed, ¡°I REGRET EVERYTHING. I WANNA GO BACK DOWN!¡± and closed his eyes tightly. John thought it hilarious. The face of sheer terror he made when they took off caused John to laugh nonstop. Really, he should be a comedian.

    John¡¯s eyes were glued to the ground below. The sheer beauty encapsulated him. Tall mountains, deep valleys. Mist covering the extremes of both. Equally large Rasts or Ba-Rasts flew by them, below and above them. Four-winged eagles, pterodactyls, and even some giant insects. All whizzing by at flying in different directions. The mountains and valleys were covered in trees. Forests covered everything the eye could see. Humongous tree occasionally grew tall above the treeline. Few mountainsides were completely bare, save for a covering of green grass. If he squinted, he could see four-legged animals graze there.

    They were making good time, if the sound of the wind was anything to go by. He doubted it would take long for them to reach the village David was talking about.

    He wasn¡¯t cold at all, even this high up. He could bury himself in the feathers he was clinging to. At which point the sound of the wind would disappear completely and the warmth of Birdie, as he¡¯d ingeniously named him, would make him sleepy with comfort.

    ¡°Thank you birdie, we¡¯re making great time because of you.¡± It was true. They¡¯d rested another day after they¡¯d met Birdie, at which point it had recovered enough to fly without straining itself. David frowned and said that it didn¡¯t make sense for it to recover that quickly, nor even get injured that badly in the first place. John didn¡¯t think too much of it though, he was just happy that Birdie recovered.

    Birdie flew with extreme grace; you¡¯d think his large bulk would hinder any fine movements he¡¯d try to make, as well as make take off and landing very difficult, but no. Birdie had simply spread his wings and with a few dozen beats of his wings, they¡¯d taken off and were high off the ground. The ride was smooth and comfy.

    Suddenly, a large flat area homed into view. It¡¯s as if the mountain and valleys decided to have a break in that area.

    John curiously looked at the area and smiled widely when he saw a circular clearing appear on the horizon. ¡°David! I think we¡¯re here! I see a circular clearing!¡± He turned to David, who refused to look. Hmm. ¡°Hey Birdie, do you think you can land? I need to know if that¡¯s where we¡¯re heading, but David is too afraid to open his eyes.¡± He patted the large Ba-Rasts gently, at which point he dived towards the nearest mountain. John laughed in excitement as he felt his stomach fly up into his chest and blood rush to his head. ¡°WE¡¯RE ALL GONNA DIE!¡± is all he heard from David.

    Birdie landed gracefully, such that John barely felt them even land, but the sound of the air being displaced in large volumes from Birdie beating its wings was unmistakable.

    ¡°Hey David.¡± John said much more quietly now that the wind wasn¡¯t whistling by. ¡°We¡¯re on the ground now. You can open your eyes. I need to know if that¡¯s the village we¡¯re heading to.¡±

    David was shaking when he hesitantly opened his eyes. He immediately leapt from Birdie onto the ground. ¡°WE¡¯RE ALIVE! THANK GOODNESS WE¡¯RE ALIVE!¡±

    ¡°David! Is that the village we¡¯re heading to?¡± John interrupted David as he was smothering himself into the dirt, as if he wanted to fuse with it.

    He abruptly stood and looked in the direction John pointed. He smiled widely. ¡°Yes! That¡¯s it! It¡¯s only a short walking distance from here. I reckon we can make it in about 3 hours! Thomas, let¡¯s get them off, help me untie the rope.- ¡°¡°-Or we can fly there in no time at all.- ¡°¡°-I¡¯m so happ- Wait what? No, no, no. I won¡¯t climb back up on that monstrosity.¡±

    ¡°Then don¡¯t. Birdie can carry you with her claws.¡±

    ¡°NO NO NO NOOOOOOoooooooo¡­..¡± David¡¯s positive reply turned into incoherent screaming as Birdie gently grabbed him as he tried to flee. John looked down to see him frothing at the mouth in excitement before he fell limp.

    ¡°Let¡¯s hope he doesn¡¯t remember this part of the journey, right Birdie?¡± John giggled.

    The village swiftly came into view. From above, it looked wondrous. Tiny children running around, and villagers working on their farms. John elected to land close to the edge of the clearing, away from any people, lest they attack them.

    Their arrival most certainly didn¡¯t go unnoticed, and it was mere moments after they¡¯d landed that they saw a huge bison-like Ba-Rasts charge at them from the village.

    John waved at it. ¡°Look, it¡¯s a bison! They¡¯re coming to say hello! How nice of them.¡± He smiled, touched at their welcoming.

    John turned around when David didn¡¯t respond and frowned when he saw him sleeping on the ground. ¡°Oi! David.¡± He turned him over and slapped him in the face.

    ¡°We¡¯re here, wake up sleepyhead.¡± He stirred and lazily opened his eyes.

    ¡°Wha- We¡¯re here?¡± He shook himself to wakefulness at the words.

    ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re even welcoming us. A bison like Ba-Rasts is charging at us right now. I wonder if I they¡¯ll let me ride him.¡±

    He jumped up. ¡°What!?¡± His eyes soon located the charging beast, and he paled.

    ¡°Quick! Make Birdie stay in the air! The shaman thinks he¡¯s a wild Ba-Rasts!¡±

    ¡°Oh. So that¡¯s why the bison is charging this way. Oh well, Birdie, could you please flying in the air for a while, I think you¡¯re scaring them. Don¡¯t worry though! I¡¯ll convince them you¡¯re just the best!¡±

    David jumped up to free the unconscious patients before Birdie took off with a burst of air.

    The bison slowly decelerated when Birdie took off. It stopped briefly, about to turn around, but then it saw them and ran at them. Thomas was sure it was running and not charging, as it didn¡¯t feel angry anymore, just curious.

    He stared at it in wonder as it approached. Looking more and more magnificent and dignified the closer it got.

    ¡°Hello! My name is Thomas, what¡¯s your?¡± He said to the bison when it stopped in front of him.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    ¡°Korleon? That¡¯s a good name!¡± He walked up to pat it, but didn¡¯t even reach up to its knee.

    ¡°David? Is that you?¡± A figure jumped off Korleon, rushing over to David.

    ¡°Master, it¡¯s good to see you.¡± David said rather tensely.

    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you too, but what brings you back here? I¡¯d expect you to stay indefinitely in the army since you claimed so boisterously to never come back.¡± The figure said flatly, clearly unamused by his sudden appearance.

    David cringed. ¡°Yeah, about that¡­ I got sidetracked a little bit. I need your help. I have my sister. She¡¯s in a coma. And I think I know why, but I don¡¯t know how to wake her up again.¡±

    John saw the figure flinch as he was walking over to join their chat.

    The figure paused for a moment at David¡¯s statement but then said flatly: ¡°You¡¯re a deserter.¡±

    ¡°I am. I deserted with someone else, and we went searching for our siblings. I don¡¯t regret it. I want to know if you can wake up my sister and the other 2.¡±

    ¡°¡­ I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡± He turned around to face Thomas. ¡°And who is this?¡±

    John looked straight ahead at the short figure in front of him. He looked old and had bright green tattoos on his forehead. Dressed in nice brown robes.

    He took a deep breath and said: ¡°Hello! My name is Thomas Smith. I was a slave together with the other 3, but I¡¯m not in a coma for some reason. They abandoned us at a mine, so I took care of them until David came along.¡±

    ¡°Hello, my name is Tumalt, but everyone just calls me shaman. Thomas Smith, you say? That¡¯s quite an unusual name. Hmm¡­ You look quite a lot like someone else with the same last name.¡±

    ¡°He is Edward¡¯s brother. He¡¯s the one who deserted with me.¡±

    Tumalt swing his head to David so quickly Thomas thought it was going to snap off. ¡°You convinced Edward Smith to desert the army? With you?!¡±

    David smirked and said: ¡°Actually it was the other way around, he convinced me to desert with him.¡±

    Tumalt stared at David for a moment before shaking his head. ¡°We¡¯ll talk about that later.¡±

    ¡°Can Birdie come down now? He¡¯s been circling in the air for a while now. He¡¯s been so nice to fly us all the way here, but David said you might attack him, so he had to stay in the air.¡±

    ¡°Birdie?¡± Tumalt looked at John in confusion. ¡°The Ba-Rasts.¡± David quipped.

    ¡°You got a Ba-Rasts to fly you all the way here from wherever you were?¡± He asked David. The sheer impossibility of it was obvious in the shaman¡¯s voice.

    He shook his head. ¡°No, Thomas convinced it to.¡±

    ¡°Right¡­ Let¡¯s take this conversation somewhere else. This isn¡¯t the ideal place to have it.¡±

    ¡°Can I ride Korleon back to the village, please? Please? He looks so cool!¡± Tumalt¡¯s gaze flicked quizzically to David, who once again shook his head.

    ¡°¡­ Yes, you can, if he wants to.¡±

    That was all the encouragement John needed, as he rushed over to the bison lying quietly over to the side. He excitedly grabbed onto the fur and tried to pull himself up. His arms pulled and pulled, but he never left the ground. He was too weak.

    He then said to the bison. ¡°I¡¯m not strong enough to pull myself up. Do you know how I can get on you?¡±

    The bison told him to stand back, and the bison rolled to the side so he wouldn¡¯t have to pull himself up, but merely hang on while it righted itself.

    He laughed as he once again towered over the ground. She had to be at least 5 meters tall and with mighty horns that practically shined with health and vitality.

    The shaman and David deftly helped the coma patients up on the bison and she took off in a hurry.

    The ride was surprisingly stable. Even though they could see the fields and landscape shooting by them, they barely felt it. It hadn¡¯t been more than 2 minutes from the wall to the village centre, which was occupied by a large house. The shaman¡¯s John presumed.

    Beside the house was an even larger barn, with doors that looked like they were 3 sizes too large. They were at least 6 metres tall. That had to be for the Bison, John thought as he looked in wonder at his surroundings. The village was even more beautiful up close. Buildings stood proudly. They were painted various bright colours, with pointy roofs, so each house had its only little tower to look out from. All of them had large windows in various shapes that pleased the eyes.

    John was helped off the bison as they carried the patients inside and placed them on what looked a bit like hospital beds that stood side by side.

    John waved goodbye to Korleon as they all took their seats inside, sitting around a round wooden table.

    ¡°So,¡± the shaman opened up. ¡°Why don¡¯t you start by telling me what you¡¯ve both experienced, so I can properly piece up why you two are speaking in ridiculous feats and impossibilities.¡±

    David started his tale of him deserting the army with Edward and making their way to the warlord¡¯s fortress. They found it almost empty save for a Rasts gathering operation and witnessed some kind of sacrificial ritual the warlord conducted. They were discovered and got separated while fleeing. David then backtracked and went to the northern road, where he found Thomas.

    Thomas then excitedly started telling his side of the story and explained in great detail how he failed to rescue the slaves that had fallen into a coma.

    ¡°And when I collapsed, my friend Stoat few me some yellow berries called cloudberries and-¡±

    ¡°-Cloudberries? As in Cloudberry? David?¡± The shaman interrupted John¡¯s story.

    He sighed. ¡°Yeah. His bonded fed him cloudberries to keep him stable.¡±

    ¡°His bonded?¡±

    ¡°Thomas, could you call for Stoat?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t have to, he¡¯s right there.¡± He said and pointed to the doorway.

    Stealthily hidden just behind the wall, a small stoat stepped out. It went on all fours and quietly made its way to Thomas and then curled up in his lap.

    ¡°This is my companion, Stoat.¡± He said and caressed him gently.

    ¡°Bu- But that¡¯s a Ba-Rasts! He¡¯s a child no more than 10, and his bonded is a Ba-Rasts?!¡± The shaman shook at the revelation. ¡°And it fed him cloudberries!?¡±

    ¡°So, can you tell me why you both react like that? I¡¯m curious. Both of you yell at my companion when you find out he fed me cloudberries. Why is it such a big deal?¡±

    The shaman and David shared a look. David locked eyes with John. ¡°It¡¯s a drug. Some people find it very addictive.¡±

    ¡°Oh. That¡¯s not good. What are its effects?¡±

    ¡°Its effects are like your mind being out of your current circumstances. Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s weird you¡¯re so unaffected by the death of almost 50 people. You were so desperate to save them you practically destroyed your own body to get only 3 people out of the mine. And in the next moment you¡¯re relaxing and watching the sunset?¡±

    ¡°Ahh, I thought I was just coping, but that makes a lot more sense. Does that mean I can¡¯t eat cloud berries anymore?¡±

    David sighed. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±

    ¡°Why not? It¡¯s a drug, isn¡¯t it? Drugs are bad for the most part.¡±

    ¡°The question isn¡¯t whether or not you should eat them, it¡¯s whether you can stop. People who eat cloudberries are not physically, but mentally addicted to cloudberries. It makes everything better. Lots of people that can¡¯t face reality eat them.¡±

    ¡°How long has he been eating them, David?¡± The shaman quipped.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know, more than a week, less than two.¡±

    ¡°Why does that matter? Does the detox get worse the longer you take them?¡±

    ¡°It stops you from feeling the pain of reality, but it accumulates. It¡¯s hard to quit, because it gets a lot worse. The pain you feel isn¡¯t just from that moment, it¡¯s the continuous pain from everyday you¡¯ve been under its effects. Sometimes people die when they stop. Not because the berries themselves do anything, but because the pain, both emotional and physical, is so bad that you heart stops. Or in some cases¡­ You stop the pain yourself, permanently.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s not good. Can I still stop?¡±

    ¡°I could¡¯ve stopped you from eating them since we met. But I don¡¯t know if you¡¯re strong enough to face it. You might start eating them again the moment our backs are turned, just to make the pain stop. That¡¯s how it gets to you.¡±

    John tapped his chin in deep thought. ¡°Lock me in a room for however long it takes. I can handle it. I¡¯m plenty strong.¡± He flexed his arms.

    ¡°Once you start, you can¡¯t stop the process. Any pain numbing drugs will simply complicate it further. You¡¯re completely on your own.¡± The shaman said after a moment of thought.

    ¡°I do have a room that could be used¡­ But you mustn¡¯t take your bond with you. It might take pity on you and give you cloudberries in your moment of weakness.¡±

    ¡°Stoat, did you catch that? I¡¯ll see you in a couple of days or weeks. Hmm? No, don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll be fine.¡±

    ¡°That is a good point, though. Could I get some now clothes? And a bath, perhaps? I¡¯ve been wearing this for too long.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m sure I can find some somewhere. I¡¯ll need to check up on our patients first. David, I need your theories. You were always good at those. I¡¯ll take you to where you¡¯ll be, but it won¡¯t be the prettiest place and you¡¯ll probably hate it even before the cloudberries lose their effect.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m strong. I can handle it! Oh! Before I forget! Birdie hasn¡¯t heard from me yet. Can I tell him to land here, or would that scare the villagers too much?¡±

    ¡°Yes, but it¡¯s better if he stays on the outskirts, it might frighten the villagers.¡±

    Thomas closed his eyes for a second and then smiled. ¡°Done.¡±

    The shaman had tried throughout the entire story to not let the bafflement he was feeling show. He had two Ba-Rasts following him around. That didn¡¯t logically make sense. He himself was quite an accomplished shaman, and it was only recently his bonded had evolved into a Ba-Rasts. The boy was far more dangerous than he knew. The more worrying part was the green jewel that had been uncovered in the mine. What was it? He¡¯d have to make a trip to the council to inform them of the recent development.

    They quickly gathered some better clothes for John, which, if compared to his previous outfit, could be practically anything.

    He unabashedly jumped into a tub that was heated for him and thoroughly soaked himself to let the heat permeate deep into his bones, before scrubbing himself clean of any dirt and debris.

    By the time he got out of the tub, he looked completely different. Although still very skinny, he¡¯d at least look somewhat presentable if he wore the right clothing. The only thing he was missing was a haircut to complete the makeover.

    The shaman gave him a hearty meal and a nice rest before his detox would begin the next morning. And, although they¡¯d told him it was going to be the worst experience of his life by far, he was still excited in a way. He had been feeling a bit unnatural since he ate the first berry, so it might be just the thing he was looking for.

    He¡¯d slept like a log, feeling sleepy even after sleeping from the evening till the afternoon. He wandered into the patient room to see the shaman and David in a heated argument.

    ¡°You put the entire army in danger! How irresponsible can you be! I shouldn¡¯t have taught you to begin with!¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s why I quit! I won¡¯t sacrifice my sister for the village. You pushed that responsibility on me without asking!¡±

    ¡°You had a choice!¡± The shaman stated angrily.

    ¡°No! I didn¡¯t! No one told me the consequences and responsibilities of a shaman. Everyone said it was an honour! I was 5! How was I supposed to know! I wasn¡¯t ready!¡± He screamed at the shaman. The argument was taking place just above his comatose sister, and by their flushed faces and furious insults, they¡¯d been at it for a while.

    ¡°Hello! I can see you¡¯re both speaking with entirely different values, so let me help! You, Tumalt, value the village above all else, as you should. But David values his sister over the village, which he should as a brother. David feels betrayed because he thinks he¡¯s being forced into changing that value.¡± He didn¡¯t flinch in the slightest as the two very intense stares landed on him.

    ¡°Tumalt may or may not have had siblings, and there are 2 possibilities, either he made a different choice at the same impasse you¡¯re facing David, prioritising the village over his family, or he never had to make the same choice you did, so he can¡¯t understand how you¡¯re feeling.¡±

    ¡°David also feels constricted, because from what I heard he¡¯s been groomed to be a shaman since he was 5, he¡¯s hurt that he went against what he¡¯s been trained for since he was young, and, as such, will be very sensitive to any mentioning of that subject.¡± John said as-a-matter-factly.

 Chapter 20: Bad luck

    ¡°Upon arriving, he was handed a box. It had a lid, but no lock. He felt something inside it. He shook the box. He could hear something. ¡®Inside the box¡¯ The Wisest Rasts spoke. ¡®Is the knowledge which you seek.¡¯ Before the Wisest Rasts went to sleep he said: ¡®But you must not open it.¡¯¡±

    ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    ¡°Do you think he¡¯s going to be alright?¡± I said, watching Thomas¡¯ sleeping figure. He was breathing irregularly and sweating heavily, shivering despite being indoors.

    ¡°There¡¯s no way to tell. We¡¯ll find out when it¡¯s out of his system. Either it¡¯ll haunt him for the rest of his life or make a complete recovery.¡± The shaman answered emotionlessly.

    ¡°In the meantime, gather the materials for the ritual. You¡¯re already aware of what I need. I trust you¡¯ll have it ready by then.¡± He added.

    I gave one last worried and pitiful look at Thomas, who was no doubt going through hell. Such a young boy, and yet¡­ People affected by cloud berries were strong enough to resist its effects or not. There was no such thing as taking cloudberries in moderation. If you fell into its clutches after detoxing once, you¡¯d die if you ever stopped taking them.

    No one knew why, but it was a hard rule. They died horribly and in pain.

    I stopped that train of thought. It would not do Sandra any good if I delayed my departure. I quickly gathered my supplies and prepared to set off into the forest.

    Just before I hit the gate, I noticed Stoat standing by the roadside.

    ¡°What? you want to come with me?¡± I said, staring down at him. He nodded back.

    I shrugged, ¡°Alright, hop on¡­ Or you can walk.¡± Before I¡¯d finished my sentence, Stoat had already dashed through the gate and waited for me on the outside.

    I nodded to the two guards that were on shift, who waved back congenially. Armed with short swords and shields, rifles weren¡¯t the weapon of choice out here.

    ¡°So, we need ashfern seeds, laogai leaves, and dire-blood. I don¡¯t know how much Thomas taught you, or if his shaman did. Do you need me to explain everything?¡± I said, as I followed him through the gate. Stoat nodded again.

    ¡°You remember the ashfern tree, right? We¡¯ll the legend about them only growing on dead Rasts, is, according to the shaman, only partly true. They just need a lot of energy to grow, so dead Rasts and Ba-Rasts are excellent sources. You can only find their seeds. They look like large acorns, should be easy to spot if you can climb up to its branches.¡±

    I tried to channel my inner teacher, despite my apprentice being someone else¡¯s bonded. ¡°Laogai leaves, also ridiculously rare, grow upside down, so you need to find a cliff overhang and search from there. A cliff overhang is quite rare, but laogai plants are almost always there if you find where they grow. And dire-blood should be pretty self-explanatory, just blood from a dire-variant Rasts.¡±

    ¡°Now then, wanna travel together or do you want to split up to cover more ground?¡± Again, Stoat dashed out of view before I¡¯d completely finished my sentence. How, when, where, and why are we going to meet up again? Ugh. Just roll with it.

    As I wandered farther and farther away from the walls, I slowly lost my relaxed stroll. This was quite far north, so Ba-Rasts weren¡¯t as uncommon as they were closer to the centre. I¡¯m still really surprised we didn¡¯t encounter any Ba-Rasts on the way to the fortress.

    The dense forestry was still as annoying as ever. I wish it was like with the cities. Why can¡¯t we just cut down the underbrush? Sure, we¡¯ll lose some herbs and species here and there, but then we can just wander farther out to get them. We also get the extra added benefit of increasing visibility to some extent; we¡¯ll be able to defend more effectively against Rasts¡­ Maybe I should propose that to the shaman? He¡¯ll probably delight because I¡¯m taking initiative? I mean, his bonded isn¡¯t that agile and often has trouble moving between villages, despite its size.

    I mean, except for the enchanted roads which only people that know of them and know how to ignore illusions, the roads between us and the closest village are ridiculously bad. I remember hearing it took them 3 weeks to find us for conscription¡­ Man; it is kind of terrible how poor communication between all the villages is. I¡¯m pretty sure there are several villages that aren¡¯t even on the map and avoided conscription by pure obscurity. The roads between cities though¡­ Why can¡¯t we just build them between every village? I never even knew about them till I joined the militia, but now I think about them a lot.

    A roar in the distance brought me out of my musings, and I was briefly on guard for any potential attack, but I shook my head when I realised it¡¯s probably just Stoat ending some poor Rasts¡¯ life. How is he going to gather the dire-blood though? Oh well, either he¡¯ll find me to gather it for him, or I¡¯ll stumble upon a Rasts myself.

    ¡°The laogai leaves where somewhere in the eastern area¡­ Or was it north-eastern?¡± I mumbled to myself out loud. I took out my compass and adjusted my direction. It was probably going to take a while either way. I wasn¡¯t a shaman, so the forest didn¡¯t talk back to me. That ability would¡¯ve been quite nice¡­ Why is it you only gain it after you become the shaman? I mean, that¡¯s not how shamanism works¡­ inheritable, perhaps? The shaman passes it on before he steps down, maybe? No, there have been plenty of times where the shaman died unexpectedly, so that¡¯s off the table.

    I still wish I was an apprentice, sometimes. Then again, the burden is too large for someone like me. I¡¯d never be able to carry that responsibility, I just know it.

    I have to meet up with him, too. Metralia¡­ That¡¯s a long way from here. We never discussed how long we¡¯ll wait for each other so I might have to hurry. Do I have to leave Thomas here? They¡¯re searching for each other, but I don¡¯t know what Edward will do if he sees his brother like that. He seemed quite obsessed with Thomas; I can only hope he¡¯ll have recovered by the time we meet up.

    Finally arriving at the cliff where the laogai leaves are, I see them sneakily hanging freely in the air, their roots buried in the rock above. I¡¯ll have to climb up to gather them.

    I easily started the climb, deftly grabbing hold of protrusions in the mountainside, and the occasional plant whose roots stubbornly clung to the rock, allowing me to carefully hoist myself up.

    The climb itself went famously; in record time, I was hanging by my arms under the overhang gently plucking a few leaves from the laogai plants. Humming happily to myself and enjoying the 300 metre drop below me, quite the view, if you ask me. Once you get over the instinctual fear of falling, that is.

    I nearly lost my grip when a snake appeared out of nowhere. It bit my left hand, injecting it full of venom. It quickly travelled down from my hand and paralyzed my entire arm. Instantly, my situation had gone from relaxing to dire.

    I was strong enough to hang from one arm without too much trouble, even with the terrible grip I had, but it wasn¡¯t finished with me. It tried to go for my other hand, but I barely dodged it with a one-armed swing, and for a split-second, touching nothing but air.

    The snake somehow had no problem moving around, despite it not having any limbs. My full attention was on it as it approached me. The tribal tattoos were an obvious clue, Rasts. I go into combat mode, and I quickly think what its magical ability could be, going through every discovered variant I can think of.

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    ¡®Not venom. It would paralyse a lot more than just my left arm with the first bite. Stealth? I didn¡¯t detect it at all until it attacked, possible. Transformation? No.¡¯

    It lunged at me repeatedly, forcing me to recklessly swing back and forth between holds to dodge. A drop of this height will almost certainly kill me, so I had to either climb up on the cliff or kill it.

    I was lucky and got a good hold, pulling myself further up so I could use my legs to defend. It hissed in anger as I desperately defended myself.

    ¡®This won¡¯t work. It¡¯ll outlast me.¡¯ I thought to myself, feeling the innate fear of heights slowly creeping back, insistingly destabilising my rational thinking.

    Despite its repeated attacks, it showed no sign of slowing down or changing its tactics. So, its magical ability had to be passive, or else it would have changed its approach by now. Active abilities made the Rasts more intelligent.

    A new variant ability, rare but not unheard of. It¡¯s not physical, but magical. There aren¡¯t any distinct features beside the Tattoos.

    I flinched when it caught my right leg and instantly felt it become paralyzed. Thankfully, like with the hand, the venom had spread little from its initial point of injection. ¡®It¡¯s now or never.¡¯ I couldn¡¯t climb up; it would doubtlessly follow me. I had to defeat it somehow.

    I swung to another hold to create some distance, feeling slightly sluggish. I barely held on as I rocked back and forth, preparing to jump on it. Feeling my heart leap up into my throat as I went flying towards it.

    With my right arm, I grabbed my paralyzed left and held it in front of me, hoping it would target it.

    It did. It didn¡¯t let go, but again injected venom into my arm, which did nothing at all. I locked my other arm around it and clenched myself around its head so it couldn¡¯t attack me, simultaneously locking my left leg around it. It violently trashed around at my hold, smashing me up into the rock above, the sharp rocks easily drawing blood.

    I hung on tightly, not allowing myself to let go. It couldn¡¯t attack me directly, but I similarly could not harm it at all.

    ¡®I didn¡¯t really think this through. What the hell am I gonna do now?¡¯ I thought, as it trashed me against the rocks.

    Turns out, the cliff decided for me. With only a large *Crack* as a warning, I suddenly found myself free-falling half-paralyzed, fighting for my life against a Rasts. The cliff above had broken off by me being smacked against it.

    The Rasts also seemed to be aware of our current predicament as it redoubled its efforts to get rid of me. I didn¡¯t even have time to consider my options, but I simply elected to let go, and let it fling me away from the falling rubble.

    The lack of something to hold on to disoriented me, as I twisted and turned in the air, and only had a few seconds till gravity helped me down.

    With a last-ditch effort, I curled up into a ball and waited for the ground to hit, hoping it didn¡¯t kill me on the spot.

    It didn¡¯t.

    In my disoriented state, I had no way to see that I¡¯d been flung into, not away from, the mountainside. I smashed against it like boulders falling from a rockslide, bouncing pathetically against it several times like a human meatball, and with a final loud thud smacked against the earth. The bounces having slowed me down enough that I could barely maintain consciousness throughout all of it.

    When I finally landed on the ground with my back to the ground, I groaned unintentionally. Not having much energy to do anything else. Trying my best to take stock of my injuries, I concluded that I was almost helpless. Easy prey for any predator that was nearby. I suspect the loud noises had scared them off temporarily, allowing me a brief window of reprieve. They¡¯d be back later to investigate further, though.

    It wasn¡¯t without quite a lot of effort that I sat up. Giving me a glimpse of the cliff above, or more accurately, the lack of one. The entire overhang had fallen off, simply looking like a pencil with a broken tip. It was more than just the cliff that fell; it was its supporting structure too. What was once an overhanging cliff now looked like a badly cut slope.

    ¡°Serves it right, damn Rasts. Picking a fight with me was a mistake.¡± I groaned again, trying to get back some of my pride. Despite the unfavourable terrain, a Rasts had almost killed me. A normal Rasts. That¡¯d make for an excellent story, no doubt.

    I stared at the bright sky for several minutes as I collected myself, hoping the venom would recede at least a little. It didn¡¯t.

    Whatever venom the snake had, it didn¡¯t spread much. Paralysing everything around the point of injection and was possibly long lasting. I couldn¡¯t feel any difference from when it bit me. Unfortunately, as the adrenaline receded, the pain from my left leg that I¡¯d broken on my way down muddled my thoughts. I hadn¡¯t broken it too badly, something that would heal on its own given time. Although I was effectively out for a few days; I¡¯d have to recuperate out here.

    I still had my satchel, which I¡¯d stuffed with food for several days, just in case.

    Taking stock of my situation, I sighed. Where was Edward when you need him? That monster could¡¯ve crushed the Rasts with his bare fists.

    The pain was quite bad, but I¡¯ve experienced worse. Still, the injuries weren¡¯t only external, I can definitely feel some cracked ribs. Damn snake.

    I dragged myself with my only remaining functional limb into a nearby bush and collapsed into unconsciousness.

    ***

    I¡¯d barely stirred before something shocked me into wakefulness. Suddenly overwhelmed with sensations of pain and soreness. Every trace of fatigue disappeared in an instant. I groaned in pain as I gently crawled out of the bush I¡¯d slept in. I did not know how long I¡¯d been unconscious. My paralysed right leg and left arm told me it was good while, as the venom had receded a bit. The sun was also up, so I¡¯d either only been unconscious for a brief period, or been there for an entire night.

    My left leg was throbbing. I leaned against a nearby tree to inspect it further and saw my shin had been completely broken. It hadn¡¯t been an open break, so I wasn¡¯t bleeding, but I could see it was bent slightly. A large blue and yellow bulge occupied almost the entirety of my shin; it had swelled enormously during my unscheduled nap.

    There was no way to get around it. I¡¯d have to heal it if I had any plans to get the materials within the next week.

    I broke off a few branches of the nearest tree and crawled into the bush again. I¡¯d have to hope it was a clean break and simply correct the leg myself.

    I swiftly dug a hole with my hands in the tough dirt, deep enough for my entire foot and lower shin, stopping exactly where the break was. Carefully putting my foot in the hole and covering it up to lock in place.

    My leg was extremely sensitive to any movement, so I had to pause several times to readjust my focus. I carefully squished the dirt into the hole to make it even harder to move my leg, lest I have to do it more than once.

    I breathed deeply to contain myself, knowing the pain I was about to experience. I took a bandage out of my satchel and stuffed in my mouth, so I wouldn¡¯t make any noise when I inevitably moaned in pain.

    ¡®Okay, breathe in, breathe out, calm. CALM. Relax. And GO!¡¯ I violently twisted my leg, felt it snap into place, and a thunder of pain spawned like lightning, and I was out again.

    ***

    ¡®That sucks, every time. You never get used to it, ever.¡¯ I flinched as I sat up too quickly and agitated my leg.

    The venom had receded little whilst I was napping, so I wasn¡¯t out for long. I probably wouldn¡¯t have to treat it, and I could depend on my natural regeneration. Although if I needed all my limbs in a hurry, I¡¯d have to use that. I grimaced at the thought.

    The swelling on my leg had gone down. I could feel now that the break wasn¡¯t completely clean. The bone fragments that broke off were being pulled into place or reabsorbed and regrown. It would take longer to heal, but I¡¯d manage.

    It was still tender, so I winced and grimaced while I was digging it back out, often taking breaks to not pass out. I had fixed it, and it would be fine with time. I just had to take care I didn¡¯t damage it again. My body could only handle so much.

    This quick trip had obviously turned out to be longer than planned. Who knows, maybe Stoat finds me and carries me to the village, so I can properly treat myself, but I dismissed the thought after a moment with a shake of my head. It wouldn¡¯t work, it would take too long. I¡¯d have to recover while on the move. The laogai leaves I gathered wouldn¡¯t last, and I don¡¯t know where else to harvest them. I¡¯ll have to gather the dire-blood and the ashfern seeds before I go to the village.

    The trip to the cliff had taken around a day or so, but the trip back would likely be double that, depending on where I gathered the last ingredient. I needed to be efficient about gathering the other 2 to materials. The leaves spoil in around 3 days. So I have 2 days to find dire-blood and ashfern leaves. Dire-blood is the easiest to find, so I¡¯ll save the for last. Ashfern seeds¡­ The closest tree is normally one day away, now though¡­

    I shook my head again trying to shake off some of the doubt I was feeling. Worrying wouldn¡¯t do much good. I immediately started crawling through the underbrush. Hopefully, I¡¯d dodge all the predators this way.

    My slow crawl continued until nightfall, at which I simply lied down and promptly fell asleep. Any available energy went to regenerate my leg and expel the rest of the venom.

    I woke up at sunrise, and the night had done well for my leg and removed most of the venom from the affected area, only feeling slightly numb and sluggish. So I could walk with a limp instead of crawl, drastically increasing my speed.

    I was sure that I was heading in the right direction, but I couldn¡¯t climb the trees because of the lack of branches. Climbable trees weren¡¯t as common as the city folk would have you believe. I had no way of knowing how close I was. I could only estimate based on small glimpses I had of the surrounding mountains.

    Stoat had run off to who-knows-where. He¡¯d immediately left my sight the moment we exited the village. It only reaffirmed my suspicion that he wasn¡¯t a normal bonded. If a bonded at all.

    Something about the little furred creature made me feel unsafe around him. Barring his decision to give Thomas cloudberries, which was still a mystery, he just didn¡¯t feel like a bonded. I got chills every time we locked eyes. It was like looking at a predator. Which made little sense, bonded relinquished their predatory instincts when they became a bonded. Or at least, enough of them you didn¡¯t feel threatened in their presence.

    It didn¡¯t make sense to me. His actions don¡¯t fit a wild Rasts nor a bonded make sense. He¡¯s Thomas¡¯ bonded, that much is obvious, otherwise he¡¯d just have left him to die, but why doesn¡¯t he act like it?

    ***

    The second morning I finally glimpsed the ashfern tree I was looking for, having foregone sleep in order to make it. Barring my love for a good night''s sleep, I was beyond exhausted. Especially when you¡¯re heavily injured, with a broken leg and cracked ribs.

    Despite my musings and doubts, I¡¯d made it to the tree.

    It sucked, but I pushed through, ignoring the harm this might do in the long term. The shaman could fix up any damage I might cause myself, especially with my special constitution. Probably.

    The sacrifice might¡¯ve been for nothing, because when I finally arrive at the ashfern tree, it¡¯s surrounded by Rasts. All different species and variants.

    What?

    ¡°What?¡± I say to myself in bewilderment.

    The ashfern tree was in a small valley. It had swallowed up almost every other plant and tree in its surroundings, so the area turned into a small clearing. The combination of the two factors gave me the perfect vantage point, so I didn¡¯t immediately rush into my death.

    ¡®What the hell is going on here?¡¯ I thought to myself. I couldn¡¯t creep any closer for fear of being spotted. At least one of the Rasts was bound to have a sensory ability. Even though it was quite rare, there were at least 4 dozen Rasts.

    This was an unusual amount of Rasts, even this far north. Ashfern trees, and even most plants, were conventionally useless to Rasts barring the herbivores. Airborne Rasts or those that were good at climbing like monkeys and squirrels might use them as a nesting area.

    I squinted to see if I could spot anyone at the top of the tree. Except for the usual grey bark and sliver leaves, there was nothing abnormal.

    Unless¡­

    I sat down and focused energy on my eyes. The bright glare that erupted from the ashfern tree told me my hunch was right.

    It was evolving.

    Fuck.

 Chapter 21: (Un)expected Reactions

    ¡°He was stumped. What was he to do? He had the box. He could walk away. He could sneak a peek. And it would never know. He would stop at nothing. Spare no effort. Yet he did not know what he should do. He sat. He thought. He mulled. He contemplated. He did not find an answer.¡±

    --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

    ¡®Fucking piece of shit tree, why now?¡¯ I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white at the thought and furiously glared at the ashfern tree standing in the clearing.

    The Rasts were getting rowdy, shuffling and pushing each other to get closer to the tree. All of them looking up, waiting for the seeds to fall. My hope slowly drained out of me as their excitement rose.

    ¡®Fucking Rasts. Why now?¡¯

    The researcher inside me was ecstatic at the opportunity to observe an evolution. If the previous observations were anything to go on, he was about to witness something truly fantastic. The shaman had seen plant-life evolve before, and according to him, it was nothing like seeing a Rasts evolve.

    My arms lost all their tension, and I collapsed against the tree behind me. No matter how I looked at it, I wouldn¡¯t get any of the seeds. All of them would drop, and all of them would get devoured. There were still more Rasts gathering as the evolution edged closer. The emanating energy escalated in intensity, coalescing into tiny dots at the top of the tree.

    I saw several dozen latecomers arrive from all around, preparing for the bloody fight that was to come.

    There were almost 200 Rasts when I finally saw green light shine from the tree, even without energy vision. Sharp beams erupted from the trunk in cracks where bark was thinner, as if the light within was trying to escape.

    You could practically feel the tension in the air. All the Rasts were restlessly shuffling about. The moment they dropped; the bloodbath would begin.

    I stood up and limped towards the ashfern tree. My sister won¡¯t die like that. She has her entire future ahead of her. I could¡¯ve been there. I can¡¯t fail her. Not again. When she woke up, I could apologize to her, and take any blame she may throw at me.

    I steadily approached the clearing, burying my bitterness and putting on a solemn face instead, hoping it might make it easier. It didn¡¯t.

    The tension almost turned tangible, like wading through mud. The energy from the gathered Rasts was like a pressure on your consciousness, threatening to make you pass out.

    I turned as quiet as possible, attracting unwanted attention might kill me.

    The tension finally reached its peak as the green light beams faded in strength and disappeared from the bottom first.

    I sighed and gathered my energy for incoming fight, even preparing that. It didn¡¯t matter how much I disliked it; Sandra came first. I¡¯d die before I gave up.

    Some Rasts turned to me as they noticed the no doubt massive gathering of energy. I mentally shrank even more under the increased pressure, but didn¡¯t stop.

    I pulled out my knife, hoping to get some use out of it before I had to activate that.

    They flinched.

    All the Rasts suddenly fell still. Not even a peep or grunt. They ignored me entirely, as if I wasn¡¯t there. They even lost interest in the almost evolved tree and turned to face something to my left. Warily staring at whatever they were sensing.

    The sudden disinterest in me left me stunned. I swung my head to see what they were staring at, but I couldn¡¯t see anything.

    No, wait, something small quietly waltzed out of the underbrush. I stared at it in complete and utter shock when I finally saw who it was.

    Stoat.

    ¡®Where has he been?¡¯ Was the first thought that popped into my mind, followed by: ¡®What is he doing to cause all of them to fall quiet like children?¡¯

    I didn¡¯t know what to make of the development. He ran off into the woods when I left the village.

    I didn¡¯t move but stared at him suspiciously as he walked over to the tree, not dissipating the energy I¡¯d gathered either.

    Neither could I figure out what he was doing to make all the Rasts stand still and not dare to move. He was a Ba-Rasts, sure, but no Ba-Rasts that I¡¯ve heard of can face almost 200 Rasts. A- a Ka-Rasts? A thought treacherously whispered to me.

    I gulped before shaking my head to discard the theory.

    No, impossible.

    Few people have even seen Ka-Rasts, not even the shaman has seen one. No one has gotten close to the edge since the emperor.

    That still didn¡¯t answer why they were so afraid. The previous excited tension had all but disappeared, swallowed by a fearful atmosphere.

    I looked on in astonishment as the Rasts looked ready to flee at a moment¡¯s notice. They were trembling and twitching as he approached.

    The Rasts gave him a wide berth, almost crawling over each other to give him space.

    The light had completely dissipated, and the seeds were on the ground. I¡¯d completely missed it in my disbelief.

    I could see one seed be picked up, as Stoat carelessly walked out of the encirclement towards me. He dropped his acorn-like seed in front of me.

    Stoat locked eyes with me and tilted his head in confusion when I didn¡¯t pick it up.

    ¡°What the fuck did you just do?¡± I asked him. The Rasts still had eaten none of the seeds, but dumbly stared at us.

    It didn¡¯t answer put picked up the seed with its front paws and motioned for me to take it. I hesitantly grabbed the seed and confirmed that it was an ashfern seed. I pocketed it and promptly turned around to get the hell away from whatever was happening. Stoat following me, apparently having done what he came to do.

    ¡®Only dire-blood left. I¡¯ll have to get that while on the go. Time is almost running out.¡¯ Some semblances of hope returned to me, now that I realised that I just got the ashfern seed that I needed. Just keep going. Never mind how I¡¯d gotten it, or rather how Stoat had gotten it. Get out of sight of the bloodthirsty Rasts first.

    I hastily got out of the clearing, and stepped into the woods again, getting some comfort from not being completely exposed. Still, the essence of the seed itself was like screaming my location where ever I went.

    Stoat followed quietly by my side. I was unnerved. What the fuck was he? I¡¯ve only ever once heard of a bonded fighting hundreds of Rasts in combat. But he was in his prime and fought with a shaman. Thomas is only 9 or 10 years old. What kind of monster is he? They didn¡¯t even try to fight back. It made little sense.

    I took shaky, deep breaths to calm myself down, almost unable to look at Stoat. That was when he jumped on a branch in front of us and face me. I stiffened and clenched my eyes shut before composing myself and shakily looking at him. He hadn¡¯t changed from when I first saw him, a small 40-centimetre large stoat, with the green tribal tattoos of a Rasts, brown fur and a white belly. He looked harmless, but I knew he was anything but.

    I¡¯ve seen him tear Rasts to shreds, his claws easily ripping whatever they came into contact with. His actions are unpredictable and unusual. He shouldn¡¯t ever want to leave Thomas¡¯ side, especially in his current situation, yet here he is.

    ¡°What are you? You¡¯re no normal bonded.¡± I asked, despite myself. I wanted answers, but curiosity killed the emperor. Would it kill me too?

    ¡°You¡¯re way stronger than me. If you want to kill me, just do it now. Or better yet, you could¡¯ve just left me to die with the Rasts. There wouldn¡¯t have been any trace of me.¡± The only answer I got was a tilted head.

    ¡°Tell me! What are you!¡± I said, yet not moving any closer to him. Cold sweat covered my entire body, and my hands were clammy.

    Stoat looked at me pitifully and shook his head before quickly disappearing into the underbrush. He left me all alone.

    I stared at the branch where he¡¯d just stood for a good long while before I finally compose myself.

    I shook my head to clear my thoughts of Stoat now that I¡¯d confirmed that he wasn¡¯t there. He couldn¡¯t be this powerful. Talent or no talent. He must¡¯ve done something.

    I need to hurry back to Sandra; the shaman will conduct the ritual and she¡¯ll be okay. Can¡¯t stop now.

    Right, dire-blood, find a dire variant, quick and easy. My body had healed up almost completely, so I cautiously increased my pace, hoping to make it back before nightfall and hoping I¡¯d find what I needed before I arrived.

    Thankfully, a dire-elk aggressively attacked me when I stumbled into its territory, or it was attracted to the seed. I almost sighed in relief when I saw it.

    I gracefully stepped to the side when it charged at me, happy to face a foe I could actually fight. On even ground I could best almost any Rasts. I had nothing to worry about. It lacked the spark of intelligence of other Rasts variants, so it didn¡¯t adapt its charge when it inevitably missed.

    Dire-Rasts were always the easiest to fight. Perhaps they looked more intimidating than other variants, but they were actually one of the most harmless. The dire-elk had four horns and six eyes and was quite a lot larger than average, but wasn¡¯t otherwise any more dangerous than a large normal elk.

    The fight simply comprised me gently sidestepping whenever it charged towards me, as it ran past at dizzying speeds into the surrounding trees, violently tearing them up from their roots.

    I only had my knife with me, and I wouldn¡¯t want to slice into its side. Its essence might dissipate if it bled to death, so I needed to kill it with a single, decisive blow.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

    Once again, sidestepping its violent charge, I watched it determinedly extract itself from the tree it had buried itself into and ready for another charge. Perhaps it would exhaust itself if I kept sidestepping, but I didn¡¯t have the time nor the sadistic streak to let it. I grabbed one of its four horns and let myself be yanked with it and quickly saddling it.

    It either didn¡¯t have time to react or it didn¡¯t notice me, but I hung on with all my might to prevent myself from getting flung off when it inevitably smashed into a large tree.

    The small moment it took to recompose itself was my queue to attack. I grabbed my knife with both hands in a reverse grip and thrust the knife downward with all my might.

    It smashed powerfully into its skull and with a loud *CRACK* went through the bone and into its brain.

    The sudden attack to its centre made it flinch and spasm, abruptly flinging me off its neck and into a tree, before collapsing onto the ground with a thud.

    I fell to the ground in a similarly inelegant manner, scraping my skin and clothes from the small branches I broke on my way down.

    Quickly getting back up and ignoring the pain as best as I could, I scampered over to the dead Rasts and pulled out a leather flask. The heart was still beating vigorously, and it bled with a passion when I made a small incision.

    I probably took way more than I needed, but I didn¡¯t have the luxury of being incautious.

    I allowed myself a small moment of rest, gulping deep breaths of air.

    ¡°Alright Sandra, almost there sis. Just hang on a little while longer.¡± I stood up with a groan. Getting injured sucks. Don¡¯t let anyone tell you any differently.

    Thankfully, I hadn¡¯t gotten injured any further in the fight and was almost at peak strength. I had almost nothing to worry about on the way home if everything went according to plan.

    ¡­ I just jinxed myself, didn¡¯t I? Fuck.

    Having just given myself anxiety, I hurried along, even getting some minor scrapes and scratches from forcing my way through some bushes.

    My clothes were, of course, already torn to shreds. I was practically naked. But that was really par for the course. No one had discovered how to make clothes last longer or be more durable, so shamans just carried spare clothes around or made some on the spot with leaves. It was a hassle, but it beat walking around naked.

    Oh well, what can you do when your skin is several times more durable than your clothes?

    The answer is nothing. God, I wish someone found a way to make flexible runes, that would be so amazing. Being forced to change after every fight was a pain.

    An unnatural rustle of leaves brought me out of my thoughts. I was immediately wary. I hadn¡¯t been able to hide the essence of the seed completely so it might attract Rasts.

    And knowing my luck¡­

    I stepped backwards. The white figure that had tried to ambush me from above missed me entirely and fell futilely on the ground.

    I didn¡¯t relax my guard; the Rasts was unfamiliar. A monkey. It was a white monkey with a large yet dexterous tail. Sharp scales around 3 fingers thick intermingled out of its medium-sized body, especially on its tail, which was twice as long as the monkey was tall.

    When Rasts evolved from already intelligent animals, they could become frighteningly smart. Even more so when they evolved further into Ba- or Ka-Rasts. So despite its failed ambush, I was still wary of what it would do next and wondering why it had attacked me on its own.

    The monkey was quite dazed from the hard landing. So I kicked it to scare it away and hopefully be on my way, but that only woke it out of its stupor. It deftly dodged my incoming foot and scurried away into the underbrush.

    Seeing it flee, I quickly increased my pace to get out of the area, hoping I¡¯d leave alone when it saw how outmatched it was.

    No such luck, as I leaned back and saw another monkey fly over my shoulder.

    I sighed. Clad-Variants were such a pain.

    The single monkey suddenly turned into 3, as I punched one who¡¯d ditched the high ground and tried to attack me from below.

    I dodged and counterattacked when one of the first two jumped from the side, trying to scratch my face.

    I punched it away, but was struck by its spiked tail, giving me a large gash on my cheek, nearly taking out my eye.

    ¡°You know, ever since I met Edward, I feel like my luck has drastically decreased.¡± I said. The kind and understanding response was another attack from behind. They probably wouldn¡¯t stop until I was far out of their territory or dead.

    They forced me to dodge and counterattack continuously during their persistent attacks.

    Individually, clad-variants were quite weak, but they made up for it in intelligence and group tactics.

    That said¡­ Their strength was also their weakness.

    They had an unusual trait, one of the only variants to care for another. most animals, even social ones, when they evolved into Rasts, became lone wolves.

    As the monkey leaped over my shoulder, I tried to grab it. I only dodged narrowly because it had no way to hide its presence while in combat.

    I successfully caught it, but the spikes on its body and tail sliced my hand, and it forced me to let go, lest it cut my hand off.

    ¡®All at once, or none at all.¡¯ That¡¯s the golden rule for clad-variants. They were inherently different to most other rasts, they cared, and they were intelligent.

    I pulled out my knife when I had a brief respite. I quickly rolled backwards to get out of their encirclement, which they¡¯d kept tediously tight.

    Seeing my chance, I lunged back into the encirclement after my brief overview, straight at one of the clad-monkeys. I grabbed it by the throat and pressed my knife against it. Pinning with my knee against the ground.

    ¡°Stop!¡± I yelled, and the other two clad-monkeys froze.

    ¡°Come any closer and I¡¯ll slice his throat.¡± I said.

    The clad-monkey that I was holding immediately fell limp and stopped resisting. I paused. That worked? Clad-variants were as elusive as they were rare. I¡¯d gambled.

    What do I do now? I definitely couldn¡¯t give the seed away.

    ¡®These days, life is just getting weirder and weirder.¡¯ The thought slipped into my mind despite the urgent need for ideas.

    Weird. Hmm¡­

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I can¡¯t give you what you want. I¡¯m going to let him go, and I¡¯m going to walk away. Deal?¡± They didn¡¯t react.

    ¡®Here goes nothing¡­¡¯ I slowly released my iron grip on the clad-monkey, yet warily keeping my eyes on all three.

    I cautiously let go of the clad-monkey I¡¯d held hostage, waiting for any sign that it was about to attack me.

    It didn¡¯t. In fact, it slowly moved from under me, but didn¡¯t do any sudden moves.

    The other two moved also, circling around me to the monkey I¡¯d grabbed. None of them took their eyes off me, and eventually they all stood side-by-side in different poses, ready to attack or dodge.

    The first to break the standoff was me. I slowly got up on my feet, knife still in hand. I moved backward in single steps, always being prepared to dodge in any direction.

    I tightly tied my bag to me and I backed away until I was out of their sight, at which point I turned around and sprinted away at full speed.

    ***

    I weaved through the underbrush, desperately trying my best to remember the shortest path to the village. I knew approximately where I was, but couldn¡¯t guess which path was faster from where I stood.

    I guessed. Having neither the time nor the energy to figure it out properly.

    My speed increased dramatically once I¡¯d committed and found a path rather than wandering around near-aimlessly, having recovered almost fully from my previous injuries. I judged I could gather my energy to increase my speed.

    There were no roads between most villages. Un-ironically, the only tangible result of the council was militaristic action in the face of an individual gathering more power than the old-farts in the council were comfortable with. You¡¯d think a gathering of the most powerful people all on the same side would produce astonishing amounts of progress and growth, but you¡¯d be wrong.

    ¡®Of all the things you can do with power, they kept each other in check.¡¯ I shook myself out of that train of thought. It leads nowhere.

    Whilst still sprinting at full speed along the uneven ground. I diverted some of the energy I¡¯d gathered to stop the bleeding, as some scratches that hadn¡¯t fully closed were ripped back open. The path was really un-intuitive and energy intensive, so I could only stop the bleeding rather than heal the injuries completely.

    More and more of the energy that had seeped into my muscles was used to preserving their function rather than increase their output. There would be hell to pay later, but time was of essence.

    The entire world turned into a blur. I was going faster than I could realistically perceive, only spending the bare minimum to allow my perception to keep up.

    Luckily, I encountered no more Rasts on the path, and it wasn¡¯t a moment too soon. I¡¯d just crossed the top of a mountain when my eye caught the village in the distance.

    By that point, I could already feel my muscles ripping themselves apart, but I didn¡¯t want to slow down every minute counted.

    I didn¡¯t need any extra motivation to ignore the pain. That my sister would live was enough. I felt my entire body cook itself. The energy allowed me to ignore every safety measure that it had evolved to protect itself.

    People that hadn¡¯t had sufficient practice or been too careless had crippled themselves. High on the power and strength, they suddenly collapsed when their energy ran out. I¡¯ve seen it happen. It¡¯s a tragic sight. I saw them, their muscles bulging with vitality, their roaring laughter as they slew their enemy, ripping them apart. Stomping victoriously on their prey only to collapse a second later. Shrinking into mere husks, a shadow of their former selves.

    I once again shook that image out of my mind. It didn¡¯t matter. She can¡¯t die. I won¡¯t allow it.

    When the wall finally appeared between the trees, I wanted to scream with joy. I practically burst through the gate. Even though the guards recognised me as we¡¯d been old childhood friends, they were no less shocked at my speed. I was probably looking like something out of a horror story. I knew my skin was red from the blood that was almost boiling beneath the surface.

    I didn¡¯t slow down despite getting inside the walls, but sped up, using the last of my reserve as I accelerated with a blinding speed. My feet paradoxically barely felt like they touched the ground, yet dug deeply into it with every step.

    I had to slow down when I reached the village, lest I kill someone from colliding with them. Only just slow enough to react in case anyone stepped out in front of me.

    The shaman¡¯s house appeared in the village centre and I did my very best to get the energy under control and stop myself from dying via cooked organs.

    I stumbled through the door and practically crashed into the room where the shaman was still keeping watch. He hadn¡¯t moved since I last saw him. He could stay like that for a months if he had to.

    There were some downsides, like how long it took to ¡®re-animate¡¯. But essentially, it was just the opposite of what I did to speed up my run back.

    I waited impatiently while blood returned to his pale face. I visibly saw it creep up from his chest. His fingers twitched at first. One at a time, they filled with blood, while I waited in agonising pain, both physical and psychological.

    I turned my attention to Thomas, who looked almost as bad as me. His small frame was lying on the floor, half-wrapped in a thick blanket. I could see him sweating blood. He was obviously unconscious, but I could hear him breathe erratically.

    The door to the room was closed, the air was thick and warm, yet Thomas was still shivering. Because of his half-conscious state, he had no control over himself and had, at some point, fallen off the bed.

    The shaman needed to monitor him at all times, so he couldn¡¯t spare the energy to ¡®re-animate¡¯ and put him back on the bed, one of the villagers probably came regularly to check on him.

    ¡®Let¡¯s hope he pulls through.¡¯

    I wouldn¡¯t know how to face Edward if he didn¡¯t. Their bond might not be the closest, but he''d made a promise, and he was gonna try his hardest to keep it.

    ¡°David.¡± A deep monotone voice brought me out of my musings.

    ¡°I got everything. I¡¯ll watch over him while you conduct the ritual. Just hurry. Please.¡± I said, already entering the ¡®prison¡¯ to put Thomas back in the bed. His shivering intensified for a moment before abating, as it would continue to do every time I had to move him.

    The shaman nodded and promptly disappeared from the room, having hurried out the door.

    ¡°Hey Thomas, you¡¯re gonna be fine. I¡¯ve gathered everything we need to wake Sandra up. You¡¯ll probably be great friends when you meet.¡±

    ¡°Then we¡¯ll all go and find your brother. He¡¯s probably worried sick. He still thinks you¡¯re a slave. Let¡¯s just hope he hasn¡¯t done anything stupid.¡±

    I continued to talk to him for a while, trying my best to let the shaman conduct the ritual without disturbing him. Thomas was, of course, unconscious during the entirety of my one-sided conversation, likely too exhausted to become lucid. You slept next to nothing during the detoxing process. So the entire process was spent in exhaustion and half-delirium, except when you were woken to force food down your throat whether you liked it or not.

    I tried to sit still, but because I wanted to see my sister, I was practically twitching in agitation on the chair whilst Thomas lay there in agony.

    I desperately ignored my need for sleep and did my best to avoid collapsing. The strain was really getting to me now, but I wanted to talk to my sister when she woke up. If I fell asleep now, there¡¯s no telling how long it¡¯ll be before I wake up again.

    ***

    After about 30 minutes, I wasn¡¯t able to take it anymore. I quietly stood up and left the room, closing the door behind me. I quickly hurried through the halls till I found the courtyard, where I found the shaman writing the ritual markings on the ground, having just completed the second circle.

    I bounced to the room where my sister was and carried her and the 2 other children to the courtyard, just wanting her to wake up.

    By the time I¡¯d carried all of them to the shaman and finished the third and final circle of the ritual markings, and placed the children within the circle.

    He¡¯d used the ingredients I¡¯d gathered to create the ink he needed for the ritual. I watched nervously as he steadily carried the children over one by one and placed them inside the enormous circles.

    My nervousness turned to anxiety when he grabbed his staff and began the ritual.

    He walked solemnly around the circle, tapping his staff on the ground at equal intervals. With each tap, the circle seemed to become infused with energy, and a dim green light shone from the ink.

    I noticed the harsh sunlight seemed to dim slightly as the circle glowed brighter and brighter with each tap.

    Before long, the green light that shone from the circle was blinding, overpowering everything else. The sunlight had disappeared, and the only light in the world was the green circle. The rest of the world was total darkness. I couldn¡¯t even see my hand when I held it up in front of my face.

    Yet there was no sound besides the tapping of the shaman¡¯s staff and his footsteps. I couldn¡¯t hear my heartbeat or breathing. A chill travelled down my spine. This was why I couldn¡¯t become a shaman. It felt unnatural. Forbidden.

    Abruptly, the sound of thunder and wind violently crashing against windows filled my ears. It instantly deafened me as well. I couldn¡¯t hear the shaman at all now.

    A piercing scream like an arrow came from above and crashed into the ground.

    Then the gravity came. it forced me to support myself by leaning against the wall behind me. I simultaneously felt the air being pushed out of my lungs as the increased gravity pushed against my chest.

    It might¡¯ve lasted for just an instant or gone on for several minutes, I wasn¡¯t sure. But it left me extremely dizzy, out of breath, and weak when it finally stopped.

    I ignored all of that and dashed over to the circle. The moment the light returned, and the circle stopped glowing. The sound stopped and returned to normal.

    I stopped just in front of my sister and reached out to touch her. My shaking hand gently touched her face. My hand, stained with dirt and blood that hadn¡¯t washed out.

    I held my breath as I waited for any sign of her waking up.

    She stirred. I saw out of the corner of my eye a gentle twitch of her fingers. I tensed, not knowing where to put my hands, finally simply placing them in my lap and clenched them so hard they turned white.

    Another twitch.

    Then a movement.

    She sighed loudly, as if she¡¯d just taken her first breath.

    Her eyes fluttered, but didn¡¯t open. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but she didn¡¯t speak.

    I didn¡¯t know how long she stayed like that, but she suddenly locked my eyes with hers as she sat up.

    A scowl suddenly marked her face as she recognised me. I quietly bowed my head in preparation for her hatred

    ¡°You.¡± she said, like she was looking at a stranger.

    ¡°Where were you?¡± She continued.

    I stared at her dumbly, but stayed quiet.

    ¡°You were supposed to protect us!¡± she said and scratched my face.

    I didn¡¯t resist but merely fell back limply as I accepted the punishment I deserved

    Sandra leapt upon me hysterically.

    ¡°You. Were. Supposed. To. Protect. Us.¡± With each word, she slapped me as hard as she could.

    I choked out a sob at her distress, I''d failed her. I was supposed to protect her.

    ¡°Mom. Dad. My friends! All! Dead! You! You¡¯re the one. You should¡¯ve been there!¡± Her voice quivered with every word.

    She screamed hysterically, throwing a violent fit.

    I couldn¡¯t look her in the eyes at all. Her pain was too much for me to handle.

    The shaman gently lifted her off me, having finally regained his emotions from the energy stasis.

    He comforted her and slowly, but firmly led her out of the courtyard.

    I dared to look at her while she was leaving, and caught a glance of her face and it shattered me.

    Her face was flush with anger and she heaved from the exertion. Her hands were bloody as she¡¯d pounded and scratched.

    But worst of all? There were trails of tears down her face, and her eyes were red. And despite having just woken up, her lips were torn open as she chewed them in distress.

    I had accepted that she would probably never forgive me. But seeing her hurt cut me more deeply than any knife me more than any knife ever could.

    I couldn''t fault her for it. My sister hated me. My entire family, except for her, was dead. And I¡¯d caused their deaths.

    And suddenly I was left all alone in the courtyard, with small but bloody scratch marks all over my face.