UPDATE: This was originally the second chapter but I am now swapped it with the first. I feel as if the first chapter gave to much of a "childish" image of the piece and I felt as if new readers were not giving both chapters a chance after being deterred by the first chapter. This chapter sets the tone better for the rest of the story.
AN: Yep so this chapter took a while. I had actually started writing the next chapter immediately following the last one in regards to the timeline but I wanted to jump into the grittiness of life alone in the wilds of Remnant first instead. The song that is mentioned later in the chapter is "Lua" by Bright Eyes.
Chapter 1: Broken Man, Burning Village
The young man took a long drag from one of his few remaining cigarettes. On the first drag of every cigarette, a memory of a conversation he once had always seemed to come to him. He had asked his uncle why he smoked, claiming it would eventually kill him, to which his uncle replied, "Boy, there are demons inside me that need killin', and if I die because of it, well, we'll just call that a negative side effect to a necessary evil." He stated before taking another drag and then slamming the butt into an ash tray. After 5 years of confusion, he finally understood what his uncle meant.
The man walking wearily down the snow-covered trail may share the same identity as the boy who had awoken in the forest 6 months prior, but he was not the same person.
When you are alone for this long, there is no hiding from your thoughts, you simply become numb to them and then slowly turn into a shell of the person you once were. That is, unless you can find something to live for.
Take a drag, walk some steps, exhale, repeat. This is the now familiar pattern the man has developed through his 6 months of travel. Limiting himself to one per week, he has been able to drag out the package containing 25 for months now but it was beginning to dwindle.
Pushing the worry from his mind, the man again focused his attention solely on the object of his addiction.
"Ah! Fuck!" While caught up in the moment of tranquility surrounding his leisurely activity, he grew careless and allowed the smolder to burn past the filter and reach his fingers.
Throwing the butt to the ground and smashing it with the heel of his shoe, the man proceeded to mentally count off the hours until he could partake in his weekly vice again.
He walked along for a few more hours in silence before his stomach began to growl signalling that it was time for lunch. He set down his sea bag with a solid *thunk* before pulling out a canteen and some dried deer meat wrapped in leather to protect it from the elements. He had tried to harvest those….things...for their meat but they seemed to dissolve to ash almost immediately after death.
He had become a very skilled hunter out of necessity. During the winter months, vegetation was scarce which, in turn, meant food was scarce.
He had never been hunting back in his world, unless you count prairie dogs which are more of a pest than anything. Despite having the aptitude of a great archer and rifleman, killing had never been something he had been too keen on doing, though now, any qualms about killing had been quickly crushed under the need for survival even before he arrived in this world.
He swallowed the thoughts along with the piece of meat he had been chewing.
He had no time to think about that now, during the waking hours. Those thoughts would torment him in his restless dreams that night anyway, so what point was there in letting it bother him now.
Realizing how parched his throat was, he quickly took a long, satisfying gulp from his canteen.
Ah yes water, another one of his new-found loves. Best of all, it was everywhere now. No longer does he have to go searching for reservoirs or collect rain water. Just toss some snow in a bucket, melt and boil it and done. Water.
After finishing his swallow, he put the lid on the canteen, but not before giving the outside a very powerful, faux-passionate kiss ending with a loud *smack*.
Food, water, and cigarettes are all he desired in this world now. Some people are more partial to alcohol, cigarettes as their sole enjoyments in life but he had never really liked alcohol back where he was from. Too bitter.
He lay back and let the sound of the bitter winter wind lap in his ears. He pulled out his carton of cigarettes and smelled the oooh so delicious insides. Catching himself breaking his promise of one a week, he shoved them back in his pocket disgruntled. Withdrawal sucks.
It isn't something I would recommend, but it is one way to live. He thought, mentally reciting lyrics from a song he used to enjoy so many months ago despite not fully grasping the concepts described to him through the melody. He thought he knew pain to the severest degree back then. If given the choice to rid the pain he now felt in exchange for the sorrow he used to bare, he would take it in a heartbeat. The nightmares he now faced nightly make his old bothers look like child's play.
Standing up now and throwing the sea bag straps over his shoulders, the man resumes his walking while simultaneously chewing on a stick of dried meat he had hanging from his mouth.
As the path began winding along a hillside, the man could make out subtle hints of smoke rising from a clearing in the trees. Nothing makes fire out here except humans and lightning. There has been no lightning for weeks now.
Dashing forward now, invigorated by the prospect of seeing his first humans since he first woke up in this hell forsaken place.
There was a T in the road ahead. The section breaking off from the main road was obviously the path into the village. The man turned making a hard left onto the path that seemed to cut right down the center of the forest towards the mountain. He could smell it now. The remnants in the air of a large wood fire. Whatever it was, it must've been massive.
Still sprinting down the snow-covered road, his toned, muscular body chiseled from months of relying on physical strength for survival carrying him swiftly down the path, he could start to view the outline of a large gate, the main gate to the village.
As he got closer to his intended destination he suddenly stopped. The piece of meat he had been gnawing on fell into the snow as his mouth hung open in horror and his stomach began to feel queasy.
The sight before him was nothing short of a bloody massacre.
A large portion of the stone and wood wall, once standing proudly, was knocked over into the snow with the gate still closed and standing on its own. Walking through the hole in the defensive structure, even more carnage came into view.
Homes and storehouses lay in smoldering ruin. None remained standing and few showed any signs of being spared from the truly massive fire that must've laid siege to this town.
But worst of all were the bodies, oh god the bodies. Laying in the streets were the remnants of wolf, bear and bird monsters, all turned to ashy ruin which blackened the pure white snow. They must've poured into the city after the fall of the wall.
Alongside them we human bodies strewn about. Blood reddening the snow around them all.
Men, women, children, elderly, all lay in various stages of dismemberment on the streets and sidewalks before him.
His mind was beginning to shut down from the horrific sights in front of him. He would have passed out too if it wasn't for one, single, sound ringing out among the silence of the now desolate town.
Yes, he heard it now, a hoarse cry of help from an adult woman now mixed with the soft crying of a child.
Running in the direction the sound resonated from, he was not prepared for the sight before him.
"Oh shit."