Day 1

Your World is 24% Crimson

...

He stumbled over a rough patch of land and fell to the ground. He stayed there for a second, enjoying the brief moment of rest, the only one he had gotten tonight.

But howls from somewhere behind him gave the reminder that he could not afford to stay. If he dared stop for more than a few seconds, they would catch up. And there were things in this life worse than death. Just a few more miles ahead there was a town, and where there were towns, there were buildings. And where there were buildings, there was safety.

Safety. Now there was a word that no longer had meaning. When people said their houses were "safe," what they really meant was "There's a door separating me from the outside."

Well, he had come from a place where there was no safety. There was nothing they could do. If they made doors, the monsters would break them down. If they made stronger doors, the monsters would learn how to open them. If they made underground houses, dark creatures from the depths would rise into them. If they made houses on one of the few isalnds in the sky, magically held afloat by no known means, the sky-snakes would come for them, and the devil-birds would hunt them down. Right above ground, and, well, they'd be back where they started.

But that was in the past. Recently, IT had come. A mysterious force that they had heard of many times, and hoped to the death that their small village would never see. It was like a plague, spreading everywhere, absorbing all. Everything it touched turned to blood. The stones in the street, the wood of the houses, even the monsters that hunted them. But worst of all were the people. If you where unlucky enough to be touched by the plague, you would become part of it. A horrible monster so hideous that nobody could bear to look at you. A mind so narrowed down that it now only thought one thing: kill. None could enter the plague and live. None. When the watchmen saw it on the horizon, they instantly ordered the village abandoned. There was nothing that could be done, except flee.

Most families had taken separate paths, some sticking together for strength in numbers. They would try to reach another village before nightfall, to spend the night there, and continue to travel when daytime came. Daytime had its fair share of troubles, but nothing compared to night. Night was when the deadly ones came out. Night was when darkness enveloped you, blinding you to the many attacks that came come your way. Nobody in their right mind would go out at night.

Which, of course, was exactly why he was out there.

He had to be. He needed to do something big, something crazy, something that no ordinary person would ever, ever do. He had no choice, except maybe to completely give up and desert all hope of this world being saved. So he had continued on after the rest of his group had stopped about midday. Unfortunately, he hadn't considered a few key things. A few key things like taking a weapon, a light source, or really anything else. A few key things like constant hordes of monsters, screeching in the night, eager to taste his blood. A few key things like the nearest town being more than twenty miles away.

Well, now it was two miles away, it was the middle of the night, and he had a weapon - if it could technically be called that. It was, after all, just a branch he had broken off a tree. But out here, everything was of importance. A branch was better than nothing. If you no weapon, and no shelter, you died. Simple as that.

But why did he do it? Why did he run off like that, not giving a second thought to taking anything of use, or of the fast-approaching nightfall?

Because he was the hero.

Well, he was supposed to be. Ever since birth he was different. In a good way. He didn't need to learn to fight, to build, to survive. He already knew. He had wrestled slimes to the ground, caught bunnies, and even once touched a fabled piece of rock that once belonged to the very plague that had just struck them down. He was the special, the chosen one. There were very few of him in the world, and at sixteen, he had thought he could defeat anything.

He was quickly being proven wrong.

He saw it now. He was looking down on a small village, much simpler than his old one. There were just six buildings, each one small. He guessed that the one nearest to his left was the resident nurse's, judging from the white banner waving out the front. He began to head there.

Key word: began. He hadn't taken two steps when something pounced upon him, knocking him down. He rolled over to see his attacker.

A wolf.

Ugh, he hated those things. They never went for anywhere but the neck, never showed until they attacked, and never gave up. His hand grabbed for his tree branch, and he was relieved to find that it hadn't fallen out of arm's reach. As the wolf growled and pounced again, he swatted it aside with the branch. It landed on its side, but was quickly back up, snarling and lunging at him again. He tucked into a ball and rolled to the side. The wolf tried to jump on top of him, but he jabbed the base of the branch into its stomach. The wolf fell on its back, and jumped up once again.

He wasn't prepared for the wolf when it leaped onto him. In a last-ditch effort to keep it away from his neck and certain death, he shoved the tree branch out horizontally. The wolf's jaw snapped shut on the branch instead of his neck. A struggle for power began, the wolf pulling one way, he the other. They were practically in a dance as they moved all across the terrain, each trying to push off the other. Finally, he shoved the branch above his head, ducking as the wolf went with it, flipping the other way around before slamming its head on a large rock. The wolf stopped moving.

He slowly exhaled and pulled his branch out of the wolf's mouth. It was now practically useless, torn nearly to shreds from the wolf's strong jaws. He tossed it away in disgust.

He instantly regretted that when he felt a knife up against his throat. All his body motions stopped, including his breathing. His face went white. His eyes slowly moved so he could see what was holding him there. He saw only a set of regular traveler's clothes, upright in the air, like someone had just put them on. Only there was no body.

He knew instantly what it was. A restless, angry spirit, tortured by the underworld, only recently freed from his prison. It was going to take out all of its anger on anything it saw, including him.

He shut his eyes, ready for the sound of the deft movement that would mean his demise.

But instead he heard something else. The sound of rustling in the grass, and then the howling shriek of a spirit returning to its home. The knife dropped.

Cautiously, he turned around. The clothes had now fallen in a pile at the feet of a young woman holding a large dagger. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along with her until they entered a house.

She slammed the door behind him, then stood there, arms crossed.

"Do you want to tell me what the heck you were doing outside at night?"

"Not really."

"Let me rephrase that. Tell me now or I'll throw you back out."

"Well, isn't somebody angry, for talking to a guy who hasn't done anything wrong."

"Well, isn't somebody confident, for talking to a girl that just saved his life."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. I was bored, so I decided to see how many monsters I could take out with a stick."

"I see that your current record is 'one.'"

"Look, it's a long story, and not one that I particularly feel like delving into after my throat was almost slit."

"Fine, fine. Sorry."

Well, he could tell this was going to go just wonderfully. He'd only seen this girl for two minutes, and they were already at each other's throats. She looked to be his age, and about his height, maybe a little shorter. Her chestnut-brown hair was loose and reached just past her shoulders, where it was braided tightly. Her face was locked in a scowl, which surprisingly felt unsettling.

He looked around him. This was a simple, but decent home. It looked to just contain two or three rooms. One was probably a bedroom, and another the kitchen. He was likely standing in the living room now.

He decided to attempt a different conversation. "This is your place?"

Her scowl softened slightly, and she slowly nodded.

"Any parents?"

"Nope. Werewolves."

He nodded slightly. "Wyverns."

She started to nod back, then stopped halfway. "Wait, wyverns? So, you're from the sky islands?"

"Was. Like I said, a long story."

"Yeah," She glanced around and sighed. "Guess you might as well spend the night here. Don't expect the bed, though."

He cracked a half-smile. "Trust me, I've had to sleep on a lot worse things than a wooden floor."

"Good," She said, and stuck out her hand. He took it in a fim handshake.

"Your name?" she asked.

"Leanodro Melvin Harxwell. Friends call me Leo."

"Alright, Leanodro," she said, being careful to say his full name to show that she was not a friend, "My name is Kayla Autumn Jynt. Friends call me Kayla."

Leo raised an eyebrow. "No nickname?"

"If you call me Kay, I will kill you."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Sure. Whatever. Kayla works."

They were both interrupted by loud banging on the door. Leo looked out to see a large horde of Zombies pounding it. He sighed in exasperation. A Shadow or Wraith was sure to come soon. He knew why they were there. A curse of being a hero was that every monster in the area was attracted to you, like bunnies to a carrot.

"They're coming after me," he announced blatantly.

"Why?" Kayla questioned.

"It's part of that 'long story.' I'll take first watch."

Kayla didn't disagree. She could already tell from the noise that there were more monsters outside than there had ever been before.

Instead, she threw him a small sword, which he caught in the air.

"Thanks."

She didn't reply, just went straight to bed.

Leo pulled up a chair and sat down. This was going to be a long night.

...

Apparently "first watch" really meant "all night," because that's how long Leo sat there. One or two monsters had tried to come through the windows, but were quickly cut down. The rest stayed outside, until daytime came. Leo waited until he couldn't hear anything anymore, then cautiously stuck his head out. It wasn't instantly removed by a Zombie, so that was a relief. He glanced around the place to make sure all the monsters had really cleared out. When you were a hero, you couldn't afford to take chances.

He had considered waking Kayla up earlier that night, but had decided against it. He had no idea how skilled with a blade she was. Sure, she had saved his life, but the Outfit possessed by the Shadow had been focused on him, and was surprised by her attack. He didn't know how she would have fared had it noticed her. Maybe she was ten times as good as he was, maybe she could barely use it. He wasn't willing to take the risk.

Besides, he had a lot to think about. He had long since learned how to think over the Zombie noises outside, and now he was doing more of it than he had in quite a while. His main question was whether or not he still wanted to go through with this. From what he heard and what he knew, it didn't sound inviting. He wasn't even in the Deathland yet, and he had almost been killed twice. In the end, he decided, once again, that he had to. Otherwise things would forever remain the same as now. He couldn't let that happen, whether or not the solution was temporary.

Next question - what would Kayla think? Would she want to come with him after hearing his story? Probably not. And since she technically had to, he was going to have to make up some sort of sob story on the spot. He wasn't very good at that.

He looked back at the room she was sleeping in now. Well, if he was going to go on this insane adventure, he needed something to eat first. He got up and went to the kitchen to see what all she had stored in there.

What he didn't notice was somebody watching him through a window. Somebody that was no monster, but if you could see his soul, you would not know the difference. And he was not there with the very best of intentions.