Originally meant to be much longer, but I felt I reached a natural stopping point.
Swamps of Zaterra inspired by 343 Guilty Spark (Copyrighted by Bungie, 343 Industries and Microsoft) and the Lumbridge Swamps (Copyrighted by Jagex).
Latter portion heavily copied off of The Gammage Cup by Carol Kendall.
Mortal Kombat belongs to Midway and Netherrealm Studios.
Chapter 3
It's been a week since my banishment from Earthrealm. Though food is scarce in this forsaken swamp I am travelling through, the sustaining aura of Outworld means I do not need to eat or drink to maintain my health. At least, that's how it should be. Every day I wake up to find myself aged considerably. The body I took in Earthrealm was that of a male in his mid to late twenties. In the span of seven days my body has aged twenty years.
Is this the curse of the gods? Will my body be condemned to rapidly decay unless I drink the blood of true warriors? So be it! I will rise to their challenge and defeat powerful fighters and consume their souls. I will devour so many spirits that I will not only continue to live, but I will grow even stronger!
Despite my defiance, I know that my situation is bleak. I spent the last week trekking through this bubbling marsh without seeing a single soul, not even a single animal. This is strange because there is a lot of ambient croaking and buzzing, denoting abundant animal life. Perhaps the animals are simply too small to be noticeable to the human eye? At any rate, I won't be able to consume any souls, let alone those of true warriors if I stay in this swamp. The only problem is that this bog is huge, and the thick tree canopy prevents me from getting a sense of direction based on the position of the sun. Worse, everything in this place looks the same. I could have walked in a huge circle and I will never know.
Solid ground is scarce in the swamp; most of the area is covered by dark, knee-deep water and I sink into the muddy bottom with every step. Wide-top trees shoot out of the waters, covering the sky. A combination of the thick canopy, heavy fog and constant rain creates an effect of perpetual night-time. Large ferns grow on the squishy, peaty land and all manners of aquatic plants grow on and under the water, though none of them bear any flowers. Gnarled, dark aqua green roots stick out of the soil every now and then and fungus grows everywhere. The entire color palette of the swamp is grey, brown or greenish-brown, very different and depressing compared to the vibrant colors of Earth.
I keep mainly to dry ground-the memories of my marsh-dwelling victims warn me of the danger of leeches in the water-but that is not always possible. My first priority is to leave the swamp and find a more populated area to get some souls and thus restore my youth. The easiest way to exit this bog would be to travel in one direction until I leave this seemingly endless wetland. To that end I often had to wade through kilometers of stagnant water, but miraculously not catching even one parasite. My guess is that my blood is simply revolting enough to drive them away. The abundant precipitation and my route through the waters constantly soak my clothes, and the wet cloth sticks to my body and saps my heat. Hypothermia, however, is not a problem because even in this accursed environment the temperature is hot and humid, and I am soaked in as much sweat as I am in rain.
Presently I am wading through a pool so big it approaches the size of a lake. Already the water level has reached waist level and the grey waters stretch on as far as my eyes can see (which isn't that far, considering the poor visibility). Soon the water is up to my chest and there is still no sight of dry land. I've long since shed most of my clothes as the overwhelming amount of water makes clothing more of a burden than a help, but I still have enough that my ability to swim would be greatly hampered. My weak, elderly frame further exacerbates the problem. Finally, the water level reaches my neck and I have no choice but to use magic.
I've never had a problem using magic before. I wielded the arcane energies as easily as any human might wield a club. Even when I took the body of a human in Earthrealm, my natural affinity to magic allowed me to cast spells with ease. It seems, however, that my magical affinity is demonic in nature, as my forced state of humanity has severely reduced my magical capabilities. I found this out the hard way on the first day of my banishment.
Annoyed with the unstopping deluge, I had created a bubble around me that kept the rain out. After a few minutes, I found that my strength was completely spent and I collapsed to the ground, exhausted as if I had been running non-stop for a full day. I was confused; even in Earthrealm, with its lack of magical aura, I could have maintained that spell without difficulty, so why couldn't I do it now?
I still don't have the answer to that question, but my hypothesis is that humans are less attuned to the flow of magic around them. Some are luckier than others and are born with a natural talent for the arcane, but overall, as a species, humans have an intrinsically weak ability to utilize magic. Thus, using magic requires a tremendous amount of effort and energy, and, as such, an individual would be limited to using magic in short bursts.
I chant the words of the simple levitation spell I need to cross the lake and, as soon as I complete the invocation, I feel an immediate drain on my strength. This is worrying because I've never had this happen to me before. At this rate, I will be unable to use any spells soon. Even soul drain might be too taxing.
Regardless, I do not have the luxury of wasting time; my energy is fast depleting. I set off, floating over the water. Minutes pass and black spots appear on my vision, but there is still no sight of solid land. With my strength spent and my elevation dropping rapidly, I spot the murky outline of an island emerging from the fog. I push toward it with desperate energy, but I pass out before I can make a secure landing.
Whether I live or die is up to the gods now.
I'm dry.
I'm dry and I'm alive. How is that possible? How can anything be dry in this wet and rainy hell?
I lie on my back on some soft surface. It's a bit ticklish at the base of my neck but it's not uncomfortable. I can hear the pitter patter of rain striking leaves above me, though none of that water is finding its way through whatever cover is overhead. My sense of smell is completely dominated by a heavy earthen scent. All I have left to do is to open my eyes and wake up, but I feel so tired, as if my body had aged a hundred years since I fell asleep. My joints are stiff; my muscles are sore and my brain feels numb. Sleep starts to envelop my mind again when I hear movement accompanied by a hissing sound.
I snap into a sitting position and my eyes fly open. I instantly become awake and ready to fight off any immediate threats.
A trio of giant bipedal lizards stand before me. Their scales vary in color, ranging from mottled brown to dark green. The lizards' eyes glow ominously, but their dark slitted pupils set in orbs of red belie their intelligence and sentience, which I pick up on immediately. I seem to be in a cylindrical room that's just wide enough to allow me to lie on the ground fully stretched out. The room is rather tall; its walls extend much higher than I can jump. Some woven, leafy cover shields the interior from rain. The group of lizards stand in the only opening in the room. The opening is just tall enough for them to stoop under and wide enough to have room for three more lizards to fit.
One of them hisses at me. It seems to be trying to communicate with me, thought I can't understand what it just said. At the very least, they don't seem to want to eat me. I relax my body and lean back, propping myself up with my arms. Now that the tense moment is over, my weariness crashes back to me and my vision goes dark for a second. I am about to fall asleep again when another hiss brings me back.
Two more of the lizards appear, but now they are armed with crude spearheads hewn from stone attached to wooden poles. One of them hisses at me and jerks its head, signalling for me to leave. I can probably fight off two of them, but, with my rapidly deteriorating body, I doubt I can handle all five of them. Therefore I have no option but to obediently follow their orders. I rise and walk out of the prison (which, I observe as I exit, is really a big hollow tree) and continue to walk in front of my guards who directs my motion with their spears.
As I march, I am amazed by the habitats of the reptiles. They live in huts made of mud and moss. We enter the village square and I can see torch stands plunged into the ground at regular fifty meter intervals. The flames of the torches bathe the area with orange light that gives the illusion of a permanent sunset. There are a few lizards already outside, but news of my awakening seems to be spreading and more and more of these creatures are gathering to watch me. There are very few of them living in this village, less than a hundred, but they are truly very sentient.
The fires of the torches should not be able to stay lit in such a wet environment, and the mud huts the lizards live in should have been washed away long ago by the unending rain, but the lizards were smart in choosing their place of residence. The canopy of a massive tree covers their village completely and not even the eternal rainfall of the swamp can find its way through the myriad of leaves and branches that protect the reptiles' village.
At the base of one of the tree's roots (to put the size of the tree into perspective, even the half exposed root still more than doubles me in height) is a wooden platform with a bonfire blazing at every corner. At the center of the stage is a group of five lizards. Four burly beasts armed with spears surround a lone lizard. I assume this one is their elder based on the pale, bleached green color of his scales, which seems to denote age. If it is not the elder, then it is the chieftain, as its elaborate headdress signifies the animal's importance. The headgear is indeed luxurious: hundreds of strands of dried fern fronds spring forth from a strand of metal that sits tightly around the lizard's head. The several fronds frame the creature's face like hair and the rest curl forwards or backwards like a mass of tendrils. Strings of beads hang from the side of the headdress.
I am marched onto the stage and forced to kneel before the creature. The lizard will be hissing important things at me; I'd better cast a translation spell. Technically, translation is not how this spell works. Rather, it links together the minds of all living things in a nearby area, allowing them to understand each other better than words can ever convey. The energy required to sustain the spell, coupled with my earlier exhaustion, tests my endurance to the limit.
"Outsider!" proclaims the reptilian leader. "Take this message back to your leader: 'come near our sacred grounds again and the same will happen to you.' Guards, remove this outsider's eyes and ears!"
"Mercy!" I beg, though it pains me to do so. During the time he was speaking, I managed to look through the lizard's mind. His species used to live and flourish in a realm composed entirely of warm, temperate marshlands. However, that realm was conquered by Shao Kahn and absorbed into Outworld. The Saurians (as they are called), being unused to the predators and climate of Outworld, soon nearly got wiped out. Only a handful of their race managed to escape to this swamp, where they were more accustomed to living. However, a decade ago, large numbers of Tarkatans began moving into the swamp and displacing the Saurians. The already dwindling number of the lizards dropped even lower and less than a hundred crossed the lake to this isolated island, where they've been living for the past ten years. This one Saurian elder seemed to have experienced all of these events and many more first hand. It seems that this species have a naturally long lifespan. Indeed, I am quite jealous.
The elder pauses at the sound of my begging. Perhaps it is surprised that I can communicate with it; the Tarkatans certainly couldn't. The pause is probably the equivalent of the human expression of blinking in surprise, as the lidless eyes of the Saurians prevents them from blinking.
"Please hear me, oh ancient one." I continue. "Please do not misunderstand. I am no marauder from outside, seeking to kill your kind and take your land. I am merely a traveller, weak and weary from wandering and seeking egress from the swamp. Please, wise one, guide me out and I will leave you alone."
The Saurian pauses for a second, taken aback by my request. Surely if all he wants is to protect his kind, then my offer must be the best case scenario for him.
"So long as you honor your promise," hisses the lizard. "We will oblige you." The elder then issues a series of complicated noises that sounds like a mixture between hissing and spitting. The mind link tells me that he is referring to two other Saurians. Two of the reptiles comes forth from the crowd of beasts and leaps onto the stage, also kneeling before the elder.
"Take this stranger on the quickest route out of the swamp. Extend to him the courtesy of keeping him safe. It looks as if this human doesn't have much longer to live anyways, the least we can do is let him live his final days in pea-"
"Elder!" a panicked cry interrupts. "There are more invaders! An entire boatload of them! And they're hostile, they come bearing weapons!"
Pandemonium erupts as the females and young ones run for shelter in the huts and the males scramble to find weapons. The elder mutters a curse and unsheathes armblades from the bracelets he wears (I had completely failed to notice that) as his four bodyguards tighten up to protect him. The Saurians are in combat formation now, three squadrons forming in front of the stage, protecting the left, right and center of the platform. In the distance, I can hear the rambunctious growls and howls of the approaching invading force.
Out from the shadows surrounding the town square comes the invaders: Tarkatans. The mutants leap into the square with their deformed mouths split into perpetual feral grins and the weapons embedded into their arms gleaming. One mutant dressed in a split white vest with red trimming hops to the front of the pack and lifts an arm to point at me.
"Come, my brothers!" snarls the Tarkatan. "Let us kill to our hearts' content!"
With a roar, the mutants rush at the Saurians. The lizards outnumber the Tarkatans five to one but the mutants don't seem to care. They almost happily throw themselves into the reptiles' spears just to take down one of the Saurians. The invaders will soon be wiped out, but not without killing a bunch of the Saurians first.
My eyes gleam. This is the best opportunity I've had in a long time to harvest some souls. Stretching out my hand, I chant a spell that will capture all the souls within the vicinity. Though the initial casting drains a lot of my energy, I soon become revitalized. No, revitalized does not describe the feeling well enough. Restored would be a more fitting word. The curse of the gods has stolen my strength and my youth, but the gift of souls has restored this to me. I can feel my muscles become limber again and my joints unstiffen. Power courses through my veins and I stand taller, straighter. My wrinkles smoothen out and my hair, the majority of which has fallen off, regrows and shortens.
I have returned!
By now, the invaders have been slaughtered and the lizards are gathering up their dead kinsmen. The elder, wary of the physical change I have undergone, turns to me and speaks:
"These fouls monsters have found our hiding place by following you," accuses the Saurian. "You must leave immediately!" Through the mind link I can feel the reptile's surprise at my youthful figure. Its top priority, however, is to keep his village safe by making sure I leave as soon as possible.
"I agree, elder," I respond. "Let us not waste any more time."
I modify the mind link to cover everything around me in a radius of 20 meters, and then my escorts and I rush to the edge of the island where the invading party's boat still rests at the shoreline. The ship is a plain, hollowed-out vessel, propelled by oars, that is big enough to carry a score of Tarkatans and seems heavy enough that it would need at least half that number of people rowing to move it. My escorts climb aboard and the elder is about to say a few final words when a flare of alarm runs through one of the elder's bodyguards. Instantly, we whip our heads around to look at what alarmed the lizard.
An entire fleet of Tarkatan raiding ships of over thirty vessels are making its way to the island. The Saurians, though competent fighters, had enough trouble repelling just one boat of attackers, they will be completely wiped out by an invading force this large.
While letting the Tarkatans wipe out the Saurians for me to take their souls sounds good, I think even I would have trouble fighting the remaining mutants by myself, even after taking all the souls of the lizards. Besides, they have been good to me, the favor I am about to do for them is the least I can do to repay them. The spell I have in mind will take an extraordinary amount of energy though.
Fortunately for me, I just consumed the souls of over thirty strong fighters.
Raising my hand, I send a pulse of magic out, stirring up a massive wave over fifty meters tall. Even in the dim light of the swamp, the wall of water casts a shadow over the advancing vessels before crashing down on them. The boats furthest away get smashed into splinters while the others become filled with water and sinks to the bottom of the lake. In one fell stroke, over two hundred Tarkatans are sent to the depths of this brackish lake.
And every single one of their souls becomes fuel for my power.
"A god!" one of the lizards breathes, breaking the awed silence that has fallen. "This outsider is not an intruder, but a god!"
"Elder, turn him not away, but welcome him with open arms lest we incite his wrath!"
Rage flares within me. How dare they compare me to the bastards that call themselves gods! My anger dies down quickly though. These poor beasts surely have not had dealings with the gods before; else they would not use such a word for praise. Besides, the idea of being worshiped does sound nice. I briefly entertain the idea of demanding sacrifice once a month, but I reject the idea. The lizards breed slowly and their young take centuries to mature. They would be unable to sustain me.
The five Saurians fall prostrate before me in reverence. However, I tell them to rise. "I am no god," I say to them. "I am just a mortal-" now "-like you. Do not regard me as being above you."
"Even so, venerated guest," replies the elder. "Your mighty hand has saved our village. We ask that you may stay with us for a while and accept our hospitality."
My main goal was to harvest hundreds of strong, Tarkatan souls. Saving the village was merely a convenient side effect. The Saurians, however, are none the wiser. Ideally, I would like to leave this forsaken swamp as quickly as possible, but I've just gorged myself and there's no harm in a little bit of fine treatment.
"I would be honored to be your visitor," I answer.
Two of the reptilian bodyguards leave the elder's side to flank me. We proceed back to the hidden village of the Saurians.
I live among the reptiles for a month (at least, what I presume to be a month anyways. One can never be sure in this marsh because it's always dark and rainy, day and night) I learn much about the lizards that I did not pick up from the mind link.
Apparently their species once lived in Earthrealm and were cousins with the dinosaurs. A hundred thousand years ago, however, the Age of Warring Gods (as they called it) began and mass extinctions occurred everywhere. The dinosaurs were wiped out and it seemed the Saurians were next to go. The lizards found refuge in a relatively empty and untouched realm called Zaterra. They lived in peace in that realm until a few thousand years ago, when the armies of Shao Kahn discovered their realm. Their race was unable to defeat the Kahn's minions in Mortal Kombat and Zaterra was soon assimilated into Outworld. This marsh is the remnants of Zaterra, ruined by its merging with Outworld. The rest of the Saurian's history I already know.
Though the Saurians are blessed with longevity (a thousand years to them is about a year), none of the Saurians actually remember living in Earthrealm. The history of their kind has been passed down by tongue from generation to generation. The reptiles' civilization is rather underdeveloped, lacking written language and agriculture of any sort. The lizards still hunt (it seems they are unable to tap into the sustaining aura of Outworld or use magic) for a living. Even without the crude spears that they craft for themselves, their natural ability to blend into the environment and their stealthy movement make them excellent killers.
In this forgotten realm, the Saurians hunt their prey, the giant insects of Zaterra. The reptiles use their camouflage to sneak up on their unsuspecting prey before striking together, dismembering the bug before it can respond. The insects are a biological wonder; that insects three times my size should exist, let alone move as quickly as they do is a miracle. Even with the Saurians' stealth, sometimes the bugs can still sometimes pick out the sound of their movements and fly, crawl or swim away at alarmingly fast speeds.
The lizards eat them insects by vomiting their stomach acids onto the exoskeleton to dissolve it and then they slurp up the juices of the dead insect. It's rather fascinating to watch them go about it, but then they offer some to me and... well, I'm glad that I don't have to eat in Outworld.
One of the most interesting things that happened during my visit is the blood-binding. The entire village gathers to watch the procedure as I stand on the platform in the center of the town. As the elder explains it:
"Shang Tsung, we are in your debt because of what you have done for us. Please accept one of the strongest of our young to be one of your apprentices."
"Are you sure about this, elder?" I ask. Although the idea of having a servant is quite appealing, I prefer to remain solitary and unencumbered by others in my travels. "The village suffered losses in the Tarkatan attacks, giving away one of your strongest now would be a bad idea."
"I must insist," replied the leader without hesitation. "We would have suffered more losses if it weren't for you. Our honor and gratitude demand that we repay you with the highest gift we can offer."
One of the Saurians, one with pine green scales, climbs onto the stage and kneels before the elder and I.
The elder hisses the reptile's name. "Do you swear to serve, protect and obey Shang Tsung while you still draw breath?"
"I swear to serve, protect and obey Shang Tsung while I still draw breath," affirms the lizard.
"For convenience's sake, you may refer to him as Reptile," adds the elder. "He will stay by your side and defend you from all harm as long as he lives. We would be honored if you could teach him to wield the power you used to destroy the Taraktans as well."
"It is my pleasure," I respond.
"Now, to finalize the blood-binding," says the elder as he draws out an elaborate bone dagger. He hands the weapon to Reptile, who plunges it into his chest and gouges out his own heart. Green blood pours from the gaping hole in his chest and spills out onto the wooden platform.
"My heart I give to you...Master," Reptile hisses through his pain as he extends his still beating heart to me. The Saurians must have multiple hearts; else he would be dead right now.
"His life is now in your hands," says the elder as I take the warm organ. "Reptile is now blood bound to you, the bearer of his heart."
"This burden I do accept," I declare. "Reptile, your service is appreciated."
Reptile gives a curt bow before backing off the stage, probably to do something about the new orifice on his body. As Reptile leaves, so does the rest of the village, what with the blood-binding done and all.
"Is there nothing else we can do for you, Honorable Shang?"
Another week has passed and it's time for me to leave this bog and find more prey. In fact, some of my hair is already turning grey. The entire village has gathered to watch my departure. Some of the Saurian young that I have entertained with some cheap magic (as a race, they seem completely alien to magic and even a simple demonstration like making a rainbow impresses them) wave to me, but none of their faces seem sad at my leaving (they're probably unable to make that facial expression anyways).
"The hospitality you have shown me this past month has been great," I answer. "I am extremely grateful for it. But I am a hunter, wise elder. I cannot linger here for long or else I will waste away. The time has come for us to part ways. If my travels ever take me back here, I will make sure to return."
"May the gods bless your journeys my friend."
A jolt of anger runs through me, but I keep it from showing on my face. Once again, it is not their fault that they think the gods are anything but arrogant bastards deserving of humiliation. With a final bow, I climb into the Tarkatan boat that Reptile is waiting for me in and we cast off. The Saurians wave at me and I wave back at them until I can see them no more, then I grab an oar and help my new servant paddle. The boat is heavy, and the little propulsion we can give it with our paddling produces little speed; we are forced to move along with the current. Thankfully, the current is flowing in the direction we want to go.
The voyage, though slow, is uneventful, and after a day and a half of being on the water, I get the first glimpse of the sun I've had since my banishment. The temperature, too, has dropped from being intensely humid to comfortably warm. Along the sides of the river grows tall green grass. Further away grows thick groves of trees, though the trees are smaller than the trees of the swamp. This river is the only surface water in sight. With the greenery of the grass and trees, the deep blue of the skies and waters and the golden rays of the sun shining down, the moment gains a surreal beauty to it, a kind of beauty I haven't experienced since my days in Earthrealm.
The sight is wonderful to Reptile as well; I can sense it through our mind link. This palette of colors has been foreign to the Saurians as well ever since Shao Kahn conquered Zaterra and turned it into a perpetually rainy marsh. In Reptile's memory, Zaterra looks more like this, a water meadow, than a grey and dreary bog.
"Where does this river go?" I ask Reptile, already thinking about how I might collect more souls.
"I do not know," the Saurian replies. "The new world is dangerous and only the swamp is safe. None of us dare venture any further than to the edge of the swamp."
I fall into deep thought. According to the memories of the Tarkatan raiders, there is currently a lot of instability amongst the Tarkatan tribes. Their unchecked proliferation and their innate inability to use magic means they have been forced to expand their tribal lands further and further to survive. The prime hunting grounds are hotly contested and the smaller and weaker clans that are unable to fight against the bigger tribes are forced to migrate to new lands. The invading force that attacked the Saurians was a joint co-operative between the Black Fang tribe and the Bloody Claw tribe. These two tribes are among the weakest of the tribes, and they have been forced far from their homeland. The marshes of Zaterra are a new frontier for the Tarkatans, but it doesn't seem the mutants are well suited for that environment; I was their first feasible prey they've had in almost a month. That means the Tarkatans will continue to migrate further away and some of them are bound to head in my direction. A water meadow like this might be a good spot for them, as Tarkatans will hunt anything that breathes and there's a plethora of wildlife in this environment. While I do want to be close to Tarkatan hunting grounds, I do not want to be in the middle of it either. With the rapid migration of the mutants, being in the middle of their territory will mean being hunted endlessly, and not even I can fight forever.
Perhaps the best course of action will be to follow this river even further north until we exit the water meadow. It will only be a matter of time before Tarkatans fill this area, and then I will be in an excellent position to harvest their souls at my leisure.
"Let us go further downstream," I say to Reptile. "Undoubtedly this place will be crawling with Tarkatans soon."
Reptile gives a slight nod as we continue to drift along with the current.
By the time night falls, the landscape becomes more forested, though the land is still mainly open and flat. Willows line the banks of the river while the trees further inland are mainly aspen and poplar. Although the aura of Outworld provides for most of my needs, the need to sleep still remains. With Reptiles standing guard over me, I drift into unconsciousness. Hopefully, when I wake up, the vessel will not have drifted too far.
When I return to the realm of consciousness again, something feels different. It takes me a few seconds to shake off my sleepy stupor and realize that the familiar magical ambiance of the atmosphere is gone. Alarmed, I snap upright and look around me.
I am still in the boat drifting downstream. There are a couple of coniferous trees mixed in with the deciduous and there is less open space, but otherwise the landscape has not changed. It seems pretty early, only an hour after sunrise, based on the pink hue that tints the eastern sky. Reptile sits opposite of me, on alert because of my sudden action. I briefly entertain the thought of asking Reptile about the change in the atmosphere, but then I remember that his race is incapable of using magic, so I scrap the idea.
Now that I am calm and able to focus, I reassess the magical aura and notice something different. The ambient magic is not gone, just significantly weaker. To use the analogy of a pool, it's as if I was underwater before I went to sleep and now only the back of my head is in the water.
I send a weak pulse of magic out to scan for people who could be trying to create a null zone around me, but I can detect nothing bigger than a rabbit (aside from Reptile) in a radius of 10 kilometers. Perhaps...
"Is something the matter, Master?" asks Reptile.
"N-nothing at all," I reply with a shake of my head. If my theory is correct, I'll have to do a little backtracking. "Watch the boat Reptile; I have something to check up on."
The Saurian dips his head in affirmation as I leap out of the boat. Although I can no longer use my demon form, I am still agile for a human. I jump from the boat to the shore ten meters away. Without a single look back, I start running upstream. I will need to retrace my steps to verify my theory.
After an hour of running, my hypothesis is confirmed. As soon as I step past an invisible line, I enter into the familiar magical aura. The difference is like walking into a brick wall. I spend a few seconds identifying exactly where the line is and step over and back a few times, remarking at the abrupt change. It seems my guess is right after all. Something - or someone - must be artificially amplifying the aura of Outworld. For what reason, I can only guess, but the area affected is huge; the desert of my youth and this water meadow must be several thousand kilometers apart, and both of them are influenced by this aura.
Satisfied that no one is actively trying to limit my powers, my mind turns to some practical issues that this matter brings up. With the weaker arcane energies, I will have to start eating and drinking for sustenance like any other human. While I can still dispose of my metabolic waste with magic, I will be unable to do so for digestive waste. Using magic of any sort will require a lot more expenditure of energy, and I will want to conserve as much of that as I can for hunting. In fact, stopping other inconvenient bodily processes like growing hair or growing nails will also have to cease.
With nothing left to do, I head back downstream. It doesn't take long for me to catch up with the boat and hop in. Reptile looks like he wants to ask what I left for, but decides against it. All the better; the less he knows, the less I have to worry about.
By noon, my stomach is growling with a hunger I have not known since I left Earthrealm. The land is completely covered by a mixed deciduous forest with lots of deadfall. That should be hard enough to navigate through on foot to slow the Tarkatans' migration. I should set up a base soon, but there's nowhere suitable to dock and build a shelter.
Another rumble racks my belly. First things first, I need to find some food. A glister in the water catches my eye. It seems there are trout swimming in this river, but without a rod or bait, I won't be able to catch any fish. Near the shores of the river, I can see some green sprouts growing, which my collective memory identifies as watercress. It may not be much, and it may be raw, but a little bit of food in my stomach is better than nothing.
I hop out of the boat and land knee deep in water. Wading over to the green shoots, I grab a handful and rinse it in the river for a few seconds before putting them into my mouth. The plant's bitter taste combined with its slightly spicy flavor makes my face crinkle. Perhaps I will get used to this over time, but hopefully I won't have to rely on watercress as a staple.
While I eat, Reptile paddles against the current to keep the boat in place. A few handfuls of watercress later, I jump back into the boat and we continue our way downstream.
Finally, as the sun is being swallowed by the trees, the river we've been following meets another river that comes from the southwest and the two streams combine and flow northwards. Just on the right side of where the two rivers connect is a grassy little hill with a convenient tree stump near the water for docking the boat.
"This seems like a good spot to stay," I say to Reptile. "Let us put in here."
The Saurian gives a hiss of agreement before grabbing the coil of rope at the front of the boat and diving out of the vessel. As I maneuver the ship towards shore, my servant swims to the tree stump and moors the boat to the stump. As I climb out of the boat and head up the hill, I turn my mind towards planning for the future.
I can build a temporary shelter for the night with fallen branches and foliage, although if I want this place to be my base of operation, I'll need something more permanent. A house of wood will hard to construct, as I have nothing to cut trees with and fallen branches won't be sufficient for a house.
Upon cresting the knoll, I notice there is a rocky outcropping at the north side of the hill. Rocks of all sizes are strewn about in the natural quarry, and an idea forms in my mind. Perhaps I can transport some suitably sized rocks to the top of the hill and slap them together with some river clay and construct a house like that. Certainly, it will take a lot of work but it's quite feasible. The clay will act as both an adhesive and filler. For the roof I can weave some branches together, there are plenty of suitable willow trees by the river.
For now though, I need to construct that temporary shelter and get some sleep. In the morning I will look for something to eat and then start transporting rocks up the hill. I head down the east side of the hill into the woods to look for branches.
In the morning, I head down to the river for a drink and to dispose of my waste. Upon reaching the water, I am taken aback by what I see. A man that looks like me stares back at me from the water, except he's a lot dirtier and his hair is unkempt. Stubble lines his chin and upper lip, and his red cloak, once elegant, is now stained and ripped. I am astonished. I've always used my magic to maintain my perfect appearance, but I never knew how big of a difference it made. In just one day my appearance has deteriorated so fast, and I can see streaks of white in my hair already. I will have to hunt for souls soon.
First things first though, my stomach is empty and I will have to build a roof over my head. It is cloudy today and it will undoubtedly rain tonight. My little lean-to will not keep the water out if the wind blows in the right direction.
I head into the woods again foraging for something to eat. I quickly stumble upon a bush dotted with red berries. My collective memory identifies the berries as safe to eat and I cram a few handfuls into my mouth. The sweet-sour juices of the fruit fill my mouth and mitigate my hunger enough so that I can get some work done.
Returning to the quarry, I form a work plan in my mind. I will spend all of today transporting rocks to the top of the hill and build a pile. Tomorrow I will use the river clay to slap the rocks together, and collect the willow branches for the roof if I have time. I bend down and pick up a rock about half a meter long and head up the hill. The work day has begun, and there is no time to waste.
By midday, my arms are sore and my back aches. Although the day is cool because of the cloud cover, sweat drips from my brows. My entire body is weary and my stomach feels empty enough to implode. I call to Reptile to halt our labor. My hunger is strong and a few berries or sprouts won't satiate it. Perhaps it is time for me to catch a fish.
I use my bare hands to dig into the moist loam, searching for earthworms. In but a minute I have caught a handful. Next order of business is to find a suitable branch for my rod, but where will I get the string and hook? There are no suitable materials anywhere; I have no choice but to use magic.
For the string, I can alchemize some grass and reduce the amount of energy I need to expend. I grab a fistful of grass and channel my energy into it. The plant fibers extract themselves and connect to form a meter of string. Next, I will draw metal out from the earth. There's actually a lot of metal in the ground, but their deposits are so small that gathering a useable amount is simply impossible by traditional means. I place my palms on the ground and chant an incantation. I send a pulse of energy into the earth that draws out metal until I have a nugget in my hands. Now all I have to do is shape this chunk of metal into a hook. I focus once more and a ball of blue light envelopes the nugget between my open hands and a fishing hook materializes. The effects of the spells hit me immediately. My vision turns dark and my head feels lighter than air. I find myself collapsed on my back and gasping for breath, but a growl from my stomach forces me to rise and pick up my materials to continue on. I tie the string to the branch and then the hook to the string. With my completed rod, I head down to the river.
It is two hours and half my worms later that I finally manage to catch a fish. When I finally pull the glistening trout out of the water and onto shore, I feel a burst of pride and annoyance. I had only planned to take an hour at most for my meal.
Since I don't have a knife, I will have to clean and scale the fish with my hands, or maybe with a rock. I thrust my rigid hand through the trout's belly just below its head and I pull my hand down to its anal fin. Next I make cuts laterally along the fish's pectoral fins. Using a little bit of force, I break the exposed backbone and then I yank on the head, pulling off the head and all the innards with it. I'm going to keep the guts for bait next time I want to catch some fish.
With the trout cleaned, I go look for a rock to scale the fish with. Finding an appropriately shaped rock, I grab the fish by the tail and scrape from tail to head. Translucent scales pop off from the fish like ticks from an infested dog. The entire process is rather quick and I am done in less than two minutes. Now all I have to do is roast the fish and eat.
As I sit in front of the fire and munch on my fish (which tastes rather nasty without seasoning of any sort), I can't help but dwell on how much time I wasted trying to catch fish. I just spent nearly three hours to make my meal, and that's only one meal. Suppose I want to have fish for dinner, I'd be wasting six whole hours on food. And yet, this human body cannot do work if not properly fed. Looking at my pile of rocks, I see that it is pitifully small. I had planned to carry enough rocks to build a small house big enough for two people to lie down, but I won't even have half of the stones I need by nightfall.
I guess all I can do now is work extra hard to make up for the time lost from catching fish. To my delight, I see that Reptile is already in the quarry and standing by for my orders.
"Let's get back to work," I say as I descend the hill to the outcropping.
It's night now, and the clouds that have been hanging overhead all day has finally unleashed their load. As I expected, the hastily woven cover of the lean-to cannot keep the water out. Multiple leaks force Reptile and I to stand up. Reptile, though, seems to be sleeping regardless of the conditions. Even though he has no eyelids, I can tell that the Saurian is sleeping. A cold wind blows in from the side, bringing with it a host of raindrops that splashes my legs. I can't help but shiver: I haven't eaten anything for dinner and the temperature at night during rainfall approaches the freezing point. And yet, my brain is hard at work trying to solve the problem that's been bothering me all day.
If I work hard, my body will need food to keep working hard. In order to get that food though, I need to waste many precious hours, precious hours that I can't afford to waste. After all, food alone does not sustain my strength, but the souls of warriors as well. I will have to hunt for those soon. But for now, the more pressing issue is food and how I can obtain said food with minimal time loss. Ideas start to form in my weary mind, and a plan emerges, but I will have to act on it in the morning, I'm exhausted. In spite of the cold and damp, I soon join Reptile in slumber.
After a quick wash in the river, I set my plan in motion.
Before that though, I have plans for Reptile. The Tarkatan boat has a bag full of their supplies and, while rummaging through it this morning, I found a knife that can be used to shape wood and an axehead. I quickly explain my idea to Reptile:
"Your task is rather simple. Firstly, you will need to find a stick that will serve as a shaft for this axehead. The knife will help you trim down larger pieces of wood if necessary. Then, with the completed axe, you will start constructing a wheelbarrow. For the body, cut five planes of wood and remove squares from the corners of one of them. Next, make cutouts on the other four pieces so that they fit onto the first piece; make sure the cutouts aren't too big or they will be loose! Finally, make a circular piece of wood and two long rods. Do not worry about the assembly, I will do that myself. Just make two sets of wheelbarrow parts and that will be all."
Now then, for the plan I conjured up in the night. First of all, I'm going to need two nets: one big and one fine. I create them the same way I made the string yesterday, just with more grass and a lot more expenditure of energy. Next, I head into the woods and grab two strong branches and I set them firmly into the ground beside the water, making sure to slant them so that they lean out over the river. I fix the big net to the poles with the sides well above the water. I also anchor the small net inside the big one. Taking the guts from yesterday's dinner, I start catching trout and putting them into the big net where they can't swim out. I do that until I have enough for several days' supply.
Next, I reach into the bag of Tarkatan supplies and take out a small net for scooping little fish. I will be using this to scoop fish eggs. I wade out into the water and try to look for the little orange clusters while avoiding the glaring reflection of the sun. Any eggs I find I put in the fine mesh anchored in the big net. I stop once I have a satisfactory amount and I grab a trout for breakfast.
The fish in the big net is easy enough to understand, but the eggs have a purpose too. They will eventually hatch and grow big, and then I will empty them into the big net to make room for more eggs. By wintertime, if the river freezes up, I will not have to fish then, but I can simply get fish whenever I please from... from this fish garden.
Satisfied with my work, and full of fish, I head to the quarry to gather more stones. Reptile has two wheelbarrow sets made (shoddy but functional), which I assemble with magic. These two tools should speed up our progress greatly. By the time the sun starts dipping below the horizon, our stack of rocks has more than doubled in size. Perhaps I shall start laying them down tomorrow while Reptile gathers more.
Thus we work like this day after day until the walls of the house so high I need to build piles of rocks simply to lay more rocks for the walls. By that point, my hair is almost completely white and wrinkles once again crease my skin. Tonight will be the night I hunt.
The day ends, and a moonless night takes its place. I should still have enough strength left to overpower a Tarkatan in a one-on-one fight, but I probably won't be able to do so tomorrow. I hope for good luck as I dash off through the woods at speeds unimaginable for someone with as old an appearance as me.
After about three hours of travelling, I spot smoke rising above the trees. As the idiom goes, where there is smoke, there is fire. And where there is fire, there is life. I slow down and proceed quietly towards the smoke.
In fifteen minutes I arrive at my destination. A small encampment is set up in a clearing in the forest. A lone figure is keeping watch around the fire whilst the rest of them are hidden away in two tents, presumably sleeping. The sentry seems to be busy warming himself up by the fire, so I take advantage of his laziness to sneak around the edge of the clearing to get behind him. Slowly and noiselessly I stalk up behind the guard. When I am less than two meters away from him, I pounce. I wrap my right arm around his neck, cutting off his cry before it makes it out of his throat. I thrust my other fist into the guard's diaphragm. The man's body goes limp, but I'm almost certain he's still conscious. That's going to change soon.
Drawing upon more strength, I cast a more localized version of the spell I used to gather the souls of the Tarkatans back in the swamp. I lift my victim up with my right hand as I channel energy into my left. A pale, sickly green light glows around my left hand and a similar colored orb flows from the limp body into my open palm. The corpse of the guard seems to deflate until naught is left but a grey husk of skin and bones.
I feel reinvigorated. A weariness that I was unaware of is lifted from me and fresh strength courses through my body. I head towards one of the tents and lift open the entry flap. Due to the dim light from the fire, I can make out five people sleeping in this tight space. They all seem to be deeply sleeping, which sounds make my job easier.
Silently picking my way to the nearest person, I quickly snap his neck and take his soul. There are no complications with the other four either. Just as I am about to enter the second tent, however, someone shouts.
"Hey! Who are you?"
I spin around. Someone has just stepped into the clearing. The fire illuminates his face and I see that this place is, in fact, a Tarkatan encampment.
Where had this one come from? Perhaps he woke up to attend to bodily needs? It seems unlikely; I would've noticed the movement if that was the case. My guess is he is the second sentry that had gone to relieve himself before I took out the first guard. At any rate, the other Tarkatans in the tent should be alerted now.
A feral smile splits my face. Good, I was starting to get bored of this covert operations nonsense.
Realization dawns on the returning guard's face and he tries to yell, but I am upon him before he can choke out anything more than a strangled cry. I dash across the clearing and wrap my hands around the mutant's throat, cutting off his cry. Next, I lift him bodily and slam him into the ground. Finally, I raise my heel above my head before bringing it down to split his head.
I turn my attention to the Tarkatans groggily stumbling out of the tent now. I could summon a pillar of fire to consume them, but what fun would that be? I wait for one of them to notice me standing over the mutilated corpse of their comrade. Almost simultaneously, all six of the mutants notice me at once. A collective growl rumbles from their throats as each of them unsheathes their grafted weapons. Four of them have the traditional arm-swords, but one has axe blades instead and another has spearheads.
The Outworld nomads all rush me at once. A wave of nostalgia hits me like a wagon; this is just like old times. Perhaps not entirely the same; back then, I had superior reflexes and senses. Now that I am confined in this human form, I will have to work a bit harder to fend off multiple foes at once.
The Tarkatan at the front of the pack lunges at me with a stab, but I deflect his attack with a snap kick, exposing his front. I throw a powerful right hook at his chest, catapulting him back into the rest of the pack. The Tarkatans trip and stumble on each other rather comically, but the one with the axes manage to navigate through the quagmire of limbs.
I duck under a horizontal swing and then rise up with an explosive uppercut. This one must have a strong chin, because, aside from taking a step back, he doesn't seem to be fazed by my hit. Pivoting on my left leg, I unleash a spinning roundhouse to the side of his head. More mutants have untangled themselves now, and I am unable to follow up on my hit. I am forced to flip backwards to dodge several wild swipes. Some of the smarter ones have spread out to surround me, but that doesn't matter. Nothing they do will save them now.
Two Tarkatans charge at me from the front and I flip over them. I kick one of them in the back of the knee, forcing him to kneel. The other one turns to face me, and I drive the heel of my palm into his larynx. The mutant dies with a funny choking sound as the soft tissues of his throat collapses. The Tarkatan I had forced down rises now with a backhanded swipe. I dodge the attack and grab his arm. Stepping forwards and using my shoulder as leverage, I lift and fling my foe over my back and into another enemy.
Axe man comes at me again, still flailing recklessly. I sidestep his blows and wait for him to tire himself out. It is not long before his wild swipes slow down. Ignoring the other Tarkatans that try to engage me, I dash at the axe wielder and grab his tattered shirt. I yank him towards me and pull back my right arm, chambering a powerful punch. If I had the strength I possessed when I was a true demon, I would be able to shatter this mutant's skull with a punch with all my force. As it is, I will have to use a bit of magic to procure the same effect.
A trail of viridescent light is left in the wake of my fist as I launch it towards the unfortunate Tarkatan's face. His head explodes in a shower of bloody pulp as my enhanced fist passes through his brain as easily as a hot knife through butter.
My instincts warn me to duck, and I narrowly avoid being impaled by a spearhead that flies by overhead. I turn to see where the projectile came from. As I expected, it was the mutant with the grafted spearheads that fired the sharp object at me. A rope extends from his left arm to the spearhead lying on the ground a few meters beside me. With a slight whirring sound the rope retracts and pulls back the weapon. I step on the rope to prevent him from reeling it back in, but another one of his buddies leap at me with a dropkick and I'm forced to move away to dodge.
The fool that tried to dropkick me attempts to rise, but a vicious kick to the back of his head forces him down again. I punt him in the ribs, breaking a good number of them and flipping him around. Two of his buddies both charge at me from different directions to try to save him. I wait until they're almost on top of me before I make my move. Leaping high into the air, I avoid their attacks. The mutants' momentum is too great for them to stop, and they ram into each other headfirst. I land with a heavy stomp to my original target's chest, shattering his sternum and incapacitating him for good.
I avoid another flying spearhead as the two floored Tarkatans rise with groans. One of them recovers first and attempts to slash me, but he must have suffered some brain trauma as his blows fly wide. I humor him for a little while before delivering a savage uppercut to his solar plexus. The bald mutant doubles up just as his buddy attempts to gut me from behind. I sidestep the lunge easily and he ends up impaling his buddy's skull instead. With his arm-blade now stuck in his ally's head, the Tarkatan's ability to move is now limited. I snap a roundhouse at his face, but the weight of the corpse embedded into his right arm negates the knockback of the hit. Next I throw a combo of triple jabs to the face. Finally I step forwards and throw a cross to his chest, penetrating his ribcage and crushing his heart. A geyser of warm blood bathes my face as the mutant's corpse falls to the ground.
I turn to my final foe. The first signs of fear are appearing on his face, an expression I haven't seen in far too long. He shoots his weapon at me again, but I deflect if by slapping the spearhead on its flat side. I grab the rope as he starts retracting his projectile, and we pull ourselves towards each other. His lips draw back in a savage grin as an idea seems to have appeared in his primitive brain. He sticks his other arm out, meaning to use his superior range to run me through. I tug on the rope hard and cause the Tarkatan to stumble. Before he can catch his footing, I turn the spearhead around and stab it into his cranium. The mutant gives a startled choke before collapsing to the ground, dead.
I breathe in the fresh night air laced with the metallic tang of blood, and absorb the fresh souls of my victims. I should have enough strength now to last me for another week before I need to hunt again.
Ah, I almost forgot. One of them is not dead, merely incapable of moving. I slowly stalk my way to the broken body of the lone survivor. The fear written all over his face is delicious.
"No, please!" he pleads. Interesting. So even savages that live to kill will beg for their lives. That just goes to show how strong the desire to live is. That's right, everything—everyone—just wants to live, and I am no exception. The difference is that, while they will fail and die one day, I will not. They will become my food, and I- I will live forever!
Next chapter will be a big experiment. Given how long I took with this chapter even while copying a lot of stuff from others, you can expect the next chapter to be up in... a year? Sounds about right. See you in a year.