Yes, seriously, I'm really finishing this now. Well, we'll see if I FINISH it before my next dry spell, but significantly continuing, if nothing else. Wilson's Ordeal is back on hiatus, yes, but I'd never actually envisioned a real endpoint for that fic; this, though, does have an endpoint, and I vow to get there.
With the device confirming by every possible metric that whatever it was detecting was beyond a land bridge covered in spider nests, Wilson decided to retreat and regroup for now. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, which was a small comfort, and when he got back to the spider nest he'd been farming before, he found it had grown (of course). Carefully, very carefully, he lured the spiders out - in pairs, now, inevitably - trusting his helmet to protect him from the occasional bite or two, as he emptied the nest, then smashed it. For all that, he got five pieces of silk, plus two more glands. Having worked to get at least enough resources for light as he walked, he built a campfire, sat down, and assessed his options.
Winter would be arriving in a few days, but it wouldn't last long. He had six pieces of silk in total - enough for a top hat, but given the endless rain, an umbrella was more important, and as for what he could do with the remaining four…Everything was so wet, a fire-free source of light was equally important - with an umbrella and a mining helmet, his options would certainly open up. On the other hand, better warm-weather clothing than just earmuffs - earmuffs that were on the verge of falling apart, at that - would also open up his options; his beard now reached his neck, but of course, it was poor insulation against the coldest point of winter.
I have a touchstone, Wilson reminded himself. I can take some risks. Even so, I can't afford to waste it…
And then there was the problem of the spider nests. He had to get past them, but while one singular nest, even a 3-tiered nest, was certainly possible to overcome and destroy, a whole crowd of the things was another story. Spiders took offense to any spider in their vicinity being attacked, even if that spider was from a different nest, which was not only an offense to science (spiders were not social animals), but also meant that attacking one nest would probably also anger the spiders in all the other nests on that bridge. What was more, the nests didn't look close enough together to set off a chain reaction with fire, and of course, spiders and frogs had no problems with each other at all.
The worst part? All that silk would also open up his options, if only he could get to it.
Morning came, and with it, a wave of warmth, as well as a renewed increase in the rainfall. Scowling, Wilson finally returned to his alchemy engine, only to realize he needed more twigs than he had to hand if he was to make an umbrella. There were thorny bushes around, and if he walked only a few minutes away from the path he'd been following, twigs were certainly present, at a cost.
"Stupid bushes," Wilson grumbled, approaching one. It was so tangled, reaching in to snap off some branches would slice his hands yet again, and he hadn't quite healed from the last time. I'll make salve when I get back, he reminded himself, as that was somehow something he still hadn't done.
Then, suddenly, he had a brainwave. Back in the original fake world that had been his cage, he'd never really bothered with thorn bushes, as he hadn't needed to; now, out of necessity, he wondered if it might be easier to harvest twigs from a thorn bush if he dug it up first. Anything of this size could be dug up, right?
Almost glad for a chance to take out a tool and stick it to fake nature, Wilson pulled out his shovel and stabbed it into the dirt at the base of the tangle of thorns, putting all his frustration into the effort of digging the thing up. It ripped free of the ground, and in doing so, it collapsed, a few twigs falling from the trunk of the bush that were completely thorn-free.
Eyes widening, Wilson picked up the twigs. I…can still get twigs. Without hurting myself. While objectively a good thing, he wanted to smack himself in the face for not thinking of this sooner. No, he told himself firmly, that is most un-gentlemanly, I swore I would not allow this life to turn me into some sort of brute. Besides, there's plenty in this world that will hurt me, I can't afford to hurt myself.
Focusing his anger instead on the manual labor, Wilson started digging up thorn bushes, and before night fell, he had more than enough twigs for a few uses. On a sudden burst of inspiration, he carefully picked up one of the upturned thorn bushes by its roots and returned to his base, tossing the wicked plant into his fire pit and lighting it. The resulting blaze was explosive, more a bonfire than a campfire, and Wilson felt a savage smile twist his lips as he set to finally, finally putting together an umbrella for himself. The rain, naturally, hadn't stopped, and when he was able to place an insulated barrier between himself and the elements at last, he let out a sigh of relief.
Next, salve. He'd gotten three spider glands from the one nest in total, and had more than enough ash and rocks in his backpack to make use of them all. More relief, as he rubbed his hands with the paste and the wounds closed up; he slathered a bit more on the couple of bites he'd gotten from the spiders as well. After that, he made a bug net, so he could catch fireflies once night fell, and a grass hat, to be used as a base for the helmet. By now, his mind had been sorely frayed from the constant rain and darkness, but all this science soothed his headache tremendously.
Night came, and he wandered out a little ways from the light of his fire, the heat stone having absorbed enough warmth from the blaze to glow just enough to keep the night monster at bay. Luckily, he found a cluster of fireflies before going too far, and he quickly caught them and returned to his base. With a miner helmet in hand at last, his head shielded from the weather, there was no longer any need to wait out the night.
Drawing a deep breath, Wilson turned towards the bridge and started walking. Morning dawned just in time to see more frogs raining down, much to his annoyance, but it got him thinking about making more traps, and suddenly, he realized that animal traps could do more than just keep frogs at bay: they could be used to safely farm silk from all those spider nests. With just a few traps, if he placed them a short ways away from the cluster, come dusk, the spiders would almost certainly wander into them, and he could then gather their resources later - one thing spider aggression had never accounted for was death by trap, so unless the rules had changed there too, there would be no danger to Wilson.
That in mind, he took a detour to dig up some more thorn bushes and gather a lot more grass, going until his shovel snapped. Making use of it all, he had six traps on hand, counting the two he'd had from before, when he finally got back to the bridge; dusk had already fallen, and the spiders were clattering about, so Wilson set the traps and stood back.
So my silk problem is more or less solved, Wilson mused, and he eyed the passage across the ocean. But not the problem of getting to the other side. Even with twice as many traps, it would take forever to empty all the nests - new spiders would probably grow from the first ones by the time I emptied the last ones, it would be impossible to completely eliminate them all.
But…I could run for it.
It wasn't a completely stupid idea - spiders always took a second to ready their attacks before biting, so long as he simply kept moving he would probably be safe, even with his movement impeded by the sticky ground. Frogs had only just stopped falling moments ago, and so Wilson made his decision.
I need to go.
Drawing a deep breath, Wilson sprinted headlong into the spiders' domain. Of course, the stickiness immediately made it difficult to achieve even a walking pace, and of course, several nests instantly detected someone intruding on their territory; the combined "rrargh!"s of so many spiders set Wilson's teeth on edge, but he focused on plowing forward.
The spiders behind him couldn't bite him so long as he kept moving, but the spiders ahead of him turned out to be another story: moving past them before they could bite while on this sticky ground was all but impossible, and Wilson made the split-second decision to weave his path to avoid most of the attacks. Even so, two bites managed to hit him before he got through, and once he was on the other side, a veritable horde of the black creatures were following him.
Running across the green grass, with only flowers and a couple of beehives in sight, Wilson just kept moving, and eventually, the spiders lost interest and stopped, returning to their random wandering during the dusk hours. When the last one gave up the chase, he stopped and caught his breath. Thanks to his helmet, he wasn't injured enough to warrant using up his last batch of salve, but he still felt the sting.
Naturally, night fell just then, and Wilson decided to rest instead of exploring with his mining helmet, using some of his remaining resources to light a campfire. Realizing he'd given up on the idea of a true home base, he burned his charcoal through the night. He'd gathered and eaten a few carrots while digging up thorn bushes, but it wasn't until that moment that he realized that he was out of food, and very hungry. Biting his lip, he looked around. No reason to think there's food nearby, fields with beehives only have flowers, he thought. Maybe beyond that, but…I don't know what's here. The rules of land layout have already been broken so many times…
Trying to ignore his grumbling stomach, Wilson waited for morning.
The sun rose, difficult as it was to actually see given the constant rain. His umbrella was holding firm, and Wilson started walking, only to remember he had to use a different tool to proceed. Bracing himself, he quickly pocketed his umbrella and pulled out the homing device; it was beeping with just enough urgency that Wilson felt confident he was getting close.
His back to the spider nests, Wilson started walking as quickly as he could. After a few steps, in which the increase in the humming of the homing device was only just noticeable but still nonetheless present, Wilson caught sight of something he had never seen before, sitting among the flowers…
…wait. The flowers. They weren't normal flowers, they were evil flowers, the kind he could get nightmare fuel from using a Prestihatitator. Those only grew around Totally Normal Trees and, more recently, the things, but these seemed to be growing all around.
Stopping short, Wilson reassessed his surroundings. While there were a couple of ordinary flowers here and there, most of them had in fact been evil flowers all along, even behind him. And then there was the odd shape he'd seen…
Turning around again, he stepped closer to the odd thing. It was red and black, and shaped like an inverted cone; in some ways, it brought to mind a flower, but its shape was too angular to be pretty.
Then, as he got close, the faint buzzing that came with any beehive that he'd failed to notice in the background rose to a roar, and six red, angry bees emerged from the thing all at once, immediately giving chase against him. He'd seen these kinds of bees before, when he'd tried breaking a beehive. But I didn't do anything this time! he thought. Why are they mad?!
Not wanting to pick a fight, he turned and ran away, only just now noticing that there were a few more such beehives scattered among the evil flowers. Still, bees were not fast, and after a little while, they gave up the chase and returned to their hive. Just need to keep out of the way of those, Wilson thought. Alright then… Inhaling deeply, he started following the homing device again.
After a short ways, the evil field gave way to a forest, thick with lumpy trees that grew no cones. As he stepped under the pines, the device started screaming and shaking wildly, and Wilson pushed past the branches only a little further before he found himself in a clearing and stopped dead in his tracks.
There were no evil flowers, only a bit of paved road running between three patches of farmable land, four saplings, and seven tufts of grass. Some carrots were dotted around the space as well, along with a shovel stuck in the dirt; it was as though someone before him had come by and started a farm. That couldn't be the case, though, because at the very center of the clearing was a strange object, clearly akin to the ring thing and box thing. It was difficult to feel triumphant, though.
My home base is a cluster of spider nests and a field of angry bees away from this farm! Wilson thought angrily, pulling out his umbrella to ward off the accursed, ceaseless rain as he stepped into the clearing. I can't make use of this farmland! No…I couldn't anyway, he reminded himself. I'm not staying. And the carrots are helpful. As are the twigs.
He stripped the saplings and picked the carrots, stuffing the latter into his mouth raw, too hungry to care about cooking them. The shovel appeared to be brand-new, so he took that up as well - four bundles of twigs might be enough to tide him over until he achieved whatever he was trying to do, but there was no counting on that. Finally, he approached the large metal object lying in the center of the space.
It was roughly potato-shaped, slightly oblong and bulbous, though it was entirely metal; in one spot, a raised circle surrounded a red light. Just holding it in his hands, this thing somehow felt more…significant, than the rest of the odd things he'd found, as though it contained a great and fearful power. Investigating it further with the help of his mining helmet, between the one or two almost-unnoticeable cracks in the many tiny metal plates welded together to form the object, Wilson managed to catch glimpses of mechanisms, gears so tiny their teeth could tear a hole in the fabric of reality.
Am I really…going to build a way home? he thought, almost awed, as he pocketed the metal potato thing. Awe gave way to a surge of determination, and he took out his homing device again. The beeping had quieted down, but not silenced entirely; another of the strange things was near. Dusk was drawing to an end, and Wilson swapped his football helmet back out for his mining helmet and started walking, taking a few turns through the woods before determining what direction he was supposed to go. He walked through the night, occasionally stopping to catch more fireflies so he could maintain his fireless light, and by some miracle, the rain actually stopped for a moment. Full of hope, he walked until the forest gave way to a normal grassland, with all the usual fixtures except saplings and berry bushes, the device waving wildly in his hand as he took a few moments to pick and eat some more carrots.
Morning came, and so did more rain, but Wilson barely noticed, as the light revealed something he had never seen before.
Just past where the light of his mining helmet had reached, the grass gave way to marble flooring, the kind he'd learned to make back in the first world. Marble structures, also, dotted the space beyond - marble pillars, the like of which he'd seen before, but also blocky pink trees that, as he got closer, glinted with the telltale sheen of rock. I don't think an axe will cut it, Wilson thought, eyeing the marble trees. There were headless cherub statues as well - though where the head could be, Wilson couldn't guess. Despite being what in the real world would be artificial ground, though, evil flowers dotted the patch of what should have been civilization.
But that wasn't the most interesting of what Wilson had found. On some patches of carpet slumbered some metal beasts, like those he'd seen in the ancient underground ruins he'd managed to find; except, while those had been decrepit and rusted, these shone in the sunlight, sleek and new…and probably all the more dangerous. There were four of them, two knights and two bishops, their resemblance to the chess pieces all the clearer now in daylight, and they were spaced evenly around the not-quite-square of land.
And at the center of that stood a polygonal wooden shape, like a platform…or maybe, just maybe, like a gateway.
Not that getting close enough to inspect the structure further would be easy. But even so, Wilson felt his heart race.
Is it really possible? he wondered. Can I go home at last?