I had no idea how long I'd been walking. Time felt like a distant concept to me – a concept that didn't really matter. I was eternal, undying. Cold and frost, and the death of all things were all beyond the trivialities of time. Still, that also meant that days or weeks could've passed and I honestly did not notice. I just kept walking, trailing the beach, climbing the cliffs, jumping over rock and stone, killing more and more of the green-skinned creatures who apparently frequented this place. Oh yes, they did not learn to fear me or avoid me as I'd hoped they would. Instead, they seemed to take my superiority as a challenge, sending more and more after me, each one more suicidal than the last. I found no human settlement, but that didn't mean I didn't find any settlements.
Because I encountered – by my last count – about five already, each of them inhabited by the green-skinned creatures that just kept attacking me. They didn't retreat. They didn't try anything new. They just kept coming. And so I just kept killing them. And it was in this time that I discovered that, for some odd reason, my Avatar possessed martial arts abilities that I definitely didn't know about, moves and attacks and strikes and defensive maneuvers that I certainly hadn't learned in this life or the previous one. Sure, I knew some basic boxing, since my dad made me attend a bunch of classes when I was just a kid, but no more than that.
I certainly did not know how to redirect punches, absorb kinetic energy, and send it back my attacker tenfold. But that's exactly what I did. Though, I suppose it helped quite a lot that I had the power to do just that, even without martial arts – absorb energy, heat, movement, and life. The green-skinned humanoids stood no chance, even if I refused to use my natural abilities. They were simply physically inferior. None of their weapons could even cut my skin or cause me pain for that matter, most of which shattered the moment I grasped them or when they hit me.
My skin, I realized, was simply too cold – so cold, in fact, that anything and everything I touched would freeze solid, regardless of how much I held back my frozen domain. I suppose that was simply something I'd have to live with, especially when there really wasn't much to be done about it. I touched a boulder and it shattered moments later, fell apart like brittle glass. It was tragic that such a thing would greatly limit my ability to interact with humans; so, just talking was likely to be as good as things would ever be, unless... I found a way to encase myself in some kind of suit that contained all the ice and snow, allowing me to interact with the physical world without freezing every single thing I touched.
But, this world was primitive and a... device of that function would require a level of technology that the cavemen of this planet couldn't even begin to comprehend. And, though I remembered every single thing I've ever perceived, I was neither a scientist nor an engineer in my past life. So, for now, the ability to touch others was, unfortunately, beyond me. Unfortunate, but what was just how it is.
That said, just being able to communicate verbally would be an immense weight off my shoulders. Though my mind was now distant and cold and far from madness, I still could not rightly say that loneliness was at all a pleasant thing to experience, because it definitely was not. Though I had my Wights, a large part of me still wished to commune with the living, to form bonds and relationships with people who may or may not understand me. I felt like this... what I've become... was meant to be a singular existence, an entity that waits and stands alone until all life was extinguished, until all heat in the cosmos disappeared. And yet, a big part of me used to be a man – a human being – and that meant I definitely did not want to just stand alone until the very end of all things, which may or may not happen in several billion or maybe even trillion years.
By the time the sun arose and fell three times, I'd already killed almost a thousand of the green-skinned creatures, maybe more – definitely not less. It seemed that they held some kind of dominion over this portion of the continent, their villages dotting the shoreline – many if which now lay in ruin, covered in the frozen cadavers of those who once dwelt in them. Would I have found humans if I'd picked another direction, instead? Possibly. No idea. I was going to keep on walking until I stumbled into people.
However, all I found were more and more of the green skins, many of them behaving the same way as the others, but a few were becoming smart enough to start running the moment I get close. I suppose I could've ran after them. I was faster and stronger than they could ever hope to be, but I'd prefer to minimize the loss of life, if possible, especially since the ones who ran away did not attack me and I couldn't justify killing them as an act of self defense. And to be honest, I wasn't even particularly trying to defend myself. These brutes killed themselves by attacking me and, a lot of times, that was literal; many of them frozen to death in an attempt to tackle me to the ground, their bodies freezing below zero upon contact.
Wild animals avoided me altogether, because I'd not seen one that wasn't either running away or observing me from several kilometers away.
After the fourth sunrise, and after leaving behind a veritable trail of frozen corpses and ruined encampments in my wake, I finally found them. Across a vast lake was a small village of sorts, with tents made from the bleached bones and tanned animal skins, and whereupon men and women in tanned furs and hides walked about, carrying stone spears and wooden bows, and adoring themselves with rattling little bits of bone. Primitive. But they were definitely humans, I noted. They had varied features as well, none of them looking as though they came from a single ethnic group.
My eyes narrowed as I leaned against a nearby tree. I was far enough away that none of them would see me, especially across the lake and especially with the creeping white mist that seemed to follow me and all the tall trees that jutted about in this place. So, I observed them. And, taking back what I'd thought earlier, these people definitely weren't nearly as primitive as I'd assumed they were. Oh, they were definitely far from advanced, either, but no primitive society would have the time to fashion bones into musical instruments. Their tents, I noted, were built to be quickly assembled and disassembled, which told me that these people led nomadic lives. And, since they maintained no animal stock for food, it was easy to figure out that they were likely following some form of herbivorous herd of edible creatures, ones that roamed across the continent, forcing these tribal people to follow them around, bringing along their tents and tools with them.
They reminded me of the American Indians, actually, who lived a similar semi-nomadic lifestyle.
The heads of the green-skinned brutes, which were either strung up or impaled on bloody wooden pikes told me that these two peoples were not at all friendly with each other. I suppose that made sense. The greenskins attacked me the moment they saw me. They didn't try to communicate. They just saw me, stalked me, and then tried to kill me. I could hardly imagine such a violent race to be capable of forming bonds of friendship with humans. So, I suppose they'd be happy to learn of the fact that I'd killed thousands of those creatures. But, now that I was here, I was struck by the sudden knowledge that... I had no idea how I was supposed to approach them or if we could even speak the same language, which I was almost certain we could not.
I could read their lips from where I stood and I recognized nothing. And this form of mine was tall and pale and wreathed in frost and snow; they'd probably think me a monster if I came to them as I was – thrice as tall and whiter than ice. Yeah, they'd attack and I'd end up ruining this whole thing. And, still, I wanted to approach them and mingle with them. The best way, I figured, was if I did so as a savior of sorts, a hero, someone who'd be welcomed, even as a stranger. But, then, what would I be saving them from if I'd already killed most of their enemies for them? Hmmm... I'd have to wait for an opportunity, I suppose. Though, that would certainly take a while; then again, I had nothing but time, after all.
The difficult part would be what came after, because we didn't speak the same language and I'd probably end up killing most of them just by uttering a single word – such was the power of my voice.
So, how do I make myself appear heroic to these people?
I wasn't low enough to manufacture a situation on my own, just to force them to like me. I didn't want that. Again, my one advantage was time. So, I waited and I observed. The eyes of my Avatar were advanced enough that I could adjust my vision to see almost hundreds of kilometers away. And, as time passed around while I stood deathly still, I learned. Within a week, the mind of my Avatar was able to figure out their language, which – in itself – was far from primitive or simple, though my voice remained too powerful for me to speak to them, even in their own tongue. A week turned into a month. I learned their songs and stories, afterwards, the legends of their ancestors who once roamed the skies and conquered distant worlds; they honored these ancestors by carving odd symbols on the trees and singing and dancing. I learned how they honored the beasts that they hunted and made use of every single part of their kill. The bones, in particular, they used to build their structures.
A whole month passed before the tribals began to undo their camp, the grazing herds of herbivorous beasts that made up the bulk of their diet likely already moving on to greener pastures. So, I followed them, but otherwise kept myself at a distance. The last thing I wanted was to spook them off and these humans were amazing trackers and hunters; if I wandered a little too close, then notice me immediately. Though, I could summon a blizzard, under which I could make myself invisible, but there was no need for that. The perfect opportunity would reveal itself eventually. All I had to do was wait.
The tribe moved out of the woods and into a nearby plain, a seemingly endless expanse of grasslands and prairies – the shades of mountains looming over the horizon. They moved as I imagined they would, on foot with their tents and supplies on their back. Even this far away, however, my frost still reached them. And specks of white marred the greenery of the grasses.
They were remarkable, these humans. Resilient in ways that spoke of survival, of a life lived in the shadow of danger. I watched as they moved in unison, the older members of the tribe teaching the younger how to pack and carry supplies, while the hunters stayed on the periphery, ever vigilant for threats. They were no strangers to hardship, and yet, their songs and stories, the ones I had come to understand over the past month, carried a sense of hope, of connection to something greater than themselves.
Still, no matter how much I learned about them, I remained a specter on the edge of their world. They had no inkling of my presence, save for the creeping frost that occasionally found its way to their feet. But I had learned patience – learned it through the long stretches of time spent in solitude, through the endless march of frozen landscapes and cold winds.
The perfect opportunity, I knew, would come. I just had to wait.
It arrived, as I suspected it would, in the form of conflict.
The tribe had stopped to rest near a small river that cut through the plains. They set up their temporary camp with a practiced ease, assembling the bone-and-hide tents while a few of their hunters scouted the area. It was a peaceful moment, the sun hanging low on the horizon, casting a warm glow across the grasslands.
And then the shadows came.
At first, I thought it was a trick of the fading light, but no – there, just beyond the tall grasses, movement. I shifted my gaze, sharpening my vision to pick out the details. The green-skinned creatures. Again. These ones were different, though. Larger, more heavily armored, wielding weapons far more intricate than the crude clubs and axes I had encountered before. Their skin glistened with war paint, and their eyes burned with the singular focus of a predator closing in on its prey.
The tribe hadn't noticed them yet. The creatures moved with surprising stealth, their hulking forms almost blending with the shadows of the tall grass as they advanced on the camp. There was a purpose to their approach, a calculation that suggested this wasn't just another mindless raid. This was an ambush, and it was well-planned.
I felt a surge of anger rise within me, though it was dulled by the ever-present cold in my mind. These people didn't deserve this. They had fought enough battles, faced enough hardships, and now this – another senseless slaughter in the making. I could see it all unfolding in my mind. The creatures would strike, taking the tribe by surprise. By the time they realized what was happening, it would be too late. Too many would die before they could mount a defense.
No. Not this time.
I stepped forward, feeling the frost surge around me as I moved. The air grew colder, the mist thickening as I began to close the distance between myself and the impending conflict. My presence, no longer subtle, was now a force – an undeniable, chilling advance that even the creatures could feel.
One of the hunters, positioned on the edge of the camp, noticed the frost at his feet. He looked up, his eyes wide with confusion as he saw the mist rolling toward them. But there was no time for him to raise an alarm, because the first of the creatures broke from the grass, charging toward the camp with a guttural roar.
I moved faster.
In the blink of an eye, I was there – between the creatures and the tribe. My form towered over them, wreathed in frost and mist, my eyes glowing with the cold light of the abyss. The green-skinned brutes hesitated, their momentum faltering as they registered my sudden appearance. They didn't understand what they were seeing, but they knew enough to be afraid.
For the first time, they stopped. Not out of strategy, but fear.
I allowed them no mercy.
With a flick of my hand, the temperature plummeted. The grass beneath their feet froze instantly, and a wave of ice surged forward, encasing the first row of attackers in a wall of frozen death. Their screams were brief, cut off as their bodies crystallized in an instant. The others, seeing their comrades fall, turned to flee, but it was too late. I raised my other hand, and a blizzard erupted from the air around me, engulfing the remaining creatures in a storm of ice and wind. Their movements slowed, then stopped entirely, as the cold overtook them.
The battle, if it could be called that, was over in seconds.
Silence fell over the plains, save for the soft crackling of ice settling over the frozen corpses of the attackers. The tribe stood frozen as well, though in a different sense, their eyes wide with disbelief as they stared at the carnage before them – and at me.
I turned slowly, my towering form now fully visible to the humans for the first time. The frost still swirled around me, my icy aura impossible to contain, but I softened my expression, doing my best to appear non-threatening. It was a futile gesture, I knew. I looked nothing like them. I was a being of cold and death, and they were creatures of warmth and life. The ice and cold retreated into me and I saw the relief on several of their face in its sudden absence.
The elder, the one who had led them through the plains, stepped forward. She met my gaze, her eyes filled with the same curiosity I had seen before in the other village. She said something in their language, a phrase I now understood after weeks of listening.
"Thank you, Icewalker." The elder said, smiling as she looked up at me.
I wanted to reply, but a single word from me and most of them would die. The second word was going to kill them all. So, I just nodded.
And that was that.