Disclaimer: The works of Campione! and other used series are the sole property of their respective owners.
Alright its time. The final portion of the prologue is here. This will be a kinda choppy segment, as it has a lot of moving parts. Hopefully that doesn't make it hard to follow. I would have preferred to add some of this in the second piece of the prologue, but I decided it would detract from the sense of time having elapsed, between events if I did.
Fortunately, the story will be more linear going forward now that we'll be out of the set up and into the meat of the plot. I'm just glad my long set up for the story proper is going over well. Not doing a prologue was the major mistake I made with Veneration, and why I decided to do a reboot. I won't say this is infinitely better just because, but I think it makes it more fleshed out and sensible. The hard part is balancing a sense of mystery both for the characters and for you the audience, about the events taking place in the world. I just my hope choices for an alternate background for Iconoclast compared to Campione canon proves engaging.
I gave a little bit of agency to the magical societies in this setting. They always seemed too reactive and not proactive enough in my opinion. I mean, how else can they keep the existence of magic, gods, and other species, secret without sensible fieldwork. It only makes sense they would take an active role in keeping safe humanity from the moonlight world. Granted as I show their only so much they can do against a sentient natural disaster. Except get another sentient disaster to cancel it out.
Which brings me to the Campione. I only gave them a brief intro compared to how I did in in Veneration. Not to worry they'll get more screen time soon. I just did not want to bog the chapter down.
Spoilers:
Three out of four of the Heretic Gods mentioned in this chapter are canon to Campione!. Only Cernunnos is not, he's my own creation. He mainly serves as a means for Jace to learn of his first Authority. Otherwise, Jace won't stand a chance in his first proper fight against a Heretic God.
As for the bits about the deadly storm and the Wandering White Ghost, those are my original concepts. Campione! does have some dark themes, but overall is a more light-hearted universe. I wanted to make a story with more grit, so realistic consequences of having living disasters walking the earth will be prominent. It won't be a grim dark story by any means, but definitely have plenty of more adult themes.
Regarding Jace's decision to save the woman and child, it should be clear Jace is not a 'good' person. He did it because of a personal reason. Which happens to be a fairly traumatic one. This will be elaborated on as time goes on, but Jace's past is not pretty. He's not only hurt a lot of people, he's been hurt. Badly. So, when things don't work, he just keeps going. Jace will undergo character growth/change as its a big theme in this story. But, he won't become a completely different person. The background I've given him will have a defining effect on him.
Iconoclast
Prologue: Part 3: Alteration of Fates
Fate is rarely a straight line. It's a tree of choices, each choice made offering a new path.
(Zagreb Croatia, March 13th, 2024)
It had been a week since the Wandering White Ghost had been initially spotted. At first it had been taken as a false alarm. Just locals of Greece seeing a spectral figure due to fatigue and the poor visibility of night. But that had been before the statues.
The statues weren't anything special. To the uninitiated at least. To the Magi of the Balkans, they were a horror. Flesh and blood humans turned to stone. A product of a divine ability of some kind. That was the most unsettling thing. If humans were being turned into stone statues and there was residual divinity laced in the statues… that meant a Heretic God was in play. A nightmare situation.
Strange though was the god's behavior. So far, it remained in the shadows, avoiding direct contact with mortals. It did not announce itself, instead opting to remain a mystery, which was baffling to the human magical societies. Most Heretic Gods were all too happy to boast of their reputation. So why wasn't this one doing the same?
Regardless, the Heretic God needed to be addressed. If it was allowed to roam unhindered, there was no telling what disaster might occur. That was the purpose of the meeting of the highest-ranking officers of the Bronze-Black-Cross. As the most influential magical society in the Balkan territories, many were looking to them to investigate the matter.
A man dressed in a fine gray suit, in his later years, was currently steepling his fingers before him. He was listening to the reports of his subordinates on the matter of the Wandering White Ghost. And he was not pleased with what he was hearing.
"The total count of humans turned into statues has risen to eight. Two more were found two days ago." A portly man dressed in a business suit, finished speaking, his nasally voice full of nervous energy.
The leader of the Bronze-Black-Cross breathed out. "I see. Where were they found?"
The portly man answered, "Ah. In the old ruins of a temple near Thessaloniki. Strangely enough, the exact same circumstances as the others. Just in different locations in Greece."
An interesting note, the leader thought. But he needed to pose another question before pondering on that. "I hope our orders regarding the finding of more statues, has been implemented correctly?"
A different individual spoke up. This time it was a man appearing in his fifties. He was wearing an outfit, not dissimilar to World War 1 Greek officer's uniform. A saber even hung on his hip. A frown of displeasure was prominent on his face. "Hardly, Paladin. Our membership nearest to the site took an entire day, when it should have taken only half, to secure the statues. In the meantime, a local organization of the region hadn't even bothered to hide the statues. They left the things out for the public to see!" The man practically growled out.
The Paladin's eyes narrowed. That was… not good. The sudden disappearance of a person and the sudden appearance of a statue in their image would lead people to talk. Most would assume it was the work of a psychotic individual or possibly a nefarious group. Few would suspect a supernatural perpetrator. But. The continuous occurrence of the incident would mandate a response by the common public. The mundane authorities would be forced to act. Of course, they would be unable to solve the matter. Resulting in an upset by the public. Which might lead to a rupture of the veil of secrecy over the supernatural.
Which why it fell to magical societies such as the Bronze-Black-Cross to solve the matter.
"How was the matter handled once our agents arrived on scene?" The Paladin inquired.
The militarily dressed man banged his fist on the table, responding with indignation. "Like fucking trainees! They didn't assert our organization's authority over those country bumpkins and nearly bungled the whole operation."
The Paladin suppressed a sigh. He was too used to the man's outbursts to let it show outwardly. It would hardly do for him to show exasperation to his subordinates. "Language Constantine. Now, more precisely, what happened."
Constantine straightened his outfit, as he regained control of himself. More calmly, though still with indignation, he spoke. "Apologies Paladin. Our agents, two veteran knights, reached the scene a day ago. Upon arrival they made contact with the local magic organization, a rabble of alchemists and hedge wizards. They wasted two hours negotiating with them, instead of correcting the mistake. By that time several family members of the statue victims had found the statues. One mother was found weeping over the statue of presumably her son. The woman was apparently gifted with some talent of divination, because she was lamenting her son being cursed by a figure eerily similar to the reports, we've received by those not turned to stone." Constantine shifted. "Fortunately, knight Valleta is skilled in hypnosis, and managed to cast a mass memory alteration spell. While the family members were still under the spell's effects, our agents spirited the statues away, to one of our own secure sites."
The Paladin's features darkened. That was not a good handling of a delicate situation. It could have been worse, but it could have been far better. "Unfortunate, but the situation is under control now. Cassandra, how has the information campaign gone?"
A woman wearing a purple shawl that shadowed her face, shifted in her seat. "Better than our retrieval efforts, Paladin." Cassandra opened a file on the laptop in front of her. "We've successfully managed to create a narrative that the Wandering White Ghost, is the work of an internet prank. As for the statue victims, we've had the Greek government label them as missing persons. It was most fortunate that in all the cases none of the survivors were able to take photos of the Heretic God. Suppressing that would have been more problematic."
The Paladin nodded in agreement. Photo/video evidence of the supernatural was the most problematic to contend with. A person's word could easily be labeled as a lie, but visual proof was another matter. It took careful manipulation to keep that from rising to the surface of the public consciousness. "Very good." The Paladin placed a hand to his chin, as he stroked his silver beard. A frowned briefly touched his lips as he muttered, "If only it were the work of devils."
The portly man, fidgeted in place at his leader's utterance. "Paladin Kranjcar?" He said, hoping to gain the Paladin's attention.
The Paladin did not respond immediately. Instead, he placed his hands on the table face down, his expression already serious, growing dour. "As it stands, we have a Heretic God on the loose. While their intentions are currently unknown, they are a threat if nothing else to the veil of secrecy over our world. We need to find this Heretic God and soon, before these relatively minor incidents escalate. To that end I'm tasking all our knights in the Balkans with finding this deity. If the pattern is anything to go by, the Heretic is searching in the old temples to the Greek gods for something. Therefore, we need to surveil these sites and hope to find what the god is seeking."
Cassandra spoke after the Paladin, seeking clarification. "What of the step after we find either the god or its quarry?"
"We ask the Duke for his assistance." The Paladin state grimly.
A collective silence overtook the four lieutenants of the Bronze-Black-Cross. Each knew who their leader was speaking of. A man, if he could be called that, renowned for his ruthless nature.
Constantine was the first to break the silence. "Sir, are you sure that is necessary for the situation? The god might be subdue able without asking for his assistance." His voice lacked the bravado from before, replaced with the pale nature of uncertainty.
The Paladin nearly snorted. Subdue a Heretic God? With the might of mere mortals alone? Ludicrous.
Cassandra seemed to share the sentiment and, unlike her leader, had no issue with voicing her thoughts. "Constantine, do I need even say how inane what you just said is? Subdue a Heretic God, with what? A squad of knights that would be turned to stone just the same as those poor souls."
Constantine, went red, his face flush, as he felt the indignation from his comrade's remark. "Better that than bothering the Wolf King! You've never dealt with him directly. He's more beast than man." Constantine hotly contested, anger coloring his voice. But if one listened closely, they would hear more than anger. They'd hear the quiver of fear.
The portly man gulped, as he thought of the Wolf King. He'd never had the misfortune of crossing paths with the monarch. Constantine had though, nearly twenty years ago. The experience had reportedly rattled the otherwise tough as nails persona of the then yet Knight Commander. That was no easy feat, Constantine had seen battle against both men and more supernatural foes, in his time as a mage-knight. To cause a battle-hardened man to be so afraid, spoke volumes of the type of existence that was the Duke.
Cassandra leaned back into her plush seat, as she pondered her response. Constantine had a point, engaging with the Wolf-King was a dangerous affair. Yet. "You're right, I haven't. But. I have dealt with the fallout of an unchecked Heretic God. Remember the Italian incident from four years ago. How dozens of knights perished. The near disaster that was?" Her tone was scathing, fueled by memories of four years ago.
Before Constantine could explode, as was visible by the vein bulging on his forehead, a soft voice spoke up.
An elderly woman, wearing simple linen robes, her hair tied in a bun, was the source of the voice. "Young ones. We could argue all day over which option is the most dangerous. But it would achieve nothing, but to instill hard feelings between comrades."
The elderly woman's calm, soothing voice, paused the vitriol between Cassandra and Constantine. Both looked at her and then back to the other. They sighed nearly simultaneously, as they let the emotions that had been worked up flow out of them. A maternal smile formed on the elderly woman's face as she watched the two younger individuals.
The Paladin nodded his head towards the elderly woman in gratitude. "Thank you, Lady Shaga."
Shaga merely turned her smile towards the Paladin.
The Paladin turned his attention back to his previously squabbling subordinates. "Cassandra, Constantine, I appreciate your input. You both present points of consideration that must be taken seriously. As such I do not make this decision lightly. We cannot realistically expect to halt this Heretic God without the aid of a Campione. This is the Duke's territory, so we must ask him for his assistance. Besides, I don't want to imagine his wrath should he find we attempted to deprive him of his hunt." The mention of the Duke's wrath sent a chill down the spines of those present. Even the levelheaded Lady Shaga.
Continuing, the Paladin started giving orders to his subordinates. "Constantine, none of our knights are to directly confront the Heretic God, if they make contact. Order them to report back to you directly if they manage to get clear sighting of it."
"As you say, Sir." Constantine affirmed. As knight-commander of the Bronze-Black-Cross he was in charge of managing the rank and file of knights and overseeing field operations.
Addressing Cassandra, the Paladin said the following, "Cassandra, keep up on the dissemination of information to the public. You know what to do."
A slight smile turned up Cassandra's lips. "Of course, Paladin." As the technical spymaster of the Bronze-Black-Cross, when it came to the more shadowy operations, she was given de facto control.
The portly man listened closely as the Paladin addressed him. "Nicholas, have the Greek government start a temporary ban on visiting ruins late at night. Hopefully that will cut down on potential encounters between the Heretic God and the uninitiated."
Nicholas inclined his head. As the head of the Bronz-Black-Cross's monetary and political branches it was up to him to arrange agreements with the governing bodies of whatever territory their organization operated in. "It should be easy enough to arrange, so long as we don't ask for a full day ban on visiting sites."
The Paladin nodded his head in acceptance. He turned his head to the last member of their council present. He paused for a moment, considering his wording. While Shaga was technically a subordinate, her longer tenure within their organization, and the personal respect Paladin Kranjcar held for the witch made him prone to addressing her less authoritatively.
Sensing his hesitation, Shaga reassured her leader. "I assume you want me to have my students begin divination on the statues, see if we can dredge up the god's identity. Don't worry Viktor, I already sent some of our most talented to scry the first statues we recovered." Shaga held dominion over the more esoteric ventures of the Bronze-Black-Cross. She often referred to the mages under her care as her students, in a sign of affection.
The Paladin let a grateful grin ply across his face momentarily. Once he'd smoothed out his features Viktor issued on final command. "If any clue to the god's identity or location are found, inform me immediately. I'll take the responsibility of informing the Duke. Remember, we're dealing with a potential disaster, we need to tread with the utmost caution."
"Understood, Paladin." The four lieutenants of the Bronze-Black-Cross said simultaneously.
With that the meeting was over. The four lieutenants departed, leaving the Paladin alone. Once the door to his office had closed, he leaned back into his chair, his head resting on the back of the seat. He let loose a tired sigh. It had been back-to-back descents of Heretic Gods it seemed. Ever since the New Generation of Campione had arisen, the appearance of Heretic Gods had spiked. Viktor wondered if that was true or if it was simply improved communications that enabled for better verification of Heretic Gods. Either way, the consistent appearance of the gods, was proving more and more difficult to contain. At this rate the supernatural would no longer be part of the moonlight world. But instead dragged into the sunlight.
() (Mediterranean Sea near western Italy/Sardinia, March 13th, 2024)
The storm raged.
It was massive, covering thousands of square kilometers, a nearly unprecedented size. Wind and rain tore over the vast open sea, a squall that knew no mercy. Lightning strikes occurred not by the dozens, but by the hundreds. The sea below the heavenly wrath was wroth with danger as well. The waves stood dozens of feet high, sinking any poor human vessels that had the misfortunate of running into the storm.
It was labeled as the storm of the century by human weather channels. The ordinary public considered it a freak occurrence of nature. Amazed at how such a powerful force of nature was able to form over the course of a single night. Those steeped in the mystical world though would later know better. Be they human or eldritch species, they would feel a shiver of fear go down their spines. How could they not? Such a powerful display of divine might was a stark reminder of the world of difference between them and the gods.
For it was the work of the gods. Two specifically. That was all it took. A battle between two Heretic Gods to empower such a fierce natural disaster. That was the power of a God descended onto the earth. The devastation they could unleash with their unbridled Authorities.
Why, though?
Why would a god unleash such a threat onto mankind?
That answer depended on the Heretic God in question. Numerous as the stars, their motivations reflected that. As for the gods in question this time, that was a relatively simple answer.
Dominance.
It was a contest to determine the strongest. Too see would emerge the victor. Nothing more, nothing less. If humanity suffered for it… that was inconsequential to the gods. Humanity stood below the gods; therefore, they were subject to the whims of the divine. Generosity or concern were a prerogative, not a right afforded to humanity.
So, the Heretic Gods dueled, uncaring for the consequences of their actions.
They fought to their hearts content, seeking to defeat the other.
The divinely handsome youth, constantly shifting his form to adapt to every circumstance. Each granting him the edge necessary to achieve victory.
The archaic warrior, clad in a leather breastplate, with a multitude of abilities to bring relentless pressure onto an opponent. Each ability was a manifestation of his dominion and supreme power.
They fought until each bore mortal wounds. They readied one last clash, their fighting spirit at its peak. The divinely handsome youth charged headlong, golden sword in hand. The archaic warrior lifted his hands to the sky, gesturing for heavenly wrath to rain down. The youth reached the warrior just as the lightning arced down. The golden sword pierced the warrior, as lightning flooded the youth. An explosion emanated from the dueling divine powers. The shockwave pushed aside the clouds above and the sea below. The sound drowned out the voice of the churning wind. When the smoke finally cleared from the epicenter, the gods were gone. They weren't dead though.
The youth was kilometers away, hand to his chest, breathing heavily. A maniac smile on his face. That had been exhilaration he had never felt in his legends. He'd been forced to the brink and nearly killed. Once the youth had calmed down, he took stock of the situation. His senses while now dulled were still strong. He could feel the presence of his foe. But it was not like the overwhelming sensation during their fight. It felt like a muted presence, far, far away. The youth understood, it would seem his foe had been injured as badly as he'd had been if he was not coming to finish off the youth. That meant one thing.
He had not been defeated yet.
The youth sighed quietly; the sound drowned out by the still raging storm. He looked to the far distant horizon. The sundered god wondered, wondered if his desire would ever be realized. He'd summon several of his fellow gods, yet for all their power, they'd yet to bring him defeat. As much as he did enjoy the exhilaration of the battle the god wondered if he would ever experience a taste of that foreign fruit. What was the point of these battles? What was the purpose of the Victor if he had not to strive for? Why could he, the strongest among the strong, not fulfill his sole desire?
No answer except for the raging wind came. The divinely handsome youth shook his head, parting it of these melancholic thoughts. Defeat may not have been had this day, but that did not mean it could not be found. His foe was still alive, which meant that they must clash again. Clash they would, but what difference would there be next time? What could change the outcome? Mayhap, the youth thought, it was time to seek out opponents beyond his fellow gods. But what other beings of power were there?
Wait.
Of course!
The god laughed, for one renowned for his wisdom, he had been most ignorant. There were other beings of power in this world. Ones renowned for achieving the impossible against all odds. Yes, yes! They could very well be the ones to bring his desire to reality. An eager smile lit up the youth's features. He knew exactly what had to be done.
The god set off, flying through the sky. Though not to his next opponent. Not yet at least. He would need time to recover. If he was to truly achieve his goal, it must be while he was at full strength. No, the god would rest and heal his wound. It would take time to mend his divinity, undoing the sundering of his Authorities would be a trial in and of itself. But he would succeed.
He set off toward the nearest land. It was a land far west of the territory he would claim as his domain. But it was a crossroads of magic, and there he would find his lost avatars no doubt. Thus, the youth set off, planning already his next move. For now, he would need to conceive of the means of bringing one of Pandora's children to battle. It should not be a hard task the youth imagined. After all Pandora's children were renowned for a particular feat.
God-slaying.
() (Florence Italy, March 19th, 2024)
Dio Tempesta (God Storm) as it was not so affectionately called, had dissipated a few days ago. The storm had unfortunately not stayed at sea, before it had done so though. When it struck land, it had been a disaster. The hurricane like winds, demolished coastal buildings. The massive waves had turned the flow of water in rivers back toward the land. The downpour of rain had flooded several lowland villages in southern Italy. The death toll from such an unprecedented storm was in the hundreds. They were still recovering bodies from the debris.
Many of the human inhabitants were citing the storm as divine punishment. A punishment from God, for their sins. They were not technically wrong. It was the work of the divine, just not the god they believed in. The magically initiated humans of Italy, were aware of this, understanding properly it was a battle between Heretic Gods. That understanding offered little comfort. Not when it reminded them of their helplessness before said gods.
Regardless though, there was work to be done. The location of the gods responsible needed to be ascertained. Then the appropriate response remedied to solve the turbulence of their existence. Hence the activities of a certain magical society.
Nine individuals were seated around a long conference table. They were of varying ages, though the majority were between thirty and forty. Eight sat parallel, across two sides of the table, four on each side. At the head of the table, sat a man, dressed in a simple, but tasteful, suit of black and red.
The man in the red and black suit addressed the table, his voice mature and poised. "Everyone is up to date on the situation I take it?"
A chorus of ayes sounded out.
"Good, then I'll get to the point. Between the incidents in Greece and now the Mediterranean, we have a dire situation on our hands. Not one Heretic God, but an unknown number of them have descended onto the earth at the same time. They've already caused a mass casualty event, numbering in the hundreds." The man punctuated the number of deaths, to drive home the direness of the situation. The group seated around the table, grimaced as they heard the man speak.
The man continued, "As it stands, we cannot afford another incident like this Dio Tempesta. Nor will I tolerate such an occurrence. As members of the Copper-Black-Cross, it falls upon us to prevent another, possibly worse, disaster. We must act decisively. Therefore, I am issuing a commandment to you as our Great Knights. You'll investigate a region where there has been verifiable supernatural activity beyond the eldritch species. Find the Heretic Gods responsible for these incidents, and once you do, report immediately to me."
After the man finished speaking, a hand rose into the air, from the group assembled. The lead man nodded his head, saying "Knight Blandelli", in acknowledgment.
All eyes turned to the one who was being addressed. She was young, the youngest of the group by far, appearing to be in her teens. "Paladin, do we have authorization to make direct contact with the Heretic Gods?" Her voice was firm, but still carried a beautiful tilt.
The Paladin nodded gravely. "I'll leave the decision in your hands. If you believe it necessary to make contact, do so, but be wary. We do not know the intentions of these Heretic Gods; they may react poorly if confronted. But do not challenge the gods, unless it is necessary to save your life, or a civilian's." It went unsaid the danger of challenging a god. They all knew of the slaughter it would be. Two of the Great Knights present at this meeting had been witnesses the last time a Heretic God descended onto Italy. They still bore the scars, physically and mentally.
"Understood. Thank you, Paladin." Knight Blandelli responded.
The Paladin nodded then began speaking again. "Remember your orders are to investigate only. The task of stopping the god's rampage shall fall to the King of Swords." A chill went down the spines of the knights assembled. Each knew of the reputation of the King of Swords and what calling on him meant. The Paladin gave a few more instructions to the assembled Great Knights, then dismissed the meeting. Just as Erica was about to exit, a voice called out to her.
"Knight Blandelli, please remain." It was the Paladin calling to her.
Erica turned around, and seeing the serious expression on her leader's face, obeyed. The Paladin gestured for her to take the seat nearest to him. She crossed the room and took the seat offered. It was a moment before the Paladin spoke, when he did his tone was far less formal than earlier.
"Erica, I going to speak to you as your uncle not as your Paladin. I will not insult you, but I do have a request, if you would permit this old man."
Erica frowned, but did not deny the man. "It's okay zio(uncle). What did you want to say?" She gently encouraged her uncle.
A small smile turned up the Paladin's lips, before smoothing out into a line. "I'm tasking you with investigating Sardinia. There's been numerous reports from the local societies that divine energy has been detected. Even an eyewitness account of abnormal beasts dueling. The seers believe it's the primary location of the Heretic Gods." He stated.
Erica understood. She was being given the most important, and dangerous, mission. It was something that her uncle did not do lightly. "Thank you, zio. I won't fail our organization."
The Paladin shook his head. "No, my precious niece you shouldn't be thanking me. I may very well be sending you too your death. But for the sake of our mission to safeguard the public, I must send our most talented agent." The Paladin grimly said. Normally he would be full of pride that his niece was upholding their family legacy. But that pride was tempered by the knowledge he might very well be sending her to her doom. He did not want to, but he could not forsake his responsibilities as Paladin of the Copper-Black-Cross, nor trample on the determination of his niece. They were knights first and foremost, sacrificing for the greater good was in their blood.
Erica was not ignorant of her uncle's protective tendencies. He would often fret over her wellbeing. It was an extremely arduous task for the man to send his only remaining family member to danger. But he never once denied her when she sought to take up the mantle of a knight of the Copper-Black-Cross. Instead, he focused his efforts on ensuring she could reach her full potential, even passing down their family sword to her. Because of that, even when he would act like a worry wort, she loved him. Well, she did love the fact he would fret over her, even if she would not admit it. So, it was only natural for Erica to reach over and clasp her hands over her uncle's closest hand.
Her smile was warm and full, a rare smile Erica reserved for only those closest to her. "Don't worry zio, I have no intention of dying. I'll be fine."
The Paladin half-smiled, returning the familial grip on his hands. "Very well, Erica. Bring honor to the Copper-Black-Cross and to our family." He said encouragingly, hiding the concern he felt.
Erica's smile became full of pride, as she stated, "But of course, zio. Expect nothing less." Even if Erica couldn't stop the Heretic Gods rampage by herself, she would perform her duties with exemplary acumen.
Erica rose, releasing her uncle's hand. She saluted on her way out. After the young Great Knight had left, the Paladin leaned back into his seat. He exhaled a deep breath, letting out all the tension he'd been keeping in his body. "Be safe my precious niece." He prayed. Prayed to whatever merciful gods were listening.
(Multiple locations across the earth, March 21st, 2024)
Six individuals were going through their daily routines when it struck them.
One man was hunting a beast. Just as he was about to take a shot at his quarry, the feeling struck.
One woman was fending off a young man, in a mock battle. Just as she was about to casually turn aside his strike, the feeling struck.
A second woman was bandaging the wound of an injured child. Just as she was finishing wrapping the small wound, the feeling struck.
A second man was reaching out toward an ancient artifact. Just as he was picking it up, the feeling struck.
A third woman was typing up her thesis presentation. Just as she was about to hit save after hours of work, the feeling struck.
A third man was hacking his way through the undergrowth of a rainforest. Just as he was about to get clear of the last tree to a clearing, the feeling struck.
It was a feeling all but one of them had felt at least once in their lifetime. It was a battle cry. A declaration of dominance. A signal announcing the birth of a new apex predator. They all knew, even the one who had never felt it before, what it meant. They knew that a rival had just ascended the throne. That a new God-slayer had arisen.
The first man pulled the trigger prematurely, sending the bullet off course. The round missed its target by a few centimeters. The deer spooked, turned tail and ran as fast as it's legs could carry it. The man was seriously displeased that he had lost his quarry. He was suspecting that this new whelp was an insolent one. He wondered if they could match their bark with their bite. If so, they might provide an entertaining hunt, he thought.
The first woman, instead of delivering a moderately punishing counter, rammed her fist into her opponent's gut, sending him flying. She folded her hands behind her back once she had collected herself, a displeased frown on her face. She did not care for her training sessions to be interrupted. Though, she did wonder if this new King of Kings would prove an interesting individual.
The second woman made a small o with her mouth. The child in her care, saw the expression and asked if the woman was alright. The woman put on a big smile, telling the child everything was okay. The woman started humming as she finished the wrapping. She wondered if her newest sibling would be a younger or older sibling.
The second man dropped the ancient artifact. It sent the object falling to the floor, faster than any normal human could hope to catch it. The man did so just before it could hit the floor. He immediately started grumbling, once he was sure his prize was safe. He just knew this new barbarian would make his life more difficult.
The third woman smashed the keyboard, causing the program to execute multiple commands. By the time it was finished, the screen had been left blank, all her work deleted. The woman put her face in her hands, groaning miserably. After a few moments of that, the woman straightened out. She put on a professional demeanor. She had some calls to make. She just hoped the new Godslayer would be a reasonable individual.
The third man swung his sword, with more force than he had intended. His sword cut right through the trunk of the tree next to him. The medium sized tree fell, its supporting base cut in twain. A moment of surprise enveloped him, causing him to ignore the tree that had landed away from him. A sense of giddiness replaced the confusion soon after. The man eagerly began heading back to his base camp. He knew in his bones that a special person had just been born. He eagerly began heading back to his base camp. Maybe he would find a new rival in the newest Campione.
() (?, March 21st, 2024)
When Jace woke up, he was alone. Alone and in the middle of nowhere. As his eyes slowly opened, he felt the sting of strong sunlight. He blinked his eyes repeatedly, seeking to clear them. Once he was met with the clear blue sky, Jace realized two things.
One, he had no idea where he was.
Two, more importantly and confusingly, he was alive.
Jace sat up, the motion easy, easier than it should have been for a recently dead man. And that was one thing Jace was sure of, he should be dead right now. He brought his hands in front of him and stared at them. He flexed the digits, curling them inward and outward. He felt the muscles in his hands ripple as he did so. Wait, something was off.
His fingers weren't scarred from being broken repeatedly. The digits were perfect, not a single indicator of damage. Jace's lips parted in surpise, as he quickly looked at the exposed portions of his arms. It was the same as his fingers, all the scars he had obtained over the last several years were gone. That made no sense. Scars don't just fade overnight.
Jace frowned, unsure of what had happened to him. A thought occurred to him. If his scars were gone, like magic then… Jace placed his hands on the ground and used them to push upward. Once he got his feet underneath him, he braced himself, as he settled the weight of his body on his legs. He waited for the familiar pain and discomfort in his left knee to wake him up from this dream. Except it never did. There was no pain, not even the slightest prick. Jace's frown deepened as the truth of the situation was made clear. He rolled up the leg of his pants, expecting to see the ugly misshape of his knee. But just like his fingers, there was no indication of previous damage. It wasn't like he had healed; it was more like the damage had never been there at all.
"Just what is this?" Jace's tone conveyed the rising confusion he was feeling. That confusion only rose higher, as he finally surveyed his surroundings. The towering teen chided himself for not doing so earlier. Even in such circumstances, he should have made sure he wasn't in immediate danger. Jace took note of the land and… still had no idea where he was.
What he could discern was that he was surrounded by olive trees. Yeah, on closer inspection they were definitely olive trees. The little green, round fruits of the trees were unmistakable. Well, that gave Jace some idea of where he was. Somewhere warm, and far south of his homeland. That was if he was on earth.
Jace ruminated on the events of yesterday(?), or however long he had been out. The so-called devil Andros, the cavern, the golden-eyed woman, and that inferno. It all seemed like a dream, yet it was real. Of that Jace was sure. The pain he had endured had been all too real to be a dream. That left Jace in a predicament. He was almost certainly far from Russia, no real idea of where exactly, with just the clothes on his back. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants and, yeah, nothing in them.
"Great, not even a wad of rubles." Jace groused. Money would have been helpful, or even just identification. Without either getting all the way back to Moscow would be troublesome. Or downright impossible. Jace shook his head, dispelling the negative thoughts. There was no point in focusing on the negative aspects of the situation. It would be far more productive to figure out a way out of said situation.
Jace looked toward the sky. The sun was dimming, and not directly overhead yet. So, it was in the evening. That meant the sun was in the west right now. Jace shifted till he was facing the north. It was still rolling groves of olive trees for what Jace could see right now. That was fine. He knew he should head north, if only because that was the direction his home country, should, lie. Jace rolled his neck, as he prepared himself. He still had no real idea of where he was, but he knew he needed to do.
So, he started walking. He walked in the direction his gut was telling him to go. His instincts were telling him to go that way, and they had yet to fail him yet.
() (?, March 21st, 2024)
It was roughly an hour later that trusting his instincts paid off. His ears picked up a sound beside the rustling of the breeze. It was a scream. It sounded like a man. Jace paused for a moment. He quickly debated what to do. If someone was screaming like that, the tell-tale shriek of fear, it meant trouble. That could be bad for him. But, at the same time, what else was he going to do? Just keep walking forever. No. Whatever was causing that man to scream was just something Jace was going to have to risk. If only because it was the only lead, he had right now. If he ignored it, he was liable to just die of dehydration out here in the wilderness.
Jace checked his formerly bum leg. He had not been able to run for over two years because of it. He pressed down hard with the leg and felt utterly fine. Well, he wasn't going to bemoan some good fortunate. He started slowly, just faster than a fast walk. Then he started jogging. Then faster, until he was running. As his leg muscles pumped Jace still felt no pain. So, he pushed it, until he was sprinting. As he charged down the rows of olive trees, towards the yells of the man, Jace's face set into a solid façade of strength. He was going to meet whatever was lurking ahead and find a way back to Russia. And figure out what had happened to him.
()
When Jace crested around the tree he finally saw what the source of the screaming had been. It was indeed a man. Said man was currently hanging from a branch in a particularly large olive tree. Why he was hanging from there and screaming was readily apparent if one looked at the base of the tree. A pack of large beasts were gathered around the base, snarling and leaping at the man above them. Jace did not recognize the beasts, they were unfamiliar to him.
Four legs, muzzles, and spotted coats. They were of fair size, larger than a large dog. So, definitely able to shred the man cowering in fear apart. That would explain why he was in the tree and screaming. Jace paused for a moment. Not out of fear, but rationality. He needed to figure out a way to drive off the beasts. Preferably without accruing brand new injuries, to his now pristine body.
His planning went out the window when the man cowering in fear caught sight of him. The man's eyes went wide, then he started shouting at Jace. "Please help! Help!" The cries and gesticulations the man was making caused the beasts to look in Jace's direction. The beasts let loose a new batch of snarls, some started pawing towards Jace. The towering teen scowled, seriously displeased by this turn of events. Jace did the only thing he could. He strode forward out of the shadow of the tree above him. He doubted he could outrun the beasts, so he did not even try to fall back. The possibility of climbing the tree did not even cross his mind.
Jace was… angry. Angry that he'd been nearly abducted. Angry that he had presumably died. Angry that he was completely lost. Angry that this idiot had forced his hand. So, when Jace stomped forward he stood at his full height, his expression was wrathful.
Then something happened.
The beasts went quiet. Their snarls died midway as they caught sight of Jace. The smell of the wind told them to be afraid. Too Jace's immense confusion, they backed up. Then they broke and fled. They fled as fast as their limbs would allow.
Jace stood stupefied, utterly unsure why bloodthirsty animals would flee like that. Jace shook his head after a moment. He decided to just accept what had happened. He had a feeling if he stopped pondering over every strange thing, he would get nowhere. Instead, he decided to move forward. Jace looked upwards, seeing the man still in the tree. The man was looked as confused as Jace felt.
Jace hollered at the man, "You can get down now." The man blinked hard, then seemed to come to.
"Ah, yes! One moment!" The man in the tree shouted back. He slowly shimmied down the tree as Jace sauntered forwards.
The man had managed to extricate himself from the tree just as Jace reached its base. The two stared at each other for the moment. Jace was observing the man, analyzing details. He noticed the man appeared to be Arabic, in his early thirties. His clothing was jeans and a plated shirt. Aside from that Jace noticed nothing of import, mainly no weapons.
The man abruptly started in speech once he had gotten over his shock at not being food for wild beasts. "Praise be to Allah! You arrived at just the right time. Any later and I fear I'd be eaten by those hyenas." The man's speech sounded strange to Jace; something was off. The man continued, in rant, "I told Abdoul he should take a hunting party out as soon as we saw those wretched beasts. But, no! It was not worth the time for one lone animal. Lone! He knows they travel in packs."
The man continued for a short time, ranting about how things should have been done, and the carelessness of Abdoul. It would have gone on for longer, except Jace cut him off.
"I get it, this Abdoul made a big mistake. But I'd like to know where exactly I am right now." Jace forcefully said, catching the Arabic man's attention. The moment the sound came out of Jace's mouth is when he realized it. He and the man were talking. But it was not in Russian. The language was completely different. Jace only knew two languages, Russian and English. The one two of them were speaking in right now was neither. What?
The Arabic man, too frazzled to comprehend the meaning behind Jace's questions merely answered it. "Oh! My apologies. You're on my family's farm. Well, the one in Zaghouan, anyways."
Jace paused for a moment. The distinction in languages evident in his mind. For whatever reason, he could understand and speak some foreign tongue. The strangeness of the situation was only growing. But he couldn't dwell on that. He needed to have answers to his immediate questions. So, he cleverly asked about the nature of his location, without directly doing so. "I'm not familiar with the region, mind explaining in broader terms?"
The man numbly nodded, still to dazed to turn a question on Jace. "Zaghouan is just southwest of Ben Arous, just a leap from the Mediterranean. A tourist new to Tunisia, eh?"
Jace nodded along. Tunisia? He knew roughly where that was at. Africa? How did he end up in northern Africa? Well at least he knew where he was at. Though that still left the question of how he wasn't dead. "Yeah. I decided I'd take a longer stroll from the coast and wound up here. Guess I'm a little lost." Jace decided it would be easier to lie, than attempt to describe the truth. Doing so would likely only scare off the man, and that would not help Jace.
"Well, good thing for me you are, otherwise I…" The man shuddered as he contemplated the fate, he nearly experienced. Once he had settled, the man seemed to realize something, as he snapped his fingers suddenly. "Ah. Where are my manners. My name is Mohamed. May I please know the name of my savior?"
Jace raised an eyebrow at the mention of him being a savior. That was a first. Though he supposed it was technically true. "Jace." The towering teen replied.
The man bowed, thanking Jace profusely for saving him. Jace was… off-put by the gratitude. He was more used to far more negative responses to his intervention in the lives of others. After a moment or two of indecision, Jace recovered and kicked his brain into gear. If Mohamed was grateful for his life, then Jace might as well put it to use. So, the giant of a man asked Mohamed if it was possible to take him to the nearest port. Jace had no desire to live in Africa as a refuge, so he was already putting together a plan to leave. It would need some serious effort, but he was not just going to give up.
Mohamed fortunately was all too happy to help, considering the situation. He even helpfully disclosed the name of the nearest port where Jace could find a ship to Europe, without Jace having to ask. Said, port was the country's capital of Tunis. Jace wasn't' sure if that was a good or a bad thing. On the brighter side it would be easier to blend in. On the other hand, it would mean dealing with customs and border control.
Jace would burn that bridge when he got to it. For now, he just needed to take it one step at a time.
() (Skies over eastern Europe, March 21st, 2024)
A youth of the orient was currently trying to get some sleep. He had been on this flight for hours, and he'd been up for most of it. The time spent getting up early, then at the airport, and now on the plane had left hid drained. Oh, he had found the initial portion of the ride fascinating, it was his first time on a plane after all. But the initial excitement gave way to fatigue, and now all he wanted to do was get some sleep.
The youth looked up to his carry-on luggage. It contained the whole reason for his hasty trip out to Europe. He did not quite understand why his grandfather suddenly felt the need to send him on this trip. Well, mission, he supposed was more the apt term the youth figured. It was strange. His grandfather had this stone tablet in this possession for decades. It was one of his prized possessions, as an amateur archaeologist. Yet now he wanted to return it to the woman who had given it to him. His grandfather couldn't make the journey between his age, and the need to look after his younger sister. So, the task fell to the youth.
He wondered just what had prompted his grandfather to return the tablet so suddenly. The youth mused a little longer on the situation, before finally falling asleep. He would not wake till he reached Sardinia. If the youth had been aware of the events waiting for him there he might have turned around and avoided the trouble. But he did not. So, he ignorantly flew right toward what would be a destiny he couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams.
() (Ben Arous Tunisia, March 22nd, 2024)
When Jace woke to the new day, it was not to the sound of chirping birds. It was to the sounds of screams. He shot up, awake in seconds, the drowsiness from sleep gone instantly. Jace stomped toward the window. When he threw the wooden boards open, he was amazed by what he saw. And not in a good way.
The small village he was staying in was being overrun. Not by other humans. No, that would have been comforting in comparison. The invaders were beasts. At first Jace thought it was more of the hyenas from earlier. Then he realized several things. The beasts were even larger than the hyenas from earlier. There were dozens of the beasts. And these new creatures were just wrong. They looked more like a nightmarish depiction of a beast from the stone age, than an actual animal.
The beasts were savaging the village. Jace saw a men, women, and children chased down and mauled. Humans were torn apart, flesh carved off their bodies in chunks, bones crunched, and limbs severed. Red blood spilled, watering the greedy dry ground. It did not stop there though; the beasts weren't just killing their prey. They were eating them. Innards were ripped out, and then chewed heartily, with savage glee.
A normal person would have likely frozen; unsure of what to do. Or back-pedaled in fear, hoping that if they ignored the situation, it would go away. Jace though, wasn't normal, not by a long shot. What he felt though, surprised even him. He wanted to tear the beasts apart.
Something in him stirred. It was a new sensation; one he had never felt before. Jace had fought plenty of times, but never had he felt such an urge to battle as now. He wanted to take the beasts head on. The giant of a man shook his head, clearing his mind of this novel urge. It did not relent, but Jace was able to focus despite it. He could only suspect it was part of the new strangeness of his body. Whatever it was, Jace needed to figure out a plan, not charge headlong recklessly. He tried to gauge the number of beasts. He could not get an exact number due to the frantic movements from below but gauged them over two dozen. It seemed they came in from the west as that was where most of the beasts were concentrated. Jace pondered, briefly, what to do. It did not take long. Jace was a decisive person, he thought of a plan of action then executed it. Besides, there wasn't much he could do. The best he could hope for was to get out alive.
Jace ran down the stairs to the first level. He did a quick survey and saw it was empty of living beings, beasts or humans. Jace took a moment here to see if the room contained any useful device to help him survive. Specifically, a weapon, preferably a firearm. Unfortunately, Jace's quick visual glance displayed none. He knew there was a backroom, maybe he could find one in there. A heavy thud against the door followed by snarls, shot down that plan. He did not have the time, Jace suspected the modest wooden door would not hold off one of those determined beasts. Jace started walking toward the only real weapon he had found.
It was a large single sided, black hued, blade. Jace reached towards the wall mounted blade, picking up from its holder. It was a machete, one that was still sharp from the looks of it. Jace gave it a practice swing, noting how even the weight felt. He nodded his head in acceptance. "It'll do. Now to get out of here." Jace grimly said, hoping that the weapon would suffice to get him out of this massacre.
Jace reached the back door to the building. He had just begun to open the door when he heard the crack of splintering wood from the other door. Jace reacted, throwing the door open with this shoulder. As soon as he was out of the threshold, he slammed the door closed again. Just in the nick of time too, as a heavy thudded sounded out from the door only slightly later.
Jace did not pause to wonder how close he had come to death; he needed to get moving. The giant of a man began running, heading toward the, hopefully, safer eastern side of the village. As Jace ran, he miraculously did not come across any of the bloodthirsty beasts. But others were not so lucky. The screams reverberated through the air, signaling the doom of plenty of hapless humans. Jace ignored them. He was no hero; he bore no foolish ideas of saving anyone but himself. Even if he did want to save the villagers, how would he do so with just a machete? No. The best he could do was to get out alive.
Jace kept going, going from cover to cover, wisely avoiding any open spaces where he could be spotted. It was only when he reached the edge of the village, did he step into the open. He quickly scanned the environment, searching for threats. Jace found one. One of the monstrous beasts was stalking around roughly 10 meters to his left. But it was not coming towards Jace. It was after other prey.
A woman was cowering in fear, fallen to the ground just outside the village proper. Jace saw why the woman was not running away. The cloth around her right leg was shredded and stained with dark red fluid. The beast must have torn into her leg, before she got away, temporarily. Jace knew she was finished. But the child attempting to pick her up did not.
A boy of roughly seven years was desperately attempting to pick up what was presumably his mother from his uneven cries. It was futile, he was just too small and weak to pick up the larger woman. His mother realized this and did the only thing she could. She told him to run, run and get away. The boy refused. He just cried and kept trying to help his mother.
Jace made to escape the village for the outer lands. Just as he was turning Jace heard the voice. It was the same one that had pleaded with him in the cavern. The same desperate sobbing, pitiful voice. Jace against his better judgement, turned back toward the woman and child. Instead of the foreign Arabic features they possessed earlier, superimposed on them were faces Jace was all too familiar with.
The woman was still sobbing, pleading with her child. The young boy still was futilely attempting to help his mother. But this time the scene clenched Jace's heart. He could not breathe. His blood went cold. Then they were looking at him. They stared at him with empty, hopeless eyes.
Jace forced himself to breathe. The air was a shock to his system. His vision cleared, the scene from years past was gone. The real mother and her son were back. Back and nearing closer to death. Jace tightened his grip around his machete.
No.
Not this time.
This time he was not weak. This time he could fight back.
It was an illogical thing to do. But at this moment Jace was not logical. He was acting off emotion. And his emotions were telling him to do one thing.
Fight.
Jace started running. Sprinting at speeds that would have made Olympic gold medalists envious. It should not have been possible with his frame. Even with his knee healed, his body should have lacked the necessary skeletal-muscular structure to achieve the speed he was going at. But he did it anyway.
It was just enough.
The woman and screamed as the beast prepared to leap, the child falling on his backside in terror. The beast crouched on its haunches, a moment from takeoff. Just as its muscles were about to uncoil and sent it towards its prey, Jace was at its' heels.
The giant of a man brought his machete down in a diagonal arc, across the monster's rear right leg. The resistance was there, more than mere skin and sinew should have presented. The blade did not want to go through. But Jace was strong, and he pushed that strength into the swing. The machete cleaved through the beast's hide.
Surprised and in pain, the beast's jump was aborted into an uncontrolled tumble. Jace followed it, giving it no room to recover. Just as the monstrous beast was bringing its head to bear on its attacker, Jace swung his machete in a sweeping horizontal arc. The blade carved through the side of the beast's muzzle, severing the sinew between its jaws. A yelp of agony tore out of the beast's throat, garbled due to its lower jaw hanging loosely detached from its upper counterpart. Jace seized the opening as the beast suffered from its debilitating injury. The giant of a man brought the machete level, pointing it towards the beast. He stepped forward, thrusting it straight towards the monstrous beast's chest. The blade paused for a moment as it seemed to struggle against piercing the beast's hide. Jace threw his hips into the motion. The extra force was enough, the blade managed to cut through.
Blood spewed out of the wound, the machete piercing the beast's heart. The monstrous beast collapsed its heart ruined. Then to Jace's astonishment, the beast dissolved into dirt. "This just gets stranger and stranger." Jace spoke with great confusion, as he pulled his machete free of the dirt. Knowing he would not receive an answer, he instead turned his focus on the pair he had just saved.
When he reached them, he kneeled down without explanation, examining the woman's wound. It was ugly, and just as bad as it looked. The tendons around the ankle had been shredded. The woman was clearly unable to walk. But it was not bleeding as badly as the wound would have suggested. Must have missed any artery, Jace assumed. Okay. This was workable.
Jace addressed the woman, startling her with his sudden speech. "I'll carry you out of here. Do you understand me?"
The woman blinked, then started stuttering, unable to form proper words. "I-I-I-I-I."
Jace sighed. Judging from her speech and dilated pupils she must have been in shock. He would deal with it. Jace instead focused on the boy, fortunately noting the child was not displaying the same symptoms. The child was instead looking at Jace with an expression he had never seen before. Whatever the expression was it made Jace… uncomfortable. The boy's eyes carried an expectation in them, one that Jace did not understand at the moment. Jace chose to ignore it, they did not have the time.
Jace addressed the child, his voice firm and commanding. "I'm going to carry you and your mother out of here. Get on my back." Jace knew the child would never be able to keep up with him in a run, even if he was weighed down by the woman. It would be tiresome, but it was the only way.
The child, more lucid than his mother, nodded vigorously. He quickly ran around to Jace's back, as the giant of a man kneeled. Once the boy had latched his hands around the base of Jace's neck, Jace reached under the woman's frame. He pulled her up, as he rose, legs pumping the extra combined mass of his two carry-ons. Strangely enough, it felt lighter than it should have. The woman and child combined should have weighed a little more than grown man. Yet, the strain on Jace's muscles felt light enough, he only felt mildly burdened. Even for Jace's unusually robust frame, it was odd. He was not going to question it though, if one of the enhancements to his body made him stronger, all the better.
Jace took one step forward toward hopeful safety.
Then the urge to fight exploded in him.
His instincts were screaming at him, telling him a foe was a foot.
Jace whirled around, so fast the child nearly fell off his back.
Jace grimaced when he saw what was behind him. It was the rest of the monstrous beasts. Dozens of them. They padded forward, low snarls on their lips. Jace's eyes narrowed. "Great." The sarcasm was dripping from his lips. Yet he did not think he made a mistake by trying to save the woman and child. The giant of a man was not one to pine over his actions. He would deal with this situation. He would survive.
The beasts circled around Jace, keeping him penned in. Strangely enough they kept their distance, despite their evident bloodthirst. They just circled around him, as if waiting for something. Jace found out what they were waiting for soon enough.
The pack in the direction Jace was facing parted. In their midst was a figure that was in no way human. It stood tall, taller than Jace. Crowning that tall frame, were majestic antlers. A bone-white crown, spanning the length of a grown man, one ending in sharp spear points.
Below that white crown was a savage face. Fierce gleaming red eyes, slitted like a cat's. An open maw, where the lips seemed incapable of covering the fang like teeth. Bits of bloody meat, hung from those teeth, as the beast-man slathered its thick tongue over them. Below, the torso, a wiry, savage frame, one of twisted muscles that should have induced great pain whenever the beast-man moved. The arms were much the same, bulging twisting muscles over bones that were partly human, partly beast at the same time. At the end of those appendages were ape-like palms, but the digits extending from them terminated in butcher-knife like talons. Carrying that twisted frame, were paradoxical legs. Instead of limbs belonging to a predator, the beast-man stood on hooves found on prey creatures.
It was impossible, no natural creature could be formed like this.
Worse than its awful appearance, the beast-man radiated an aura. Bloodshed, terror, power. All this and the sense of a predator bearing down on one emanated from the man-beast. It was a creature straight out of primal man's nightmares. Back when they huddled around fire, hoping a predator was not lurking in the darkness, ready to devour them.
The woman and child whimpered, terribly afraid of the beast-man.
Jace was not afraid. Jace wanted to tear the beast man apart. His blood was pumping, the sound of his heartbeat clear in his ears. The instinct to fight was at its height, a rallying cry sounding through all of Jace's being. The giant of a man knew this beast-man was the cause of this feeling. The introspective portion of Jace's mind noted the oddity of such an urge. He knew the cause of the urge was the beast-man. He felt it. He just did not know why. Nor did he care.
All that mattered was killing the thing.
The beast-man stopped a few meters away from Jace. Then it did something unexpected.
It talked.
The sound was horrible and unsettling. It was more than human and less than human at the same time. It was… the sound a beast made when confronting a mortal foe. "Usurper."
Jace tilted his head, surprised the creature could speak. "Usurper?" Jace uttered back, his dry tone flavored with confusion.
The beast-man growled, before responding. "Yes. Usurper. That is what you are. Prey, that dares to bare its fangs at the divine. Dares to eat of the divine. Taking what is not yours."
None of what the beast-man said made any sense to Jace. Divine? Wait. Back in the cavern, the golden eyed woman, the fire. Were they…
The beast-man continued. "You are an abomination. That which corrupts and twists the natural order. I will not abide another of your ilk. Today I hunt you, today I kill you."
Jace already figured the beast-man was hostile. Its declaration only confirmed it. Jace's eyes narrowed. "Why? Why hunt me? I've never met you before. I've never done anything to you." Jace probed, hoping to buy a little more time and hopefully a way out of this situation.
The beast-man snarled, shaking its head savagely. "WHY?! Because you dare overturn the natural order! Because you dare offer insult to the gods! Because I wish to hunt you, as is my right!" The beast man's rage was clear and ferocious.
Jace attempted further dialogue. "I don't understand. I—" Jace was cut off when the beast-man howled.
"NO! No more talking. Cernunnos is hungry. I will devour your flesh!" Cernunnos cried out, its voice equal parts hunger and bloodthirst. It dropped to all fours, body hunched in a quadrupedal stance. Cernunnos tore forward, leveling its crown of antlers straight at Jace.
Jace's world slowed down. He heard the barking of the monstrous beasts. He saw the self-proclaimed Cernunnos, coming to gore him. He felt his battle-lust peak. A thousand thoughts should have been raging in Jace's mind. But they were not. Only one thing was prescient in his mind. One thought.
He wanted to kill this Cernunnos. Jace was not prone to such impulses. He had on several occasions killed. Only one time had he wanted to kill. But right now, facing this beast-man, Jace was sure of it. He wanted to kill Cernunnos. Kill this creature and win. No matter what it took.
It was in the wake of that feeling that something woke up. Something inside Jace stirred. Jace did not know what it was. But it called to him. Jace unconsciously reached out to it, answering the call. Power flooded Jace's veins. It was an intoxicating feeling. Then to his surprise he started speaking, as words came unbidden to his lips.
"I am raging Fire! The embodiment of primal destruction. Unconquerable for none burn fiercer. Unquenchable for none can survive me."
Then, the world erupted into fire.
() (Ben Arous, Tunisia, March 22nd, 2024)
When the flames finally died down, Jace was left at the epicenter of the devastation. He was alone. Cernunnos was gone. His beasts were gone. The woman and child were gone. The whole village was gone. Everything was gone. All that remained was charred ground and ash. And Jace.
Jace's lips parted in an o. "What was that?" He uttered quietly, his voice lost in the heated wind. He looked down at his arms and found only ash. The woman was gone. He turned his hands upside down and watched the ash scatter into the hot breeze. Jace slowly raised his hands and reached where the arms of the boy on his back should have been. All he found was more ash.
Jace knew. The flames. The ash. The woman and child were dead. The fire had burnt even their bones to ash. Somehow Jace had lived through it. No. Not just that. The fire had come from him. Somehow, he had manifested that all-consuming fire.
Jace was at a loss. This was beyond the pale.
Jace sighed heavily. He was unsure of what to feel right now. Jace… cared little for others. Any compassion he possessed had died some time ago. That said, he had intended to save the mother and her son. Yet, they had died all the same.
It was the first time in a long time he had gone out of his way to help another. Too not only fail but to be the cause of their deaths… Jace did not like it. It reminded him of his past.
The giant of a man shook his head. He chided himself. Feeling sorry for himself was not going to change the situation. So, he did the only thing he could do.
He got moving. Jace brushed the ash off himself, no point in leaving it on him, he thought. He looked toward the sky, noting where the sun was. It was still morning, so the sun was in the east. Jace had been told by Mohamed, while he was still alive, that the capital and port city of Tunis was northeast of the former village. That's the direction Jace headed in. Hopefully he could reach it, or at least another village before he needed food and water.
As Jace walked through the ash, he wondered how the still lingering heat was not frying him alive. Maybe a quirk of being able to summon the fire, made him immune to being burned alive. It stood to reason. Just another oddity to add to the list, he thought. Jace frowned, the downturn of his lips belaying his dour mood. He really needed to figure out what was going on. Especially if things like that Cernunnos were going to come after him. That gave him a goal, besides getting back to Russia, anyways.
"This is becoming a real pain." Jace said to himself.
Little did he know that his tribulations were only beginning.
()
Language Highlight
Italian:
Dio Tempesta: God Storm
Zio: Uncle
Authority Highlight
Jace
[?] Manifests a raging inferno. Renders Jace immune to fire and heat from it. ?
Cernunnos
[Wild Hunt: Summons monstrous beasts at Cernunnos's command. Stronger, faster, and tougher than normal beasts of their size. Not especially powerful, but the size of the pack can reach the hundreds, given enough time and energy into the summoning. Their numbers can be replenished should any be slain. Various types of creatures can be summoned. Has a minor ability to activate the prey instincts of humans, causing hysteria and an urge to flee or cower.