Crim was stirred from his slumber by an insistent branch that jabbed at his eyelids. His yellowish-gray eyes blinked open in confusion.
"Arg," he grunted, his voice a groggy protest. Slowly, he extracted himself from the hollow of a bush, his body protesting the abrupt interruption of his rest. His arms and legs stretched out, a chorus of bone-cracking pops accompanying the movement.
As he pushed himself upright, he brushed away leaves that clung to what had once been a magnificent uniform. Unfortunately, the clothes now bore the scars of the previous night's ordeal—torn, tattered, and stripped of their vibrant colors.
Crim rubbed the fatigue from his eyes and, to his surprise, found a pristine lake nearby that had eluded his notice, nestled not far from the camp where the slaves eked out their existence. Despite the relatively short distance, the path to the water was fraught with insects that seemed to leap at him with a malicious intent.
He briefly wished he'd packed bug spray, though he couldn't help but wonder if such modern conveniences existed in this era. His surroundings, though mere replicas, now bore an uncanny resemblance to the history books he'd devoured.
To expedite his progress, Crim began slicing through the underbrush with the only tool he possessed—a fine weapon of unknown worth. At that moment, however, its value was of little concern to him.
Eventually, the foliage gave way to the serene vista of the lake, its placid waters offering a balm for Crim's frayed nerves. Kneeling by the water's edge, he scooped up a handful of the cold liquid, splashing it against his weary eyes with a single arm. The numbness persisted, making the limb feel as if it had been bound in bandages for a year, a foreign entity detached from the rest of his body.
Yet his escape plan required little more time and effort, even in light of the unforeseen poison. He'd adapt on the fly, much like an actor rewriting a script to suit the circumstances.
Leaning closer to the clear water, he suddenly gasped, unable to believe the altered reflection staring back at him. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, half-expecting the mirage to dissipate.
His eyes had undergone a remarkable transformation, now a mesmerizing neon yellow that could captivate anyone who met his gaze. His facial features remained largely unaltered, but a small, barely protruding purple horn lurked amidst his hair.
But the surprises didn't end there. His teeth had transformed into sharp, shark-like points, and his nails had grown into formidable claws, bestowing upon him an unexpected and somewhat eccentric appearance.
Thankfully, he noted, there were no tattoos in sight; the notion of injecting ink into his skin had always unnerved him.
"What in the world?" Crim muttered, a mix of bewilderment and horror overtaking him. He briefly closed his eyes, then opened them, relieved to see his familiar face reflected in the clear water.
With bewilderment etched across his features, the young man's trembling fingers instinctively brushed his face, a quickened heartbeat pounding in his chest.
The forest shook, snapping the young man out.
All around him, the once serene forest echoed with the approach of thunderous footsteps, a relentless force drawing near.
Swiftly and without a second thought, he vaulted behind the reassuring cover of a nearby tree, his pulse quickening with every passing moment.
As the deafening sounds drew nearer, the very earth quivered beneath the colossal weight of this nightmarish creature.
Trees, tall and ancient, were sent crashing to the ground like fallen giants in the wake of their monstrous strides.
The young man clung to his precarious refuge, the dense foliage shrouding him in concealment as the world outside descended into chaos.
Unaware of his presence, the relentless search for their quarry drove the colossal being onward, their thunderous steps echoing through the once-tranquil woods.
The young man, trapped amidst this horrifying spectacle, could only watch in terror as the monsters continued their hunt, the forest transformed into a nightmarish realm where danger lurked with every heartbeat.
With a sigh of relief, Crim managed to evade the abomination that had crossed his path. After this heart-pounding encounter, he regrouped with the Slaves, who, thanks to the early morning sun's orange glow, were still fast asleep. The only one awake was a fragile-looking man deeply engrossed in carving wood with wild, frenzied eyes.
Crim didn't dare disturb him but decided to sit down, retrieving a crumpled map from among the items the Slaves had managed to smuggle.
While Crim studied the map, he couldn't help but notice the woodcarver, who, despite being aware of the ongoing situation, remained surprisingly silent and unmoved.
The young man allowed the woodcarver's strange behavior to pass without comment, much to his relief.
He picked up a piece of coal he had found near the rocky terrain where they were camping and used the edge of his sword to fashion it into a makeshift pencil. With this crude tool, he carefully marked a point to the east, where he believed the shrine might be located.
Crim had a cunning plan in mind to circumvent the barrier that the Merchant he had met at the bar had spoken about.
It was a relatively simple trick, a way to introduce a challenge into a task that would otherwise be too easily surmounted—a sacrifice.
He had stumbled upon this concept purely by chance, drawing from a memory of a previous adventure where he had encountered a crimson barrier employed as a makeshift prison.
For once, he cherished his journey to the distant outer planets. The knowledge he'd gathered during his formative years was finally proving its worth.
A chuckle bubbled up within him, and the woodcarver, though unaware of the cause, couldn't resist joining in the infectious laughter.
Before long, the slumbering giant stirred, awakened by the uproarious laughter of two individuals who sounded like a villain from a children's cartoon show, complete with their own villainous charm.
Crim had readied, and so did the slaves.