My body jolted awake to the deafening sounds of explosions.
"MATT! SNAP OUT OF IT!"
"James?" I muttered, struggling to focus. My ears rang wildly as I tried to make sense of the chaos around me.
"The area bombardment mentioned by Sir Franz is happening earlier than expected!"
I peered up from the trenches, watching as artillery shells rained down from the sky. Each explosion illuminated the ground like a series of catastrophic fireworks, tearing dirt and debris to pieces.
Rocks and shrapnel flew through the air, forcing me to duck my head back down.
"James! We need to get out!"
"Matt! Listen to me! You're a good soldier, the best I've seen… get out of the army… my wife… Theresa, help me take care of her."
Desperately, I scanned the trench for a signal set but found nothing. The trench was littered with discarded ammunition and remnants of charred remains. My vision blurred from the tremors shaking through my body, and the acrid stench of scorched meat mingled with the pungency of gunpowder filled the air.
"..MATT!" Another shout snapped me back to reality. "Thanks…" His voice trailed off.
"James! What are you talking about?" I followed his gaze and saw his left arm and part of his face obliterated and seared. Fragments of his flesh hung from the wound, fractured bones exposed, and his organs precariously close to spilling out. Yet, through it all, he wore a serene, almost peaceful smile.
"JAMES—"
My arms swung forward, but instead, my eyes met a change in scenery.
"Ubuian. It's time to leave. The police are ransacking this place." A different bright light greeted me as I pushed the lantern aside.
"What's happening?" A dim glow revealed the man in front of me. He had somewhat similar Ubuian features but was quite skinny and ragged. A thin and unshaven moustache hung on his upper lip alongside a pair of buck teeth. His white hair half covered his eyes and ears.
"We need to go," he said as he pulled me up. You look new around these parts… But now's not the time."
He gestured to the insides of a drain as I looked around me to figure out what I was attempting to escape from.
Littered with translucent bags of rubbish—uneaten food and chopped-up plants and fruits filled these bags. The foul smell finally hit me as I stood up: a mix of soured cheese and rotten milk.
"What's happening?" I asked, trying to orient myself to how I got here in the first place.
"You fell asleep here. Saw you running into the alley after you saw Old Man Hanson's head hanging in the streets," he said, shoving me closer to the hole.
"Hold up! Where does this go?" I tried to resist, pushing my weight back, but he quickly overpowered me and pushed me down. It wasn't too deep, but the fall hurt as I landed on my side with a splash.
The dim light followed as he slid down the ladder.
"Name's Frits. Nice to meet you, pal."
The stench worsened, forcing me to pinch my nose. The pungency was overwhelming.
"Take this. It's got herbs." He handed me a cloth, his hands barely lit by the lantern by his side. I gazed past him into the darkness, where the sewage flowed endlessly.
As I grabbed the cloth and covered my nose, the scent surprisingly neutralized the outside smells. I took a deep breath, trying to grasp the situation.
"Matthijs."
"Nice to meet you, Matt." The nickname stunned me briefly before he jolted me back, swiftly extinguishing the flames in the lantern.
Above us, the echo of steps splashing in puddles of water travelled through the ceramic tiles and reverberated in the tunnels of this sewer. I held my breath as Frits covered my mouth, and we waited for the sounds of footsteps to grow distant.
"What now?" I asked, finally taking a deep breath.
"Well, I can't do much for you!" he said, lighting a match and igniting the candle again, pacing into the abyss.
"Hey! Can you help me get a job or something?" I asked, catching up to him while holding the cloth at my nostrils. It was getting difficult to breathe.
"A job? You're a weird one. You should be looking to not die…" Frits shook his head, glancing back at me briefly as he continued walking. His footsteps echoed softly in the tunnel, and he paused momentarily to listen, ensuring we were alone. "That I can't do much for you... Here." He whispered, stopping near a ladder with a faint light shining through. "I can only leave you here. It's each for their own around here. But I wish you the best."
He climbed the ladder, looked around, pushed the sewer lid up, and climbed back down.
"Close the lid before you leave. Stay strong out there," he said, wandering off and leaving me once more in the cold darkness. I tied the cloth up and started to scale the ladder, struggling to find the next rung.
Each bar felt cold as the cool breeze from above pummeled down. As I finally climbed up, I took in another breath of fresh air.
"God…" I muttered as I collapsed against a wall, "Am I really worth trying to salvage my soul? Going through all this? Just to help me?… Are you sure I'm worth that?"
My eyes wandered to the night sky as I recalled my transgressions.
In truth, I went to the field seeking death... but a man seeking death on the battlefield shouldn't be taking so many lives… Why… Why did I kill these people?
Images flashed through my mind: enemies begging to be spared, their spilt guts and blood splattered everywhere.
Did I really like to be on the battlefield?
God…tell me why I'm here…
"Ugh!" A short boy fell against the shadows of the walls. As he looked up, his gaze met mine, and he slowly backed off.
"Sorry, don't kill me!" he pleaded, shielding himself as he backed away. His clothing was awfully posh compared to what I'd seen on the streets. A stark familiarity washed over me as his face peeked out from between his arms.
"Look, I'm not going to hurt you," I muttered, standing my ground. The boy's arms trembled, his eyes wide with shock and fear as he crawled away.
If he screams, the cops might find out where I am. I'm pretty much a goner without anyone else to guide me through the maze of alleys.
"You… you won't hurt me?" he stammered, gradually standing up as I raised my hands to show I had no intention of harm. He hesitated but then brushed himself off, moving cautiously past me towards the junction of the alley and the street, where the moon illuminated his small figure.
He wasn't tall—perhaps 165 cm. He wore clean brown shorts and a white button-up shirt under a sleeveless blue blazer. A silk-like cloak hung over his shoulder, catching the moonlight.
"Hey, you're an Ubuian, right? Help me hide for tonight!" he pleaded, urgency in his voice. He paced to the back of the alley, peering into the darkness as if checking for danger. The alley was narrow, with tall walls on either side, covered in graffiti and posters. The air felt colder here, and the silence was heavy.
"Huh?"
"You guys are always running away from the guards! Surely you can hide me for just the night!" he added, looking back at me with a desperate expression.
I glanced around to ensure no one was nearby. It seemed the reason for the sudden ransack was to find this boy...
"I just arrived a few days ago; I don't actually know the place," I muttered, moving to the sidewall to check for any guards in the area. "Look, why are you here?"
"I'm escaping assassins," he replied. I turned to him as the moonlight cast a bright streak of light on his back, creating a long shadow ahead. His face was youthful, but his demeanour said otherwise. "Ubuian, can you please—"
Before he could finish, a couple of hooded figures emerged from the darkness of the alleys.
"No need to finish your sentence. Even if I don't help you, they're going to kill me anyway." My eyes darted around as I grabbed the boy's hand, pulling him to my side.
I had no weapons, no items... Wait, I did have one. As I focused, a window appeared in front of me. I tapped on the air, selecting the Quill from my inventory.
It then materialized from pixelated dust right into my hand. But yet another embarrassing realization hit me:
I don't know how to write any symbols.
"This is kind of awkward," I laughed nervously, "But do you know anything about Runes? Because, uh, our lives might depend on it."