Taking deep breaths, Vikram closed his eyes and let the air fill his lungs, focusing on the rhythmic inhales and exhales. Despite the overwhelming revelations and the daunting fate that seemed to loom in the distance, he knew that dwelling on it wouldn't change a thing. He needed a clear mind to navigate this strange new world.
Calmer now, Vikram stood up from the cushioned chair for the second time. The air inside the carriage carried a mix of hot air and humid breeze, and he knew he couldn't afford to be paralyzed by uncertainty. The world around him, he had to get to know it more.
He took a step forward, the soft fabric of his surroundings brushing against him. Through the gaps in the adorned white cloths, he caught glimpses of people talking and moving, their tired expressions suggesting they too were part of this journey, if it was that at all.
As Vikram stood on the threshold of the carriage, his eyes widened at the sight of the expansive desert stretching endlessly before him. The golden sands undulated like a sea frozen in time, meeting the horizon in a seamless blend of earth and sky. The heat hung heavy in the air, creating a mirage that distorted the distant landscape.
"This is getting dangerous," Vikram thought, a tinge of caution creeping into his mind. Despite the picturesque beauty, the desert held an inherent peril that was dangerous to strangers on this yellow sea.
Vikram jumped from the carriage onto the sandy ground. Suddenly, he regretted his action.
Anticipating scorching pain from the hot desert sands, he steeled himself for impact. To his surprise, however, the expected agony never manifested. The surroundings were undeniably sweltering, yet the sands beneath his bare feet only emitted a mild warmth.
As Vikram wondered about this situation, a realization dawned upon him — his new body was an embodiment of strength and vitality far beyond the limits of his earthly form. His brown complexion shimmered like burnished bronze under the relentless sun, radiating a natural glow.
Taking a moment to assess himself, Vikram marveled at the sculpted physique that adorned his frame. Every muscle was defined with precision, not in a burly manner, but rather in a compact, powerful symmetry.
He couldn't help but acknowledge that this body could easily outshine competitors in a bodybuilding competition back on Earth.
With a newfound physical prowess, Vikram reached up and pulled back his hair, which the wind had playfully tousled. The strands, as dark as the night, cascaded smoothly through his fingers. A silent moment passed as he surveyed the people around him.
The individuals, weary from their journey, glanced at him with a mixture of dread and exhaustion. Vikram noticed the diversity among them — faces etched with different stories, expressions.
But one thing was common among these people.
Fear.
Observing the peculiar scene around him, Vikram's gaze shifted towards the carriage that had transported him. To his surprise, there were no camels or any livestock tethered to the carriage, only people, their shoulders bearing the weight of the cumbersome vehicle. Each step seemed like a laborious effort, the strain evident on their faces.
The realization struck Vikram — these individuals were not only enduring the scorching desert heat but were also burdened with the task of carrying the carriage themselves. The weight of the carriage was heavy, to begin with.
Someone who was only truly cruel would be able to sleep inside that carriage, or rather, someone tyrannical...
The shuffling of hurried footsteps across the sands caught Vikram's attention. His gaze turned toward the source of the commotion, revealing a hunchback figure hastening towards him. The figure moved with a sense of urgency, and as it approached, Vikram noticed the unmistakable curvature of the spine.
When the hunchback figure reached Vikram, it collapsed on the desert floor, groveling in the sand. The figure's voice trembled as it uttered, "Oh Mighty God Blood, I am sorry! Truly sorry for my incompetence for not getting the mighty one outside of this damnable desert!"
Vikram's eyes studied the hunchbacked messenger for a moment, a mix of surprise and curiosity evident on his face. The terms 'God Blood' and 'Mighty One' lingered in the air, resonating with a familiarity that reached back to ancient Egyptian beliefs.
Three figures emerged from the front of the group, moving towards them with purpose. Simultaneously, two other figures approached from the rear, where the carriage and its reluctant bearers were.
Vikram, standing firm in the golden desert sands, sensed a ripple of tension as the trio approached. The menacing figure at the center, his face etched with a grotesque scar, exuded an aura of danger that even Vikram couldn't ignore.
The intensity of the man's eyes, murderous and unrestrained, sent a chill down Vikram's spine.
'This guy is dangerous,' Vikram thought, his instincts on high alert. It wasn't just the scar that caught his attention; it was the malevolence lurking within those eyes. The scarred man, devoid of upper garments, wore only an Egyptian lower garment that accentuated the scars on his powerful frame.
The two companions, smaller versions of the scarred figure, bore lighter scars but mirrored his demeanor. They acknowledged Vikram with a small nod.
Suppressing the unease that crept within him, Vikram returned the nod, maintaining a poised facade. His eyes then shifted to the hunchback messenger still groveling in the sand. "Stand up," Vikram commanded, his voice carrying the weight of authority. He couldn't afford any visible signs of weakness, especially not in front of this scarred trio.
He had to maintain a consistent behavior that was shown by the previous host.
As the hunchback struggled to rise, Vikram couldn't help but question everything. 'What the hell am I even do-'
His internal musings were interrupted as a sudden push jolted him forward. Vikram caught off guard, steadied himself in the shifting sands. He turned sharply to identify the source of the disturbance.
Vikram's eyes narrowed as the scarred man quickly backtracked, offering a hasty apology for the seemingly accidental push. Vikram's expression shifted, a dreadful thought dawning upon him.
'They hate me...'
The scarred man bowed with an exaggerated show of humility, his massive frame bending at a perfect 90-degree angle. However, Vikram's keen instincts told him that beneath the facade of apology, there lingered a twisted smile on the scarred man's face.
A silent understanding passed between Vikram and the scarred figure. It wasn't an accident; it was a message, a subtle assertion of power.
The tension in the air was palpable as he stared at the scarred man with clenched teeth. But he ultimately shook his head.
It was not the time yet.
Vikram looked at the giant and waved his hand. Even though he had shown discrepancy right now, it didn't matter. He was now gaining the gist of what was happening now, and what was going to happen.
Right now, it was not the time to lash out. It was the time to endure.
He was just coiling.