As Vikram and his unlikely companions gathered around, the remnants of their encounter with the spiders still lingering in the air, the night enveloped them in its dark embrace. The crackling of a nearby campfire provided the only source of light, casting flickering shadows that danced across their faces.
The Slave Head, his expression a mixture of weariness and resignation, sat hunched over, nursing his wounds from the skirmish. Beside him, the daughter's gaze remained icy, her mistrust evident as she kept a wary eye on Vikram.
Vikram sighed as he felt the tension hanging in the air, and it was about to explode anytime now.
"Give me my spear," The Hulk growled as he moved towards Vikram.
'Shit, not now,' Vikram thought as he looked around his surroundings, searching for something to use to stall for time.
And as if to answer his plea, the sands rumbled.
Vikram and his cohort looked towards the left side, multiple corpses of spiders and dry sac-like creatures littered around their camp, but if you would look more into the darkness...
It would look at you back...
Multiple lights began to shine in the darkness, the same lights of kaleidoscope colors that intruded their camps, but this time, there was no end to it.
As usual, Vikram bravely... bolted off in the opposite direction. The Slave Head was in front of him, his eyes looking at the darkness that was coming to devour them, his daughter still looking at Vikram with vehement hatred as he ran away.
Vikram didn't mind, but the Old Slave was standing in his way, so he harshly pushed him away and bolted off to the way they came, having an evident waypoint in his mind.
Vikram could feel the hatred that was piercing the gaze that was on his back, but he didn't care. Everything was in its place, and he wasn't going to step back because he was rude to a random old man.
Vikram winced... Yeah, guess I could have toned it down a little.
Vikram bolted off, and the Hulk and the Grunts followed him. They didn't even look back for a second on how the Head Slave, Daughter, or Steward was going to survive.
It was not just a saying that the strong survived.
Seeing that the warrior group had gone and only the Steward had remained, the Head Slave sprang up, shook the dust that settled on his dress, and smiled.
After the Head Slave patted his hips a couple of times, his smile turned even more wicked.
The Head Slave suddenly turned back, seeing the Steward looking at him, bewildered, wondering where the Head Slave had gotten the sudden energy. The Head Slave looked at the Steward, a little complicated, but shook his head.
The Head Slave motioned for the Steward to follow him. The Steward rushed towards him and followed him, and they entered the cave that Vikram had seen the first time.
At the time that Steward was walking, his hunched back was especially aching where Vikram had patted. The Steward cursed Vikram for being hard-handed at such an old man like him and traveled with the Head Slave, silently.
As he was walking, he saw a wooden bowl that was thrown into the sand and wondered which one of them had thrown out precious food in this food-ridden land.
It was not just the strongest that survived always though.
=======
Vikram bolted off in the opposite direction of where the kaleidoscope of colors was erupting. He could hear the furious footsteps of the Hulk and the Grunts thundering behind him. But more unsettling than that, he could hear the ominous skittering emanating from the shifting sands.
With each stride, the sensation of impending danger gnawed at his senses. The landscape seemed to morph around him, the dunes undulating like waves in a turbulent sea. Vikram pushed himself harder, his heart pounding in rhythm with his frantic steps.
As Vikram ran as fast as he could, his stomach rumbled with hunger, lacking the energy to carry the weight of the burden he carried. Each step felt heavier than the last, but he couldn't afford to slow down, not with danger hot on his heels.
Finally, he came to a dead end, his breath ragged as he surveyed the scene before him. A steep drop-off marked the end of the sands, jagged rocks lining the sheer descent. It was a treacherous fall, promising a rough journey for anyone unlucky enough to tumble down.
But what truly unsettled Vikram was what lay beyond the precipice. Where the black, obsidian-like rocks ended, a sea of black sand stretched out before him, seeming to consume the landscape. It was as if he stood at the threshold between the land of the living and the land of the dead.
The rumors he'd heard about this place flooded his mind, and as he gazed upon the twisted landscape, a sense of eerie familiarity washed over him. It wasn't just wrongness he felt, but a twisted kind of rightness that chilled him to the core.
'Yeah, that makes no sense...'
With a deep breath, Vikram steeled himself, knowing that he had no choice but to take that leap of faith. Life had never been easy and now was no exception. With determination hardening his resolve, he prepared to gamble everything as he braced himself to step into the unknown.
As multiple footsteps closed in from behind, Vikram's heart sank. The Hulk and the Grunts had caught up to him, their presence looming like a dark cloud over his already dire situation. One of the Grunts sneered at him, addressing him mockingly as "Your Highness," while another laughed, but the Hulk remained solemn.
"You have two options," Vikram announced abruptly, his voice cutting through the tense air with disdain and contempt, echoing the authority of a tyrant. "We could fight among ourselves and weaken ourselves for the true predators to pick us off."
The gravity of his words hung heavy in the air, reminding everyone that they were all mere prey in the eyes of the eldrich horrors, vulnerable to the approaching threat. Vikram pointed his bone spear at them, his gaze unwavering as he spoke. "Or we could face the threat together."
He watched the ominous colors drawing closer with each passing moment, a palpable sense of urgency filling the air. "It doesn't matter which choice you make," Vikram said, tilting his head with a grin that bordered on madness. "I'll fight until the end."
With his declaration hanging in the air, Vikram braced himself for the inevitable confrontation, ready to stand his ground against whatever horrors awaited them in the darkness.
Vikram had always said a 'saying' that he would always repeat in his interview.
It is not the strongest who survive, but those who adapt.