She woke up with a gasp, air desperately struggling to rush in to fill her lungs, only for her to incessantly cough up, vomiting what could only be blobs of clotted blood and flesh, threatening to suffocate her should she not.
The spasms raked her body and fog clouded her mind, making her unable to formulate a single coherent thought. For minutes she laid there on that damp, wet soil.
It took almost half an hour before her mind could formulate a thought, plagued only by a pain from her side and the buzzing she could still feel at the back of her head, the thick taste of blood leaving her with a nauseating feeling.
Amanises, aware of the unnatural current predicament, had the instinct to stand up and assess her situation and whereabouts. Yet, her attempt was rewarded with her collapsing painfully back onto the ground. Her hands felt unfamiliar and foreign, and when her gaze fell onto them, she froze.
"What... the hell?" is what she wanted to say, yet her voice, if it could even be called that, came out as low and guttural, more of a growl than coherent human speech. Suddenly, her chest which had mostly been cleared out started tightening, her breathing coming out as short, rapping pants as she hyperventilated in panic.
Her attempt to scramble and run away was merely jerky movement akin to those of a newborn fawn taking its first step. Her eyesight unnaturally sharp in the absolute darkness took note of the rest of her dark fur covered limbs, three more sets of legs than she would normally have.
It took her a few minutes of futile attempts to stand before she accepted her fate, and her wild frantic thoughts had somewhat calmed. This wasn't possible... this had to be a dream . She wanted to curse out loud, a behaviour out of sorts to her usually reserved one, and yet it all stayed in her mind and growls was all her canine maws could muster.
This wasn't also a prank and more like a sick cult thing, because she really was in a monster's body and covered in blood. On her side were massive gulleys of missing torn flesh, visibly squirming as they ever so slowly knit together under her keen eyesight.
Her mouth pursed into a grimace that revealed neatly packed rows of razor-sharp fangs.
The sight of the wound brought an unbidden and unfamiliar memory, one that almost broke her mind in half, as vivid images flowed, showing a pack of wolves very similar to her, on one of their routine hunts for food and resources, happening upon a small group of humans.
They had not prepared for the blood drinking creature that worshipped the moon goddess. It took down almost half of them before they could counter it, and when she had run... no, not her, the wolf, when the wolf ran away, it had already sustained the gruesome wounds, succumbing to its fate from blood loss.
Her breath hitched as the memory faded away. Despite her body recovering, she could still feel herself weakening on a deeper, unfathomable level.
Her next attempt to stand up was a shaky success as claws dug into the damp ground, softening under the grip of her paws, as she straightened one leg after another.
As her gaze roamed the forest, Amanises felt it wasn't just dark- it was all sorts of wrong. Shapes slithered at the edges of her vision, and every time she swivelled her head to the source, they had already vanished, dissolved into nothing but figments of her own imagination. She wasn't alone, that much she felt in her entire being. Her scenario was not natural, and whoever was responsible, was around.
Her vigilance was broken as she felt something slide through her wounded side and plop to the ground with a wet sickening sound, almost making her jump in fright. Her ears, longer now and sharper, twitched instinctively towards the noise and her dark eyes, slits of glowing silver, locked as well onto the shape that didn't seem to belong to the world.
A black, viscous blob writhed on the blood-soaked ground, darker than anything she has ever seen. It wasn't just the absence of light, but the object seemed to eat any and all light that fell on it. She could feel more than see it pulsate faintly like a dying heart, calling... to her.
The sight of it jolted another memory that had her stagger at the momentary lapse of balance. She, the original owner of the body, has seen this before. When wolves as powerful as she was, and those stronger, superior, breathed their last, they released... something. Something like this. Others would directly consume it and either grow stronger or turn into more grotesque monsters that killed everything in sight, and some, few and powerful with seemingly more control of themselves would just pick them to deliver back to their main territory.
As a corporate manager married to her work and less keen on forming meaningless relationships, Amanises was less of a fan of fictional genres and was only an occasional fan of drama series. Only her little sister seemed to enjoy those things and she recalled one term that seemed to perfectly fit her situation, a person who reincarnated or transmigrated into another body, maybe even in a different world.
'No,' she thought as she staggered unsteadily, shaking. 'No I'm not, Vi still needs me...'
The orb though sat there, waiting. A sense of courage washed over her, as the thought of her own little sister, the reason why she always pushed herself, all alone searching for her. She could not let that be. She will get back to her.
Amanises couldn't taste the new flowing blood over the one already caked to her mouth as she bit her lip in concentration and resolve, as her rationale kicked in, one forged from years of self conditioning and responsibilities.
This new body of hers had been a low rank but never the lowest ever since she was born. She has never been lucky as to find any of the unnatural blobs to eat and grow stronger except for this one.
'Was this always part of me like the ones that died? Would I not turn into a monster if I eat it? Would I grow stronger instead? Will this help me find a way to my world?' she could feel her ability to see in the dark ever so slightly weakening, and from her memories, this forest was the territory of the god of their race, god of darkness, bizarreness and horror. Being unable to see in such a place and unable to find a pack for security would all but guarantee her eventual demise.
She brought her paws trying to scoop the weird object but found the task impossible with, leaving her with one last choice, growling in frustration as she shamefully scooped the thing from the ground with her tongue tasting her own blood as well as the mud.
Before she could do anything, it slid straight into her throat. She braced herself for the ensuing transformation as a monster, yet only a soothing sensation settled into her stomach, as if a missing piece had slipped back into its proper place and all her exhaustion washed away, her body was instantly rejuvenated and she could feel herself growing even stronger.
From her memory, this was how she had always been, not the weak and pathetic version she was before.
'This...' Amanises was suddenly struck with an epiphany yet she felt like it wasn't enough to sum up her knowledge. She needed to know more.
With newfound energy and memories of the previous body, she slowly made her way to a place she could stay. Her race did not have any allies, seemingly hated by any and all creatures, and given how weak she was compared to creatures in her memories, it was best to find her own kind and hide amongst them.
--0--
A figure of a man watched as a demonic wolf struggled to move away from the pool of its own blood.
This figure had pale white skin that contrasted to the black clergyman robe, and the raven black short hair though its roots seemed to be blonde in colour and 'His' eyes were pure gold, glowing in the darkness. A silver crucifix hung at 'His' chest. 'He' was like a holy man, an angel if not a god of light and dawn ready to purify every darkness that plagued the world.
And yet, 'His' shadow that seemingly blended with the surrounding darkness carried with it terror that even the darkness that forever plagued the territory to submit to its tyranny.
"It is time for humans to start reclaiming the world we lost." Grisha thought with a grimace, clutching 'His' face as another roar shook 'His' thoughts, as though a sea during a chaotic violent storm.
"My Lord." A hand reached out and touched Grisha, and as it moved away, so did the chaotic thoughts leave to accompany it.
The Ancient Sun God, then turned to address 'His' angel, dark cloaked and majestic in a dark allure.
"I still need to deal with the imprint still left in me even with the connection to the Sea of Chaos severed, I can still feel 'Him' rattling in my head." 'He' said tapping 'His' head revealing a small smile that was lost to 'His' deputy. "In my current state, it's best not to engage these deranged gods, we'll raise an army of our own, nurture humans to rise back and reclaim what is rightfully ours. As for her..." Grisha paused as 'He' considered the peculiarity around his fellow transmigrator.
"Why did you not approach her?" The dark angel asked, and Grisha knew it was less about curiosity and more because 'He' wanted to please 'Him' with a conversation. It was a gesture 'He' appreciated from 'His' left hand, and only angel.
"It's not yet time. But as a fellow 'transmigrator', I can't just leave her be, all alone and weak in this foreign world." 'He' knew what it is like to be alone, with two terrifying beings beyond even 'His' comprehension battling to win a war 'He' could not understand.
Where one had attempted to take control of 'His' mind and body, the other fought to help 'Him', and not out of good will at that. It had won, but at the cost of having its connection and source traced and severely damaged.
What 'He' knew was that something equally as powerful as the Sea of Chaos, existing everywhere and yet nowhere, had been severely damaged by the will that sought to possess him in retaliation. And a transmigrator just like 'Him' had been released, though lacking 'His' level of power and was nothing but an ordinary mutated dog blessed with the mind and soul of a human. It was almost disappointing given that 'He' had expected her to be an equal.
"Was it necessary to bless her with both of your authorities?" Sasrir spoke measuredly even in his stoic self.
"No need to worry, it is a way to increase her chances of survival if she wishes to stand with us in the future." The Ancient Sun God said with a sense of fondness and detachment. 'He' had given her something akin to charisma that would plant seeds on anyone enormered by her, turning them into her faithful and loyal supporters at the very least, and even those at higher sequence would be "swayed" to her cause if she is clever enough.
"Why bless her before she even fully submits her allegiance to us then?" Grisha mused, feeling a sense of rivalry from his Dark Angel at those words, 'He' rubbed 'His' chin.
"It's not like she can use it on us anyways. There is no harm in helping a fellow 'transmigrator' and technically human." 'He' answered with a chuckle, as 'He' turned 'His' gaze to the dark sky, as though locking gaze with the terrifying beings that plagued the cosmos, "Besides, we have more terrifying enemies to worry about."
--0--
The field was soaked in blood. Wilted crops, broken stalks of wheat, and devastated land stretched across the farmland. Bodies littered everywhere—some mangled beyond recognition, others still groaning in agony as life slowly and painfully drained from their eyes. Their rusted sickles and wooden plows, lay discarded where they had been struck down in the chaos, caught between forces beyond their imagination.
The roar of a giant suddenly cut through the air like a thunderclap, as a massive warhammer descended onto the muddy ground where an elf stood. The ensuing shockwave sent swaths of dirt and blood flying, with the elf's lithe form spun, with unnatural grace, into the air, propelled by a gust of wind that coiled unnaturally around her body.
The giant snarled as its blue skin glistened with sweat streaked with blackened blood, its bulging muscles tense as it readied another strike. However, its single vertical struggled to track its prey with their extreme aerial speed advantage.
The elf landed softly on a half-crushed wooden cart, her fingers notching an arrow on the string of her longbow, poised to strike down her opponent. She raised her hand in a sharp hand gesture, and the air above responded immediately.
Before the giant could even react, invisible Wind Blades sliced through the air, shrieking as they targeted its exposed arm. The blades struck with precision, carving into its flesh and spilling dark blood onto the ruined crops. It was too easy, almost kid's play for this elf to hit a target over 4 meters tall.
The giant bellowed in pain but didn't falter. It yanked a rusted sickle from the dirt, manmade and comically small in its enormous hands, and flung it with shocking speed.
The elf darted sideways, carried by a burst of wind, but the sickle still grazed her shoulder, tearing through flesh and cloth alike. She hissed, landing on a broken crude fence post and glaring at the giant with cold, silver eyes.
Nearby, an emaciated human figure choked on his blood. Most of his body had been riddled with holes, as the place he had been hiding did not escape the aerial assault directed by the elf.
No one had the emotions or luxury to care about the death of one measly human, as others struggled to survive, huddled in shallow trenches that had been dug for irrigation, their hands pressed to their mouths to hold their screams.
Their race was simply inferior in the face of these mythical creatures that wielded mystical powers, and their survival was simply based on the mood of their superiors. To them, they were no different from mere accessories. The giants, for example, could barely tolerate their presence, with only the daughters of their queen, nurturers of life, who both embodied human and giant physical features, displayed minimal care to them mostly as pets or out of pity
This was how they could keep their lives. By staying out of the giants' ways and doing their best to keep on receiving the pity of the Giant Queen.
From stories heard, this was a fate better than what would happen with the elves or vampires, used as mere food and delicacy.
A group of elves soared through the air above the fields, their movements too fast to track. Their arrows, sparkling with streams of lightning, fell down like spears of judgment, one piercing deep into the joints of another giant who swung a massive spear made out of dawn.
The giant snarled, twisting in pain as its weapon slashed through one of the massive stone irrigation ditches carved into the farmland. Water burst forth, flooding the ground and soaking corpses, but the elves merely adjusted, their flight seamless. To them, more water meant more weapons and better maneuverability on the ground.
A giant charged into the air, its Sword of Dawn gleaming like molten silver as it struck upward at one of the elves, this one male. For a moment, the sword's purification light erased the shadow of the elf entirely, making it seem as though the figure had disintegrated. But then the wind screamed, and the elf appeared behind the giant, riding the gale with effortless grace.
He swirled as invisible winds coalesced around her slender blade, the gusts compressing tighter and tighter. His weapon plunged into the back of the giant's neck. The wind burst upon contact, and the giant staggered, its roar breaking into a choking gurgle. It swung blindly, but the elf was already gone, leaving only the wind's howl in his place.
—
In another battlefield, a sudden tremor shook the ground.
One elf, crouched among the bodies of fallen humans, paused. Her bowstring was taut, an arrow aimed at a distracted giant. Suddenly, her sharp gaze flickered downward as the mud beneath her began to shift, and thin green tendrils slithered toward her ankles.
Her hand was about to move up in a sign, however, before she could do so, the tendrils erupted from the soil, wrapping around her legs with immense strength. Tendrils came together forming thorny vines, that incessantly wrapped around her body, ripping through armour and flesh.
The elf groaned in agony but was quick to act as the sharp and thin wind blades formed all over the vines, slicing them apart, and freeing her battered figure. Her pain turned into rage—rage which powered her to overcome her bleeding with it effectively stopping. While this occurred, a blast of wind pushed away the incoming vines, as she weaved through the air, while scanning the horizon. She saw the giant she had been stalking, growling smugly at her. Her lips pulled into a thin line at the unintelligent jest, and ignored it to assess the rest of the battlefield.
Among the withered crops, three figures stood out to her, gazing intently at her with serene disappointment. They looked human, but unlike the laborers scattered and dying around the field. Their bodies glowed faintly with an emerald aura, their hands raised as they commanded the plants to rise and ensnare. Roots tore through the earth, smashing into the legs of two other elves who had been gliding low to flank a distracted giant.
One elf had reacted after her, his hands pressing together before releasing a gust of spiraling wind. The gale shredded the roots into splinters, but the delay left him vulnerable. A giant exploited this window of opportunity as its massive fist hammered him down mid-flight, sending him crashing into the flooded ditch, the impact destroying his bow as well and from the looks of it, most of his bones.
In the sky, one of the high elves turned her gaze towards the squabble as she vanished, leaving her fellow high-elf with her beautiful voice resonating in the surroundings. The air itself seemed to vibrate with the resonance of her song, causing the three plant controllers to momentarily freeze and stagger as though drunk. Their command of the plants faltered, as the roots they had summoned either retreating into the mud or fell down lifeless
However, their actions still greatly aided their giant allies.
A giant, at the center of the battlefield raised its blade high, its now dawn shrouded form towering over the others, and causing two other smaller giants to react in tandem. In perfect synchronisation, the three giants stabbed their swords of dawn into the ground, and seemingly caused the battlefield to momentarily freeze.
The air turned incandescent as the Hurricanes of Light erupted, a blinding vortex of divine fury that consumed everything within its radius. Crops burned to ash, corpses disintegrated, and the elves were thrown into disarray. Even the wind itself seemed to recoil, silenced by the storm of light.
A high elf shielded herself within a sphere of swirling water and wind, singing a hymn that repeatedly strengthened her dissipating barrier. One of the elves shot high into the sky, a gale carrying her beyond the storm's reach, but her form still faltered under the sheer force of the blast.
When the light faded, the once sprawling farmland was now a scarred wasteland. Even with all the previously ensuing carnage, the giants stood unrelenting, their armour made of dawn noticeably dimmer, but still formidable.
The elves, scattered and wounded, slowly regrouped in the air. Their once-fluid movements were now sluggish with exhaustion.
A sudden song passed over their numbers, caressing each and with it a message to gather the fallen and wounded and retreat. They already managed to attain some beyonder characteristics for themselves, engaging longer was unnecessary with the near arrival of a new guardian.
As they disappeared into the misty horizon, the giants raised their weapons in guttural triumph. Below them, what remained of the humans, silently witnessed the destruction of the land and even more of their unlucky fellows from the last attack, watched with hollow eyes, knowing full well that this was nothing to celebrate for them.
However, when the giants roared in victory, and humans were distracted by their own grief, no one bore notice of the youth whose body gasped for a new breath despite having already taken its last moments before.
The harvest masters, healers, that were protected from the giants' last violent attack by a newly arrived giant with a shield of light, would arrive and patch him up, noting their astonishment at how lucky he was to have survived the ordeal.
As for the panic and confusion in the man's eyes, maybe even he himself couldn't believe how he had survived at all.
This was how Zhou Mingrui, woke up in an era that did not belong to him, yet, also one that did actually belong to him.