Ch 3: Getting sold out by a bird
–
I am comically frail. In my hands, the spade almost really seems like a sword—a mocking reminder of what I once might have been. It's a wonder I'm not dead already; I can scarcely imagine how the previous owner of this body managed to live so long. Perhaps he was a secret master who, in a desperate bid for longevity, sold all his wealth for an artifact that let him swap bodies with someone else.
'Hey, Leon, is it possib—'
[No.]
'You didn't let me fini—'
[It is not possible to switch bodies across dimensions.]
'...'
'But what if yo—'
[No. It won't work. Stop asking.]
I resume my slow shuffle across the forest floor, the silence as uncomfortable as the constant ache in my joints. I've encountered all manner of creatures over the past two hours, and now I'm beginning to wonder how much farther I can actually go.
'How much farther?'
[We are not even halfway there.]
Oh, fuck me—my knees feel like shit, my hands tremble from gripping the spade, and my arms burn every time I hack at the choking vines blocking my path.
"J-Just a quick break," I mumbled.
[Take your time.]
'Thanks, I wi—'
[I was being sarcastic.]
[Every second we waste, you inch closer to your inevitable collapse. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that your next sleep might be your last.]
This is elder abuse, plain and simple. I'm in a sorry state—my only hope to regain strength is the mana stone, which would drain every ounce of energy I have just to harness it. If I fail and am forced to rest, Leon may be right; my organs might finally shut down for good.
Then, through the thick undergrowth, I hear something: a sound that's part chicken squawk, part dying donkey's bray.
'Is that a mana beast?'
[Most likely a cockatrice.]
'Are they powerful?'
[No, but in your current state, even tripping over an exposed root could kill you. Play it safe—go around its nest and hide.]
'Fine.'
I peer through the foliage and catch sight of a bizarre creature: a monstrous bird with the head of a chicken and bat-like wings, its body marred by scars and tears. But what seizes my attention are three stunning eggs—each nearly the size of my head—nestled in a bed of moss beneath its fearsome talons.
My stomach doesn't even growl; instead, an overwhelming hunger washes over me.
[Resist the temptation. If we linger here any longer, you might die before we even get away.]
'If I don't get one of those eggs, I'll die of hunger.'
[You exaggerate—stop messing around and focus on the task at hand. Prioritize survival.]
'No, this is how I will survive—or die with a full stomach.'
[Fool.]
I slowly creep out of the undergrowth, a small boulder clutched in my trembling hand. It's meant to smash the cockatrice's skull, but—
[It's never going to work. Its skin is too thick for the rock to even make a gash.]
'Whatever happened to your optimistic attitude?'
There's no time for small talk now; at any moment, that cockatrice might turn its head and attack. It's now or never. Summoning every last scrap of strength, I heave the rock toward its head.
With a loud crack, the rock shatters against the cockatrice's exposed scalp. The creature turns its head, unfazed, and meets my eyes with a look of pitiful resignation. In one swift motion, a single talon flashes out, nicking my chest before I can react. I stumble back and examine the wound—there's a strange, stone-like substance spreading rapidly across my skin.
'Oh, fuck me.'
I had hoped for some kind of plot armor.
[...]
[That was pathetic.]
The stony substance spreads to my shoulders, and survival instincts kick in. I start running as fast as my old legs can carry me across the uneven forest floor, praying the cockatrice won't follow. It doesn't chase; instead, it watches me with mild curiosity as the substance creeps down my leg, causing me to fall.
'Goodbye, cruel world. I was hoping it wouldn't end this way—but I made my bed, and now I have to sleep in it.'
[You are so fucking dumb.]
Now the substance has reached my neck. The cockatrice, apparently satisfied that I'm thoroughly subdued, walks over and drags me next to its nest, depositing me onto a soft moss bed in front of the eggs—so that I won't shatter completely.
[It seems the creature will de-petrify you once the eggs hatch so it can feed its newborns. What an innovative, if horrifying, strategy.]
'Oh, shut up.'
My lips have long since petrified, leaving me mute. I can only listen to the world around me, lying face-down on the cool forest floor.
[HAHAHHAHA, you truly had the audacity to defy common sense by attempting to defeat a cockatrice with a rock. You are a reminder of just how shallow human intellect can be.]
'It was a calculated risk.'
[Yes, but you're evidently terrible at math.]
With nothing better to do, I stare at the vibrant moss beside my face—so green and pretty, I can almost imagine its softness. If only I could feel that moss before I die, perhaps I might at least perish a happy man.
Then I feel it: soft vibrations emanating from the moss bed, slight yet unmistakable.
'Is it just me, or is the moss shaking?'
[Yes, it is. Most likely, a bigger monster has arrived with the purpose of devouring the cockatrice's eggs.]
The pebbles beside my face tremble as the ground rumbles with each heavy step of the approaching creature.
"Hsssssk..."
I hear the cockatrice's feeble attempt to warn off the intruder—a sound full of futility.
[How futile.]
[Truly a shame; I quite liked this cockatrice.]
The rumbling subsides; it feels as though the monster is right next to us. Damn it! Why did that cockatrice have to leave us face down? My burning curiosity compels me to imagine what this beast might be.
'Do you think it's a dragon?'
[No.]
'What about a massive wolf?'
[No.]
'Maybe a ridiculously large snake?'
[No.]
'Then what do you think it is?'
[By god, let me die in peace!]
Seconds pass in suffocating silence. The jungle holds its breath, watching and waiting for the fate of the cockatrice and its eggs. I wonder if the larger monster might take pity on the cockatrice—a mother, after all.
Then, without warning, I am lifted into the air. Hundreds of blade-like teeth clamp around me, holding me uncomfortably as I dangle helplessly.
[Ingenious… It has struck a deal with the predator to keep its eggs safe. What a magnificent beast!]
To think that the cockatrice would sell me out so quickly—it truly has no honor. We begin moving swiftly; the jungle blurs as we race through twisting vines and narrow clearings, dodging patches of quicksand with alarming ease.
'I think we're in its mouth.'
[No shit, Sherlock. What made you think that? The teeth or the drool?]
'The smell.'
Eventually, we arrive at what seems to be our destination: a vast cave opening stretching nearly a quarter-mile wide and high. Scattered around are bone scraps from various animals, miscellaneous pieces of armor, and broken swords—a grisly testament to past battles. What terrifies me most, however, is a towering mound of skulls, close to thirty feet high. On closer inspection, every skull is human, and some still bear the remnants of their helmets—a subtle yet ominous foreshadowing of my fate should I fail to escape.
[Look what you managed to get us into. If I had to guess, the beast is going to behead you and then devour your body. It will be a horrific spectacle—but I shall observe to honor your memory.]
'Don't you die with me?'
[Yes, but my soul won't fragment until the last neuron in your brain stops firing. Though, knowing you, that might be sooner than I imagine.]
'Hell is too good for you.'
[Please, after your declaration of war, you and I are destined for Tartarus at the very least.]
Maybe, by some miracle, I will be spared from this terrible fate. Perhaps I will simply wake up one day and pretend none of this ever happened. Or maybe I will die—and then be tortured in Tartarus for millennia. Hopefully not the latter.