I fade in and out of pain. Everything comes to me through a fog. Sometimes I try to understand what’s happening: Where am I? Why does it hurt? Am I waking up from another surgery? But even as I reach for the memories, comprehension slips through my fingers and I’m absorbed back into the nothingness.
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Once, my eyes crack open. The world is a blurred green. Birds chirp pleasantly overhead. I’m lying in something—blood. My blood. I try to focus beyond that, and eventually the shapes resolve into a scene of gore. The three adventurers I met. Terimus. Rena. Layf. They don’t move from the pool of carnage that was their campsite. Nothing moves, except the pebblebacks grazing quietly in the fields beyond. That contrast, the foreground of death framed by a peaceful, green vibrant valley, pulls emotions from my half-awake mind. My throat feels tight. My eyes sting. I sob out a single breath, but pain spears through me with the small movement, shocking my mind and body back into another haunted, dreamless sleep.
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Maru’s face surfaces in my subconscious, summoning a fear that brings me to the edge of wakefulness again. I’ve never felt such terror. Such helplessness.
Such hate.
Why? The word spins around in my head, unable to expand into any thoughts more complex than that.
Why? Why? Why?
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A rumbling sound rouses me next. The sun is low. The valley in shadows, the sky burnt orange.
I’m not dead. I’m alert enough to understand that, now. But night is almost here, and once the cold sets in, it’ll be over for real.
I consider letting that happen. I’m so tired. And not moving like this, the pain is only an intense, cold pressure—not a searing agony. Living is a lot of work.
But a spark of defiance lights in my chest. Maru. She killed them. She tried to kill me—and if I don’t do anything, she’ll still succeed.
I summon all the strength I can muster and drag my arm up by my shoulder. Needles stab through my back with the movement, and I let out a gasp as my arm goes slack. I was going to push myself upright, but the idea seems laughable now. It hurts too much, and I don’t even have enough strength to roll onto my side. I groan from pain and frustration, squeezing my eyes shut against my cruel, indifferent reality.
A low sound rumbles nearby. The same sound that had woken me up, I now realize. The deep murmurs resolve into a voice.
“Did you hear that?”
The voice is so deep and gentle. It makes me think of a mountain lake, quietly tucked away between the remotest peaks. That sounds nice. The pain starts to fade once more as I relax, my mind drifting into oblivion as I think of forests and clouds and snow…
“I think it came from over here.”
There’s a second voice. Higher pitched. Sharper. It pulls me from my blissful rest. I wish it would go away.
“Gods’ grace, Gugora, this one’s alive!”
Something touches my arm, and I scrunch my eyes tight, moaning. Even that brush of sensation is too much, awakening my nerves like razors through my skin.
“Hurry!” the sharp voice says. “Lorata’s Light, I don’t know how she survived.”
I sense the chill of a shadow falling over me, blocking out the last few rays of light from the setting sun.
“Let me,” the deep voice says. Gugora, I think.
There are more touches on my shoulder, arm, and forehead, but this time they’re faint and careful. I relax. This one won’t hurt me.
“We’ll need to address that wound first,” Gugora says. “She won’t make it back if we wait for a healer. Have you got a potion on you?”
“Of course I don’t have a potion on me,” the sharp voice says. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to come upon a murder scene, was I?”
Gugora lets out a rumbling sigh. “Alright. The hard way, then.”
Something presses against my back, so sudden, and filling me with so much pain, my tenuous hold of consciousness is snuffed out.
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The world rocks back and forth. I’m tipped forward, leaning against something warm, cloth scratching against my cheek. My head is resting on something, and I can feel an arm holding me upright, wrapped beneath my legs, while a second one lightly rests on my arm, keeping me from tipping over. A warm weight surrounds me like a blanket.
I try to pry my eyes open, grit sticking to my lashes. I can make out the profile of a head. Ah. A shoulder—that’s what my head is leaning on. I’m being carried like a drowsy toddler. Despite the lance of stabbing pain that shoots through me with every footfall, the careful embrace fills me with a fond sense of security.
“Dad?” I whisper.
The arms shift at my voice, carefully ensuring their grasp is secure. “We’ll get you home,” the person says, his deep rumble vibrating through my chest.
Not my dad. Gugora.
I feel so small in his grasp.
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More snippets come and go as we travel. The next time I open my eyes, it’s dark. The time after that, woodsmoke fills my nose and flickering lights stab into my eyes. The sounds of the forest give way to thumping footsteps of boots over wood and the clamor of loud voices, which turn to cries of alarm I can’t find it in myself to care about. The air is humid and warm here. It smells of dust and yeast. The raised voices are eventually shut away as I’m eased into a pile of furs, and a sharp pain lances through my back as I’m tipped to rest on my side. I groan, trying to roll over onto my back, but a hand stops me.
“You’ll have to lay this way until we get that wound treated.” Gugora. The deep voice.
I open my eyes and try to focus on him, but the room is dark. He’s only a giant shadow, half bent over me. He holds my shoulder, keeping me from rolling one way or the other, and my arm is swallowed in his grasp.
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“Iski, help me with the pillows,” he says. “Prop them up behind her.”
I feel an impression in the sheets by my feet, like a cat jumping up onto the bed. For a disorienting moment I’m propelled back in time, back to when I still slept in my own bed. We had a cat, Oboe. She was black and white and liked to sleep curled up around my neck, her hairs tickling my nose. I miss her.
“Alright, hold on,” the sharp voice—Iski—says. The blankets behind me shuffle around, some of them pressing up against my shoulder and lower back, and I hiss in a breath when one tweak of the blankets sends another stab of agony through me.
Gugora says something, and Iski shoots something back, but by then I’m fading once more, sinking into the soft, musty furs that brush against my face and remind me of a distant home.
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When I wake up next, it’s daylight. Strange, incomprehensible dreams fade from my mind as I rouse, slipping away from me even as I try to recall them. I was drowning in a black ocean full of stars. Consumed by a great hunger. There was a comforting voice, distant and determined. “I don’t plan to die today.”
I try to bring these thoughts into focus, but they dissolve like a sandcastle beneath the tide. The echoing words linger longest, resonating with something inside me.
Death. Why does death sound so familiar? Pain throbs through my whole torso, somewhat distant, and I know from experience that the best way to keep it distant is to not move. I’m lying on my left side, which means I’m facing where Mom always sits, reading one of her magazines by the window.
“Mom?”
But when I open my eyes and find myself in an empty wooden room, it all comes back to me.
My death and rebirth. Terimus, Rena, Layf. The Champion, Maru, who slayed them all. Who tried to slay me. Tears prickle at my eyes, and a hot, angry heat coils in my gut. Why? It was so senseless. There was no reason. Why did she do that?
I start to lift my hand to brush the tears away, but pain stabs through my back and chest when I move, and I drop my arm back into the blankets once more. I was hurt bad. But somehow, by some miracle, I lived. Am I still on the brink of death?
[Check,] Echo pipes up, and stats fill my vision. [HP: 12/90]
It’s gone up then. I must have some passive healing ability. Not enough for me to risk moving, though. With little else to do, I blink away my tears and lick salt off my lips as I try to take in my surroundings.
It’s a simple, small room, entirely made out of wood like a cabin. There’s just my bed, a chest, a rocking chair, and a window. The chair and chest have patterns carved into the wood. From the rough texture, hand-carved, I think. I trace my gaze over the gently looping designs, and the focus soothes me. Eventually the tears stop, and my anger simmers, but the hollow ache of loss and regret remains. I’m not sure if it’s the three adventurers or my parents that I’m mourning more.
I don’t realize I’ve dozed off until I jerk awake. The sun is up, the pain in my back is still present. The door to my room rattles faintly with the approach of muted footsteps and voices.
When the door swings open, I can only summon faint surprise to see an enormous orc duck into the room.
[Check,] Echo says as I idly wonder.
[Name: Gugora]
[Species: Orc]
[Class: Hunter]
[Level: 31]
[Attack: 92]
[HP: 200/200]
[Mana: 10/10]
He’s massive, hunched over just to avoid hitting his head against the crossbeams; his skin is green, and he has two tusks curving up from his lower jaw in an imitation of an underbite. Black and red tattoos decorate his left shoulder, and his thin, black hair is pulled back in a short ponytail. His eyebrows lift in faint surprise.
“She’s awake.”
It’s the same low voice I remember from before.
Someone pushes past him. “Please, give me space. Iski said it was urgent.”
Gugora steps back, as much as his hulking form and the small room allow. “Of course. Thank you for coming so swiftly.”
The newcomer has white cat ears and a tail which reminds me of Oboe. I smile faintly.
She bends over me, clicking her tongue in disappointment. “You should have positioned her facing the wall. I could see the injury better if it were facing this way.”
“Sorry,” Gugora says. “Didn’t think of that.”
“What happened, anyway?”
A light flickers to life behind me, casting my and the cat-girl’s shadow across the opposite wall, tinting everything with a purple hue. A soothing warmth floods into my back, and I let out a relieved sigh.
[Healing spell in effect,] Echo says. [Recovery rate: 1 HP every 10 seconds.]
“Not sure,” Gugora grumbles. “Bandits, maybe. Found her like this. Three others similarly attacked, though they were already gone. Took her back here, sent Iski for help. She’s taking the City Guards out to the… scene now. Maybe they’ll have some answers.”
I clench my jaw at that. I know what happened, and it was no bandits. Gritting my teeth and taking a pained breath in, I blow it all back out in one word: “Maru.”
The cat-girl goes still. “What was that?”
“Maru,” I say again, though my voice is barely a whisper. Gugora leans in, frowning. “Killed us. Champion.”
“Gods’ grace,” the healer says. “That’s not—I mean, she must be delusional. A Champion? They wouldn’t…”
“The Champion of War would,” Gugora says quietly. He frowns down at me. “Are you certain? Did she say why?”
Fear percolates through me. She did say why: She was trying to kill me, because I’m from another world. But I can’t tell them that. What if they betray me? Summon Maru to finish the job?
I try to shake my head, but renewed pain burns through me with the movement, and I go still. “No,” I sigh, closing my eyes. Even this much talking is exhausting. I should just let the healer do her magic, but I have to make them understand it was Maru. Even if I can’t tell them it was because of me, Terimus, Rena, and Layf still deserve justice. “Looking for something. Couldn’t find it. Didn’t want to leave empty-handed. Sacrifices.”
Even saying all that aloud threatens to bring fresh tears to my eyes, but I stamp the sorrow down, replacing it with my fury and indignation. How dare she. How dare she take their lives like that, as if they were nothing? “I’ll kill her.” And even as I whisper it, I know it’s a promise.
The healer sucks in a breath. “What? No, you don’t know what you’re saying. Just rest.”
Her denial just makes me even angrier. I hiss the words out through gritted teeth. “It was wrong. They didn’t deserve it. I’ll avenge them. I’ll kill her.”
The comforting warmth vanishes from my back. “Blasphemy,” the cat-girl says. “The gods do not err. Praise Widengra, may you have mercy on this child’s soul.”
[Healing spell ended. HP: 24/90]
I frown, peeling my eyes open once more as the healer steps away, turning to Gugora.
“I’m sorry. I won’t work on her further—not if she continues to incur the gods’ wrath. It’s too dangerous. The healing’s not done, but the worst of it is resolved: She’ll survive as is.”
I want to laugh. I’ve already incurred the gods’ wrath. But she’s afraid of a few words? What kind of god is worthy of worship if they make you fear for your life?
“I understand,” Gugora says. “You have my thanks. If there’s anything you need…”
The healer hurriedly shakes her head, casting a nervous glance back toward me. “I should be going. It’s a long walk back to the city. I’d prefer to reach home before sundown.”
“Thank you,” Gugora repeats, showing her out. As the healer’s footsteps vanish down the hall, he pauses in the doorway, looking back at me. “You shouldn’t say things like that. Not out loud, at least.” Then he ducks beneath the frame, too, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Wincing, I slowly risk rolling over onto my back. It hurts to lay on the injury, but the pain isn’t shooting anymore, reduced to a dull throb. Tingling pins and needles start to crawl across my left arm as it wakes up. I grimace at the sensation, keeping perfectly still as the static rises and falls.
The gods do not err? Bullshit. If it’s wrong to speak up against murdering innocents, then I don’t want to be right. I don’t care what that healer might think: what Maru did was evil.
You can’t say that, I hear Gugora say. Not out loud, at least. I smile grimly. I think that was him agreeing with me—in his own way. But fine. I get the message: I’ll keep it to myself.
I came to this world wanting nothing. Just a simple life. Happiness, good food, a second shot at growing old. But Maru took that from me. She took this new, fragile hope I’d barely dared close my hands around, and smashed it to the ground, shattering it into a thousand irreparable pieces.
If it’s blasphemy, so be it. But in her arrogance, Maru messed up. She didn’t finish me off. And in destroying my previous dreams, she’s left me with a new purpose, one that’s fueled by loathing.
Even if it kills me, I’ll get my vengeance. Terimus, Rena, and Layf will get justice.
I’m going to kill a demigod.