“No deal.” said Brod. His tone sounded final. “I am not eating you.”

“No? No!? What do you mean no?” His froggy friend asked, still sitting on a rock in front of him. “I’m talking about a boon. A Boon. Capital B. Gods above, do you have any idea how rare this chance is for you? You’re a mortal not a god. There’s a limit to the things you can do.”

“‘s that so?”

“Yes, that is very much so. That is the definition of mortal. You know, unable to escape their flimsy lifespans, fall over dead just because they lost an arm or a kidney or two, incapable of ascending to immortality, to serve the gods in their vaunted realm above without their direct aid? This is a power beyond that of mortal ken, Brod. You’d do well to accept it.”

Brod knew quite well that nothing ever came without a price.

“And you would give me a Boon?” he asked.

“I would sell it. A part of your soul for a Boon for oh, let’s say ten years? What is there not to like?”

Brod leaned down and met the frog’s gaze. It didn’t avert its own this time. It was serious. This seemed very important to it.

“My soul. My own self. I would trade that away for what?”

“I don’t know, what do you want? Hoppity legs? Some magic rune carved onto your chest that will allow you to breathe fire? Eyes that can see in dim light as if it were bright? The choice is yours, with some limitations of course.”

Those… sounded like some very good Boons. The concept of a divine Boon was, well, it wasn’t completely alien to Brod. He knew that it was a word for a reward the gods gave to people who… were special. Or did special things. Who were mortals they had their eye on or trusted followers in their realm above. Though, lacking context of exactly what the reward looked like, he had expected it to have been more along the lines of a mountain of treasure, a kingdom or a sword that could cut anything.

Or a plate of the finest cheeses. If there was a choice element involved, he could imagine people having asked for that. At least one person must have.

“C’mon. It’s not your entire soul. Only a part.”

The frog offering a magical power, or a transformation of his own body was… well, it implied that it was a god, as far as he knew. Only the gods could hand out Boons, for it was a part of their own power they parted with. Although, he didn’t remember an exchange of the soul being mentioned anywhere. And he was pretty sure that he couldn’t trust the frog to deliver on what it promised.

Maybe it would just take his soul and then simply leave. Brod didn’t know if that was possible, but the more he thought about it the more he realized how frighteningly much empty space was in his memory of anything at all.

To be frank, he also knew too little about the benefit of Boons and how the soul and lack thereof affected the body. He knew that he hadn’t eaten the entire day and he’d already woken quite emaciated, but he could move without a problem, even better compared to when he had just stepped from his grave.

His skin had become smoother and as he felt his face, while his hair was about as ratty as he’d expected from a corpse, there was a bit more of an ‘alive’ feeling to it than there than before. A warmth that wasn’t there before.

“You can pay in installments, if you want. You could afford many a power that way.”

He’d need a calm body of water or a mirror to check what he even looked like, though at the moment, he was more interested in getting water to drink. Unlike the hunger, the thirst had stayed the same and even gotten worse over the course of his day. He had been very active and felt like he could drink a lake.

“… are you ignoring me again?” Froggy asked.

“No. I am listening. Just thinking.”

“Oh. Well then, if you’re thinking about which powers you’d like, I can give you my recommendations. Hoppy legs are a favorite, makes jumping and leaping real’ easy. Almost as if you’re flying! We– I’ve got some boons that would allow you to fly as well, if you’d like. Though I wouldn’t recommend them because… reasons. You don’t want to know, I assure you, but other than that–“

“Quiet. Please. I need a moment.”

“Oh. Well, take your time. I’ll warn you if anyone or anything approaches. I’ve got all the time in the world.”

Brod truly did need more than a moment, the implications of what the frog was saying were a bit too large and sudden. Setting questions of divinity and if this was even possible aside, if it were true, could he truly wish for anything he wanted, anything at all? Make his skin as tough as iron, gain magic that would allow him to move as swift as the wind? A magic rune that would make him big or small as he wished, a rune that could make him invisible? Could he gain a boon that would change his mind in way so that he would never misplace a thing again?

Could he get a boon that helped him control his anger?

Could he simply just… wish for his memories back? Just like that?

But did he earn it?

You didn’t earn it!

Brod blinked as a shiver ran through his body. A memory, an intrusive one, just a blip of sound rang in his ears. He recognized the voice, but not from where or whom it came from. And the way it got under his skin. It was frightening.

Suddenly, he was starting to dread regaining his memories.

“I… I think I’m fine.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I’m saying that I… I don’t need your boons. I’m fine as I am.”

“What. What!? What, what, what, what?”

You are worth nothing! No supper until you get it right!

“I said: I don’t need your boons. I am a giant of Morgenthal. I can take care of myself, come man or monster or the sky falling on my head.”

Brod stood up but felt a spell of dizziness come over him. He sat back down, then lied down, the frog uncomfortably close to his face.

“Brod, you stubborn, insipid, arrogant giant. The sky has already fallen. The ground has cracked, and hell has broken loose. Literally. You are not in your cushy age of divine-grace-given plenty. Your underestimation of what is out there will get you killed or worse.”

“Mhm.” He said, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the frog.

He couldn’t trust it. He didn’t want to put his faith and the wellbeing of his body and soul in the hands of a toothy amphibian he had barely come to know a day ago. Even if the gains could be great, could literally turn his life around and turn him into exactly the man he wanted to be, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Brod didn’t deserve it.

“Seriously, there are demons out there, huge things made of wood and stone and fire and death. Do you know what a thing made of death looks like?”

Look at your results! Pathetic. Again.

“Mhm.” He said.

“No you don’t. It’s like nothing you could imagine before. This isn’t a choice you can say yes or no to, Brod. You need me. You need the power I can give. And I will give it, if only you say yes.”

Brod really didn’t, though there was still place for a smidgen of doubt. Sure, he was a smaller giant, but he was trained, and he was gaining soul at a good rate. The soul was good for his body and nothing he encountered so far had been a true threat to his life, the young swordfighter aside.

Brod was strong, he was cunning and the more he slew, the more he remembered, the stronger he would become. And that was enough for him.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“I don’t care. I will deal with it later. Now, I feel sleepy.”

“Sleepy! The giant feels sleepy! Oh sure, let me just wait here for hours and hours until you find within yourself the will to get back up and go collect more soul that you will then refuse to spend on anything!”

Annoying. The frog was getting annoying. Brod just wanted it to shut up.

“I’ll think about it.”

“…what?

“When I wake up, I’ll think about what you said.”

“You will? You really, honestly will?”

“Yeah. Maybe. Don’t wake me.”

“Promise? You promise that you’ll think about it?”

“Mhm.”

An awkward silence hung in the air until the frog eventually spoke up again.

“… I’ll keep watch.” It said.

“Mhm.” Brod could live with that.

And then he drifted off to sleep, swept away by a stream of thoughts and memories and things he’d rather not have ever felt again.

----------------------------------------

I leapt around the corner of a house moments before the jaws of the beast closed and obliterated the cobbled stone wall. The masonry was by no means weak, but that thing was easily twice my size if it stood on its back legs instead of crawling, as it was.

Its long and thin mouth would ordinarily have been a glaring weakness to impacts from the side, but this was no mortal beast. It was one that came from the primal forests of the world, a vast expanse of green in the shade of dark, dark, darker, that threatened at all times to choke out civilization if one grew complacent in its shadow. What grew in the forest were things that would feast and grow without end, with hides so thick or teeth so sharp no ordinary soldier would dare fight them alone.

I hadn’t been complacent and at the villager’s behest, I and my companion set a trap within the settlement, luring that which was claiming guard hounds, Grug’s by the dozen and even farmer’s lives every other day to where it couldn’t hide within the underbrush.

The trap had and hadn’t worked. The creature, a two-legged, two-armed thing with odd, thick single hairs growing out of its naked whitish-pink skin had two bolts in its side and was bleeding around one of its dreadfully long arms as well.

But it was not a normal beast. I was reminded of that once again as I turned around just in time to see it open its scissor-like head as wide as the road I was on. The maw snapped shut and I threw myself down and forward before rolling to a knee again and thrusting my spear at its ugly hide.

The spear struck true, the tip cutting deep and lodging itself within the beast’s underside. Yet it didn’t slow down and instead batted me away with one frightfully strong backhanded blow.

I blocked it with my shield. But I wasn’t ready to receive the sheer monstrous force and was blown back.

My spear remained stuck in the creature for a moment longer, until it grasped it with its mockery of human hands and yanked it out before snapping it in two.

That was my third and last spear.

I swore. “Fark! Another spear! A–Ffff… ”

I tried to get up, but the creature was on me already. I rolled out of the way of one of its arms but the other pinned me to the ground. I stared into the infinitely thin shear-like mouth, with each upper and lower jaw formed like a jagged metal blade.

Then it snapped shut.

My good shield was the only thing that saved me.

I normally treated them as a disposable tool, because good shields were expensive, hard to come by and would break only a little slower than average ones anyways. I’d rather buy them cheaper and in bulk than wasting a considerable portion of my funds on a fancy piece of colored wood and metal strips to hold it in place.

Presently, I thanked the gods that I had the foresight to invest in a single one made of cast steel. My companion had found a local part of the old nobility she was – or rather, used to be – a part of and haggled the price of this fine piece of gear down from incalculable to merely extremely overpriced. Though even then, even metal had its limits.

No magic lived within the shield and while it caught the forest beast’s maw, the edge of its jaws dug a hands length into the solid steel. The monster was holding it in a vicelike grip and the creaking coming from my shield made me aware that yes, even this one wouldn’t last for more than a few heartbeats.

If my next idea went as planned, I could finish It off in four.

I pulled my sword from my scabbard, a moderately long and broad thing for most others, a short sword or long butcher’s knife for me.

One moment passed.

I aimed the tip and thrust it towards the creature’s struggling jaws. It hit, biting into the thin layer of flesh before meeting bone. The bone was hard, but a considerable depth was sawed into it by the sharpness and force of my blade.

Two moments passed.

The creature screeched. I looked for the nook I made and took aim.

A third moment pa–

I pulled back for another strike, hoping to cripple its deadly bite once and for all, but the creature had a plan of its own. It reared its head back, lifting me off my back and almost on to my feet again.

Then, it wrenched its head from side to side. I was still strapped to my shield and was flung around just as much. I tried to get a hold on the ground with my feet and maybe contest the creature’s strength with my own, when I heard more than felt a crack and a pop as my shoulder and arm gave away.

Instantly, I was flushed with a number of sensations. The pain was a sharp twist, then a blinding fire, then sounded like drums as it grew more and more distant. My heart pumped so much it was like my chest was playing anvil to its hammer. My legs trembled, and I felt my blood rush through every vein.

I screamed, a primal mixture of pain and anger, and bashed the creature with my sword. Again, and again and again, the unbound strength flowed out of me, and the growling of the creature turned to yowling, then to whimpering and then to a gurgle as blood red and black flew here, there and everywhere else.

It took a lot to kill a monster.

This one was still not done, as the metal shield creaked and bent and in a moment of clarity, I knew for certain that I was about to lose my arm. The rage subsided, the pain returned, but as the scissoring jaw cut into my flesh and instantly down to the bone, I heard another, much more pitiful yet strongly familiar scream from above.

I looked upwards and missed entirely as something fell on the creature and it jittered and jolted from the impact. Its bite lessened as something was quickly lodged into its eye and I tore my mangled arm and shield out of its deadly bite.

The creature, now thoroughly distracted, clawed at its back yet only streaks of blood and cut fingers came back.

I took the chance and stepped in as close as I could. For once, that put its body well within my arm’s reach, even with just a sword. I shoved it into the creature’s chest, where the heart ought to be.

It sank up to my elbow before I pulled it back again. The lingering rage was still fueling me with a desperate strength, yet as the creature finally collapsed and I heard the voice of my companion, labored but sounding fine otherwise, the undirected strength took on a dangerous color.

My control was loose. A single twitch, a short flick of the wrist would be enough. My body screamed in rage. It needed an outlet. It demanded for more.

Breathe. In–out. In–out. In–out. In–out. In–out. In–out. In–out. In–out. In–out. In–out. In–out.

It wasn’t calming me as much as it should, and my companion strode around the corpse, within arm’s reach. She should never be this close to me. I told her many a time.

Too close. Much too close.

I closed my eyes and pretended that I was alone under a mountain, unable to move or be moved.

“We killed it! Holy shit, we slew the beast!” She said, her voice filled with so much pride and accomplishment. I didn’t dare look at her as she whooped and hollered.

In–out. In–out. In–out.

“What a slaughter, what a battle. Do you wager the gods’ll recognize that as your great feat? Do you think so?” she asked.

Again.

She always did, after every single fight. She didn’t understand, didn’t know how important what she was talking about was to me. She didn’t understand to what lengths anyone of Morgenthal went to be recognized, to what lengths I went. Not at all. She didn’t understand exactly how impossible it was for me to achieve just that.

However, right now, I didn’t care whether the gods saw vanquishing this beast as a once-in-a-lifetime heroic or a trifling, everyday occurrence scarcely worth a second look. I only prayed that I could control myself.

I was of Morgenthal and even as a small giant, I bore the same curse as them all. Since birth and for every man or woman born a giant, their minds and bodies necessitated rigorous training to build discipline, to purify their rage and accept that while they may be stronger and hardier than any other human folk, that merely meant they had to accomplish more, greater things than was expected of any other.

It was my seventh year on my pilgrimage to accomplish just that. And the journey would only last for eight in total. If by then, I hadn’t proven that I had it in me to step in my sister’s footsteps, I would be marked a disgrace. And that was the end.

But my companion didn’t understand. She wiped a bit of sweat off her brow and touched her burst lip. It was nearly her only bloody injury of that fight, next to a bloody nose and some swelling around the eye. It was all probably gained from jumping off the roof and onto the creature nearly twice her size with nothing but a sword and dagger in her hands.

She looked up at me and even though I turned away, attempting to hide my injury, she uncharacteristically failed to notice anything amiss at all. She had audacity but as always, it showed itself at the worst possible moments in time.

“That went quite alright, I’d say.” She said, sounding somewhat satisfied with us both.

“Quite alright? QUITE ALRIGHT YOU SAY?”

That was the point where I couldn’t keep it inside any longer. I lashed out.

Not physically, I would bite my tongue before it came to that. But I did lash out. It wasn’t my companion’s fault, though I put the blame at her feet. Her overconfidence, her hesitation, how she didn’t know how to fight monsters like this at all, how her shield hadn’t held. I blamed her weakness, her arrogance, her poor aim and her upbringing as well.

In the end all I felt was shame.

By that time, there were tears involved, though I couldn’t remember which one of us it was that did the crying.

Shame.

It wasn’t her fault in the end. Not in this fight. Not in the one against the rabid rat dogs. Not in the one against the bandits. Not in any of them.

Shame.

She was inexperienced. I was not and I should have known how dangerous this creature would be if it could kill grug bulls in a herd just like that.

I did know but I had ignored it. I thought I could take it because I needed to. I was the one who miscalculated. And in the end, I had to rely on my companion, a continental human, to risk her life so I could escape from my own blunder.

Shame.

It wasn’t really my victory, then. I needed to gain the attention of the gods, so they could give me a boon and send me on a quest to ascend like my sister had. I could blame my equipment or my meddling companion or the world all I wanted, but in end it was me who had fallen short. And who has done so for seven years and change.

Shame. Shame. Shame. Shame. Shame.