“During the first age, gods and devils ripped the firmament apart, destroying the very fabric of order in their lust for battle and dominance.

Humanity found itself little more than tools of war to the ever-increasing greed of our overlords.

Despite all that stood against us, we adapted and survived.

In the second age, gods and devils came to fear humanity as the first empire of humanity emerged from the ashes of the ruins.”

- Elistar Iscariot, Grand Magister during the second Kingfisher dynasty.

Now, I know it's a controversial opinion, but having a shovel full of dirt thrown at my face is not the best way to start the day, especially when the next less-than-ideal thing is my lungs refusing to breathe. My dry throat was clogged shut with what felt like… unsurprisingly, a shovel full of dirt.

Trying to breathe in the air only seemed to send my empty lungs into increasingly painful cramps.

Now, this may not be a big revelation to most people. When you can't breathe, stuff that usually seems mundane, like filling your lungs with air, suddenly becomes bloody important. It's right up there at the top of the list. At least it is on mine.

With my vision darkening, some far-off memory kicked my brain into action, forcing my body into movement. I started slamming my back onto the ground. Over and over. Up and down. Back and forth. Each slam against the ground, becoming more brutal and desperate than the next. Each time, the dirt grew firmer under me, and each time, I hit the dirt with more force.

I don't know how long I had been thumping and throwing myself against the dirt, but suddenly, air filled my lungs again—musty, earthy, and rotten air. It was still the best air anyone had ever breathed.

The only thing running through my mind was a prayer to whatever deity had decided to take pity on my sorry soul and ask myself who the hell had thrown dirt on my face. Were they my savior or my failed executioner?

Through it all, I kept drawing in deep breaths despite the gut-wrenching cough that hit me from time to time, and it was a fight not to void my bowels in the pain. I wouldn't be surprised if I coughed up a lung or two, and I am almost positive I need at least one of those things.

The entire ordeal may have cost me a few broken or cracked ribs, but I doubt anyone could be anything but happy with the trade of a few cracked bones versus choking to death if they were in my boots. Even if mine seemed to be missing at the moment, the boots, that is, not the feet.

Yeah, the feet are still there. A brown slip of paper was tied around one of my toes, and there it would have to remain for now. Bending down to reach anything below my thighs was beyond me at the moment, as was the question of why I was dressed in what could have once upon a time been called a white gown. That is, if I was feeling generous about it could easily have been a beige or yellow summer dress with red dots. Why in the blazes would anyone want to see me in a dress?

These were all essential questions for sure, except for the dress one, but more pressing matters were given priority. Like where I was, why I was here, how I would get out of this hole, and last but definitely not least, did anyone have any food, preferably in large quantities? I’d suck a steak through a straw at this point if it meant getting some grub.

The first part was easy enough to guess. I would say I was at the bottom of a relatively wide but not too deep hole in the ground. Yes, I am clearly a genius at stating the obvious.

Since it was too shallow to contain the various monsters I envisioned could be sharing it with me, it was probably not intended to catch prey, so I had more than likely dumped myself down here, or someone had done the honors for me. I also noticed the strange lack of sounds—well, the lack of sounds I associated with just having had a shovel full of dirt thrown at my head. Normally, I would expect the dirt thrower to at least check that I was okay after all the noise I had made.

The pit was surprisingly bright despite the dark loam as If the world was unnaturally bright today. I could easily make out the soft dirt intertwined with roots in the wall. It was almost as if my sensory assistant AI was controlling my visual spectrum again, except that was not supposed to happen without my helmet on. By the pain coming from the back of my head, I was all too aware my helmet had vacated my head, possibly quite some time ago… Helmet? AI? Things I understood but had no context flashed across my mind, followed by a stabbing pain accompanying the thoughts that were both familiar and foreign at the same time...What by the saggy balls of Mars was happening to me?

Stewing on the problem didn't seem to help either, as I didn't know what triggered it. On the bright side, it should be easy to make handholds and get out of here when my ribs have rested for a bit. I just had to hope it didn't start to rain while I waited for my body to do its thing. Drowning at the bottom of a shallow pit seemed like a bit too much of a dramatic exit for me. I would have chuckled if my chest hadn't hurt so much.

The walls were freshly dug, so I couldn't have been here long. Just had to wait for the stimulants to do their thing. I wonder why my squad left me here without any word. Stimulants? Squad? The abrupt, blinding pain folded me over like a piece of paper and left me curled up and gasping on the ground.

What had I been thinking about? Eh, it didn't matter. I had a list of things to do. Number one was getting the hell out of here. That was as far as my list went at the moment. It was a working project; don't judge me.

I quickly got bored lying curled up in the dirt. If in doubt, attack the issue head-on. If that doesn't work, call in an air strike until there is no more issue. Sarge always had a way with words if there was a certain disregard for the broader rules of engagement.

The memory was vague, but in my mind, I saw a large, dark-skinned man clad in rust-red armor. Only Peanut and Handsome stood taller in our squad. Then, the blinding pain started again, but I was ready for it this time. Through gritted teeth, I managed to keep my legs firmly planted as I stood up and with a grunt, I let the wave of pain pass. I can stand it!

Carefully, I move my upper body into a better position, one that would allow me to get out without doing any more damage to my abused ribs.

I almost yelled in shock at the pain when drawing my breath too deep when I stood up, only stopping by instinct so as to not do more damage to myself when a voice from above suddenly shouted.

“Ehhh… So you have decided you're alive then, or do I need to go grab his holiness to do some smiting?”

A gray-bearded apparition looking down on me asked in a voice I would guess was even rougher than whatever abused sounds I could manage to garble out at the moment, even if it sounded to be from more recreational reason than my sorry state.

Taking a moment to turn my head in the same direction as the talking head, I rasped back, the only answer that made sense,

“Quite alive. Just working out how to get out of this pit. Feel like giving a hand?”

Or that's what I tried to say. It may have sounded more like

“Aithh allaavv. Djuus woorreen ou how doo et oud oh thee ittt. Flll in haan?”

My larynx may still need some time to work out a few kinks.

Thankfully, the talking head didn't seem to care what I said.

“Well, that's good then. My PA used to say that it was the best choice nine out of ten times. There have been a couple of unpleasant surprises here lately. Glad I didn't have to get his holiness... I forgot what temple was on duty this week. The important part is that he's a prick, so all is well when he isn't involved.”

The talking head almost seemed to be lost in some memory before he held out a shovel in his left hand.

“You just hang in there, and I'll get some rope or something.”

There was a flash of what I thought could be a smile, but it was equally possible it was two rows of a chessboard.

From above, I heard a shout.

“Greg. Greg… Greg! Got one alive and kicking. Hurry. Bring some rope over.”

“Stop your howling. Ma always said you were prone to getting excitable over nothing. Just bash it in the head like normal. Did you get your shovel? And by the bursting bosom of Venus, stop shouting, you fool.”

This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Came the answer from who I now assumed was Greg.

The excitable one was shouting again while I tried getting my head to stop spinning.

“Not that sort of live and kicking. The alive, live sort.”

“Ah, good. Good. I was starting to think we had missed it. I'll be over in a minute. In the meantime, start dumping and salting the first batch. There's no reason for letting the light burn,”

Greg shouted back. I could faintly hear bots stomping somewhere in the distance.

The excitable one's head loomed over my pit again. After receiving another wide smile that had half the teeth missing, he said,

“My brother is coming over in a minute. We will have you out of there in no time. Just hang in there. You are one lucky guy, my friend. A few more shovels, and I would have started dumping the rest of the stiffs on you.”

Lucky? I would claim that finding myself at the bottom of a pit, half-naked and alone, was hardly something one could call lucky. I was also interested in understanding when I had been upgraded to the rank of friend. Admittedly, the last part may just be the old man trying to put me at ease. I thought as the sound of a shovel shoveling started up from above. No dirt rained down on me, however, so I considered myself more or less safe for the moment.

With a bit of effort, I was able to stand on my own two feet for more than a few seconds at a time again. It gave me a feeling of accomplishment, even if it still stank in the pit. I did, however, have a moment of vertigo and disbelief when I looked down my skinny chest and found the ground far closer than my head thought it should be.

The fact that my gown had been used to soak up blood was not amusing. It looked like I had squirted the last of my lifeblood on the top left side of my torso and liberally squirted droplets over the rest of it. I was positive I would have noticed a fist-sized hole above my heart. Something was still not working as intended inside my rattled brain, but I wasn't that scrambled yet.

Now, if I could only figure out what I was doing here and where there was, everything would just be grand.

The next thing I know, I'm jumping away from something that slammed into the side of the pit I had just vacated. Looking up from my new position in the dirt, I saw a thick rope ending in a gallows knot hanging down the side of the pit.

“Hello down there. Greg`s the name. You already met my brother Grigg. Sorry about the startle, but It sort of slipped. I swear that blasted rope has a mind of its own sometimes. Now, why don't you step up and loop that around your foot or something? Just don't put it near your neck, mind of its own and all that. Time to get you out of there.” A new smiling face beamed down at me. This smiling head only had mutton chops and no scraggly beard. Other than that, it could have been the twin of the first smiling face I saw.

The thought of getting out of there outweighed my immediate need to yell at the crazy old man. That didn't stop me from grumbling curses and death threats under my breath. I gingerly got back on my feet and carefully placed my left foot in the loop.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on the grass and holding my ribs, trying to control my breathing through the pain.

“You alright there? Feel any need to bite people, rip and tear at their sweet flesh?”

The voice of the crazy old man came somewhere close by. I could hear the smile in his voice. It only made me want to punch him even more.

Giving myself a few more moments, I answered,

“Broken ribs. Kicking, sure, biting? Not quite there yet. Give me a few moments to feel sorry for myself, and I might just get there.”

At least my voice was doing more than making rasping sounds now, even if it sounded like I had been working in the coal mines all my life. Another flash and another flicker of pain. It was getting easier to endure, luckily.

“---y brother caught you when he did, or you would be lying down there with the rest of the dead ones. Yeah, bruised ribs aren't fun. I'll have a look when we get back from dumping this lot. I've put together more than one unfortunate in my time. The good thing is that you aren't frothing blood. I was a bit worried when I saw the front of your shirt, but it doesn't look like it's bleeding anymore. You should be fine. Find a position that is the least painful, and we will come to get you when we are done.” With that, I heard Greg walking towards the sound of a shovel hitting the ground.

Thank the gods, he stopped babbling. The grass was blessedly dry, and unlike the ditch I had been in, it smelled like spring. However, there was still a rotten sweetness to the air—grossly so, like a madam long past her prime trying to entice a last customer for the night.

Again, I uncurled my pitiful body and got up. Mounds, grass-covered mounds as far as the eye could see. The only things that stood out were a dirt road trailing between the mounds in lazy curves, my two new companions and two massive wooden carts with eight oxen hitched to each.

No, it didn't take me long to realize that what I had been found in was a mass grave. The brothers were throwing bodies into one of the new graves at a rapid phase as I slowly walked towards them. One is taking the arms, and the other is on the legs. Men, women, children, it didn't seem to matter to them. Each one was thrown into a gaping hole with minimal fanfare, like some horrid, never-ending sacrifice to an ancient gluttonous deity.

There had to be dozens, if not a hundred, bodies left to feed the gaping holes in the ground.

A few steps away from the first cart, the brothers only acknowledged my presence with a nod as they went about their grim business. They did seem happy enough with the task, each to their own, I guess.

The realization that I had almost been buried alive beneath countless bodies in a mass grave gave me the shakes. I just had to sit for a bit.

Nothing was what I had expected waking up, not that I fully knew what I expected, but this was clearly not this as I sat for a moment holding myself with those far too thin arms, shaking. I couldn't tell if I was angry or scared, but my body clearly reacted.

Drawing deep, ragged breaths, I barely stopped myself from making a sound as I sat there shaking. Ignoring the worried looks the brothers were casting my way from time to time.

I couldn't guess how much time had passed. I hadn't been paying attention to where the sun was before I withdrew into whatever self-pitying hole I had thrown myself into head first while I sat there, but the brothers had filled up one hole and seemed to be filling up the second one in short order.

Despite myself, I chuckled as I stood up again. I didn't hurt. The pain in any broken ribs and my throat seemed like a distant dream, lies from a nightmare.

What had happened to me was still a mystery, however, and even more annoying since I had memories flashing through my brain that gave me severe dissonance any time I saw any part of my body or how close the ground was. I kept taking longer strides than was comfortable.

Logic told me I had become either bat shit crazy or, until very recently, I was used to being larger than my current body. At this point, I wasn't too sure I cared through the fog of apathy that my mind had settled on after too many unexpected experiences. There were too many unknowns, and quite frankly, I didn't hold much hope in getting many intelligent answers from the brothers who were almost done filling in the last mass grave.

That said, I was both thirsty and ravenously hungry despite the less-than-appetizing surroundings and macabre ambiance. I'm sure some would have enjoyed having a picnic among the emerald green mounds containing who knows how many dead, but I was not one of them.

It was time to get out of there.

Walking towards the surprisingly spry-looking brothers, I lifted a hand and said.

“I am…”

Who was I? It was like trying to get an answer to something I knew should be there, but for some reason, it kept eluding me. Taunting before flickering away into the depths of my mind only to appear someplace different with a tantalizing bit of information dangling in front of me as bait.

Deeper I went, following the trail of the memories that made me question my sanity again. Then I cornered it someplace between getting my first horse and memories of a goose that had terrorized the first few years of my life. I ate that goose when I turned six. It was the most delicious meal I had eaten to this day.

It tried to run again, but something had occurred to me during this little chase. This was my mind. The only thing that mattered here was me. I was the ultimate authority.

In my head, it was a thing of shadows. Flickering in and out of existence, ready to disappear in any direction should my attention falter. Feeling silly at the stupid game I was playing with myself. I grasped the shadow with both hands.

My mind exploded in a kaleidoscope of images and feelings. It was an unending deluge of memories trying to force themselves into me at the same time. Gritting my teeth, I tried holding it back, but it was too many moments at once. A memory called my attention, and without thinking, I grabbed it.

A moment later, I had to sit down and close my eyes, shut off my conscious thoughts and follow a thread of something I couldn't name to something dark and hungry but all too familiar. It felt safe. Coming to the end of the tread, I could feel a rift leading to somewhere else. A place filled with power. With a gentle nudge, the rift opened, and power filled me.

The memories still hammered at me, but now my will had the strength to put order to the chaos.

Peering at a few of them, there was everything from the inconsequential to learning about how gravity kept me on the planet. Something I'll admit shocked me. Not because I found it strange that the reason something fell to the ground was the gravity of the planet drawing it in.

I found the idea of someone standing on the other side of the planet throwing a ball down a hole going from them to me. Would the ball actually reach me, or would it get pulled back toward the center of the planet before it could reach this far? I would have to give this more thought later. Now, I needed to find a solution to this mess.

I knew once I let go of the power I was holding, with all of these memories in place, I would fold like a wet napkin.

Forming a force that would continuously circle outside of my abused brain, bringing all the memories in orbit around my thoughts, I started setting up part of my subconscious to run through the memories at a safe phase but alert me if something I needed to know there and then, or something particularly funny.

Making sure everything looked good to go, I closed the sliver I had opened in the rift and almost tore it open again because of how safe I felt with the connection open. Tentatively, I reached out with my mind again, and it was still there, ready to be opened with a gentle poke. Letting out a deep breath, I opened my eyes again.

After my little freak-out, I came to a few conclusions about myself and my plans for the immediate future: I was going to live. Live in a way that would make the world's most hedonistic prince gaze at me in stark envy. I needed to wash away an eternity of darkness from my soul and dull the memory of a thousand battles. More importantly, I never planned on waking up at the bottom of a mass grave again. That last part had really sucked.

I could tell there were still many holes in my memories; I don't think I would have survived all of them at once. Despite myself, It was to my great satisfaction that I managed to finish the sentence:

“... Alucard.”