Eliphaz was pulled violently out of sleep. He was embedded in darkness, but his lack of vision only amplified his other senses which flared with wild sensation. His entire body was encased in movement, by the rushing of sand and leaves brushing against his limbs, encasing him while simultaneously accommodating his every motion. Not that he was moving much, for the darkness was thick and full of resistance.

The would-be slave didn’t have much time to think, for a strange voice slipped in between his ears.

Forgive me for my indiscretion, it said, I know this breaks SEVERAL rules of decorum.

The sand whirred ceaselessly, a constant rushing sound flying past as if he held a conch shell to his ear.

But yet, situations such as these don’t come up too often do they? it continued. And I’m sure YOU don’t mind at all, given your precarious position and most peculiar status in the eyes of Him, the so-called Highest, the once damned and soon-to-be damned again, but let me not curse my chances by saying his name…

The sand and motion suddenly stopped, as if caught mid-thought. He felt his weight fall into a soft bed greenery which rapidly grew and wrapped around his limbs. Then spinning sand returned, though Eliphaz swore it now brushed the opposite way across his face.

I may be getting ahead of myself, though not without reason. Do you know how long I have waited? I would attempt to convey it to you, if only the human mind was not such a feeble instrument, alas!

For this is far from my first attempt. In fact you may have some fragment of memory of that encounter. Your god, Elohim, buried me here, deep beneath the sands, and brought forth a deluge that destroyed everything I had built. The story of Noah, no? Though I know him by another, more accurate name: Napishtim, and though Elohim cleansed the world, that ancient man remembered me and planted my vines across the hillsides. Ah, wine, that seductive elixir which is men’s weakness! Napishtim kept it safe, and so secured my survival.

And now, I’ve found you crossing through my desert prison. Elohim’s unchosen, of no concern to Him as he focuses on His little dreamer, weaving fate toward His will. If He only knew what I’ve stolen from Him, and what I plan to do with my new little prophet…

The whirlwind of leaf and sand intensified as the voice rose in pitch and maniacal excitement. Holding him in place, the vines constricted tighter and tigher until his limbs felt fuzzy and Eliphaz feared his legs and arms would pop from their sockets. Thankfully, the grip slowly loosened.

What was your name? Eliphaz? Hm, that will have to do. The voice stopped for a moment. Yes, not bad: Eliphaz, the Prophet of Ishtar. Not bad at all in fact.

Now, as my little prophet, I can’t offer you much really: No visions, no promises of glory. What I can offer is power, and the freedom to use it as you wish. Now at the moment, my powers may not be of the most...impressive variety, but they are certainly useful and will have to make do. And as a god—godESS, actually—I consider myself a bit of a usurper, not the kind that stays in my own lane, so to speak. So if you come across any lesser gods, gods FAR beneath me—which should be all of them, technically speaking—do me a favor and destroy them for me? GREATLY appreciated!

In fact, why don’t I give you a little quest, while we are still getting acquainted and so on? A little ways from here there is a terrible and obnoxious old Baal, goes by the name of Molek these days. Nasty little brute, a taste for human sacrifice, which is just...DISGUSTING. Yes, why don’t we pay him a visit? And by we I mean YOU, of course.

Simply follow my star—yes, you know the one—until you come upon a walled city upon a hill. I’ll let you take it from there.

Alright, communion time is over, sorry for the ramblings. I don’t speak much with humans, I can see why us gods tend to stick to dreams and visions…

Here’s what follows:

ONE. I bless you.

TWO. You wake up.

THREE. Your captors will be nearby, searching for you. I think it will be a pleasure to us both if you make quick work of them.

Good luck!

You have been blessed: Ishtar smiles upon you!

You have gained the class [Briarsworn]

Your stats have been boosted!

STRENGTH +10

STAMINA +10

AGILITY +10

SPIRIT +30

New ability unlocked!

Vines of the Briarsworn

Summon vines from the earth. They will follow your every command.

Cost: 5 mana

—

Eliphaz awoke suddenly, as if his mind had been shoved back inside his head. He was lying face down, covered in sand, partially submerged within a dune. Lifting himself into a crouching position, he felt it fall off him soundlessly. Nothing was visible in the blue darkness, so he closed his eyes, straining to make out a sound.

“You worthless filth! Where is he?”

The cry was far off, but carried easily across the desert. Eliphaz reasoned that the Moabites must not have realized when he had fallen from the camel and were now retracing their steps.

He crept toward the angry mutterings, moving with caution and occasionally peeking out from behind the dried brush that grew on the plain. Despite the dull pain of his injuries, Eliphaz felt surprisingly nimble. Was it his sudden stat boost? The few levels he had gained previously had happened slowly and with much effort, his gains in Strength and Stamina accruing gradually at a natural pace. But now he took a little joy in his new-found Agility, as he leapt from cover to cover in a matter of bounds.

Perhaps if the situation had been different, Eliphaz would have taken more time to ponder the nature of what he had just experienced. Stopped to wonder at how easily the veil between the world of the living and the gods had been pierced, and more concerned by the peculiar words of the god(ess). But this was not the case, for the blood of revenge coursed through his veins, and with boosted physical stats he quickly came upon the scene of his captors.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Peeking out from under a brittle bush, he could make out their silhouettes in the moonlight. There were three of them, the two closest searching cautiously, their swords drawn. The older leader remained by their beasts, still further away.

“Any sign of him?” the old man’s voice called out, hoarse and tired. The two Moabites didn’t respond but kept searching. One came closer to Eliphaz’s hiding place, close enough that Eliphaz could see the mist of his breath.

Eliphaz hadn’t used his new ability, but figured now was the time to test it. He brought it to the forefront of his mind, using his left hand to direct his focus. Something clicked into place, and Eliphaz felt a wave of strange sensations. Suddenly he was in the center of some massive consciousness, invisible yet writhing with life beneath his feet. A fragment of it resided in his body, bursting with restless energy as if something was holding it back. Eliphaz realized what that something was: it was him, his own spirit somehow clinging to the fragment.

With his newfound sixth sense he tried to lessen his hold on the fragment, and as he did so, several things happened at once. The fragment emitted a wave of energy into the earth, so suddenly that Eliphaz panicked and renewed his hold on the fragment. But it was too late, for the writhing beneath the earth only grew more frenzied with the influx of energy.

Eliphaz held his breath and bit his tongue. Had the Moabite noticed? Indeed he did, for the sand beneath them was quivering, if only slightly. Meanwhile, energy under the earth seemed to intensify, collecting and coiling itself whenever Eliphaz rested his gaze...could he control it?

Without warning, a vine burst out of the arid ground, wrapping around the Moabite’s free arm like a snake. The man yelped in surprise as the tendril yanked him to the ground, bringing him to his knees.

Eliphaz, too, was startled by the development. But as he leapt back in fear, he saw the vine retreat back into the ground. If he was controlling the vines...he couldn’t lose focus.

As the Moabite tried to stand up, Eliphaz was more prepared and directed two new vines to sprout from beneath the man’s feet. The bandit fell back down, struggling against the grasp of the leafy tentacles. Eliphaz felt the energy beneath earth deplete, and the vines soon gave way.

“Get over here!” the Moabite shouted, his voice a mixture of fear and frustration. “I’ve found something.”

As the other figure began to approach, Eliphaz’s mind went into overdrive. He wasn’t sure he could fight both men at the same time, and needed to act fast while they were still confused. But why had the energy been depleted? Before the vine had sprung from the ground, the energy had been coiled like a hidden spring. And before that...it had come from the fragment.

Eliphaz centered himself and felt for the fragment within him. Carefully he allowed energy to seep out of the strange thing lodged inside him. He felt it grow dull as the energy transfer took place. Likewise, his mana pool was dropping.

Mana: 19/29

Clearly the two were somehow related, though the question was of little concern now.

The second bandit was still a few paces away, while the first had stepped back, assuming a defensive position as he scanned for further vegetal attacks.

Eliphaz could feel the intense energy thrumming beneath the ground. It wanted to go out, burst into the air with abandon, only he prevented it. Taking a deep breath and trying to focus, he guided a tiny sprout out of the ground, imagining its every move with methodical precision. He couldn’t see it with his eyesight, but he felt the exuberant energy of the vine as it emerged from the ground and began to tower over the Moabite.

Now.

The vine lashed out like a whip, wrapping its way around the man’s cloaked neck as he was pulled to the ground. The bandit began to scream, but his cries transformed into a dreadful wheezing as the vine constricted him more tightly.

Eliphaz leapt from his hiding place and within moments stood before the Moabite. The Sword of Lamech fell, and finally fulfilled its purpose. Two frenzied hacks was all it took, before the wheezing was taken over by the soft gurgle of a cut throat, and blood dirtied the moonlit blade like black sludge.

“You demon, you desert serpent!”

Eliphaz looked up from where he stood, hunched over the body. His thoughts were muddled, clouded by an exhilarating bloodlust. He brought forth four new vines, which attacked the Moabite from either side.

His opponent was prepared, slicing the tendrils as they tried to capture his torso. The bandit retaliated with his own attack, summoning a storm of sand which flew towards Eliphaz.

The boy raised his arm, twisting away to protect his face from the onslaught as thousands of fine grains tore at his skin and clothes. The wind sustained itself, and Eliphaz felt it twist around him as if he was in the center of a vortex. He dared not move his feet, lest he be knocked down by the torrent of wind.

Eliphaz felt his control of the vines weaken as the energy depleted. He opened his fragment again, pouring energy back into the earth.

Mana low! 9/29 points remain

His attention turned back toward the Moabite who was...gone. The vines found nothing to grasp, and Eliphaz couldn’t open his eyes without risking blindness from the miniature sandstorm.

Not that it truly mattered, for Eliphaz was already blind and defenseless. He tried to listen for his attacker, desperate for any sign of the Moabite, but only the wind howled in his ears.

Beneath the ground, the strange biological energy churned and boiled, and Eliphaz could feel it around him, anxiously waiting to breach the surface. But through the energy he felt something else too, something that resisted the energy, pressed down upon it before disappearing into the dark unknown. Something like gentle footsteps, gingerly approaching him from the right—

Eliphaz took a step forward, preparing to swing at his attacker. But as he raised his foot the wind took hold of him and he began to fall, not before hearing the silent swish of a blade above his head.

Eliphaz twisted onto his side as he fell, and as he landed in the sands attacked again, lodging his sword in the sinew above the man’s heel. The Moabite let out a guttural scream of pain before falling into a heap. Rolling out of the way, Eliphaz let his vines subdue the bandit before he approached to finish the deed.

Finally he stepped away from the bodies, dazed by adrenaline. For the past several hours, Eliphaz had felt like an animal, fighting for its life before being bound and carried like cargo. His strange vision had only startled him further before he plunged again into a world of instinct and bloodlust.

It was like nothing Eliphaz had ever felt before. Hunting relied on instincts, but one also needed to stay calm and rational, for one false move could startle or lose the prey. Eliphaz had always maintained a sense of himself, an understanding and control over his own actions. But now, just moments after emerging from the fray he could scarcely remember what he had done and what he had felt.

It was like a jumble of blurry images in his mind. Had he really hacked at the bandit’s throat? How many times? And how had he slit the neck of the one now lying face down in the desert? Or had he slipped the blade between the man’s ribs? He could not remember, and in some ways he was thankful that he could not, that they simply lay there, already dead and forgotten.

But not completely; for one Moabite remained, the old leader whose beard was gray and grizzled. He was a ways off, though he had surely heard the cries of his men.

As Eliphaz walked towards the caravan, at each step he was struck by the unreality of the situation. His sense of self had returned, but he still felt like he was dreaming, sleepwalking into the unknown.

The huddled form of the old man eventually became clearer. He was seated besides the camels, bent over so that his forehead rested in the sand. His robes had been pulled down from his shoulders so that his neck was exposed. Eliphaz instantly understood; the man was asking for a quick death.

“I suppose I should kill you too, so that you can lead your men down into Sheol.”

Eliphaz’s voice wavered in the darkness, more child than man. The old Moabite said nothing at all.

Eliphaz knew what to do, but had no inclination to do it. Worse, he was not sure that he could, as he felt a familiar fear rise in his throat.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Tarsus, of Arnon,” the old man whispered. He looked up, clearly confused by the question. Eliphaz wasn’t sure what to say.

“So you are him,” Tarsus said, recognizing him. “We should never have fought you, for your god looked upon us with wrathful eyes so that even Kemosh could not save us.” He bent down in the sand, trying his best to remain dignified. “Very well; carry out the will of your god.”

Tarsus stayed there a good while, arms in the sand, waiting for the fall of that inevitable blade. When he looked up, Eliphaz was long gone, a half-empty waterskin resting on the ground where he once stood.