Chapter 2

Estranged

“My beliefs are set in stone, as are yours; fogged and dying, you claim the Doctrine

Supreme, and I doubt it. Different, yes, you and I are.”

Mind of the Heretic, Vol. I

Noah followed the group of seven teens carefully, always ensuring he maintained at the very least a distance of 50 meters. Though it might be a bit paranoid, considering the deep cover the shrubberies and the thick trees provided, there was no need to risk it. The distance was close enough for him to follow them easily; rather, he could increase it three-four times and still maintain pursuit.

He quickly realized he had never run this deep before; the forest was massive, and he feared to go too far alone in case he got lost and unable to return to his camp. That fear persisted, but his circumstances forced him to act at last. If he had to die, he'd at least die trying to survive rather than cooped up in the dirt and vines, shivering and stuttering as his body shriveled up and he perished.

The group suddenly came to a halt and Noah followed; they seemed to be discussing something in slightly raised tones before separating into two groups – one of four and one of three – causing him to frown. He had long since identified the leader to be the young lad sporting short, blonde hair and a rather slender build. His skin was pale as though he’d never seen the sun, his features leaning on the handsome side. Follow the leader – it was a simple strategy, but it most-often paid off, so Noah heeded it.

Running left, after the group of three, the chase continued for little over half an hour before he finally saw the edge of the forest. It wasn’t as far as he’d first anticipated, but the thick cover above him and the lack of branches without which he couldn’t climb to the top provided him little information on the forest – especially so because he couldn’t even identify the type of the tree.

He became even more vigilant as he watched the trio step out of the thick cover and onto what appeared to be an open plain, following after them slowly. He had no intention of leaving the forest itself, but it wouldn't hurt to at least check out the size of the settlement beyond it. He reached the edge rather quickly, pulling some leaves and branches to the side and peering out. His mind immediately blanked as he nearly stumbled over and fell, barely holding on. What in the…

There was a faint, hill-like dip beyond the forest where a two-mile-long meadow stretched. It was, however, abruptly interrupted by a sheer high-rise of a cliff, steep and imposing, nearly two-hundred-and-fifty feet tall, well over two miles wide. Perched on top of it was a city so massive Noah had no way to know its actual size – thick, shimmering, bronze-dyed walls of stone stood erect at the edges, a variety of buildings eclipsing them, rising up. He only caught the glimpse of the edge; he suspected that the city ran down the entire cliff, whose length he couldn't possibly calculate due to the angle he was looking at it from.

Even still, he was quite baffled; logic dictated that any medium-sized and above city shouldn't have any forests around it since the wood would have undoubtedly been used during the construction, or at least in the form of firewood. Yet, Noah could see the forest stretched out around the city, and beyond deep toward the other end, making it impossible to estimate its size.

Barely ripping his gaze away from the city, he located the three youngers that ran to the bottom of the cliff and, like a mirage, suddenly vanished. What the fuck?!! His mind was certainly playing tricks on him. Did I accidentally brush against a hallucinogen? However, the reality was too selective for it to be a hallucinogen. Whether he was ready or not, he had to accept the brimming reality – the state of the city clearly showcased this was not a technologically advanced world, certainly not the kind that could produce nano-implants with the ability to shoot lightning and fire. The only other explanation was simple, yet perhaps even more terrifying: this world, in one way or another, had a form of magic.

Noah couldn't possibly calculate how potent or developed it was, but it was certainly there. He felt his throat dry up in that instant as he withdrew back into the forest, slowly making his way back by retracing the tracks the group of seven left on the ground. His mind was buzzing and spinning as he made an attempt to make the heads and tails of the situation but to no avail. He already held little hope in assimilating into the settlement to secure provisions, but now all those hopes were destroyed.

When he first saw that it was actually city, beyond the surprise, he also felt rather happy; it was much easier to infiltrate large cities than small settlements. So long as he was careful, he could have done it easily. Now? That was put into question. Magic – it was the sole source of all his worries. How developed it was? How many branches it had? What could it do? Was it used throughout the city to prevent unregistered and unwanted from entering? No, wait, maybe some bee or a buzz poked me and I’m seeing things……aaah, shit!!

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Cussing in and out, he really wanted to go back in time and rip the skin off of Lander's face. How did he let that idiot convince him this was a good idea? Back on Earth, he enjoyed various riches, a pleasant life altogether if not slightly terrifying one due to the number of people wanting him dead. Here? He was an estranged cockroach with no resources, no connections, no nothing.

He already knew the answer, deep in his heart, but he continued to reject it. It was too risky. Every one of his instincts he'd picked up throughout almost forty years of either being a part of active battlefields as a child-soldier or missions so nerve-ripping he still feared to remember them, told him it was too risky. He had way too little information – no inside contact, no blueprints of the city, no tools, no exit strategies – hell, he didn't even know the language of the people inside. Every piece of logic pointed to infiltration being a terrible idea… yet, he had no other option. Certainly, he could just pick a direction and randomly run in hopes of running across a lake or a river and the thriving animal community, but that was even less logical. Here, there was at least a certain possibility of it working – he'd be relying a little bit on luck and a whole lot more on his skills. If he just randomly ran about like a headless chicken, wouldn't he be leaving his life up in the hands of a god? No, no, that’s even worse. If the dude exists, he certainly wouldn’t consider me a friend…

Mentally mapping out the path from his little camp to the forest's exit, he returned and once more went over the full list of his supplies: a single gun, Beretta M9A3, and a silencer, 3 full clips, totaling in 51 bullets. His proficiency with the weapon could only be considered so-so in the mercenary world since that wasn't his specialty, but it would have to do. Besides that, he had two knives, SOG tactical knife, and KA-Bar, though he wasn't quite sure which series since it was tacked on by the support team. He also had two hand grenades, but he confirmed they did not work anymore, for one reason or another. He certainly wasn't about to dismember them and look for the faults, lest his head flew off.

The main and back-up bulletproof vest, combat boots as well as the back-up ones, the last flare gun, two mines that also no longer seemed to work, and several dozen electricity-powered gadgets that have all turned off. He had no means of concealing everything and sneaking in at the same time, so he decided to prioritize – if necessary, it would be easy enough to return here and dig up what he needed.

He definitely needed the gun since it was his only means of protection. If he was subpar in the firefight, he was even worse in the hand-to-hand and knife combat. At least when going head-to-head; assassinations were another thing entirely. However, he still packed up both knives, as well as his own, personal creation – Tool Knife, reminiscent of a Swiss knife, just with a few extra functionalities. He decided to leave the back-up gear as well as the flare gun behind since they were unnecessary. In addition, he would have to do something about his clothes. He couldn't use the robes he'd gotten from killing the first group since they seemed to belong to a specific place; he could still use them, however, to create an odd-fashioned one, just loose enough to hide all his extra firepower.

In the end, he decided to use a bit of his remaining water and the exhaustive amount of dirt beneath his boot to give both his original and the stolen clothes a touch of a makeover, afterward using the knife to slash here and there, ensuring he removed all of the distinctive parts of the stolen clothing, making a rough outline. It will be difficult to hide my boots… though he could have abandoned them and made some makeshift sandals, he really didn't want to since they were beyond comfortable and adaptable to any sort of terrain.

Sighing, in the end, he decided to switch them with a heavy heart; his feet, once again, would have to suffer injustice for a while.

"I'll have to circle the cliff and enter from the front," he began spoking softly, aloud, armed and ready. "It's pointless to make any decisions yet; it will all depend on the security of the gates. If they have guards, I'll have to find another way to sneak in. Hopefully, they're not a militant city and allow entrance to the merchants… otherwise, it will be a pain in the ass…"

Noah had spent over twenty years of his life doing a single thing – usurping powers. He worked for the highest bidder, and unlike those he hired, he rarely resorted to gunfire. Rather, he played the political game, infiltrating the city, observing the patterns, the chain of command and power, and slowly corrupting his way from the bottom. Once he had enough chess pieces, it was easy enough to fashion any event he desired. Though he failed quite a few missions, he finished far more.

Even so, he found his current undertaking as a sign of absolute lunacy. Even during the hardest missions back on Earth, he still at least had the base level of information and access to the language, history, and culture of the place he was usurping. He even had the names of all those in power, even if they were just the spokesheads – in the end, however thin, the thread binding them to those in control still existed.

At the moment, however, he had nothing – not an ounce of information. He chided himself time and again, even going as far as to suggest cannibalism to his alarmed mind, before straying to more… moronic thoughts. Could it even be considered cannibalism? He mused as he made his way over to the forest’s exit. I mean, sure, they look like humans… but they’re from a completely different planet and all. Wouldn’t they be like monkeys back on Earth? I’ve heard quite a few cultures considered monkey meat a delicacy…