I do not remember how long I had been on the cross: how many days I languished there, how often I drifted in and out of consciousness, or even how long it was since I had seen another human face. What I did know was the reason. My own Legate condemned me to this fate. I had been nailed to the cross like some common criminal, undeserving of the basic sympathy that would be normally awarded to a citizen of the republic, let alone a centurion who fought for Roharim’s honor. I fought for my republic and thus was awarded this fate simply over what Gods I chose to believe in. At that point, it mattered not. What mattered was that I was here ready to die. None would remember my name, or even know I was born at all. All that would be left of me would be the sun-bleached bones hanging from a dried-out wooden cross in the middle of the accursed blasted lands. A marker for all to see, though none would know the warning. At that moment, I contemplated letting go.

But that would have been a weakness… The iron nail that dug into my wrist burned worse than the blazing heat of the sun. What was I to do out here, alone? Even if I had escaped, the Blasted Lands were a vast, endless desert that stretched on for miles. Where would I go? What would I need to do? My once strong body began to slowly wither. No food and water. I should have been dead by that point, but the fire of my own will burn brightly then as it does now. I could feel my body urging me to let go; to give up the struggle, to let my story end there where none will remember my deeds. No…I refused. With the last bits of my body’s strength, I began to pull. Trying to move my wrists, I pulled as hard as I could. The pain was tremendous, but my will was even greater. I remember screaming a primal yell that came from deep within my chest. I struggled as hard as I could, yet I felt myself waning at every passing moment. Then I felt something that gave me hope. I was making progress. The nail became loose in my right arm. I struggled further until at last, I ripped my arm from the cross, nail deep within me. I could at long last move my arm and was partly free. I looked down. My feet were blessedly only tied to the base. I would be able to walk if I managed to get that far. I took my now free hand and pulled my trapped arm. I made quick progress. As I pulled myself off the cross, I fell forward, my body weight no longer confined to the cross. I fell face first in the sand, my feet freed, having slipped out of their bondage.

The grains of sand stung my wounds. I coughed the dust out. The agony was beyond anything I can recollect…but it was outweighed by a new sensation. Freedom. Slowly, I stood up and glared at the cross that was to be my tomb. I heaved, my throat was dry and my blood boiled. I clenched my fists despite the pain, and I let out a victorious cry. I swore I could feel the earth tremble at my feet. My war cry was answered by the uncaring, biting winds that began to howl louder.

I turned to see a sandstorm approaching me slowly. I scowled. I needed to find some sort of shelter, yet where would I find such refuge? All there was before me was endless oceans of sand. Defiant, I marched forward, my back against the approaching storm. I walked and looked for shelter, yet would find no comfort. I used much of my energy to escape from the cross and stumbled like a drunken blind man. Still, I pressed on.

The storm eventually caught up to me, and I walked without anything to shield me. I was naked, being whipped by the sandy winds like a disobedient slave. I was determined to go forth. I was determined to live. Yet even the best of us falter. I fell to my knees and groaned. I hadn’t bothered to remove the spikes from my arm yet. I looked at them. I couldn’t tell you why I did not remove them then and there, for that was not a primary focus at the time. It was hard to breathe within that storm. I wondered how I could persist.

It was then… I saw. Within that storm, I raised my head to see the silhouette of something large that tangled and shifted along with the dunes. Something massive that was shrouded in the haze. My eyes tried to focus on it, despite them being stung by the wind and sand. It was colossal. There were no mountains when I faced this area, yet this thing was taller than any mountain I had ever seen in my life.

I could never see this thing clearly, yet I could feel it moving. The ground shook as it slithered closer. It towered over me through the dense cloud of dirt and sand. The great serpent that stood before me flicked its forked tongue. I was in awe. Was this the final hour of my death? Have I come face to face with the great serpent himself? Fitting then as it was to be on my knees in submission. The only thing I could see beyond the shape was the great golden eyes that shined brightly. It opened its fanged mouth and let out a loud hiss. It shook me to my very core and reverberated throughout my entire body. In my head, a foreign voice spoke to me with the wisdom of a serpent. One word. One simple word.

“Conquer…”

My body couldn’t handle this, and I fell forward, darkness surrounding me like a cloak. I awoke later, buried in the sand. I crawled my way up through the dirt. The storm had passed over me, and I could see something on the horizon. An oasis. My lips were cracked and split. I stumbled over. This was not just an Oasis. This was a river. I staggered, my body felt as if it were on fire, but I dragged on. Finally, I went to the riverside and drank. I gulped down as much water as I could take. When you have something so precious as water taken from you, its return is all the more splendid. I drank more, and at long last, I gulped down enough to sate me.

I examined my surroundings. I was in some type of ravine with large canyons surrounding it. Huge red rocks that towered high. Trees were all around me, trees I could not recognize. But I needed something else. I needed shelter. I needed a place that could be my refuge and could make tools. As I was thinking about survival, I then felt my stomach growling like a lion waiting for its next meal. At that time, I was in no condition to hunt. I had to gather supplies. The most important being food. I found a tree that bore bright red fruit, almost like an apple, yet spiked. I was worried that this was poisonous. So I climbed up, picked a fruit, and cut it open using a nearby rock. Inside was a lime green fruit filled with juice. Before anything, I rubbed some of it on my skin. I knew that if it were poisonous, my body would react to it. I waited for several minutes. Nothing. I believed these were safe to eat. So once more I would eat my fill. I gathered as much as my arms could carry, and then scanned around. I found a cave that would suffice.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

I gathered broken branches and bark from some trees outside and thus began to start my fire. I prepared myself for the worst part of this ordeal. The removal of the nails. I had gathered some leaves as a bandage. I placed a stick at my campfire so I could seal the wound. Once I pulled them out, I would start to bleed and would need to stop it. I placed another stick in my mouth, for it would be undeniably painful. Then I pulled. My first attempt failed, feeling a great jolt of pain go through my arm. I tried again, but the result was the same. I then had the idea to try to hit it against a rock. I lined my arm up and swung my arm. This caused the pain to be even worse, but I succeeded in my efforts. I pulled the spike out once I had a good grip on it. Immediately I burned my wound on both ends, which was the most painful moment out of all that effort to heal myself.

I coated my arm in ash and then wrapped the bandage around myself. Now all I had to do was go through the entire event all over again. When that was done, I had bitten down on the wood hard enough to snap it. Wrapping up my wound, I felt dizzy and would fall back. The pain had finally ended, and I would at long last sink into a quiet blackness.

This was the lowest point in my tale, here. I had been betrayed by my commander who I served faithfully. My years of service to the Republic meant nothing. I was cast out; abandoned like some unwanted child left for the wolves. But I was not defenseless. I had my mind, my sanity, and my will.

I don’t know how long it was when I passed out, but when I awoke, my entire body ached. My wrists were sore, and my skin burnt. I stood up and sought to cool myself off in the river. Stepping out of my cave, I greeted the setting sun with a newfound resolve. While I still had light, I would see what damage was wrought upon me. Looking at my reflection in the water, I could see that my long black hair was frayed and split. My hair shined once and was dulled beyond recognition. My beard had become a mess as if someone had ruffled my feathers. My once light skin had been reddened and blistered, sunburnt. Yet I could still see my bright green eyes, filled with determination. I had lost much of my body weight. I would need to fill myself up and become healthy and strong once again. I dipped myself into the river and felt the cool, refreshing waters coat my skin. I smiled and embraced the feeling. I relaxed content for the small comfort.

It was there then that I felt a distinct feeling. The feeling of being watched. I was on full alert. They nailed me to the cross without so much as a loincloth. I was as naked as the day I was born. Humiliating, but the least of my troubles. I stood up and turned my back, walking away. I had my suspicions about what was watching me. I looked around for whatever might have been a suitable weapon. I found a rock that could fit in my hand very easily. I picked it up and continued walking. Then, my attacker sprang forward. It leaped at me with dagger-like claws and attempted to pounce. I turned to face my attacker and used the momentum of its weight to throw it aside. The creature growled and fell, tumbling about until it rose to all four feet. It glared at me. It was an animal that resembled a cougar. Being a nocturnal animal, It had fur, but also large bony armor plating around its back. Its fangs were elongated, nine-inch blades that could impale me. The night was getting closer, and the cold was coming. I could see the beast was hungry. Its blue eyes were glowing in the light of the sunset. It attacked again and clawed my leg, slashing my thigh. I yelled in pain and slammed my rock into its face.

The beast roared and was in a daze. I puffed my chest out to try to make myself look like a larger threat, yelling as I waved my arms. That only made it angrier and more determined to devour me. It jumped on me and clawed at me, ripping my back and chest to shreds. It tried to bite me, yet I repeatedly smashed its face with my rock. I then had the ingenious idea to shove my fist into its mouth and trigger its gag reflex. It jumped off of me and threw up, where I was able to hit it again. I got overconfident, for I got within range for it to swipe my leg. It knocked me on my back and pounced. It ripped at me with murder in its eyes.

It tried once again to bite me, aiming for my neck. I glared at the beast, pushing its head away, fighting for my life. I struggled as its spit drooled on me. I growled and saw the beast’s tongue. I quickly grabbed it and pulled at it. It tried to run away, but I slammed my elbow into its jaw with enough force that it bit off its tongue. Disoriented, it cried out, bleeding. I took my rock and I bashed it in the head again and again and again. Every thunderous strike from my blows came down hard. With every hit, it jumped up until all life was gone from it. I stood up. I was injured greatly. I would need to bandage myself up yet again, and I would have many scars on my body…yet I survived. I stood over my kill and let out a victorious war cry.

Finally, the adrenalin wore off and I fell to my knees. I huffed, readying myself to drag the beast back into my cave. I assessed my wounds and treated them. That night, I had the beast warm both my body and my belly. Its pelt made for good clothes, and its teeth would make for good daggers. As for the nails of my cross, I fashioned them as tips for my spears to hunt, making sure to sharpen them. I was victorious.

I stepped out of my cave now fully clothed. My wounds were beginning to heal slowly, but I had arrived. My old life was over. Now came a rebirth that would start me on the road to greater things. When I came to these blasted lands, I had nothing. Nothing but two nails dug into my wrists. I looked at my wrists and sighed deeply. Legatus Tempest… my former commander, afraid of me. Fearing the great serpent. Fearing change. I would one day meet him again, but it was not this day. This day, I was happy simply to have survived. With a new purpose and my will burning brighter than the blazing hot sun, I was determined to live. For this was the first step on the road to greatness. The road to becoming a king.