Chapter 1: Thanatozoology

~ Part 3: Leviticus 11:12 ~

“…aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! What is WRONG with this plaaaaaaaace?!?!”

I’m currently running for my life.

Has been a while, hasn’t it?

Not now, Brain.

I dash at full speed along the ancient busted road, not even caring whether the ruckus attracts every single monster in this damned forest. I might regret this later. But what I’ve always loved about regrets is that they mean you’re still alive to feel them. Well, not exactly, with this being a game and all, but you get my point.

After entering the woods, the state of the road has deteriorated even further and I’m struggling every step not to trip on a thorny bush or mossy root. Nature has visibly been fighting to retake what was once taken from it. It’s actually a small miracle even this uneven dirt path survived the vegetation’s slow creeping assault. I smell magic at work, but I can’t exactly stop right now to check the broken cobblestones for hidden runes. Besides, whatever spell was once maintaining the lane clearly stopped doing its job a long time ago. I doubt I’d be able to even find any useful trace of it.

I jump over yet another twisted root with as much nimbleness as my full-plate armour allows, then risk a glance over my shoulder.

Are they still behind me?

*BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

Oh! Rotten fish-sticks. Of course, they are. Silly question.

Having confirmed the wavy outline of the large flying swarm of tiny undead trailing after me, I turn my gaze back forwards and lengthen my stride.

Why does that kind of thing only happen to me???

Well, I’d say–

It was a rhetorical question, you aggravating fictitious wisenheimer!

Alright, alright. I get it. No need to start throwing uselessly complicated insults.

I really need a better handle on my own mind.

As for how the situation turned out like this… well…

 ✴ Flash Back that goes woooshhh~ ✴

Twenty-seven minutes and fifteen seconds ago – precision is important.

*ting*

Congratulations!!

You are the first to discover the [Lost Woods]!

+20 Fame

Lost Woods? What’s with the names in this country?

I get that they’re depressed but–

Ah. No. No digressing. I’ll stay focused this time. Focused. Concentrated on my objective. Crossing the woods and get to the city on the other side. Don’t want a repeat of last time I stepped into an obviously evil dark place.

That time, it was a cave. Actually more of a deep, deep hole that looked like a cave. It was dark. I was hungry, and more preoccupied with the spaghetti and meatballs I was planning on cooking for dinner, rather than on where my foot was about to land.

Next thing I knew, I was plummeting to my death.

A loooooong fall, followed by *splortsh*.

Not my most epic demise, I’d say. Not the worst one either though. My rear end still remembered the worst. It was–

You know, I think goldfishes all over the world are laughing at you.

…Shut up.

I glance at my surroundings. Or try to. I can’t see zilch. The high canopy blocks off what little measly sunlight the clouds still allow to pass. Outside it was like night in the middle of the day, but now I can’t even make out my own hands.

This won’t do.

“Mmmh…” I’m sure I’ve got a spell for these kinds of situations… Think, think, think… I could light up my armour, but that would make me a big moving target. Although I’m still not sure if the undead actually need light to see anything, or if they see at all. How do they even spot their target…? Mmmh… Oh. Right. There’s that one. I think the incantation goes…

I take a small breath and try the poetic verse: “Foes and allies in the dark. In light is none but me. Tell me, little spark, are you shy or stingy?” 

Immediately after I complete the chant, a small orb of amber flames sparkles into existence and start orbiting around my head.

Ssssuccesssssssss!

Hurray~ You cast a beginner’s spell. You want a cookie?

Don’t be like that.

This magic is called [Lantern of the Selfish One]. Slightly less powerful than the common light spell [Lantern], but it has the interesting particularity of granting its glow only to the caster themselves, leaving everyone else in the dark. Very useful for scouting hostile areas. Or sneaking up on people, be it to steal their underwear or slit their throat.

Pranksters. Assassins. Peas in a pod.

On a side note, there’s a thief-oriented item called the [Hand of Glory] that has the same effect. It has the appearance a mummified hand holding a black candle. I always secretly wished to possess that alternative to my spell – because, come on, it looks cool.

Sadly though, one of my class magic passive skills is [Cleansing Sun Touch], which turns to dust every undead-related item that has an equip-requirement inferior to my own power when I touch them.

I still pray that the Cult of Kressos never discovers what happened to the sacred relic of their founder. In my defence, that foot was hideous. One has to know Kressos the Wise, for all wise he might have been, was also leprous. And it showed on what was left of him.

Who prays to a severed foot anyway?

So, I’m slightly disappointed to be unable to walk around carrying the cursed severed hand of a thief – who wouldn’t? – but I’ve got to admit my Kokiri fairy –  which is thankfully mute – has the non-negligible advantage of being hands-free – pun intended – thusly giving me a clear upper hand – Hahaha – in fights where I can see my enemy, while they remain in the dark. Call me underhanded, but…

…I’m doing it again, aren’t I?

I was going to interrupt, but then I thought: “Meh, what’s the point?”

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

You weren’t really helping.

It’s because, deep down, you don’t really care. I’m just the reflection of your subconscious. The voice of your inner self. My words cannot go against your true will.

…Is that so?

Or maybe you’re just crazy and talking to yourself. You know, one of the two.

“…”

My direct surroundings are now lit up by a soft warm glow. Sadly, it only confirms what I suspected. Gloomy bushes and piss-poor footing, destroyed road and mossy roots protruding from the ground, dense shrubs everywhere else. At least I’m not blind anymore. You’d think Solar Knights would get some kind of night-vision, but no. I glow. Excellent for disco parties, but not exactly the paramount of stealth.

Why do you even need stealth when you can shoot flames hotter than lava?

Versatility.

Stealing panties.

WHO DO YOU TAKE ME FOR?!!

Subconscious I tell you.

My shoulders drop and I sight: “Ahhhh… Am I really arguing with myself again? Oh, well.”

Shrugging, I once again set forth towards my destination: the – probably – nearby city of Cali.

Oh. Right. I never mentioned the name of that city. Well, it’s Cali.

 And if Troubles-san was kind enough as to take a sick day, hopefully, I’d get there soon.

…

……

………

…I really should have known better than jinxing myself like that.

Less than ten minutes later, a faint noise rise above the background wails of the wind.

*bzzzzz…*

My brows immediately furrow, as I am reminded of all those sleepless nights spent in frustration, slipper in hand, fighting this single, one, stubborn, sneaky, treacherous, PESKY [Mosquito]. A true monster of the real world.

I halt my step and squint at the space before me. And there it is. A distance away, at the very edge of my personal isle of clarity, a small black dot is hovering in the dead middle of the path, about three feet above the ground. I hesitate a fraction of a second, wondering whether I better, one, try and go around the suspicious bean-sized UFO, two, just blast it away from a distance, or, three, cede to my curiosity and get a closer look.

A glance at the surrounding shrubbery dissuades me from option one. First, I have no idea what might be shrewdly hidden in said shrubbery. Second, the shrubbery would slow my pace horribly and I intend to spend the least amount of time in these shrubbery-filled woods. Third, I like the word “shrubbery”.

Ni!

I quickly reject option two too. Because I like option three better.

Flawless argumentation.

Shut up.

Forwards it is.

A spell ready on the tip of my tongue, I carefully step in direction of the black dot. Yes. “Carefully”. Even I know the difference between irresponsibility and overconfidence. I never overestimate myself…

You just knowingly attack monsters several times stronger than you.

Which is another matter entirely. As I like to say: Being suicidal doesn’t make you overconfident…

…just stupid.

Shut up.

…where was I going with that reasoning? Ah. Yes. Suspicious buzzing black dot.

I tiptoe forwards graciously – with all the stealth of my nearly seven foot of thick metal armoured self – and soon find myself upon the object of my considerations. Finally, I can read its name.

[Rancid Buttershrimp]

…I have no comment.

That doesn’t even look like a butterfly.

If anything, the tiny monster – about an inch long – looks more like an odd mix between a praying mantis and a rainbow-coloured shrimp with wasp wings. It even has a little stinger at the end of its abdomen, where the tail should be. At least the “rancid” part is spot-on. The thing smells like… well… old seafood.

I cock my head to the side, not sure exactly what to make of the lone flying crustacean “blocking off” my path. Sure, it’s a monster, but still…

…

Should I…?

I chuckle, then made my meanest face, get in a crouching position, forearms limply resting on my knees, and say in a snarling voice: “Hoy! Who’d ya think ye’re lookin’ at, ye shrimp!”

…

……

………

Please erase the last five seconds of my memory.

I always wanted to say that.

Now…

I backhand the monster with nonchalant arrogance. It is vaporized upon impact. Since the makers of the game apparently thought it would be more fun to hide things like level, Health Points, etc. from others, I don’t know how much stronger I am compared to the shrimp, but I guess it must be by a lot.

Well, duh. It’s a shrimp. A dead shrimp.

I nod appreciatively, then take another step forward.

*bzzzzz…*

What’s tha– “Ow! That hurt.”

*tutu*

Warning!!

You have been [Poisoned]!

My cheek is stung and a notification pops up. In the corner of my vision, a small red number flashes beside a green bar symbolising my Health. Then the bar starts blinking and slowly but steadily depleting. Urgh. I hate when it does that.

I ain’t one for displaying a seizure-inducing amount of info on my interface – having half my field of vision eaten up by data isn’t something I enjoy – but I still stick to the basics: health, mana, stamina and satiety bars. Oh, and a clock too, for both In-Game Time and Real Time, mostly to avoid gaming myself into fainting, like I have a tendency to do on weekends.

I ignore the emptying green gauge and clap fast my hands a couple inches away from my face.

*scrunch*

“Fufufufufufu. Fear the reflexes of one who has trained in solitude for years in the darkness of the night, never relenting in his holy crusade against female bloodsuckers!” And no, I’m not talking about vampires. It’s a shame, but I’m not that cool. I was referring to the more Spanish-sounding ones.

Did you know only the females of los mosquitos actually drink blood? I think it has to do with egg production.

I glance at the palms of my gauntlets. Sure enough, there are the now smouldering remains of what I guess to be another ill-named [Rancid Buttershrimp].

I glance with annoyance at my shortening HP bar. I still have a lot to spare, but continuous damage is a pain to deal with because it’s so easy to lose track of it. In a prolonged fight, those few extra damages can prove deadly. Also, undead-related poisons have the vexatious habit of causing gangrene to spread. Even I can’t be immune to everything.

“Command. Open inventory.”

An immaterial honeycomb-like panel appears before me. Three-fourth of its numerous alveoli are filled with little icons representing their content. My eyes scan those and quickly spot a [Medium Antidote]. I note with a frown that I’m almost out of those. And my reserve of [High Antidotes] isn’t faring much better. In fact, it’s faring worse.

That’s what you get for drinking undead blood.

I am never living that down, ain’t I?

Think of it as having a good memory.

Not one to take risks for no good reasons – I reserve the right to define “good” – I still reach out for the potion despite my lack of reserves. After all, what good is stacking potions if you don’t use them?

However… at that moment…

*BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

My hand halt mid-way to the floating immaterial honeycomb. Right now would be a good time for someone to say…

Don’t look behind us.

Close enough.

But that’s not really an option, so I look over my shoulder.

Somehow, I’m not overly surprised to discover a swarm of a few dozen [Rancid Buttershrimp] charging at me, stinger first. They’re already too close for me to have time to cast a spell, and they’re also too numerous and small to get them all with my sword before they turn me into an avant-garde pin-cushion.

Dammit. Why do undead things have this pestiferous habit of always coming in hordes, herds, flocks, swarms, or whatever you called a group of [Wraiths]?

They get lonely fast?

Shut up, now’s not the time.

Thusly, I start running.

✴ Back to Present ✴

And I’m still running.

*BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ…*

I HEARD YOU THE FIRST TIME!

I scream in my mind but remain outwardly silent because I finally caught on that a flying squadron of mutant sea-food probably isn’t the worst thing inhabiting this little piece of heaven.

♫♪ Almost laughed myself to tears, conjuring my deepest fears…? ♪♫

Not helping.

♪♩ We’ll be stung fifty dozen fucking times. ♩

Still not helping.

♫ Ripped apart without closing our eyyyyyy~eyes. ♩ ♩

Am I the only one worrying about that swarm? Because it’s getting pretty preeetty close.

Ahhh. Sorry~. But you know me. I’m a sucker for a good love story and a good song. Gore, necrophilia, revenge and slaughter are just a plus.

…Could we leave analysing that thought for later, and presently concentrate on the problem at hand?

Sure. Just lower the visor of our helm. The little stinkers won’t have anywhere to sting. And the passives of our armour are likely enough to kill them.

…

……

………

Oh.

I stop running and slap my helm close.

*BAM* *Pssssshhhhhhhh*

The sheer blunt force of being rammed by an army of deformed rotten bugs surprises me a little. I stagger, and I even lose a couple HPs, but I’m soon rewarded by the delicate smell of roasted shrimps – though I prefer mine sauté.

But still, it’s working.

Why didn’t I think of this earlier?

Because I’m the smart one.

…Don’t get conceited.

Should I start calling you Little Bro?

Please don’t. I’d rather not start a real case of dissociative identity disorder.

Because we don’t have that already?

Well, for one, I wouldn’t call us exactly dissociative. Plus, according to Wikipedia, D.I.D. is usually “accompanied by memory impairment for important information not explained by ordinary forgetfulness”. I don’t think there’s anything you remember and I don’t.

Hahaha. You’re so sweet.

…Wait, what was that?

Nothing, nothing.

No, I insist. What did you just think?

Oh, look. It seems like all the shrimps are dead already.

I glance around. We… I mean, I am now surrounded by a carpet of cinders. As expected, the little undead crustaceans’ poison might be potent, but their defence was crab. The passive enchantments on my gear were enough to burn them to ashes.

I sigh. I want to smack myself. Had I just waited for a couple more seconds before starting to run, I would have reached that conclusion much sooner. I guess thinking before acting really is something I should try once in a while.

Better move before anything more dangerous finds us.

I direct an annoyed imaginary glare inwards. I was right though.

Yeah… But we’re not finished with this conversation.

Sure, sure, Little Bro. Whatever you want.

…

*sigh*

“Well, whatever, let’s g–”

Of course, that’s the moment the bear chose to attack.

No, not Yasmin.

* * * * *