The village was still smouldering as the sun began to set behind the northern mountain line. Soldiers could be seen picking through the wreckage, looking for survivors, and more importantly valuables.
A guard was reluctantly shifting wooden boards with the haft of a spear when coughing could be heard just ahead. He clambered over some rubble and with the help of a spear, levered the remains of a charred table to reveal a dusty youth who looked mostly intact.
The stolid man crouched down while leaning on the spear, and with one hand, grabbed the boy’s ankle and dragged him to safety. The table collapsed shortly after in a cloud of ash as the man withdrew the spear and inspected the lad.
“You alive sonny boy?”
The youth coughed weakly and opened his eyes. He tried to move, but a flash of pain in the ribs threatened to steal his consciousness away. The Guard harrumphed and dragged the boy up by his arm, lending his spear as support.
“World’s blessing on you, never seen a sorrier sight than this if I’m to be honest. Those tribesmen took everything that wasn’t nailed down and burned what they couldn’t!” The Guard whittered on, oblivious to the boy’s pain, “The checkpoint is just up ahead, and we can get some warm brew in ye.”
The two staggered their way to a manned checkpoint lit by torches. Soldiers could be seen milling about, loading scavenged goods on to mule drawn carts. A frantic woman with singed hair was pacing around when she caught sight of the two tottering up to the checkpoint. She leapt down from the cart and ran up to them.
“Toli is that you? My son, oh gods please let it be you!” The light of hope in her eyes was extinguished as she drew closer and recognition crept in, “Exill, World’s blessing you are safe, have you seen Toli? He should have been home when they attacked, did you see him at all?” The woman pleaded while walking alongside the pair, desperately wringing her hands as she continued to throw questions at Exill.
“Calm ye’ tits woman, can’t you see the lad can barely breathe let alone answer ye’ questions?” The Guard sighed in exasperation as they reached the cart and unceremoniously pushed Exill over its edge before retrieving his spear.
He turned to the distraught mother and hesitated, likely searching deep down for every inch of tact, a gentle way to let this grieving woman down.
“The search is called off for today, it’s late and growing dark, we’ll look for ye’ son tomorrow ma’am so please make ye’ way back to camp.”
The woman whimpered as the Guard gently pushed her into the cart. He then turned to wave the driver a signal to set off. Perhaps now, he could finally kick his boots off and get off his feet.
Today was a miserable day and his parched throat needed a wetting from breathing all those smouldering fumes.
***
Exill lay cramped in the crowded cart as salvaged possessions poked his tender sides. The pain was tolerable, but he was stuck in a daze as he looked up into the dimming sky filled with unfamiliar constellations. Two moons shone brightly up ahead.
‘What…’ Exill mouthed as his mind raced, reflecting on what had happened moments earlier. He remembered cycling to site Alpha, the breath fogging up the night air. He remembered a bright flash as a stream of protons fried his sight. Lastly, he could recall a vague sense of regret, something about a book he had been reading. The next memory was of blinding pain and a sweaty armoured man standing over him.
‘It’s real. I've transmigrated into another world!’
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He lost focus when the cart lurched to a halt and soldiers emerged from the sides to unload the contents. Sitting up, he stumbled off the cart and winced as pain shot up his bruised sides. Exill looked around while gathering himself and spotted the woman who had mistaken him for her son, being led to a collection of tents.
Breathing shallowly while struggling to keep up, he followed the woman and accompanying official through a bustling crowd of active soldiers. Over the hubbub of shouted orders he could barely overhear the conversation between the two up ahead.
“Ma’am, I hate to be rude, but we are pressed for time. Do you have combat related or production jobs useful to the war effort?” The Official asked as they approached the secure entryway leading to a collection of tents.
“I’m sorry, I’m a farmer and a cook... could you tell me what time you will restart the search for survivors in Lindtree?” the woman interjected with her own questions as the man was about to speak.
“On sunrise, you have my word. Kindly allow me to check your Card and I will point you to the correct camp.” The Official glanced at the faintly luminescent Card floating on the woman’s palm then pointed her to an entrance on the right. Turning on his heel, he was startled by the sight of the bedraggled youth. “Lindtree survivor?” the man asked.
“Yes…” Exill managed to croak. He was caught off guard by the sight of the ghostly status screen on the woman’s palm, and hurriedly raised his own hand in front of the impatient official.
‘How do I do this?’ he panicked while trying to invoke the Card by spamming all the usual tropes. Exhausting all the options that came to mind, he was about to give up when he tried whispering the unfamiliar name the woman had called him earlier,
“Exill…”
A dim light flared up an inch above his upturned palm, and he could see what looked like a luminescent screen the size of a baseball card. With great effort he lifted his arm higher for the official to examine, and was surprised to see sections expand intuitively as he mentally focused on tabs that caught his eye.
Name Exill Hometown Lindtree Village Race Human Age 17 1st Job [Farmer] 2nd Job [ ]
His main job was Farmer, and his secondary job was blank, unassigned. The uniformed man nodded as if something was self-explanatory:
“I see you’ve recently turned 17, explains why you don’t have a secondary job yet. No problem, just follow that woman earlier to the right.”
Before Exill could thank him, or even ask why it was obvious he didn’t have a secondary job, the harried man had spun on his heel and made his way to the cart which was halfway unloaded by now. Turning towards the direction the official had pointed him, Exill had to stabilise himself as a sense of vertigo overwhelmed him.
The ground tremored again.
Soldiers in the distance could be heard cheering as the tremors grew closer, and even the personnel unloading the carts paused, looking back to identify the cause of the uproar.
A gargantuan construct came round the hill, the agonized wail of raw stone grinding against each other as the war machine rumbled into view. It was four storeys tall, squat, humanoid in shape, its heavy knuckled fists barely clearing the ground. A squad of green robed men and archers could be seen bustling on the battlements where its head and shoulders should be.
Exill strained his ears, focusing on the conversation beside him over the cheering din of the soldiers.
“What in Spirit’s name is that?” A young guard asked his grizzled companion, eyes wide with wonder at the wailing colossus.
“That be reinforcements son, must have redeployed some of the War Colossi protectin’ the mountains up north.” The veteran beside him explained, tapping his heart twice as he was reminded of the monstrosities they guarded against.
The titanic construct disappeared from view and Exill came to his senses, displaying his Card to the young guard guarding the gates. After a cursory glance, he was waved through to the hastily erected camp. Circles of rag-tag tents were set up around several campfires and the smell of cooking wafted through the air.
A sigh escaped Exill’s lips as he made his way to a bubbling cauldron attended by two middle-aged women who appeared to be struggling over control of the ladle.