“This is such bullshit!” shouted Terry as he stormed through the woods.
Crystal Snake, said other-Terry in his mind.
Almost without thinking, the jian in Terry’s hand whipped out and shattered the snake’s head. The joy of having everything in the damn forest trying to murder him had been going on for a good fifteen minutes with the extra-special joy of other-Terry narrating it. Fine, regular-Terry admitted to himself, maybe it’s a tiny bit helpful to get those warnings but only crazy people hear voices.
“First, I get the kiss of death from Truck-kun. Then, I wake up with the stupidly pretty people trying to send me off to fight their stupid war.”
Thunder sparrow, offered other-Terry.
Terry just punched the damn divebombing bird so hard that it exploded. That had the unfortunate side effect of showering him in blood and feathers. It also apparently set off whatever special ability the bird had been planning on using. A mind-numbingly loud noise detonated at ground level. Terry was sent careening to one side, bounced off a tree, and landed on a knee. He swiped a hand across his face and flicked the gore to one side in a disgusted gesture. Now, I’m half deaf and covered in dead bird. Fan-goddamn-tastic. He shoved himself to his feet in an angry lurch and looked up to orient himself. At least the dumb bird’s death attack had denuded all of the trees. He found the sun through the tangle of bare branches and started storming off again in a generally southeastern direction. He managed to get ten whole steps before getting another hint from other-Terry.
Shadewolf. To your right.
Terry frowned a bit. Weren’t those the things that were hanging around Remdell’s farm? Even as that question passed through his mind, he drew a second jian. A bit of how-to trickled out from the other-knowledge, and a surge of warmth in his stomach was directed into the second jian. It burst into a blinding light at the same the semi-invisible wolf bounded between two trees. The beast let out a surprised yip as it transformed from a shadowy, ghost-like figure into a solid form. The jian he already held thrust forward and buried itself in the wolf’s chest. Terry twisted the blade on instinct and jerked it free. The animal took a few stumbling steps before it collapsed. Terry took a moment to give it a hateful look before resuming his stomping.
“As if all that wasn’t bad enough, I got attacked by bandits, accosted by the octopus girl, and almost got killed because of that awful Adventurer’s Guild woman!” shouted Terry at no one at all.
He kept walking, muttering, and trying to ignore the noises coming from behind him, while occasionally cutting a branch down that was too low to avoid easily. The worst part of all this is that I didn’t even ask for it, thought Terry. I wasn’t some shut-in. I didn’t devote my life to video games. I was an actual, semi-functional adult. I had a job. I paid taxes. I’m not some Asian teenager, for the love of all that’s holy. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp. Terry kicked a rock out of his way, and it bounced into some bushes nearby.
Razor-boar, said other-Terry.
“What the fuck is a razor-boar?” asked regular-Terry.
Before other-Terry or the other-knowledge could answer that question, reality did the job for them. A pig-like creature that was about the size of a Volkswagen Beetle lumbered into view, knocking down a couple of trees. It had what regular-Terry considered terrifyingly long tusks that were, of course, made of metal and indeed looked to be razor sharp. Regular-Terry just stared at the impossible thing for a moment before a kind of apathy overtook him. This whole world is filled with impossible, ridiculous things. Why shouldn’t there be huge, terrible beasts that evolution would never have allowed to live? When compared with the chicken-lizard, a big pig just wasn’t that frightening. In a spur-of-the-moment plan that regular-Terry decided must have come from other-Terry, he dashed to one side, planted a foot on a tree, and launched himself into the air. The razor-boar had charged his former position at the same time, which let Terry bring the sword in his off-hand down across thing’s tusks.
If he’d been a half-second slower, he would have taken the boar’s snout off. Instead, the force of the blow drove the tusks down into the ground and shattered the cheap metal of the blade. Terry had expected a rebound from the weapon, so the sudden loss of resistance sent him stumbling. Not that he was complaining. The boar got it way worse. The tusks caught on something very solid under the ground. Terry didn’t know what it was, but he assumed it had to have been big. The tusks tried to stop in place, while the massive girth of the boar kept trying to drive forward. It resulted in the boar going head over cloven hooves in a scene that might have been funny if Terry had been watching it as an online video. In his current circumstances, he stumbled over and brought the not-broken sword in his right hand down on the boar’s throat. Then, he did it again, and again, and again. The boar’s thrashing and brain-piercing squealing made it hard to get a clean cut.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
By the time it finally died, Terry was absolutely coated in the thing’s blood. It took a few seconds before he realized he was still holding the hilt of the now-broken sword. He stared down at it in annoyance before he just dropped it. No point in carrying it now, he thought. Forcing himself to move again, he started moving in the right direction before he came to a halt. A sudden desire to vomit was building in him. He looked down at his now red clothes and shuddered.
“I have never felt so vile,” he said before anger built in him again. “As if all that other crap wasn’t enough, I discover there’s a corrupt church. I’m covered in pig blood. And I have a damn chicken-lizard following me around!”
Terry spun to give said chicken-lizard a murderous look, only to discover that the thing was happily eating the boar he’d just killed. It must have sensed his gaze on it because the thing lifted its head from the dead beast and peered at him. It let out a questioning squawk that seemed to say, “Sorry, did you want some of this?” He couldn’t be entirely certain, but regular-Terry had the distinct sense that other-Terry found all of this positively hilarious.
“I hate you,” said Terry, not sure if he was talking to the chicken-lizard or that other personality.
Deciding that he did not, in fact, want any of the meat that the chicken-lizard had been mauling with its beak, Terry turned and started walking again. Maybe, just maybe, the dead pig will keep it busy long enough for me to escape. As he walked, he tried to ignore the sticky feeling of blood drying on his skin and clothes. He also kept his eyes and ears open for any signs of water. He really, really wanted to get clean. Despite how disgusting he felt, though, he knew better than to use the water in his water skins to clean up. He had no idea how long of a walk this was going to be, and he couldn’t count on finding fresh water anywhere along the way. He needed to conserve that water for drinking and cooking until or unless he found a source of potable water. That brought him to a standstill. How will I know if it’s safe to drink?
It wasn’t like he could send a sample out to a lab and have it tested. After a little reflection, though, he sort of doubted that this world had problems with pesticides in the ecosystem and toxic metals leaking into the groundwater from discarded electronics. Especially as far out from civilization as he was getting. He supposed he’d have to rely on visual cues that something was wrong with the water, like dead plants, or deformed plants, or a total absence of life in the water. Fingers crossed this new constitution of mine can fight off whatever bacteria live in the water here because I’m going to have to drink it. The idea of literally fighting for his life while also fighting off a case of Montezuma's Revenge held about as much appeal to him as listening to 90’s boy bands on an infinite loop.
The only good thing happening in his world was that the attacks from the local wildlife seemed to have stopped. He didn’t know if the boar had been the king of the area or what, but he was able to walk in merciful peace without other-Terry piping up every fifteen seconds to warn him about some new threat to life and limb. Not that it helped him relax, at all. After having to fight with a lot of backseat murderhoboing from other-Terry, regular-Terry’s paranoia was running hot. Every unexpected noise made him flinch. Everything he didn’t recognize sent him into a panic. Since he was confronted with some new plant he didn’t recognize every five steps or so, plants that might be magical or carnivorous, his heart rate never settled down into something he would think of as calm. It was only when he came across a small lake that something other than fear dominated.
He rushed to the water and peered around frantically. He could see fish swimming in that water. Plants were growing in it. The plants near the shore all looked, well, half of them looked alien as hell, but the rest looked healthy and normal. He pulled out a nearly empty waterskin and, after hesitating for a moment, he dipped it into the water to fill it again. He’d just finished putting the odd stopper back into the water skin when he felt the ground beneath him start to tremble and shudder. He whirled toward the trees and drew a sword. He didn’t have time to build up any meaningful fear or anger before the chicken-lizard exploded from the trees with a joyous squawk-roar. It gathered itself and leapt over Terry to land in the water. The wave from its splash landing was enough to soak Terry to the bone. He counted backward from ten as he stood there and bloody water dripped from him. Then, he turned toward the water, his hands unconsciously formed into a choking gesture, and screamed at the beast that was playing in the water.
“Why?!”