‘Ay there, Pansy here. New here? Yes? Please don’t mind my question; I have grabbed the hand of many a street urchin before. You’ll be in good hands with me as you focus on your preparation for the beyond.
All you have to do is keep this a secret from the big guy and listen to good ole me. You see that strange one in charge? The dull one who hasn’t noticed your arrival?
I’m talking about him. No, no questions. I run this charity just for you, and I am under no obligation to answer any questions! I do appreciate your gratitude, but it is not necessary...
Understand? And your thinking is incorrect. I’m no angel nor am I a demonic being. I am me. You are you. For now, enjoy our trip through your rural village.
Fear not, I won’t exorcise you in the process. I ask you to do this because... well. A stray soul needs to loosen the shackles that bind it to this place.
Understood? Good. Then lean back and join me on this short journey! Again, be careful not to tell the big guy. You don’t want to make me mad. That’s all I can tell you.’
It was a dirty square that we passed to reach the tavern. Sole one around, we were told. But that didn’t mean the place was deserted.
A road strewn with piss, garbage, rotten leftovers, shite, and vomit amidst other human products. There was plenty up and running.
‘The wealthy reside in stables, while the poor roam the catacombs all year long. The advantage? Most people do not have to pay for funerals.’ Nobody wanted to venture off the beaten path.
In this way, there were only a few close calls with the manure until one hit the tavern. ‘Beware of narrow alleyways, you say? Adult folk rarely walk past them and children disappear, never to be seen again?
Your beloved village seems to have a pretty messed up public security system, my dear soul. What that is, you ask? Figures...’ Even without a heads-up, Stupid would’ve stayed on the main road, since everything else smelled and looked troublesome.
The honest people lived short, bland lives in this rural area, while the bad guys might live until their late thirties, spilling blood left and right as long as their deteriorating bodies allowed them to.
No matter which villager we passed by, nobody had an interesting face, a glint in the eyes. They were only blank from everyday’s thousands of worries or menacingly dark. It reminds me of when I first met Stupid and looked into the cobweb-covered mirror.
‘Slaveholders the former, slaves the latter. You’ve got something akin to culture here? No? Damn. I hope the big guy gets his ale and some information we need. I’d hate to sit here for even a second longer than absolutely necessary.’
Stupid sought a secluded spot past the main road, keeping a low profile as he should. It was at night that we again became active. Night-time was when the slaved souls rounded up the day’s meagre hire and stopped for a mouldy bite, a haggard screw, insipid ales and a few glorious hours at the only tavern in town.
Well, town was too grand a name for this shithole. Even village sounded too ordinary, too... romantic? The hivemind got me confused here.
Anyway, the tavern was a place where loose tongues, rumours, and lies were as plentiful and, frankly, as interesting as lice on unwashed bodies.
‘This place is like heaven for parasites. Feasting on the body, feasting on the soul. Among them are forbidden species that I thought long dead. Anyhow, I’m not doing the work of the arrogant netherworld police. The lot seems to lack knowledge of this place. Laughable.’
At times like these, one would not relish having a sharp, unusual vision giving away minute details. But Stupid really doesn’t care. Sometimes, I wonder if he even distinguishes between good and bad landscapes.
‘Figures, no noteworthy information comes from foul-reeking, poverty-stricken mouths. Could there be a better place to gather information? No? Urgh...’
The lone soul warned me of the Frankenfood served on wooden platter, the stale ale reminiscent of fermented piss, the prostitutes that had nowhere to go except here.
‘This alone doesn’t answer anything. What? The owner is a close buddy of Mister Foreman and nobody dares talk back? A bigshot? Anarchy with a touch of nepotism, figures. What else is there in this village?’ Stupid slipped in without arousing suspicion.
We entered close behind a man whose sweaty back was so greasy the flies stayed on its hairy lawn when they landed. Nobody bothered to cast a second glance at him while we hid in his shadow. If he was not indigenous, then nobody was.
As centuries of attenuated, homicidal odour rolled our way, we lacked the same ease. It took our senses away as it did our breath. Far, far away.
‘God Gracious!! Look at them. Not even a beard like that can hide that sort of ugly. It’s a Frankenstein factory! Soul, are you damn sure human blood runs through these hobgoblins? Even women grow beards here?!
What hobgoblins are, you ask? Critter so hideous your eyes rot away upon notice, apparently. Haven’t seen one myself.’ Nevertheless, that wasn’t all we were welcomed with.
What’d a tavern be if silent? A graveyard and no tavern at all! ‘Surely they’re to be judged with a forgiving heart. Live like fleas, die like fleas.’ I ignored the chatty soul for the time being and endured the tavern’s raucous ways.
“Hou, Mardèr–––get yer fuming arse to befoul another bastard’s nose–––ya useless dimwit, you stink worse than the pit,” the deafening yell came booming from a dirt-crusted, excessively tattooed, muscle-packed man who was sitting in a corner, drunk and in an obvious foul mood.
Mardèr, whoever he was, must have pleased him with his compliance since the brute returned to brutally kneading the exposed breasts of the two scrawny horrors, who were his chosen companions for the evening.
‘I can sort of understand why you’re warning me, dear soul. It’s still a pleasure to be in good company, even without harbouring any carnal desires. I feel something for these two and it ain’t lust.’
After the silent break, the store boomed again, sending out soundwaves that could shatter glass and made inconspicuous Stupid massage our awfully throbbing temples.
It seemed as if peace and quiet were absolutely hated at this hour. Soon, another smelly hobo lost his bearings over something trivial and a half-empty clay jug landed squarely in the face of a storyteller.
‘Ouch~. Must’ve hurt.’ But my compassion had been short-lived since this triggered a bloody brawl between two rowdy groups, which I made Stupid avoid.
‘Curious. The landlady, who does not have a navigator such as me, still delivers refreshments with skill. What? It’s nothing difficult to accomplish? You were a woman, then.’
But things weren’t as terrible as they seemed... They were just more awful. Amidst the hustle and bustle, one could pick up an odd word or two about most news going by mouth, some more epic and imaginative than any saga I could tell.
They hadn’t yet heard about the foolish wannabe conquerors, which was obviously something we had to ascertain. ‘I’d say there’s a tight lid kept on the news.
Understandably, really. I wouldn’t want to invite ridicule by publicising this shameful result. No. Dear soul, what I mean is of no concern to you.’ Stupid espied another topic of interest from a small gathering at a nearby table.
“Y’ ‘eard? The ol’mast’rs gone!” “Man, a barrel too much for ye. Fruzzn! Three ales, ya hot shade.” The barlady took notice of the new order that no ear could ever hope to hear clearly over the raucous bawling crowd, and sent a heart-stopping smile–––a red gap showing many brown stumps–––that had me deeply terrified.
My terror was so great that even some thoughts slipped my mind! But the man seemed oddly roused instead, and he became even more animated in boosting towards the two, pig-like companions.
He may have just reacted positively to the bloody finale. ‘Your village needs an occulist, dear soul. Well, before that, I’ll be sure to invite other specialists. It’s astounding that you even reached thirty years of age...’
“The Bal’s shredded overnight, the Devil with howling saw in hand did.” They’ve got my attention like no other. It started getting interesting. The news apparently wasn’t kept under tight wraps. Either that or the operatives were incompetent, I can’t tell. “Fresh fish, you baka.”
“No! Juicy meat, you ignoramus!” “Vegetables~.” “Hush,” a hobo squealed in fright, “mouth shut. M’sters rem’in m’sters. End like Jìvvl will y’?” “Dry cabbage stalks, avoided by even the piggy Gods!” A shriek countered by another.
“Maggoty sludge, poison to us all!” “Vegetables~.” It was challenging to listen without garnering undue attention. But it wasn’t that terrible for Stupid, since he’d suffered worse before.
The way he always filters out background noise is beyond me. “’cuse me–” “…bet wh’t?!” On that note, the trio had it easier since all they needed to do was stick together and they were safe. “The old fucker caved in, saw it with my own two eyes!”
“So’y hear tha’, so so’y~” “I’m not. The donkey’s oppressed us for long.” “C’n only go better.” “No shite, you fool. Next in line is whoever can best suck up to the other masters. Me!” “Ptui. K’ssmer’ deserves a better lot.”
Stupid left his hiding place and slowly crept closer. With the help of the oversized cape he’d stolen earlier, he managed to stay hidden among the crowds.
“Meat, you retard!” “Fish, you cretin!” “Vegetables~. Vegetables~.” “Who broke my fuckin’ jug?!” ““Shaddup!”” “You wretched donkey.”
Now Stupid was so close, following the conversation was no longer arduous–––though he had to send a drunk fish-lover flying whose meaty, wiggling tonnes were blocking him.
Was so far gone that one, he didn’t know which direction the brawl was... “H’d steed like hers, more me’t l’nds on my pl’te th’n theirs!”
The only sober guy among the trio leaned forward, scanned for known faces to avoid at all costs, and whispered. His discretion was obvious from a mile away. Luckily, no one seemed to care about it. “As I’ve always said, the Dùll family’s no good. Incompetent.”
“Got God’s blessing. Girl for the old shitter ‘nd evil w’rrior c’ught m’sters’ eyes.” “Kassmera’s l’cked up f’r life, damnit.” Three ales landed on the smeared tables and the lot continued to drink away their troubles while gossiping away.
“Puahh! Shit’s fiery today. So what if she is, that’s all a woman’s built for. Then she’s even adopted, pei.” Equality was as foreign to this world as hygiene to the village. “’ssholes...”
Stupid, like me, had heard enough and went to the creaky door now looking like the crumbling gates to heaven. We had no use for such gossip.
Getting some long-due fragrance therapy out there was something we all looked forward to. ‘Isn’t this right, lil’ soul?’ Perhaps it would help counter the awful feeling of having old, slimy socks stuck in the throat? I really hope so.
‘Note to myself: Stupid doesn’t smoke in unhygienic environments. Further education ain’t needed. Second note: He’s luckily given up on stealing some wearable garments.
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Their rags are worse than his...’ I quickly shook off such distracting thoughts. As of now, we first got a cave to inspect and then a nobler dirt shack to examine.
Stupid followed the hivemind’s convenient mapping straight to a vertical cliff, from which a very dangerous path led further down and beyond the low-rising mist.
Once treaded to its end, we found ourselves standing on a small protrusion leading to a cave in the heart of the cliff. ‘Never seen this cave before, I bet. We paid an awful darn price to get ahold of the secret.’
I met many more disoriented souls here, some more battered than others. As my workload increased, I went from babysitting Stupid and one soul to babysitting Stupid and a circus.
Granted, he could be considered part of the staff, so it was just one big circus gone mad. At least, there was some justice. It turned out my first guest was closer to the beyond than ever, so I haven’t wasted my time either.
After entering the cave, we found what we expected and then some. Anyway, Stupid didn’t stick around for very long. What did was a bunch of ants under rotational shiftwork.
‘Now, let’s tend to your regrets, my dear newcomers. Oh, forgetful me missed out on the rules. First, don’t alarm the big guy. Get your confusion straightened out, and try to remember who you are and why you cling to life.
Second, the short trip here is over; we’re heading back up from here. By the way, anybody knows Kassmera?’ Except for one of the fresher souls, no one seemed to remember her. ‘Must’ve died recently, little one. It’s regrettable, I know. But there is nothing I can change.
You, however, can. Do yourself a favour and cooperate, it may come in handy later. ...to phrase it in simpler terms, care to enlighten me while the big guy climbs up?’
The story I heard was countless times darker than what Dure had told us. Stupid started to cry yet had no inkling why. I, of course, didn’t tell him the truth either, so he continued happily climbing up the cliff.
Locked behind a rotting door all her life. Could there be anything more awful? Apparently, yes. ‘Gift of a strong one from ages ago? How long is an age for you here, exactly? Seven years? You die younger than expected.’
Kassmera had grown up in a family just as rotten as Stupid’s. Her stepbrother, the biggest thug in town, showed his awful personality quite early on.
Ever since day one of her adoption, he relentlessly came at her like the plague. His parents, her uncle and aunt, appeared not to mind.
They were happy he looked promising, so this minuscule sacrifice was worth it in their opinion. However, the true tragedy was yet to come. Upon reaching marriageable age, Kassmera was told to offer herself to the village foreman.
Having gained the attention of a master, her stepbrother had access to a cultivation method, but not to the resources needed to pursue the path to greatness.
The foreman had, but he demanded fresh meat as his was apparently too tough and ugly. A trade was arranged. This is where Dure came into play.
He loved Kassmera just as much as she did him. In his village, Dure was hated because he had no family yet still drained some of what scant resources the villagers had.
He was also greatly envied by most because of his talent for cultivation, which dwarfed even Pigeon’s, her step-brother. Due to both the foreman and thug losing the consecutive challenges, the wooing, though a farce, could not continue.
The whisful couple’s luck was of short duration. ‘The masters interceded, but how? ...you don’t know? A shame. Listening to amateurish wargaming is what I really enjoy.
It’s always worth a good laugh.’ If it had been me dealing with Dure, the servant wouldn’t last a week. Period. ‘Why are most of you so stupid? Even the so-called masters are. They might be the ones Stupid wiped out. Was told they were... experts. Well, anyway, continue.’
As a result, Dure was never seen again in the village and lost by default the next challenge both had issued. The lovers never met again.
The village foreman, furious after losing face, forbade Kassmera to exit the crumbling shack that was his home. ‘So the woman’s mistreatment was no secret? Yet all of you did nothing. ...spare me your excuses.
Reserve your crocodile tears for the judge you’ll eventually meet. I’m just a simple part-time ferryman.’ Even more shocking than his obvious sexual mistreatment was the fact that the good man already had a wife: The ancient meat he couldn’t bear to look at.
Quite jealous by nature, especially of her beauty, she put Kassmera through enough torture to make a grown man cry for his mommy.
Living in an environment like that must have left many, many signs. Perhaps this is the danger Azariah spoke of? Could be. As far as I know, Stupid might get to see reason with her help.
The chap is helpless on his own, and I cannot intervene in every situation. Don’t have the time for that. But this is a talk for another time.
‘Thanks, buddy, you sure know your gossip. The breathing answer lives not far away now. We’re just a few steps away from the right door. Man, this wind’s chilly. Might as well walk in a freezer.’
Mouldy and greasy, the door looked like a rat could kick it open. It barely obstructed our view of the dirty room behind it. Toward the end of the room, a woman lay on the ground with her back to the wall.
Stupid, being the cute handful he was, gently knocked on the frame. The whole thing crashed to the ground, leaving splinters everywhere. Slow, gloom-ridden, dead eyes moved in our direction.
The empty fish eyes were a dreadful sight to behold. As was the rest of the woman’s body. Her haggard face was caked with encrusted mud and dirt, sullying an otherwise passable complexion with the shadow of hardship.
The potato bag she wore barely covered anything; nothing much was left to imagination. Her mouth hung open in delirium. It was evident from her teeth that she was pretty young, so she couldn’t have been the main wife. ‘She’s Kassmera, alright.’
But that was all she had left of her youth and playfulness. In her mid-twenties, she looked like someone in their initial fifties, with wrinkles and all that. A lifetime of humiliation and abasement left their marks on her body and bearing.
She barely noticed Stupid and said nothing, as if he wasn’t here and the door still intact, guarding her prison. From time to time, the only movement she engaged in was rubbing her alvus with her wrinkly hands.
‘There are times when I feel like the big guy only attracts troublesome people, and never the normal ones. Who am I to judge? Right, soul?’ I felt as if she lived in a world of her own creation as opposed to reality when we stared into her dazed eyes full of forgiving fog.
Perhaps deceiving herself gave her the strength to endure? ‘That lass doesn’t get any solace, I’m damn sure. Now the question is if Stupid helps. But first he needs to understand, so I need to guide him properly.’
After gentlemanly tugging at his blindfold, Stupid cleared his throat and asked. “Kassmera?” “Aahh?” This seemed to do the trick. ‘Well, his tone sure is stony and rough.
Had she ignored him, there would have been no hope. Don’t you think so too, lil soul? He seriously needs to learn well.’ She flinched reflexively as she tried to get the not-so-welcome Stupid to leave.
She seemed to be afraid of implicating us to some extent. How laughable. But of course, Stupid didn’t entertain her. I watched on as he grabbed her hand dripping with feverish sweat and dragged her out of the house and into the cool evening breeze.
He had used his iciest expression to warn her of the futility of struggle. An authoritarian glimpse like that could shatter stones, let alone someone as vulnerable as Kassmera.
‘It seems as if Stupid is her guardian. Why does it feel that way? He ain’t no oven!’ Overcoming my puzzlement had to wait until later. By the time Kassmera reached a narrow passage while heavily leaning on Stupid’s shoulder, the quivering woman suddenly surrendered and her face paled.
“Why the hurry, sister?” ‘Well, damn. It sure could’ve turned out better.’ The meeting spot with the other ants was just a bit further down the frigid hill.
‘Seems like we’ve use for the Antplifier regardless of our information advantage. Certain things simply happen. How annoying.’ I could already picture Azariah laughing smugly. Back to the man hindering us from advancing.
He had thick, burly arms covered with strange tattoos that were actively moving along his body, making him look menacing. That was when Stupid told me the sun-darkened man was of the kind that always walked with a group of cutthroat thugs in tow.
It was a package deal, but disagreeable. As we stood on the cliff’s edge, the way forward was effectively blocked, left and right impassable, and retreat a ridiculous consideration–––if the steely grip clamping down on Stupid’s hands was any indication.
“Brother–” Kassmera uttered soullessly, like a mindless whisper. “Lord Brother, you uncouth shrew.” She flinched. It was a gut punch even Stupid recognised as one.
‘What a romantic. We’d do way better.’ “Tsk. Beat it,” grunted Stupid when he noticed the threatening advances of certain brain-dead daredevils.
While most of the biped pigs who ended up here might not understand, Stupid actually preferred the monkey’s cess pool haunting our minds now and then over the utterly horrifying smell accompanying them. “...you dare...?”
Having been deeply wounded in his pride, the burly man took several deep breaths before he felt ready to bark more than just a retarded rhetorical question. I knew where this was going. ‘Dear souls, better hurry up with your business or I’ll leave you behind.
A sorry excuse for a fighter has cut our time unreasonably short, it seems. Can’t alarm the whole darn human realm with our presence so we gotta go.’ “The mighty village foreman’s useless whore isn’t yours to take as you please.
Boss will set her right himself. But you useless wretch can only dangle from the next tree or be beaten to a pulp for insulting the mighty village guard’s commander!”
‘Please, village thugs is a more apt description. Plus, which fool does only judge by the clothes one wears? Seems like certain ridiculous shortcomings are the same between people on Earth and these people.’
Gunpowder was in the air and the threat of being pushed off the ledge by some overzealous pretenders grew by the second. So did Stupid’s glaring anger. Some souls even resonated with him, empowering his presence. “Is your life that long?”
While wildly gesticulating in a manner that even a saint would find offensive, the village idiots’ captain continued taunting in a hateful tone. But Pigeon didn’t appear to have good hearing.
While Stupid sighed, exhausted, Kassmera held her breath for the aura he released was just too much for her to bear. ‘The big guy’s making progress. That’s good.’ I couldn’t help but remark as I recognised he’d finally used his brain.
It was a babystep down the long road of doing away with hampering constraints that’d followed us across transmigration. The meaning couldn’t be clearer. Why should we think twice about how to deal with any riffraff given our current position?
However, even I was stunned by his decision. We still bear the burden of our past family’s influence–––they held a tight grip on us. Only the distance had changed.
We’re here on Central, they are on Earth. Reassuring in some way. Depressing if looked at from another angle, pathetic even. We seem to need to keep active awareness of the distance between us, which was impossible to cross with conventional means.
In some way, we were like this pathetic creature holding onto our hands for fear we’d be gone, leaving her alone with her unlikable stepbrother.
“Always the same with you lot. Fear the strong, prey on the weak. Would you really describe me as a soft persimmon?” The wannabe affluent villager’s gears rattled on overclock.
Meanwhile, Stupid pushed the stolen cape to one side and a very flat insect stuck its head through the opening, its gossamer-like feeler being carefully rubbed by him. ‘The man has always been fascinated by strange creatures that others would only kick away.’
“Azariah, fiasco’s over. Get me back. You’ll have to pick up the other group as well. Got stalled.” A denture-like crack vertically split the air near him immediately after his psychic comment.
Before Kassmera realised what had just happened, Stupid shoved her through it, turning his back on the gawking crowd. After we completed the first part of the promise, we started to feel better.
Taking in the purple sky, he grinned at the setting suns’ gradual disappearance behind a couple of mountains. Yes, the signs were clear. ‘Approaching terminal stop.
I repeat: We’re approaching terminal stop. All souls not yet ready for ultimate departure, please leave the mindscape.’ While I told the handful who didn’t want to see the judge so soon or refused to silently dissipate what the conditions of staying here were, Stupid removed the blindfold and locked eyes with the reeking bunch.
Those who came pounding like a rabid dog and met his dark gaze began drooling, turning into panting toddlers who even forgot how to stand firmly on both feet and keep their wastes to themselves. A henchman got lucky.
As the last one to pounce over, he had ample time to figure out this odd happening and leap back in fright–––saving him from everlasting mental retardation. I had to underline this and give him credit for it. After all, they weren’t exactly bright folk.
Stupid carefully looked around, waiting for some powerhouse in retreat to jump out of the shadows. When he arrived at the conclusion that nobody in this tiny village posed any threat, Stupid could no longer be stopped. Not that I wished to.
Having made up his mind, it was a matter of seconds before he reached the tattooed arsehole and–––after getting him to keel over with another psychic attack–––he knelt down and bent so deeply that his mouth was just a few centimetres away from the drooling man’s hairy, grease-covered ear.
Stupid then mumbled: “Dying, huh? Well, that’s true. Somebody’s definitively gonna puke his last–––it’s as certain as it won’t be me. Man is free in thought, but chained in expression.”
He slipped his hand around the villager’s neck without moving fast or slowly, then he turned around and disappeared within the crack that led back to the next batch of ingredients in dire need of our attention.
All our visit brought to the peasants were some mental retards, plus one sane villager uncontrollably stepping back until he might fall down the cliff; and a tattooed macho with a badly dislocated neck.
Stupid got a piece of mind, while I got a few new friends to spend time with during my periodic sleep.
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End of Intermission