Elenos is a vast, empty world.

That's how I feel after walking for several hours with no sign of civilization, at least.

There are birds in the sky. I notice a few small critters that remind me of similar critters back home, but there are plenty I come across that I don't recognize. I avoid them out of an abundance of caution. I killed a god, saved my sister, and managed to survive the ordeal. The last thing I want to do is die from getting bit by a venomous rat-bat-spider. That's what I've named the fuzzy, flying eight-legged things I came across a few miles back.

Whatever healed and kept me alive for months in Bahamut's lair seems to have stopped working. The small cuts I have look the same as they did when I woke up. I stepped on a rock a few hours ago, and it still bleeds if I put too much pressure on the wound. I'm also getting hungry—I've been thirsty for a while. I didn't eat or drink anything during my time as Bahamut's prisoner. I'm grateful, considering what he was feeding my sister.

"I didn't escape that monster to keel over and die on the side of the road," I mutter, pushing myself to keep walking.

After another hour of experiencing the Elenos countryside under the copper glow, I see something ahead and that piques my interest. It looks like some kind of farm. Possibly a plantation, based on the size. As I get closer, I see a series of buildings. The architecture for most of the buildings is simple. Four wooden walls and a thatch roof. The house the looms behind them looks Victorian with gothic accents.

"Alright," I sigh. "I need to find food, water, and hopefully, some clothes."

My nakedness is likely to be a communication barrier, so clothing may need to be the priority. If Elenos is anything like the world I came from, then people aren't going to react kindly to a naked man wandering onto their property.

"I need a story…" I mutter.

I tumble a few things around in my head as I cut away from the road and around the back of the plantation. I get close enough to see livestock and a number of workers, but as I get closer, I realize things look different than they do back home. The livestock is made up of bird-like creatures that resemble chickens, along with pigs and goats that look identical to the ones from my world. I don't see any larger animals, like the beasts of burden you would normally need on a farm that doesn't have the luxury of modern machinery.

Once I'm closer, I see why.

Most of the workers are scrawny and naked, except for a loincloth. A number of them are hooked up to plows that look like they're designed to be pulled by people, instead of animals. There are fully clothed men acting as taskmasters. They're all dressed in slacks, tunics, and holding long leather straps that are cut into frayed strips on the end. The marks on some of the workers confirm the straps aren't just for show. In the short time I observe the plantation, hoping to learn more, I see several workers get whipped for not moving fast enough.

"These people must be slaves," I sigh, shaking my head and gritting my teeth.

I circle the plantation, doing my best to stay out of sight, and notice some laundry hanging on rope that is suspended between wooden poles. Thievery isn't something I'm accustomed to, but these are desperate times. I find a cloak that doesn't look distinguishable and snatch it. It would have fit me fine except for being a little tight in the waist back home. It looks rather small on my new, oversized muscular frame, but at least my dick isn't on display anymore.

I circle the plantation and notice something else—something that makes my stomach twist into a knot. Most the workers, or slaves, seem to be blind. Their faces are scarred with signs of cutting and burning. They were purposefully blinded, and based on the scars, it was done savagely.

"Yeah, I think I'm going to avoid this place. If they blind slaves, I'm sure they'll do a lot worse to people who steal clothes," I sigh. "That's too fucking risky."

I'm too hungry and thirsty to walk away from the first sign of civilization I've found, but I force myself to do it anyway. I made a wide circle to stay out of sight, then venture back to the road once the plantation is behind me. Thankfully, I don't have to go far before I see a smaller farm. I get close enough to see two slaves in the field. They're boys—barely more than teenagers. Both are hooked to plows and tilling the ground under the watchful eye of an overweight man who has a braided whip instead of a leather strap. The two slaves have been blinded like the others, but don't have many whip marks.

I prepare my story as I walk closer to the far. The farmer-taskmaster doesn't seem to notice me.

"Excuse me, sir," I say in my most polite voice.

The farmer-taskmaster spins around immediately. His eyes get wide. I assume he's not used to seeing many travelers, based on his reaction.

"Who are you?" he asks, his wide eyes narrowing into a glare.

"Sir, I'm a traveler," I reply. "I was ambushed several miles back. They took everything I had except for this cloak. I was hoping you might be able to spare some food and water?"

"Ambushed?" the man growls. "There are no monsters this far north and the bandit-tribes don't leave survivors behind. Women and children, they take as slaves. Men… they're usually disemboweled."

"I-I'm not sure who or what ambushed me," I say hurriedly. "They hit me from behind and I woke up on the side of the road."

"You were traveling alone?" he asks in an almost accusatory tone.

"Yes, sir." I nod, hoping my story will sound believable.

"You'll need to report this." He puts his hands on his hips and spits.

"I plan to," I bluff, unsure of who I should report it to, but not wanting to appear ignorant. "As soon as I can."

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"Alright, if you want some water, you can drink from the trough," he says, pointing to it. "But if you want a hot meal, that won't be free. If you don't have any coin, then strap on a plow and get to work. I'm a little short-handed since my oldest boy-slave died. I won't be able to afford a replacement until the next harvest."

I look at the farmer's field. The two slaves are still plowing, but they're going a lot slower than they were when they were under his watchful eye. I'm not eager to fall in line beside them, but I have to eat, and I have no idea how long it will be before I get another opportunity.

"That seems fair," I say.

"Work hard and you can sleep in my barn tonight," the says, motioning in the general direction of the building. "Help me plow the whole field before nightfall and I'll even send one of my girl-slaves to keep you company. Or one of the boys, if you prefer. I've never been one to judge."

I start to decline, but my words get caught in my throat and my tongue feels tangled. The farmer's expression hardens, so I quickly nod, because the last thing I want to do is upset him by rejecting his hospitality.

"A girl will be fine," I mutter, as soon as my tongue relaxes.

"Then it's settled." He spits in the dirt and glances over at the slaves plowing the field. "Time for me to get back to work."

The farmer stomps towards the slaves and barks something about them being lazy, then he cracks the whip beside them. He doesn't actually strike them, but the threat and the noise seems to be enough to make them move faster. I walk over to the plows and study the straps to figure out how to put it on. The leather is hard and rubs against my skin when I slide on the harness. It's made for someone much smaller.

"You're really going to plow a fucking field?" Bahamut's voice echoes in my ears. "You could easily kill this farmer and take everything you want—even his slaves."

"What the fuck?" I spin around in a panic and get tangled in the straps, which causes me to tumble over the plow.

"You don't know how to use a plow?" the farmer yells.

"I-I got it," I reply, waving a hand and looking all around me again.

What the hell was that? It sounded just like Bahamut's voice and I know it pretty well after listening to it for months. I seem to be the only one who heard it. The farmer is watching me now instead of his slaves, so I untangle myself and start working. I don't care about spending the night with one of his slaves, but if I've got to work all day to get a meal, a place to sleep would be nice.

"The Avatar of Bahamut plowing a field like some kind of slave," Bahamut's voice booms. "You're embarrassing both of us now."

I stop walking and look around again. There's still no reaction from the farmer or his slaves, but the farmer flashes me an annoyed look, so I get back to work.

"I killed you," I mutter under my breath. "I watched you die."

"Yes, because it was my destiny," Bahamut replies. "I was destined to die underneath the sapphire eye. And I did."

"Then how the fuck are you talking to me?" I growl.

"You ran from your destiny, Hank. I didn't. I found the sword with the sapphire eye, brought it into my lair, and waited… and waited," Bahamut says. "I took precautions, of course. I enchanted the sword so it would act as a conduit the moment it pierced my heart."

"A conduit? For what?" I ask, grunting as I drag the plow through a hard piece of dirt.

"My escape," Bahamut chuckles. "The prophecy said I would die. Nothing said I couldn't come back after I died."

"Sounds like cheating," I growl. "Where the fuck are you? Why can't I see you?"

"Oh, you haven't figured that out yet? I'm inside you, Hank," Bahamut's chuckle get louder in my ear. "We share an eternal bond, remember?"

I stop in my tracks and exhale sharply. "Then get out of me. I'll kill you again right here in this field with my bare hands if I have to."

"It's not that simple," Bahamut says. "I'm not just inside you, I'm a part of you. My soul is now intertwined with yours. There's no magic in this world or any other that can separate us."

I grit my teeth and drag the plow forward. Rage builds with every step. All of the horror I endured—the horrible things done to my sister—the death of those I loved. It fuels my anger until I'm seething.

"Then I'll kill myself," I grind out.

"That seems rather extreme," Bahamut replies. "Are you that eager to die?"

"If it kills you…" I mutter. "Did you really think I was going to be okay with this? Having the monster that raped my sister inside me? The monster that ate niece and nephew?"

"Did I?" Bahamut chuckles. "Let me show you what happened without illusion magic forcing you to see what I wanted you to see."

My vision gets distorted and I'm standing in Bahamut's cavern again. He's holding the box full of people, but when he turns the box over, sticks and twigs rain down around me. Everything distorts again and I'm standing in front of Jenny's cage—except she isn't in it. There's a bloody doll laying on the bottom. I watch myself open the cage and drag the doll behind me as I search for a way out of Bahamut's lair.

"T-this isn't real!" I stammer. "I was there! I saw what you did!"

"You saw what I wanted you to see. You heard what I wanted you hear," Bahamut replies. "I needed you to find the sword and use it. Hatred and revenge are powerful motivators."

Everything distorts and I'm in the room with the swirls, except the cavern isn't collapsing. My sister isn't there. I watch myself pick up the blood-soaked doll, throw it into one of the blue swirls, and walk to the other one. A second later, I vanish, and my vision comes back into focus.

"See, none of that was real. Just a little motivation to make you do what was necessary," Bahamut chuckles. "Can we put it behind us now?"

"No," I grunt, dragging the plow behind me with rage still running through my veins. "Even if you didn't hurt my sister, you still kidnapped me! You tortured me for months!"

"You deserved it for abandoning your destiny and breaking the prophecy," Bahamut spits back. "You'd still be burning right now, if I didn't have a better use for you."

"And what use is that?" I growl, turning with the plow and stomping ahead. "Are you going to babble in my ear until I lose my fucking mind?"

"Not quite," Bahamut chuckles. "Think of me like a passenger. Most of them time, you won't even know I'm here. But I'll try to keep you alive, if I can. It's in our shared interests, after all."

"So if I die, you die?" I ask.

"Yes, but please don't take your own life to spite me, Hank," Bahamut growls. "In time, we might even become friends."

"Fuck you," I mutter.

"Oh don't be like that, Hank," Bahamut says. "I let you keep your avatar form. Isn't it much better than that flabby mound of flesh you created?"

I look down at my body. This is my form? This is what an Avatar of Bahamut looks like? I glance at the cuts on my hand and grunt as I keep pulling the plow forward.

"You could have let me keep my healing powers," I sigh. "Especially if you want me to live."

"My power doesn't work here because you didn't stop the ritual and Elenos was sealed," Bahamut says. "Your avatar form is a fine gift and will help you survive. But enough of that. If you're not going to kill the farmer, then finish plowing this field. I'm looking forward to our reward."

"A hot meal?" I grunt.

"For starters…" Bahamut chuckles.

"I'm not fucking his slave," I growl, gritting my teeth as I hit a long stretch of hard dirt.

"We'll see," Bahamut replies in an ominous tone. "But I must rest now. I'm so weak after my resurrection that this conversation is making me rather weary and I want to save my energy for later."

I sigh deeply and keep pulling the plow. My shoulders are aching. The harness has rubbed me raw in several spots. I'm overheating in this cloak, but I can't remove it. I don't even have a loincloth like the slaves.

One thing is clear.

Either I've gone absolutely mad, or I have a god living inside me.

I'm not sure which one is worse.