The last rays of light disappeared and night descended upon the swamp. The noises became more prominent with each passing minute as if the critters of the marshes were preparing a concert for him alone.
Sunday smiled at the thought. Despite it all, he was happy to be surrounded by nature. Maybe it was not how he had dreamed it would be, but it was certainly a very interesting experience. There was something special about it all.
He watched the tall grass sway and the normal frogs skitter around. There were tadpoles in some of the larger pools, playing at the edges. Various insects flew around, touching down upon the water and creating a symphony of small ripples on its surface.
The night was beautiful. He wondered what the night sky of this world looked like. It was still early, and the intertwined branches were somewhat thick up above, but he hoped there were many stars. He liked stars.
Some logical part of Sunday’s mind finally caught up to the rest of it and he realized he could see quite well, despite the light of day having fled. There were levels to the darkness and the shadows around and the closer something was, the clearer he saw it. Dusk didn’t seem to bother him.
He didn’t feel sleepy at all either. It was unknown whether it was excitement due to all that had happened or just an undead thing. With newfound enthusiasm, he jumped from the shelter he had so briefly utilized. The dark was not as scary now and there was no time to waste. His sight was a great boon and he thoroughly enjoyed experiencing the world in this new ‘light’. It was as if he was walking through a monochrome comic strip with various shades of dark greens and browns sprinkled in. The murky waters would occasionally glisten like jewels, brushed by stray rays of the rising moon.
Sunday stepped slowly and carefully, not wanting to ruin the calm, almost ethereal night in the swamp. He froze as tiny lights rushed out from the nearby darkness and circled once around him before scattering around.
Fireflies? He thought. There had been no fireflies in the city but he knew what they were.
Their light was pale and constant, unlike that of the fireflies he knew of. Some struck him as strange, bearing similarities with the glow of the frog and the stone. Were they magical?
Are some of these… spells?
They poured out and conquered the darkness, flying out from beneath the thick long grass or the high branches of the trees. They danced over the pools of water, circling the small spots where the moon’s light graced the world, then rising far above only to dive again.
Sunday was in a trance as one of the magical fireflies passed by him and his arm shot and caught it, almost on instinct. He was gentle, careful not to squish it. It looked like a normal bug, and its whole body shone with soft light. It didn’t struggle in his grasp.
It felt different than the rest. Something inside of him just knew it. He was getting quite tired of the strange feelings and struggled to understand what the difference was to no avail. Was he more sensitive to something in particular?
With a thought, his suspicion was proven and the spell became streams of energy that rushed into his skin. He felt something inside of him fill and a small dot of light lit up just above his finger, hovering. It was not much stronger than the spell had been as a bug. As quick as he had started it, he stopped the spell, feeling the energy that fueled it inside of him drain at a fast rate.
He summoned the golden page and made it show him the list.
Spells 1/1
Lampyria
Sunday nodded to himself and let go of the spell. It flew away, but it was somewhat slower than it had been and moved through the air lacking its previous grace. Some bitterness rose inside of him.
Did I hurt it by using it in this way?
It was not a useful spell. Certainly, even less so than the dirt-repelling stone. He also didn’t like that it was a living thing. That could complicate things a lot. However, it was beautiful and he spent a few mournful moments watching the small lights play in the dark world.
Figuring things out by himself was somewhat fun, but also a bit annoying and strange. Once he got frequent access to the internet from cafes and clubs, things had been easy. There was a video for quite literally anything if one looked hard enough. Hell, he’d learned to fight from videos after the first few times someone kicked his ass. Sure, it took practice, but knowing how to practice correctly was the first step toward greatness. And being a poor street kid among many others sharing his fate offered quite a few practice opportunities.
‘Next time you see ‘em, fight again! Keep fightin’ so long as you can. Act mad! Get naked! Piss on them if you have to! You don’t have to win to make someone fear you.’ Old Rud's lesson echoed in his mind.
The memories of how he’d go around and pick fights after each new thing he learned made him laugh. Being relentless was part of it. Losing was just a lesson, an opportunity. If only he had understood that earlier in life…
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Sunday continued through the swamp, careful to not let his mind be caught in the trap of the magical night or a regret-fueled ‘what if’ thought spiral. There were many muddy holes, dug by unknown critters or naturally formed for one reason or another. Testing the fortitude of his undead bones was not on his to-do list. He was not sure killing others would have the same effect as in the city of stone and murals. That had been a special experience. It felt almost like a trial of sorts.
With him being mostly back to his old self now, he felt a bit strange about what he had done. The corpses in the mist-covered city had been just zombies from a movie or a game to him. He couldn’t see them as thinking, feeling, humans. There had been evidence that some of them were just that, just like him, yet still, his mind had disassociated.
If he had to kill a human though… that was something he had gotten close to but never went through with. Was it so different than taking the second chance of the risen corpses away for a tiny gain? Maybe not.
A sound broke through the symphony of the nightlife and made him wary. He stopped and squatted low, hiding behind a nearby tree. His strange eyes had caught movement and his instincts to hide kicked in.
Something large slowly shuffled out of the tall grass and used the muddy bank to slide into a nearby pool of water. It was a long scaly creature, and Sunday decided quickly that he wanted nothing to do with it. He carefully turned away and once again changed his direction.
Throughout the next few dark hours, he ran into a few more of the creatures and managed to get a good look at them. They were not much different from the alligators he had seen in pictures and documentaries, although he didn’t trust his memory that much. They all shared one odd trait – their noses ended in long fleshy horn-like protrusions that held their nostrils. It reminded Sunday of a snorkel. Hoping that a magical world didn’t need magical alligators was enough for the moment.
Few of the alligators had looked ill too. Some of their scales were either black or simply rotting away, which told Sunday that they were not the scariest thing roaming the swamp.
Their state made him worry a bit about diseases. It would be a true bummer if the undead could still get the flu or any strange swamp sicknesses. Flu capable of affecting the dead sounded like some diabolical stuff.
Dodging the alligators and anything else that was larger than a frog, Sunday successfully traversed the swamp until a single ray of sunshine announced the coming of the morning. His body felt mostly fine, but his mind was starting to lag, which was worrying. What if his brain had remained human, while the rest of him was not?
He still had juice, but he saw sleep as a viable option at some point in his near future. The swamp wasn’t giving any indication of ending or becoming less… swampy. At one point he called on his Chaotic Step, but nothing happened. Either he wasn’t utilizing it properly, or the talent was truly random. The latter promised a lot of suffering in his future if he had such.
The first big change in scenery came in the form of a large river, green and muddy like the rest of the waters. The villagers had mentioned a storm so that probably had something to do with that. Or maybe not. A closer look revealed dozens of scaly backs lazing around the banks. In the middle of the river was a fascinating sight that interested Sunday, but there was no way to examine it closer. A large spot of water held its own against the slow current of the river and divided all the muddy water coming at it, remaining crystal clear.
Another repelling spell? It is either much stronger than the ones I found, or there are hundreds of those pebbles there.
Greed gave way to sound mind, which was a surprise even to himself, and Sunday walked away. There would be other spells that didn’t require him to fight against a horde of alligators with his bare hands and a rusty spear. At least so he hoped.
Hours went by again, and as the rays of sunlight became piercing spears that fell in a straight line toward the ground, Sunday was getting desperate. He had seen some other spells, bugs, and even a glowing leaf floating in the wind, but all of that had been lost, either because of bad luck or because of his own bad decisions.
He kept checking his information, trying to understand things better. The list of five talents floated on the golden page before him, translucent and ethereal. Magic incarnate. Couldn’t he have gotten something else? A talent for getting proper directions, or a map of the area.
He stopped and furrowed his brows. With hope in his dead heart, he whispered, “Map.”
The Golden Page became blank and ink slowly started spreading. Not words, but lines and simple markings. A small circle with a few rough depictions of houses appeared at the center of his map, and from it, the ink flowed slowly in a thin line. The line overlapped at times, but moved away from what he assumed was the village. It was mostly empty of significant marks, with only a few trees stuck on it. There was a stretch of blue ink that was probably the river, but it was only a small line at the edge of the revealed area. The rest of the page remained blank as if covered in a fog of war. At the very end of what was drawn sat a tiny silver dot.
Is this the path I’ve taken? And this is probably where I’m at now. It sure looks like the map shows what I’ve seen so far, so the rest is blank. This is great for not going in circles, but it still leaves me wondering if this swamp has an end. Better than nothing, I guess.
The map gave him the motivation to keep moving forward. If he could at the very least scout out the area, he would be able to survive or find a safe place to camp at. The tree that had fallen upon the other, where he had almost decided to spend the night was marked too with two lines. It was far now, but it was a good marker.
Another hour later he once again reached the banks of the river. A look at the map assured him that it was the same river. Not that he had used many maps, but lines were lines. They were not as sharp as before and seemed devoid of scaly backs this time around, so he carefully got closer. The water was calmer than it had been further down the current. However, it looked deep and treacherous so crossing it on a whim was out of the question.
There were no clear spots this time. Just to test things out he dropped one of the dirt-repelling spells into the waters and it sank, without managing to do anything.
Sunday shook his head. He was bored, mentally exhausted, and quite fed up with all the mud, buzzing, croaking, and weird plants. He’d thought nature was awesome, but maybe it looked better from the safety behind a screen.
The next second proved it was so.
The water to the side suddenly churned and he barely jumped backward, falling on his butt. Large jaws closed where he’d been, finding only air.
An alligator, or something very similar stood before him frozen in confusion. It was much larger than any he’d seen so far.
This one’s horn was weirdly bent to one side. There was wheezing as the monstrous thing took in air. Sunday had no time to examine further as he slid in the mud, scrambling to retreat. The alligator lunged again, taking all of its glorious frame out of the water.