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Parallel Story New Beginning Chapter 1: Adrift

Parallel Story New Beginning Chapter 1: Adrift

PARALLEL STORY NEW BEGINNING CHAPTER 1: ADRIFT

The sun shone overhead, and a small group walked through the middle of the savanna desert, resisting the overflowing heat.

“This... It’s too much...” a tired young man muttered.

His dark complexion let it be seen that he was an African, but the question of what country would only be a tease when most of them had already fallen.

His body was slightly malnourished and in poor condition.

He was not the only one, but all the others were in similar states.

Tired, without food or water, they walked away from the desolation and sadness behind them.

Step by step, everyone’s expressions became harder, letting their weariness and exhaustion show.

“God... Please help us...” someone exclaimed, falling on his knees to the ground.

The others tried to pick him up, but that man just cried on the ground.

What god was he praying to?

With so many gods coming since the ‘Great Cataclysm’ it was hard to tell if they were the gods of the earth, the God of Time and Space, or the Goddess of Order. In the end, it was the same.

“Get up, god is not here to help you,” said a strong and clear voice.

A dark-skinned man, who was in his late forties, came walking up from the front.

Leaving his water bottle for the young man to hydrate himself, even though he was in terrible shape, the man gave the group a look.

“God will not help us... In these no man’s lands, the world has abandoned us,” said the man in a cold tone and then, giving a sad half-smile, he added. “There is only us.”

Weariness, sorrow, and then determination.

The man’s expressions quickly changed.

“Get up and walk... We need to get to town. We need to move on,” announced the man.

His words sounded cold, but his voice carried a certain sense of comfort and it wasn’t because this person was strong, it was simply because he was present.

With no powers or abilities, Jibrin Turay was a man who would stay to the end... Even if it was a sinking ship.

“We don’t have any ability users...” said someone in the group in a voice full of despair.

Yes, their little group was not only in bad shape physically and mentally, but their strength was that of a mere human.

In Africa, where magical creatures roamed wild and the terrifying magical forest was nearby, the dangers were too many to count.

Dangers that a mere human could not face.

Turay laughed at those words.

He clearly knew all the hardships his group was going through, yet he could only laugh.

Since the magical forest spread years ago, giving life to all sorts of dangerous creatures and since countries fell to the cruelty of the world, only they were left.

“Still, we must go on,” Turay announced in a serious tone.

Even so, they had to keep fighting, trying to survive.

In this no-man’s-land, where gods did not look, countries ignored and rights were lost... In this kind of place, they could only continue.

Walking towards that small town in the middle of this cruel continent, the group advanced.

Holding on to their ill-made spears, they advanced, gathering every bit of their strength.

“Once the European-demon war is over, everything will change.” Murmured someone with a hint of hope.

“I heard that Malik died... He was surrounded by several SS Ranks and some SSS Ranks ended up badly wounded. Although he escaped, his corpse was found in Ankara, it was given to him by a self-styled Pacific Demon King,” commented another man in a knowledgeable tone.

That individual came from the west where warlords were abundant, but at the same time, communication was possible.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Malik Zamora, renowned leader of ‘The Eternal Guards’ player’s guild, a few years ago conquered the Middle East and before anyone noticed declared war on the world and began his conquest.

Seeing that he was losing the war against the European Union and other powerful skill users, he created portals connecting this world with a demonic world which allowed the demons to arrive.

Now in the Middle East, a bloody war that turned from human against human to humans against demons was taking place.

Churches were moving, and powerful individuals were striking blows against demons.

“Come on, save your energy and keep walking,” Turay urged in a simple tone.

When the European-demon war ended, would anyone come to help them?

Would the countries move to act?

No.

Just as before, no one moved when countries fell into the hands of lunatic players and the same chaos they created.

After all, for those great and powerful rulers, it was better to have the lunatics distracted away than to have them at home.

However, he did not give up hope and continued walking forward to his destination.

Hope was a good thing, even though it seemed so distant and far away.

*Auu...*

And that hope was immediately shattered.

Hearing that howl that portended death and blood, everyone turned pale.

Turay, controlling his expression, signaled for silence and picked up a poorly made spear.

This was the only weapon an inexperienced man could use, and this was the only means to protect himself.

The braver ones also took their spears, and the whole small group stood on guard, creating a circle.

Some had trouble holding their weapons, tired and exhausted, they tightened their grip.

No matter how cruel the fate that awaited them, they wanted to live.

Taking deep breaths, trying not to draw attention to themselves, in the middle of the savanna, their sight was painted yellow from the sunlight.

It was not a beautiful sight; it was a sight that made them believe that death was waiting for them in that bright light.

“Grrr...”

And death came in the form of a small wolf pack.

About ten wolves.

The pack was larger than the small group of five humans.

They too were malnourished, leaving it obvious that they too were starving, however, to their relief, they were common wolves.

Perhaps they suffered the cruelty of a stronger magical beast... Just like the small group of humans suffering at the hands of those powerful ones.

“Do not hesitate. Do not be afraid. Show no weakness,” Turay commanded, trying to raise their spirits and succeed in scaring that pack.

His attempt failed as the wolves began to growl wildly, letting it be seen that they were their prey.

They were in such bad shape and desperate; they were willing to risk it.

With a growl, the battle began and Turay swung his spear with all his might, driving it into the jaws of a predator.

It died... Relief and a great force of will rose within him, but then he noticed.

“AHhh...”

The young man, who was quite weak, couldn’t hit with his spear and a wolf managed to bite the neck.

Blood and a scream of pain were heard, but that attack destroyed the formation like the inexperienced ones they were.

They were weak, tired, and at this point, it was quite a challenge to hold a spear.

“Don’t run, fight!” shouted Turay, waving his spear cutting another wolf.

The knowledgeable man fled along with the others and, as if thinking they were better prey than a man waving his spear, the wolves moved to hunt him down.

“Uhg...”

“Help... Uhgg...”

The cries rang out and Turay, like someone trying to fix holes in a barge in the middle of the sea, went to help him but arrived just as the wolves drove their fangs into their necks, silencing them.

He had left the small village with a hunting party and when they found people who needed help he brought them, but now not only did they all die at once, but he was left alone.

In this state, Turay waved his spear, trying to keep those beasts from surrounding him, but that was all he could do.

Faced with death disguised as a wolf, the man did not shed tears, but his thoughts roamed that small town.

Why did he stay when he had the opportunity to leave for another, better continent?

Why did he stay on this chaotic and dangerous continent where the forgotten were to be found?

“HAAAA!” shouting with all his might, Turay swung the spear without technique or experience, only with his anger.

The answer was simple.

If Africa was a huge sinking boat, Turay was a sailor trying to plug those holes in his efforts... No matter how small.

The wolves surrounded him, waiting for the moment he would tire, but as if his last cry was heard, several lines came from far away to his position.

Thin lines that seemed to cut through reality, like canvases of a painter drawing over reality.

The wolves were cut in half, as well as the ground they stood on, spreading a blood-red color on the ground.

The death that had disguised itself as a wolf was immediately driven away and Turay’s first reaction was to look at his fallen companions to see if he could help them, but he could only notice lifeless bodies.

He then turned his gaze to where the cuts had come from and noticed a female figure approaching fast, who stopped when she saw that she had arrived too late.

Wearing battle armor with metal boots and metal shoulder pads, her small breastplate covered her chest while painted silver, faintly repelling the glare of the sun.

Her white-colored mask had dyes that moved across the mask, creating different shapes.

Her blond hair fluttered through the air, and when the mask opened a hole in the eyes, two black eyes were revealed that looked cold as she looked at his dead companions.

Turay recognized the person, but most of all, he recognized those conflicting emotions.

That coldness was only trying to hide pain, grief, and guilt... Behind a mechanical coldness.

“Do you want help?” The young woman asked in a mechanical tone.

Her voice sounded like that of a teenager not yet reaching adulthood, and her question seemed naïve, almost childish.

He had almost died while all his companions died and now he was tired while stranded in the middle of the desert, far from that small town.

However, Turay did not scoff at that question, asked in a mechanical way.

He could sense that the young woman was looking for a way to lose herself trying not to think, perhaps it was for that reason that she was found here.

Looking at that young woman whose gaze hid too many vicissitudes, Turay nodded.

“Yes...”

That was the only word that could come out of his mouth as he asked for help from a teenager who seemed lost in her own emotions and her own story.

2043 was a tragic year where the cruelty of life was fully revealed and it was likely that at this moment they were both on two different ships adrift.

Trying not to sink into the sea of despair.

Looking for land to settle down... Looking for a new beginning.