Spectre of the Sinner - Chapter 3 part 1: A wanderer becomes the hero
POV: An Nguyễn, 0807 UTC +09:30, Evrylandia
After nearly two months since I arrived, or I should say, returned to Evrylandia, I managed to cover a substantial distance from the abandoned harbor town of [Porto Bocca]. Graduating from the Mediterranean-like coastline where I could bask in the oceanic breeze, the canopy of the temperate forest welcomed my presence as I advanced Northward. Along the way, I came across a couple of similarly abandoned settlements where I would often spend a night over. What I noticed about them was that they seemed to share the same cause of demise: a widespread catastrophe of hitherto unknown proportions swept through them almost simultaneously, overwhelming them with innumerable amount of monsters. Every settlement still bore the evidence of brutal sieges, hasty evacuation, and heroic last stands.
While the refuge of the temperate canopy relieved me from the intense early summer heat, it presented me with a different set of problems altogether. As I gradually recalled the details of my pre-[Earth] life, a sense of utter dread and paranoia began to take my being hostage. As much as I would love to express gratitude for the arsenal of cool toys like the little drone’s thermal sensor and the integrated sensors on my helmet for saving my sorry arse from the predation of those damned monsters, I would still find myself stretching my biological senses, which was heavily degraded thanks to the nature of my occupation, to the limit.
“Damn it all to hell,” I muttered a curse under my breath as I looked through the optic mounted on my Kalashnikov, “of all things why it has to be you?”
A troop of about 6 massive humanoid-shaped grayish-green-skinned monsters could be observed partaking of a colossal carcass near the riverbank. Unlike their pre-teen-sized analog, the [Goblyns], those enormous monsters’ feast could be charitably called a civilized affair. Wielding a rusty fantasy great sword that I suspected to be looted from an unfortunate adventurer, one of the monsters, who bore the hallmarks of being the chieftain of this particular troop thanks to its pronounced saber-like tusk, hacked away the carcass’s limb before giving it to one of its brethren. Only after securing the parts for its troop, the chieftain finally tucked into the carcass, chomping down on the carcass’s flank deliciously. Yes, that’s right folks, those were the staple heavyweight shock troop of a fantasy villain: the [Ogres].
Figuring that I would be better off avoiding a confrontation with them, I activated the camouflage and headed downstream, treading as lightly as possible to not alert them of my presence. After all, to take on those colossal bastards head-on by my lonesome would be akin to suicide, and a rather messy one at that. As I crossed through a shallow section of the river, I cursed those brutes for ruining my chance to properly refill my canteen as a breeze blew from upstream, carrying with it the raw stench of the bloody feast.
Safely arrived at the other bank, I cautiously passed by the ogre troop as I walked upstream. Once I confirmed that there were no other predatory lifeforms lurking nearby ready to spring on me, I squatted down and proceeded to fill the canteen with fresh water. As I waited for the gentle river to fill the vessel, a lone showy white flower lazily floated downstream, catching my attention. Intrigued by its appearance, I gently picked it up to examine it further. The milky white flower, estimated to be about 20cm in diameter, looked suspiciously familiar due to its several layers of sword-shaped petals. As much as I wanted to peel off my mask to sneak a whiff of its soft fragrance, doing so would also mean risk being hunted by the [Ogres] just a stone’s throw downstream, thus I refrained from doing so.
A weird, indescribable feeling tugged at me as if begging me to take the lonely flower with me on my journey. Figuring that I could afford to do so, thus I pulled out some paper tissues from my rucksack. Good thing that somehow I had some of it on hand, just in cases like this. Maybe I should give myself a pat on my back for such foresight.
“Guess that I have to carry you for a while huh,” I softly murmured as I gently wrapped the flower in the paper tissues, “something tells me that I should take you with me for a ride. How mysterious.”
Carefully tucking my floral companion in the pouch for first-aid supplies, I headed into the woods continuing my indefatigable journey to search for the answers, just before another breeze from upstream could blow away my cover.
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POV: An Nguyễn, 0718 UTC +09:30, Evrylandia
Yet another week crawled through, and I was still stuck under the canopy of the temperate forest of [Evrylandia]. An intolerably dangerous phenomenon would sporadically occur where a layer of damp fog would blanket the land, greatly obscuring my vision. Like a minesweeper of the olden times before the invention of modern technology, navigating the terrain in such conditions meant that unless I had my thermals on, I would learn the presence of dangerous monsters the hard way.
Not helping my slowly slipping morale was that the task force and the accompanying POWs were still in a coma, thus the progress of the investigation into the compound and its contents was grounded to a screeching halt. And it seemed that the bastard bearing the name of [Pompeo-Navarre]’s had finally made his move, spicing up the game considerably. If only I was still on [Earth] to invite that son of a bitch to a dance. Still, there was no use in lamenting the impossible.
On one such morning, as I heaved a sigh of relief after successfully navigating the adverse condition, a distant roar could be heard reverberating from the Northwest direction. I was tempted to ignore the source of the sound until a pressure wave rustled the vegetation in my vicinity. Successive waves of various intensities, accompanied by the occasional flashes, would keep rumbling the landscape. Occasional spikes could be read on the [Mana] sensors, stoking my curiosity further.
“Please don’t fucking tell me that you guys are hosting an Olympic,” I grumbled a bit as I ordered the drone to fly to the source of the rumble, “maybe I should apply for a slot. Maybe I could grab a gold medal even.”