Hello! This is my first chapter to my new super-hero series I am going to be working on! It is going to be Chapter Based, multiple parts, and as well as coming out whenever I feel! If you guys show me your support maybe I can get these out more regularly!
This is a Story that I have had in my head for LITERALLY YEARS so I really hope it turned out good!
Again, this is the very first part, and I am not by any means a professional writer, but I do have fairly good ideas that I come up with, and really wanted to show you guys them! -The story isn't meant to be taken SUPER seriously, and their is some slight comedy. But! It really is meant to be pretty realistic, and to hopefully make you feel immersed! Got plenty of ideas ahead! So hope you enjoy! Without further ado... I bring you... Chapter One...
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The alarm rings on a nearby night-stand, disturbing a relatively young 15 year old boy. Causing him to groan from the annoying sound. Soon slapping the annoying object onto the floor, as he woke up. Finally getting out of bed. Slowly but surely, Nickolas pushes off the covers, soon wiggling out of bed, and standing up to look at the clock. Rubbing his eyes while letting out a bit of a yawn. Eventually picking up the alarm-clock that was knocked on the floor.
“Agh… What time is it even… Eight, O, Clock??? Oh crap, I slept in again! Stupid machine! Why don’t you go off at the right time!” The young man exclaimed in a bit of a higher volume than normal. Quickly slamming the clock back down on his night-stand. Quickly getting ready as fast as he possibly could, and soon running down the stairs as he put on a fresh pair of pants. Quickly stumbling at the few last bottom steps from his rush, bumping his head on a nearby wall. Groaning some, in a bit of an angry tone.
“Gah… Stupid wall…” He mumbles, quickly making his way into the kitchen and getting noticed by his mother. “Son? What are you doing, still not fully ready??? The bus will be here any moment!”
“I know mom… My alarm didn’t go off at the right time again. I think it’s seriously busted!”
“I don’t want to hear it young man, you're probably just making excuses… Please hurry up now and don’t miss the bus… I can’t drive you again…” The mother replied with some disappointment in her son. Causing Nick to give her a slight roll with his eyes as he looked away. Going over to grab a quick bite to eat with a granola bar as he quickly grabbed it and started to eat it on his way to the door, giving his mother a slight wave before heading out. Quickly rushing outside and just making it to his bus.
Later in the day… When he made it to school… Nickolas sighed in his seat, looking rather bored at his teacher. Still a little annoyed from his morning. Fairly upset with the fact he didn’t manage to do everything he would normally do in the morning. Such as shower or brush his teeth, so his hair was a mess… Among other things. But he managed to sit there quietly, doing his best to behave.
Eventually though, the class did end. Him quickly getting out of his seat and making his way out the door, before being slightly told off from his teacher about the way he doesn’t
normally pay attention well and should work harder… The normal annoying things teachers ask… He replied nicely though, saying he will try to do better as usual… To be fair though, he didn’t just say this. He really did want to do better, it's just… He finds school rather boring. Not that it’s hard per say… Just that he would rather spend his time on more important things… He never really cared for school, he wasn’t an idiot though. Or someone super smart. But more something in between I guess. Average, but maybe a bit above. He was never very book-smart though, being he never much cared to learn about needless things. He was rather smart otherwise though, and didn't take kindly to people telling him what to do. Though he was never a fighter despite it seeming like he could be one… Don’t let this have you think he was a jerk though… Cause he was still rather kind… He just sometimes is a tad moody. Possibly from the fact he never had a father, being he only ever lived with his mother… But maybe it’s just teenagers being teenagers... He’s rather tall, but he's also rather frail. So he never had a fantastic time in school… Which we are about to show off more… Though there was one thing good about school for him. That being when he gets to hang time with his old childhood friend… “Yo how was your day?” His female friend Katelyn asks as she sits at the cafeteria table, giving Nickolas a wave.
-
“Oh Hey… Not too good…” Nickolas replies, joining his friend and sitting down next to her. Now taking a few bites out of his meal. (If you couldn’t tell, its lunch period now) “Oh? Why was up?” His rather pretty, but tomboyish friend asks, letting out a small burp casually as she does so. “Oh nothing… Just the usual…” Nickolas sighs. “My dumb alarm clock went off on the wrong time again… My mother doesn’t believe it’s broken and thinks I’m just making excuses… I never got to shower, I’m bored out of my mind with school… And-”
“Phew… Yeah you didn’t!” She jokes waving a hand in front of her face and poking him in the side as she smelt him. Causing Nick to mumble some.
“Y-yeah… I said so didn’t I…” He says, looking a little flustered. “Hey don’t sweat it! I’m sure she’s just overwhelmed with stuff. I bet it will get better~” Kate says with a smile, nudging his shoulder.
“Alright if you say so… I guess you're right... Anyway how are you doing?” Nick asks, feeling a little more relieved now. Letting off a light smile. “Hmmm? Oh I’m fine thanks for asking.” She says with her own smile, a little surprised by the sudden question. “No problem… Anyway… Thanks Kate. I guess I got a little too flustered for no good reason… Thanks for the talk.” Nickolas says.
“Hmmm? Oh yeah don’t sweat it pal~ Any time. Anywho… I gotta head to class, smell you later, though maybe not too soon… I hope…”
“Oh yeah I should head off too, thanks… Wait… Was that another pun on my stink?” Nick says with a slight roll in his eyes. Kate grinning back teaseally.
“Maaaybe~ Gotta go though” She says with a quick wink, rushing off.
{Hmmmm… Guess I should head off too…} Nick thinks, slowly getting up and walking to his next class…
On his way he noticed someone picking on a fellow student, Nickolas quickly getting boiled up once he saw who was the perpetrator…
“Hey can’t you stop with the pointless teasing Butch! Seriously leave the kid alone…” Nickolas exclaimed as he walked by, the large student grabbing Nickolas before he could even rush past… Letting the victim run off. “What did you just say punk… Don’t you ever learn?... Guess I’ll have to teach you another lesson little man…” The one-year-older bully said to him. Getting ready to punch him in the stomach.
“Gahh… Get off… I’m sorry alright? Just please let me go… I got a class to go to…” Nick groaned, kicking a bit, and struggling in Butch’s grasp.
“Nope… Too late for that twerp…” The bully teased, punching him in the stomach. Causing Nick to groan from the pain… {Why do I always have to open my dumb mouth… Jeez…} Nickolas thought, struggling a bit more.
“I mean it Butch! Let me go! Don’t make me hurt you…” Nick groans, while gritting his teeth.
“Oh, sure… Like you can do anything to me… Do you really think I’m- Aghhhh!” And with that Nick quickly kicks Butch in the stomach as hard as he could. Causing the large student to drop him out of his arms, letting Nick quickly run away.
{When I catch you, you little piece of dirt… I’m going to make you wish you were never born…} The bully thinks, scoffing and walking away… Nick ran all the way to his next class, breathing fairly heavily from exhaustion from running for so long, not to mention by how fast he went. Once he made it he was greeted by yet another teacher, this one being his science teacher. He didn’t hate this class as much, but he still wasn’t great at it… Science not exactly being his strong suit, but really nothing truly was… Afterwards he took a break, meeting back up with Kate at break period. Chatting with her for a little while until he went back inside, doing the rest of his school activities until it was finally the end of the school day...
Eventually he made his way to the exit of the school, at least until he got caught by an old “friend”.
“Hey! L-let go of me you big oaf!” Nickolas exclaimed struggling once again in the bully’s grasp, as Butch held on to his shirt’s collar this time.
“Heh, No I don’t think so… Nice try squirt, but you're dead this time… If you think I was going to let you get away with your little stunt earlier, you're dead wrong.” Butch says with a bit of a chuckle in his voice.
“Look I’m sorry alright? But you were going to make me late fo- Aghhh!” Nick exclaims as he gets punched in the stomach yet again…
“I don’t want to hear your sorry excuses… You're paying… End of story…” Butch says with a bit of fire in his voice. Still quite mad from earlier. Dragging Nickolas across the floor to the boys bathroom.
“Wah wait! What are you doing bringing me in here???” Nick gasps.
“What do you think I’m doing? Giving you pay back, duh” The bully says with a smirk, tossing Nick into an empty stall, soon forcing Nick's head into the luckily clear water.
“MmmmmmmmFFFFF!!!” Nick yells as he was having the water swish around his head. Struggling as he tries to escape. Giving the bully a bit of a rough time as he manages to kick him in the legs.
“Hey hold still… Don’t make this worse for you, you moron…” Butch complains.
Soon Nick gets the better of him. Kicking him in the junk as he struggled in the water. The bully quickly took him out and punched him again… “What did I tell you… You little piece of crap…” He says punching the younger student in the stomach once more.
“Gahh! P-please dude… I’m sorry just leave me alone…” Nick says with little breath left.
“Let you go? LET YOU GO??? You haven’t even learned yet though! You're still fighting me to what end? You can’t beat me…. You know what… I’m sick of you… I think it’s time to get you out of my sight…” The larger student says as he drags Nick to the bathroom window. “Well… I’d say it’s been fun, but it really hasn’t… Off you go trash!” The bully yells with a chuckle as he throws Nick out the window. Letting him fall a couple feet into a dumpster below. Nick landing rather harshly inside… “Maybe that will teach you not to mess with your superiors, you little moron…” The bully says walking off, feeling rather pleased with himself…
Nickolas awoke a few minutes later. Holding his head from the decent amount of pain he was in. Luckily he didn’t have any serious injuries…
{Aghh… My head… How long was I out???… That stupid bully… When will that jerk learn…} Nick thought, slowly working his way out of the smelly dumpster he was in. Holding the edges of the large metal container as he lifted himself out of the trash.
“Man… Yet another fantastic day… I really hope things will get better… Oh well… I guess I should head home now… Don’t want to worry mother…” Nickolas sighed, now walking off, missing the bus thanks to the stupid bully. Deciding to slowly walk home instead. Walking down the sidewalk for quite aways till he was about halfway home. “Well at least I’m almost there… Man… My feet are killing me... I hate walking so much…” Nick grumbles, soon noticing a strange looking figure colored in dark clothes, walking into a dark alleyway. {Huh… That dude looks awfully weird…} Nickolas thought, walking down through the crowd of people as he makes it to the alleyways opening between two buildings. “Wait waaahhh??? Where did he go?....” Nick said to himself in shock, seeing there was a dead-end. No opening in sight. {How strange…} Nick thought, now walking down the alleyway out of uncontrollable curiosity.
“Where did this guy go?... Was I imagining things?...” Says Nick, thinking to himself. “NO, there’s no way… Someone definitely was here… I’m sure of it…” The teenaged boy says, slowly making his way to the end of the dark alley. “I’m sure there’s gotta be something... He couldn’t have just… Vanished right?...” Nick says to himself thinking. Looking at the blank wall of the back of the building at the end of the alleyway. Seeing only a few cans and some garbage lying around.
“There’s gotta be something here…” Nick still says, now leaning his hand against a wall, it opening up some sort of door. “Woooahh. Is this real???...” Nick says in shock now heading inside. Seeing a small glimpse of the figure yet again as the man walks past a door. Nick quickly following behind and grabbing the doorknob out of overwhelming curiosity. {Oh… It’s unlocked….} Nickolas thinks, as he opens the door, soon making his way inside. “Well might as well see what’s up… I mean… I came this far… I’m sure as long I’m careful I’ll be alright, right?...”
Nick walks through the building, soon seeing the figure make his way into a couple more doors. Them seeming to lead to nowhere…
“Well… I came this far… Might as well see what else is up…” He says, making his way through the large metal doors and seeing nowhere else to go?
{Hmmmm… How odd… Where could he have gone…} Nick thinks, looking around throughout the small empty room. Searching for quite awhile until he found a secret button along the wall…
“Woah… This is just like one of those action movies… Wait… Am I moving???” Nick slightly starts to panic as the secret elevator moves downwards. Trying to push the button again and again, but failing to do so… {Oh gosh… Am I trapped???} Nick thinks pushing the button some more, but soon giving up.
“Okay… Okay… Don’t panic Nick… All I have to do is find another way out… It’s fine, it’s all good...” Nickolas says to himself as he tries calming down. The room soon stopping as it makes its destination. Nick quick to see a new passageway opened. “Well… Guess I don’t have many other choices…” He says to himself once more, soon making his way down through the passage, until he noticed yet another door…
{Maybe this might be a way out…} He thinks, trying to open the door, but failing to do so as this one was padlocked. “Wow… Locked too… What do I do now?...” Nick says to himself, looking around throughout the hallway. Soon spotting a vent just a few feet off of the floor. {Hmmm… Maybe that could lead to a way out…}
Nick quickly runs over to the vent. Tugging hard with all of his might, again and again but not having enough strength to do so... “Common you piece of trash… Open up!” Nickolas exclaims, as he pulls even harder, the vent-cover slowly popping off until it came off its hinges, causing the teenaged boy to fall onto his back when it did so.
“Phew… Finally…” Nick pants from exhaustion, taking a few minutes to recover his energy until he crawls inside the vent. {Well… Here goes…}
Nick crawls through the ventilation system for quite a while, starting to get tired as he kept going through. Exploring all throughout the ventilation system, seeking and seeking for a way out of the odd place… Though eventually… He hears an odd deep voice… Quick to crawl over to another vent, peeking through its holes to see who was speaking…
On the other side, there was a group of similar looking shadowy figures standing around another much larger figure. Covered in black, along with some red. They had a large deep, black cape. The smaller ones walking around him, colored in similar clothes to that of the one that looked like the boss. Nick trying to listen in on the conversation they had due to more curiosity on what the heck was going on… {Whoa… Those guys look nuts… Wonder what they are talking about…}
The larger figure speaks to one of the other figures, saying: “Is the experiment nearly ready?... Doctor?” The large scary man says to a much weaker looking scientist of sorts… “Y-yes my lord… It is nearly ready... “ The wimpy man says back, with some sweat running down his face.
“Good… Otherwise it will be your head… You better hope it doesn’t fail… If anything happens to my creation you’re a dead man…” The large figure says with a deep scary tone. “Y-yes Sir...” The smaller man says back, shivering in his very shoes…
“Good… Hop to it… I will be in my quarters until it’s ready… When I get back in there everything better be alright…” The large man says back with a swish of his dark cape. Soon walking through another door as the wimpy man kept walking along. The other four figures following behind him, and another 4 following after the large one through the door as well.
{What the heck is going on here?...} Nick thinks, slowly crawling further through the vents, trying to catch up and listen in further on the smaller person's conversation… Though as he did so there was a creaking sound coming through the vents floor… Nick soon falling out as it broke open. Nick quickly falling a good few feet into an odd dark blue liquid of sorts, as he fell into a large vat like tank… Struggling Nick tries to find a way out, but not having one… Soon feeling very odd as it feels like the liquid was going inside his body…
Nickolas soon felt very weak inside the vat. Quickly running out of air as he swallowed the odd looking goopyish liquid through his gurgling mouth… A large screen, and blinking lights going off throughout the room as the machine did its thing… A list of sorts checking themselves off as Nick was left inside the machine. Checking off a list of abilities… *Extended Stamina* *Super Healing Capabilities* *Enhanced Reflexes* *Enhanced Senses* *Enhanced Agility* *Enhanced Brain Capability* The machine kept going as Nick was dying inside… Drowning as he kicked on the glass with all his might… Again and again until it finally smashed open once it got to *Enhanced Strength*. Nick quickly gushing out of the opening as the liquid flooded into the room, destroying the machine.
Nick lays on the ground, half passed out as sirens and red lights start going off loudly throughout the room and the whole complex. The doctor soon walks in as Nick crawls towards an exit. “Oh No! No no no no no… What happened… The boss is going to kill- *Crunch* The doctor's neck snaps as the larger shady man breaks his neck… “Pathetic… You failed me for the last time Doc…” The large man says, throwing the body across the room. Nick slowly still crawled out trembling as he saw what the man did to the poor guy… {Oh my gosh… He just… K-k-killed that guy??? What the hell is going on???} Nickolas thinks, soon picking himself up and getting noticed by the Dark Lord.
“YOU!!! YOU DID THIS!!!” The large figure yells loudly, quickly chasing after Nick. Nick quickly sprinting away for his very life! {Oh gosh! If he gets a hold of me I’m a goner!!!…} Nick thinks as he runs down another hallway, rushing for his life as more sirens go off, along with bright red blinking lights also going off throughout the large complex. Tons of men chasing after him.
Nick runs for a little aways as the army of men chase behind him. Nick scared out of his mind as he runs to find a way out of the horrible place… Nickolas soon finds a vent, quickly smashing through with minimal pain as he does so. Quickly sliding down afterwards through a long ventilation shaft.
Nick slides for quite aways until finally he flings out at the bottom of the vent exit. Landing on his butt and quickly getting up as an elevator door opens up from a-ways behind him… The large scary, dark figure standing inside it as the doors open… The large man points with his outstretched arm and hand. letting many more men rush past him. “Do not let the intruder get away, or it will be your heads!” He commands as he points quickly at Nickolas, tons of men listening to their bosses commandments.
“Geez! More of them???” Nick gasps rushing some more until he makes his way to some train tracks. Clearly in some kinda underground rail system. A train soon rushing by and Nick quick to rush towards where it was coming from. Somehow with a miracle latching onto the side of the train and going for a ride, as he makes his escape…
Nick pants heavily as he now was sitting inside the train's cargo-truck, still trying to get over what the heck just happened… “W-what was that all about?... Why were those men trying to kill me??? What was up with that strange goo?...” Nick contemplates to himself, trying to think of what to do next…
“Well… I mean it seems like I managed to get away… So I guess I can calm down now… Might as well head back home I guess… Man… What a strange day… My mom's probably worried sick...” Nick rides the train for quite a while. Heading away from all the crazy stuff he just saw…
After a good while Nick gets off the train as it slows down to it’s stop, quickly rushing home to hopefully forget about this insane day...
"M-mom?... I-I'm home?..." Nick says with a little bit of a stutter, worried his mom could be mad. Heading inside as he peeks through the front door.
"Nickolas??? Honey?... Oh I'm so glad you're home! Where have you been? It's so late!" The mother complains slightly, holding onto her son. "I-I'm really sorry mom… I… I Just had a really rough day…" Nick says, holding onto his mother as he was exhausted, now inside the home fully.
"Nick my poor boy?... what happened?... Are you okay?..." She said, looking into her sons eyes.
"Y-yeah… I'm just really exhausted… C-can I go to bed?..." Nick asks, looking up to his mother.
"Sure my boy… Just… Try getting home earlier please…" She says, still confused about what happened. But decided to not push it right now.
"Thanks mom… I'm so happy I have you… Sorry about this morning…"
The mother sighs. "...It's fine my son… Just… Go to bed please. I don't want to miss work tomorrow, you know it's hard being-"
"Yes, yes I know. Single mother… Please don't give me that speech again… Goodnight mom!~" Nick says, now rushing off to his room. Soon laying down in his bed. Happy to be back to the safety of his home after his very wild day…
"Man what a day… I'm so glad it's all over….." Nick yawns, slowly drifting into peaceful slumber...
After a while, very late at night now, Nick slowly began coughing in his sleep, soon gasping as he awoke to see his entire room on fire! “Wait what??? OH GOSH!! The house… It’s on fire!” Nick rushes out of his room, but only to see the rest of his house on fire as well, it even crumbling down… Nick also hears someone screaming under some rubble… Nick quickly rushing over to see his mom dying under the burning wood… The large figure from earlier standing in the doorway as he blocks the only way out. “Enjoy your death you miserable child…” The villain says evilly with another swish of his cape as he leaves the family and the house to burn… {That takes care of that…}
Meanwhile inside the house the ceiling is continuing to fall down on Nick and his mother… Nick has tears in his eyes as he watches his mother burn… Holding his mother's burning hand as he holds onto her with one of his own… “Mom! I’m… So sorry about everything… Please… Don’t die!” Nick pleads with more tears in his eyes, the house falling down as Nick’s mom gives him one last smile before passing out… “I’m sorry… My son… I love… you…..”
Nick grinds his teeth, punching the ground out of anger as the house further falls on top of them, the whole house falling down all around them, and quickly burying Nickolas and his mother in piles and piles of rubble…
To be continued...
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Welp, hope you guys enjoyed that first part! - What will happen next??? Is HE DEAD???? IS SHE DEAD??? You'll just have to find out in the next one!~ - I have part two already made, just want to see some comments on this one before I send Part Two! - Please leave down in the comments what you think! I would love to hear it! - Sorry if it was a little corny, again I am not a perfect writer but I am doing my best! Also would more so like to make this into a comic, but what you gonna do -Shrugs-

Hello everyone!
To repeat what the title said, ten months ago I responded to a prompt:

[WP] When out in the woods, you discover a cave that leads to a world that operates under Pokémon logic... And find that you have an innate ability to tame the monsters of this world.

The idea absolutely gripped me - and now I’ve published a novel inspired by that prompt and my love of monster taming games! Here’s the details:

Two suns, foreign plants, and a whole slew of monsters to tame.
Amateur entomologist and reluctant Life Scout, Caleb finds far more than he expected when he stumbles through a hidden cave and into a new world full of Kritt - monsters that can be tamed and taught to fight. He also didn’t expect evil overlords and their minions looking to use the power of Kritt to grind this world under their bootheel.
Unless someone stops them, that is.
Once meeting Antoinette, an affectionate ant Kritt that bonds with Caleb, and Karla, a tamer of this world that’s living off the land and preparing to strike back against the Darkholds, they set off. Their goal? Help free the people of this world from the Overseer’s grasp. A mountain’s worth of threats stand in their way, though: the Overseer’s soldiers, terrible abominations, wild Kritt, and all the trouble Caleb’s sarcastic mouth can cause.
Welcome, Caleb, to the world of Kritt. Now evolve - or perish.

Into the Tall Grass is a Portal Fantasy/Isekai book with strong gamelit elements.
FAQ
Harem/Sex/Murder?
Nope. This story is designed to capture the feel of those classic games, and while it does have higher stakes than those games, it is designed to capture the light-hearted feel that we all love.
Audiobook?
Nothing yet announced, but I’ll update if there is one!
Stats?
Into the Tall Grass is a stat light gamelit, and the stats do not appear explicitly until later in the book once Caleb gets his totally-not-a-Pokedex goggles. The later books in the series will have more detailed stats as Caleb delves further into the system that runs this world.
Shorts?
They’re comfy and easy to wear.
Where do I catch the book?
Well, you first need to learn HM Cut, go to the hole in the wall after beating the second boss...or you can just get it on Amazon
Amazon US Link - UK | CA | AU | DE | MX | JP | IN | BR | FR | ES | IT | NL
I want to sample before I pick up?
Well, good news for you - just read on!
Caleb Cooper slapped at his arm with a growl. Another mosquito. He wouldn’t have said camping was his least favorite activity in the world. Even at sixteen, he could easily imagine worse ways to spend his time. He could have his feet dipped in acid, or be stabbed in the back repeatedly, or repeat algebra. But no one was forcing him to do any of those, because he’d passed algebra and hadn’t angered any Bond villains lately.
“C’mon, try to smile some,” his dad said, walking up behind him and shaking his back. “What more could you want? We’ve got the great outdoors, we’ve got trees, we’ve got sun, we’ve got fresh air...this is perfect!”
Caleb sighed. “Oh, yeah, surrounded by kids who’re still in junior high. It’s everything a growing teen could want. Toxic plants, the sun, brats who think I’m a weirdo, the sun again...what’s not to love? You know, I could be going to a party tonight.”
His dad’s smile didn’t waver. “You do so love the party scene. I mean, the last one you went to was...Jimmy Dryer’s eighth birthday party? Getting wild up in the hizzouse there.”
“Okay, dad, I need to tell you two things. First of all, if you say hizzouse out loud, ever again, I will die. I will literally fall over dead from embarrassment. No, I know the correct definition of literally and I am using it correctly, that is actually what will happen. Do you want to be responsible for filicide via intense shame?”
“I’m positive that’s not actually possible.”
“Oh, it totally is. Remember Becky? Died last year because her mom was singing ‘Ain’t nuthin but a G Thang.’ Sure, they say Becky changed schools because they moved, but it was all a cover up. Heard her mom singing and pow!” Caleb punched a closed fist into his empty hand. “dropped over dead.”
His dad laughed. “Noted. And the second thing?”
“You might have picked up subtle hints about this, what with me mentioning it no less than two hundred and ninety eight times on the drive down here according to you. I don’t really like camping.”
There was a long pause, and his dad’s face fell. Caleb immediately winced, but it was too late. “You used to beg to go out every year, remember?”
Yeah, in like 8th grade. When all his friends had been in boy scouts with him, and he’d been able to spend time with them. But high school had come, and his friends had moved on. But the Coopers came from a long line of Eagle scouts. His dad was an Eagle Scout, his grandfather had been an Eagle Scout, and Caleb’s dad would be damned if his son wasn’t an Eagle Scout. “Right,” Caleb muttered. “Sorry, I’ll give it a chance. I’m sure once I get back in the groove it’ll be fine.”
“That’s the spirit!” His dad’s face lit back up.
Caleb gave him an expression that could have been a grin if you squint hard enough. “Awesome. I’m going to...head out.” He turned to trundle off into the woods.
“Where are you going?” his dad asked.
Caleb held up a glass. “Going to see if I can find an Acorn Weevil. There’s a lot of oaks around here, and I’d like one for the collection.”
It was the one part of the outdoors Caleb enjoyed -- catching insects. It was a bit of an odd hobby, but Caleb was a bit of a junior entomologist and enjoyed it. He was thinking about going to college for entomology after he graduated. Something about the wide variety of possible insects, finding things that people usually overlooked, categorizing them...it was calming. He had several glass cases of them pinned at home, many of them gathered from scouting trips like these.
Naturally, it was the one part of the outdoors his dad didn’t like. His father turned green and motioned for Caleb to go ahead. “Don’t wander too far!” he shouted.
Yeah, yeah. It wasn’t like he could go too far even if he wanted to. The campsite was in the middle of a series of mid-Missouri bluffs, and wandering more than an hour’s walk would inevitably lead to a solid rock wall. Or a road.
Step by step, the sounds of the rest of the boy scout troop receded in the forest behind him. Caleb let out a sigh of relief. He was the only high schooler still in the troop, and a lot of the older kids thought he had to be some kind of loser to still be doing this at his age.
They aren’t wrong, Caleb thought. Just not for the right reasons. Being a boy scout isn’t what made him a loser. It was his complete lack of social life at high school, relegated only to a few other dorks at lunch who he didn’t really hang out with, and the fact that he collected bugs when most people were going to parties or making out or getting drunk or playing video games or even playing Magic: The Gathering - that made him a loser.
That’s right. The MTG kids could look down on him for bug collecting. Was that fair? Obviously, they deserved someone who they could look down on too, and Caleb understood that unlike their weird hobby, his weird hobby was also gross. Still, didn’t he deserve the same? Someone he could silently judge and feel superior to? But, no, the only ones lower than him on the social hierarchy were kids with actual issues, and Caleb didn’t want to be that kind of jerk.
The worst part was, he felt bad for not enjoying the scouts anymore. If his dad had planned these trips as one on one things, where they could go out and find rare insects, or even some other wildlife finding things like birdwatching or something, Caleb would have loved their trips as much as he used to. Well, probably. Maybe. I’d like it better if I knew this was the alternative, Caleb amended. These days, however, he’d found most of the insects at their usual camping sights. He actually had an acorn weevil already, but there was no way his dad would remember it - since his dad didn’t really look beyond his own wants. He wanted an Eagle Scout, so an Eagle Scout Caleb would be.
Especially after what had happened with mom. Dad had become rabid about father-son activities since then. “It’s just the two of us now,” Dad said once, when he’d had a bit too much to drink after work. “Just the two of us.”
Caleb shook his head and brushed away a tree branch before it could slap him in the face. The stinging in his eyes was a good reminder why he didn’t want to go down that particular rabbit hole.
A little while later, as he had expected, Caleb found himself at one of the bluffs. It was a solid expanse of rock, covered in creeping vines. The tendrils would be crawling with acrobat ants, which made them a nice place to stop because they’d keep the wasp population down in the region. Maybe I could try to find a nest. Maybe even a queen. That thought he discarded - it would be a prize, but the only way he’d ever add an ant queen to his collection would be if he found one dead. It felt different than taking a single insect and putting it on his board. Taking a queen could wipe out an entire colony.
When I finish college, I’ll get a whole terrarium. Then I can have living ones. That way I’ll get to enjoy my insects in peace and make sure I never ever have people invite themselves over. They’ll be all ‘oh, can I come over’ and I’ll be like ‘sure, don’t mind the ants.’ And then I’ll have alienated another person! That would be better and would make him feel better about what he did. Even the knowledge that he was killing bugs sapped the fun out of his hobby. Of course, that same hobby would also guarantee his adulthood was as lonely as his teenage years, so maybe…
“Gah!” Caleb cried, and kicked a rock at the bluff. It was stupid and childish, but it helped with the frustration. He leapt to the side to avoid the rebound.
He needn’t have bothered. The rock went straight through the vines instead of plinking off the bluff. Caleb froze, then slowly started inching toward the barrier. Is that a...cave? He reached out, brushing some vines away, only to reveal a cave on the side of the cliff. It went back a good twenty or thirty feet in a crevice easily large enough for him to walk through before vanishing into darkness.
Bet I could find something new in there. He groaned. Because amateur spelunking has such a high success rate. That can’t possibly go wrong. Oh, wait, I’m thinking of...actually, I don’t know anything where amateur is a good thing.
Ignoring the warnings of his own hindbrain, something he was exceptionally good at, Caleb flipped on his flashlight. While he wasn’t a big fan of being a scout, their motto of “Be Prepared” had stuck with him more firmly than he cared to admit. Summoning his courage, he headed inside.
The cave was large enough for him to walk upright, at least. I wonder if anyone’s ever even been in here before? It was possible he was the first human to ever notice this cave hiding behind the vines, that his were the first human footsteps in this cave. Who knew what could be ahead? Hell, if it went deep enough, he might discover an entirely new species - cave ecologies were often very isolated from the rest of the world.
That thought overrode the lingering fears of going spelunking alone, and Caleb pushed ahead. To his relief, the cave didn’t really branch off anywhere, so there was only a miniscule risk he’d find himself wandering in circles. It wasn’t long until he was plunged entirely into darkness aside from his flashlight.
“You have now left the domain of the sun,” Caleb said in his best announcer voice. He’d heard that line from…was it a webcomic? Or a blog? He couldn’t remember, and that train of thought was derailed as his heart started to beat faster. The primal fear of the dark still clung to him, and he wasn’t as certain as he’d been at the outset that this was a good idea. Given he’d been fairly certain this was a terrible idea, that was saying something. Just as he was about to turn around, he saw it.
It looked like an ant, but it wasn’t like any ant Caleb had seen before. It was large, nearly a foot from mandibles to thorax, and too brightly colored to be a normal cave dweller with its exoskeleton covered in gold and black swirls. Its eyes were wrong, too, looking more like something you’d see on a mammal than on an insect. It should have been frightening, but somehow, it was oddly cute. The gentle eyes, the way it moved awkwardly, like it was a newborn that hadn’t quite grown into its legs...it had an overall appearance of helplessness. It looked up at Caleb and chirped curiously.
Holy crap. “Well, hello there,” Caleb said. “What are you?”
The strange ant chirped again. I have to catch it. It was too big for his glass jar, but that didn’t matter. It also didn’t matter that his dad would refuse to let Caleb bring it back alive. Caleb would find a way, damn it. This wasn’t just a new species, this was an insect that shouldn’t be possible. Ants didn’t get this big, and certainly not in caves. Caleb reached out a tentative hand.
What the hell are you doing? he thought. He knew nothing about the thing. It could be venomous. It could be dangerous. It was a wild animal, and he was trying to pet it?
Much to his surprise, the ant didn’t recoil from his hand or lunge at it. Instead, it studied it curiously, then rolled over on its back and began to wave its legs in the air like a cat trying to get attention, chirping happily.
Screw it. Caleb ran his fingers over the thing’s belly. It made a sound halfway between a chirp and a purr, almost like a trill. “Oh my God, I have to find a way to keep you. What do you eat?”
Not that he expected the ant to answer. He didn’t expect the ant to respond at all, besides continuing to make happy little trills as Caleb gave it a belly rub. Its exoskeleton was softer than he expected, covered with fine hairs that probably served to keep off water but also made it unimaginably soft. Already Caleb wasn’t thinking about the enormity of the discovery, he was thinking about taking it for walks around the block, or letting it chase a laser pointer.
Then, abruptly, the ant fell silent and righted itself. It hissed in Caleb’s direction.
He froze, shying back and running his hand through his own hair.. “Woah? What’s wrong? Too many tummy rubs?”
And then he realized the ant wasn’t staring at him. It was staring over his shoulder.
Caleb spun, whipping the flashlight around, and came face to face with an oncoming monstrosity. It was a bipedal insect creature with four limbs, nearly as tall as Caleb was. The upper limbs ended in vicious stingers, and the lower limbs had grasping pincers. Instead of mandibles, it had tentacles growing from under its six beady eyes.
That flashlight saved Caleb’s life. The creature shied back, its eyes glowing in the brilliant light.. The ant screeched and began to run deeper into the cave. That seemed smart. Panicked by the monstrosity, Caleb followed.
This isn’t happening. The sound of Caleb’s feet pounding against the floor of the cave filled his ears. His heartbeat joined the sound, and the light swung wildly. He was gaining on the ant. A surge of adrenaline hit, and Caleb reached down to scoop it up. The ant trilled in confusion, and lacking anything else to do, Caleb put it on his head without breaking stride. He kept running, the ant now turning behind him and shrieking more and more. It's gaining on us! Caleb could almost imagine it saying.
Then the light ahead grew bright. Without warning, he was back out into the forest, into the sun.
The monstrosity skidded to a halt near the entrance of the cave, waving its tentacles and roaring but refusing to enter the sunlight. Caleb was fine with that. Caleb was fine with doing nothing but running at a breakneck pace, his new friend sitting on his head and now trilling in defiance. Darting forward, he wove in and out of the trees, turning to avoid tripping over rocks. At one point, his vision a fog of panic, he was thought he jumped a stream.
It wasn’t until his lungs started to burn that Caleb started to slow down. A few steps later, he dropped to the forest floor, panting.
After a few minutes of gasping, he took stock of his surroundings. With dawning horror, four realizations hit him. The first was that he’d somehow run through a bluff that stretched for a hundred miles in less than a day. The second was that the trees didn’t look like anything native to Earth, let alone Missouri. That alien impression was greatly aided by the fact that there were two suns overhead, one red and one yellow, which was number three. Multiple suns were kind of a big one. Finally, and most importantly, he had completely lost track of where he was in relation to the cave.
Panic seized him, and Caleb plucked the ant off his head with shaking hands and held it across his knees, on its back. It came to Caleb so naturally that he didn’t even think about the fact that his panic response was to cuddle a strange animal until after he had. The ant looked up at him with eyes full of warmth and gratitude. “Where the hell am I?” he asked.
In response, the ant started to purr.
Chapter 2
After a bit, the ant began to struggle. “I can’t just keep calling you ‘the ant,” Caleb said to it as he put it down. The ant looked up at him and clacked its mandibles. “Hmm. Don’t know if you’re a girl and or a boy ant. Although if you’re eusocial, those terms probably don’t matter anyway. You’re not a queen or you’d be in your hive, so...are you a soldier? Or a worker?”
Maybe it was Caleb’s imagination, but the ant seemed to be happier with the word soldier. That’s probably just wishful thinking. You need to get your priorities in order, man. You’re in a world with two suns, you should be flipping out right now! And yet, he felt strangely calm. Maybe it was just because the whole thing was so surreal. Or maybe it was just because he expected at any moment to wake up back in his tent with the story of a crazy dream. Or maybe you’ve just snapped, and any moment now you’re going to realize you’re completely barking mad. Caleb shook his head. If he was dreaming or crazy, there was no point trying to figure it out. Either he’d wake up, or he’d be put in a nice padded room and given pills until he could see things normally. “How about Antoinette?” he said.
The Ant - Antoinette - began to bob its head and marched over to Caleb’s hand, pressing its head against his palm until he started to scratch it. Might as well think of you as a she, he thought. Giving her a name seemed to have done the trick, and Antoinette was now trilling and purring happily against his hand. “So, Antoinette, don’t suppose you know if I’ve gone crazy or anything, do you?”
Antoinette was not particularly eager to respond. After some time scratching and spacing out, Caleb shook his head. “If this is all real, I have to start thinking of what comes next,” he said to Antoinette. “C’mon girl, let’s get moving.” As soon as Caleb stood, Antoinette reared onto her hind legs. Smiling, Caleb scooped her up and put her on his shoulder. Even though she was nearly as long as a cat, she weighed about half as much. That, plus the long years of scouts giving Caleb at least some muscles to work with, meant she could stay on his shoulder easily. “Okay. Let’s go back and see if that thing is gone from the cave, right?”
Immediately Antoinette’s demeanor changed. She began to shiver and rubbed against his cheek. “You can’t possibly understand me,” Caleb said. Antoinette continued to shiver and rub, and Caleb decided it had to be his imagination. Even if Antoinette seemed to be more along the lines of a small mammal in terms of intelligence than an ant, there was no way she had the intelligence of a human - and even if she did, she couldn’t speak or understand English. She was probably just picking up on his nerves over returning. As he turned to retrace his steps, he reached up and began to stroke her back. “Don’t worry. If it’s still there, I won’t be going anywhere near it.”
Antoinette’s shivers seemed to subside. “Totally a coincidence,” Caleb said with a nervous chuckle. “No way you understand anything I’m saying.”
The look she sent his way could easily be called reproachful.
The trees here really weren’t like anything he’d ever seen before. They towered over his head, looking more like giant, single ferns than they did like trees. There weren’t any visible roots, they all just shot out of the ground. At the top they branched oddly, feathering into individual strands that were covered with tiny leaves that grew away from the rest of the body of the plant, maximizing the sunlight its green blade could get. It was a relief to see those tiny leaves on the trees though - up until then, between that and the giant ant, he was beginning to worry he’d somehow been shrunk and was walking among giant blades of grass.
As soon as he had the thought, he couldn’t quite shake it, but too many other things were wrong for that to be the case. The dirt was still normal sized, not huge chunks like they would be if he’d shrunk coming over here, and there weren’t any obvious giant landmarks to indicate he was tiny. Still, it was a strange feeling, and he was relieved when he found the stream from earlier. That had to be normal sized. Water wouldn’t flow with that kind of babble if it was shrunk down, not unless it was hundreds of feet wide from his perspective.
The relief was almost immediately quashed when he realized that he didn’t recognize this part of the stream at all. He hadn’t exactly been taking in the scenery, but he still had expected to at least recognize something. Unfortunately, nothing about this part of where he was looked even remotely familiar. He grimaced. “Is this where we were?” he said aloud.
Antoinette trilled, an almost sad sound. It was like she was saying “I have no idea, you think I was paying attention?” Caleb had to laugh at himself. Already he was assigning actual full sentences to Antoinette. “Okay, well, rule one,” Caleb told her. “Head downstream. It will take me to somewhere eventually, and hopefully that somewhere will include someone who has the faintest idea what the hell is going on and how I can get back to the cave.”
Resolution made, he started to walk in that direction. It was a beautiful day here in...wherever this was, and thus far - joy upon joys - he hadn’t seen a single mosquito. As long as he was stuck in this weird dream or psychotic break or whatever was going on, he was going to enjoy it. He did see a few more traditional insects climbing along the fern-trees he’d marveled at before, which was nice. It helped him feel less like he was tiny walking in a giant world. As much as he wanted to, he resisted the urge to peer down for a closer look at them. Right now they were tiny specs climbing along in rows, and if he didn’t look too closely he could tell himself they were just normal ants. The moment he did, he was certain he’d notice things that would mark them of nothing from Earth, and that idea straight up terrified him.
“Yes, that’s right,” he said to the foot-long ant on his shoulder. “The terrifying thought is the insects here might be different. Crap on a stick, I am going insane.”
There was definitely a spring in his step as he walked, but not from how happy he was feeling. It was like every step carried a little bit...extra. It added to the surreal quality of everything. He’d noticed it before when he’d been running down the hill, but now that he was fully aware of how he was moving and a bit less panicked, he could really feel it. “Oh yeah,” he said. “Definitely dreaming.”
And since this is a dream... He reached up and carefully pried Antoinette from his shoulder. She chirruped in confusion. “Don’t worry, girl,” he said, placing her on the ground. “I’ll be right back. I just want to test something.”
Antoinette cocked her head at him, and Caleb grinned. Then, tensing up his legs, he kicked off the ground.
And went sailing through the air. “Oh my God!” he shouted. He’d had a decent high jump before, but this...it took him nearly ten feet into the air. He whooped in excitement and pumped his fist as he reached the apex of his jump. He could see over the fern trees! He could see smoke in the direction he was walking! He could see...he could see a bird.
It wasn’t like any bird he’d ever imagined. It was soaring through the air like a hawk, but its feathers were red and blue, and its face was more like a reptile’s than a bird’s. It looked almost like an archeopteryx, but without the claws on its wings, and with three massive feathers streaming out behind it. It wheeled in the air. It was beautiful.
Then gravity reminded him that, while he could jump high, he wasn’t able to fly. Caleb began to fall. The fall was faster than it should have been, given his leap. It felt like he was falling in normal gravity. Okay, this is it. I fall, and right before I hit the ground, I wake-
The thought was cut off when he slammed into the dirt beneath him. The impact drove the air from his lungs, which was the only thing that spared him from crying out in pain. He tasted blood, and his vision was obscured by black spots. Caleb could only whimper. He collapsed to the ground in a heap. What little of his brain was still working confirmed that he hadn't actually shattered his legs. The rest of it just screamed in pain. This isn’t a dream. That was now painfully clear. Dreams couldn’t possibly hurt this badly.
Antoinette walked up to him and nudged him with her mandibles. When he didn’t respond right away, she climbed onto his chest and began that rumbling trill. Caleb could only wheeze as he tried to catch his breath. Antoinette studied him, and a long tongue raced out of her mouth to lick his forehead. “Thanks,” he managed to grunt, glad she was so much lighter than a cat - otherwise she’d be crushing his chest. “No, really.”
It took him a few more minutes to stand again, and only when he was able to was he certain he hadn’t broken any bones. He took a few deep breaths, feeling an ache across his entire back. “I saw some smoke ahead,” he said to Antoinette, who was clawing at his leg. “I really hope that’s a town, and that they can help. And also that they have painkillers. I’d kill someone for some painkillers.”
Antoinette clacked her mandibles.
“No, I mean, it would have to be someone I didn’t like!”
Antoinette kept clawing his jeans and Caleb shook his head. “Mind walking alongside me for a bit? I need...I need a new back. And legs. Really just a new body. Phew. Give me some time to recover.”
Antoinette stopped clawing and trilled sadly. Again, Caleb was struck with the distinct impression she could understand him. But that doesn’t make sense, he thought. There’s no way she could. It’s just...insane.
“You there!”
The sudden shout nearly made Caleb scream, and he whirled to face the speaker. Antoinette did as well, hissing.
“You need to step away from the Kralant. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
The man was wearing something that looked like a military uniform from the eighteen hundreds, black and red with buttons that pinned up far on the left side of his body. He wore a cap that matched the color of his suit, and he stood with a rigid formality. For all that, he looked like he couldn’t be much older than Caleb.
More interestingly, however, the bird Caleb had seen earlier was perched on his shoulder. “You...want me to move away from Antoinette?” Caleb asked, trying to register what he was seeing.
“You...named it?” the soldier said, sounding incredulous. The bird on his shoulder peered at Antoinette hungrily, and Antoinette clacked her mandibles and hissed. She showed none of the fear she had towards the monstrosity in the cave. The soldier only frowned. “Who are you?”
“Caleb,” Caleb said, narrowing his eyes. “Who are you?”
“I am Ruzo, First Private of the Darkhold Omal. This is Silv.” The bird chirped at its name, although it didn’t take its eyes off Antoinette.
“I’m sorry, you called Antoinette a Kralant and seemed surprised I named her. Is Silv its name, or is it it's species?”
“He,” Ruzo said, stressing the word, “is a Silvtherix. I named him Silv.”
“Wow, very original name there.” Caleb couldn’t help himself. Something about Ruzo’s attitude was rubbing him the wrong way. It was his imperious demeanor, like he owned the place. Who the hell does he think he is?
“Says the boy who named a Kralant Antoinette,” Ruzo said, although he flushed a bit at mockery. “I need you to come with me, Caleb. These woods are forbidden. I thought you’d just gotten lost, but since you’re a Tamer...clearly you’re in violation of the Treaty. Put your hands behind your back.”
“Okay, first of all, working Antoinette’s species into her name is a brilliant pun. I didn’t just chop off part of the name and call it good. Second of all - put my hands behind my back?” Caleb asked. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
“First private of the Darkhold Omal,” Ruzo said, repeating his earlier words and with the same drilled in efficiency. “Who do you serve, Caleb?”
“Oh. Uh. Well...I’m with Troop One-Eighteen,” Caleb said, uncertain what else to say. “Boy Scouts, United States of America. And, private, I’m a Life Scout. So, yeah. Shove that up your craphole and spin on it.”
It was pretty clear that Ruzo had no idea what anything else Caleb said meant, but his eyes narrowed at the last sentence. “I don’t know who you serve. But clearly, someone needs to teach you manners.” He swung out his arm. “Silv! Attack!”
With a shriek that put a chill into Caleb’s bones, Silv took to the air.
In response, Antoinette let out a hiss of challenge.
Oh you’ve got to be kidding me, Caleb thought, squaring up.
I’ve definitely gone insane. But the pain in his back reminded him that insanity was much less certain than he’d previously believed. He could be absolutely certain of one thing, however - he had no idea what he was doing.
Silv shrieked as he swooped through the air, diving for Antoinette. Caleb couldn’t help but notice how dangerously curved those talons were, each ending in wicked barbs. It looked like they could tear through flesh like razorblades. “Antoinette, do...something!” Caleb shouted in panic.
As soon as the words left his lips, he felt something. It was almost like a tug on his skin, but it was a strange and alien feeling. Like part of him had been yanked away. Antoinette leapt to the side, snapping her mandibles. Silv passed through the space she had just vacated, his talons clutching only empty air. Confidence flashed through Ruzo’s eyes. “Do something? That’s the best you have? Silv is going to tear your Kralant apart.”
Caleb’s heart started to pound. In the games, the monsters would always faint at the end of fights, then there would be a heroic rush to town and the monster would be cured. Looking at those talons, it was hard to imagine this fight would be that harmless. “Antoinette, do something ranged this time!” Caleb said, frantically going through his pockets. That strange tug happened again, but Caleb ignored it. He needed to help.
A meme he’d seen the other day on his phone flashed through his mind as he frantically patted his pockets, modified for his current situation. “I’ve had Antoinette for only half a day, but if anything happens to her I’d kill everyone in this field and then myself.” Really, Caleb? You’re watching a pair of monsters fighting for their lives and the best you have are memes and vague commands? It’s not like he could do much else. He didn’t really have any kind of weapons on him. A simple Swiss army knife, too small to be used for actually fighting anyone. Not that he had any idea if he could actually bring himself to stab Ruzo. The guy was an ass, but Caleb had never hurt a fly.
Well. Metaphorically speaking. He’d squished plenty of flies in his day.
Besides that, he didn’t have much else. A can of bug spray. Some twine. A granola bar, still in its wrapper. A zippo lighter. A...wait, that’s it. Caleb looked back up to the fight as he pulled four of the items out of his pocket, trying desperately to get his hands shaking at another terrifying scream from Silv.
Silv was circling the fight, staring down at Antoinette with eyes full of fury. Ruzo was watching Caleb with a curious expression, as if he were trying to figure out what kind of stupid thing Caleb was going to do next. Oh, if you had any idea how stupid I was about to be, you’d be...very...uh...shocked? Antoinette was on the ground, watching Silv carefully.
“Now!” Ruzo shouted.
Silv screamed and dove towards Antoinette. The Kralant had never seemed so small before, but she held her ground, her mandibles pointing towards the sky.
Then, the moment Silv got close, Antoinette let loose a spray. It was white and stringy, almost like spider silk. Silv flapped his wings hard, letting a gust of air blow the strands away. Where they touched the dirt they sizzled like acid. Caleb’s eyes widened. “Holy crap, what was that?”
Antoinette trilled happily and rose up on her hind legs, letting loose another barrage of caustic strands. Silv took to the air, getting out of range, and screeched in fury at having its attack interrupted. “You really don’t know?” Ruzo said, his eyes hard. “You’re an absolute moron, aren’t you?”
“Yeah? Well, would a moron be doing this?” Caleb responded. It wasn’t exactly the witty repartee he’d been hoping for. With the distraction the battle had provided him, he’d managed to tie the zippo around the bug spray and held up his prize.
“...it seems one would,” Ruzo said, his forehead creasing. “What the hell is that supposed to be?”
Silv dove down towards Antoinette again, banking to dodge the spray of acidic webbings. In response, Caleb flicked the zippo opened and stepped forward. A small flame sprang to life, and Ruzo’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?” he shouted. Caleb ignored it. He pressed down on the top of the bug spray.
The fine mist met the flame of the zippo and flamed to life. Silv screeched in sudden fear and pulled back, still several yards from reaching Antoinette. Antoinette whipped her head around and gave Caleb a curious chirp. “That’s right!” Caleb shouted, pointed the improvised weapon at Ruzo. “You think you’re going to hurt Antoinette? I will literally set you on fire.”
Ruzo’s eyes were wide, and Silv flew over to his outstretched arm, landing on it like it was a tree branch. The massive bird looked like it shouldn’t be something Ruzo could hold, but his arm never wavered. “You...are an Artificer? I should have known…” he trailed off, studying Caleb up and down.
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m an Artificer,” Caleb said, hoping the term was descriptive enough to be able to fake what he thought it meant. “I just built a flamethrower. Back down, buddy, or I swear to God I’m going to set you up like a cheap firework.”
Of course, it was a total bluff. Ruzo was a good fifteen feet away. The flame from this thing could go a foot, max. If Ruzo called him on it, Caleb would find himself having to reveal the limits of his homemade weapon very, very quickly. And when he did, what would happen? Would Ruzo send that damn bird after Antoinette again? Or would he send Silv straight after Caleb, trying to tear out his eyes?
Oh man. This is really, really looking bad for me.
“I’m surprised, Artificer,” Ruzo said, reaching up to stroke Silv under the beak. The bird leaned into the touch and chirped. “Entering the battle so early? You must have something serious you’re hiding. Something the Darkhold Olam will want to know. Well, if you wish to make this a test of that…” Silv began to crawl up his arm until their heads were butting together. “I’ll be more than happy to oblige.”
“Yo, you’re talking a pretty big game for someone who’s about to get his ass set on fire,” Caleb said, but the brave words couldn’t stop the tremor in his hands. “Why don’t you stop what you’re doing and go away? I don’t want to hurt you.”
Ruzo laughed, a mocking sound, as Silv began to work around to his back. The bird started to wrap wings around Ruzo’s face, and the spots on his wings matched up perfectly with Ruzo’s eyes. “Don’t worry about that, little Artificer. I promise, I’m in absolutely no danger.”
Their forms began to glow. Caleb took a step back, reflexively pressing down on the button for the bug spray. The flame seemed almost dark when compared to the immense light pouring out both soldier and monster as they began to rise into the air. “Antoinette?” Caleb said, shaking so badly he thought he might fall over. “I think I’d like to wake up now.”
Antoinette cooed in a sound that trembled with fear.
The glow vanished. Ruzo was gone. So was Silv. In their place was a single being, one that combined traits of both monster and man. Ruzo’s hair was now the bright feathers of the bird, his hands and feet ended in the wicked talons that the bird had shown in its diving sweeps at Antoinette, and two immense wings jutted from his back. Worst of all were the eyes, however. Ruzo’s normal two human eyes peered out at Caleb, but above those were the exact same eyes that had adorned Silv’s head. “So that is your flame, little man?” Ruzo said, and his voice had an odd quality to it, some kind of echo, like it was being spoken through two mouths. “I thought you Artificers claimed you could match am Tamer’s power. Looks like you’re just another worm.”
“Uh…shit,” Caleb said, looking down at Antoinette. “Do you know how to do that?”
This time there was no imagining it. Antoinette shook her head, and there was real fear in her eyes.
“Yeah, me either.” Caleb dropped to one knee and held out a hand. “Get on.”
Antoinette leaped onto Caleb’s arm and wrapped her legs around as Ruzo took to the air.
“So, Artificer,” Ruzo said, every word laced with mockery. “What will you do now?”
Fortunately, for the first time since he’d arrived here, Caleb knew exactly what to do.
Screaming in fear, Caleb turned and ran away from the four-eyed taloned bird-human hybrid that was rising into the sky. And as he did, the small part of his mind that couldn’t stop from being sarcastic even now couldn’t help but point out that it was totally unfair – none of the games allowed you to do that. Where’s the overly drawn out tutorial when you really need it?
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This post got a bit out of hand, but I had a lot to get out from ready so so so many comments. I don't blame any of you for not getting through all of it and I really appreciate those who attempt to, but I think there are some really glaring issues with a majority of arguments and it can be hard to stay level headed when replying to comments in other forums so instead I tried to get it all in one go. I may be missing some points so I will add what is needed if people ask me things I did not cover, I may have also just left sentences unfinished in places just because I was thinking about many things, so if you catch that I am truly sorry and I will fix it as soon as I can. Also the title is just attention grabby, its not personal, but it is relevant anyways.
^{This was written after I finished, everything from this point forward was thought out in chronological order.}
I am ready to eat the flak that I am about to receive for this, but I honestly believe that either you arguments are misdirected or you are incredibly self centered and need to be called out. Now of course I don't mean everyone, but what seems to be quite the majority here. If miHoYo were to change the game how you want, the game would die even faster than it would if it stayed the same.
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I absolutely adore this game, but I also see the deep flaws in it. I want to see it succeed and I know you all do to, otherwise I wouldn't see so much passion in the arguments. Just for some context so you know that my arguments don't actually all directly benefit me, I am not a whale.
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I will try to break this down as clean as I can, but I feel like it is quite difficult as there is a lot of overlapping here, so forgive me if it gets a bit convoluted here.

Time Gating

^{Driving you insane since 1999.}
I want to start here because a lot of arguments for both Resin and Primogems relate to this, so it's important to cover it now.
Time gating content is nothing new, in fact I can attest that it's been a thing in games since longer than some of you have lived. The earliest example that comes to mind for me is Everquest which came out in 1999 so I don't really understand why some people are acting so shocked that it's in a Gatcha game of all things.
The question if time gating is good game design is another question for another time, but I can at least tell you why I believe it's needed in this game. That would be because there is 'many' years of content planned for this game. If this was not a game that planned to come out over such a long period of time then yeah, the whole system is borked and should never have been made.
Why not just let us progress however we want?
Well, I know a lot of you are feeling burned by the fact that you can only make progress for such a small amount of time each day. Imagine if you will, how terrible it would feel if you could make 0 progress in a day and had to wait 5 weeks to even make an ounce of new progress? Yikes. If there was nothing gating you between patches, the game would just die within a few months as you would just farm it out so faster than they can make it. A lot of people would just stop coming for new content, as it would fall out of mind.
Well, why not just reduce the rates of everything to counteract this?
As much as I personally would be okay with this, there is a massive flaw that makes this impossible to balance. Like it or not, mobile gamers and console/pc gamers are not synonyms or antonyms. Meaning if you look at both groups the spectrum of gamers are going to be significant compared to looking at them individually, and this game is marketed to both. Which means you are going to have the players that can only play for a few minutes at a time and those who can play for 8 hours a time. Now at what rate do you have everything at so that it's not impossible to get anywhere without playing 8 hours, or so that you have everything in a few days?
Why didn't they cap us at ALVL35 if they didn't want us to max out to 60 right away.
Well, if they put the cap at 35 we would still hit the issue of having absolutely nothing to do for weeks at a time instead of slow progress. They also shouldn't just keep adding more and more levels each patch otherwise we will end up with World of Warcraft syndrome, where we stop getting new blood in the game as it just becomes way to intimidating to hit the insane levels they expect you to. Even if you tell someone that level 200 takes the same time as it did to hit 60, it would still seem like a much bigger challenge. Without new blood, the game will just die off slowly.
So what? The game is not competitive, who cares how strong I am compared to others?
I would argue that you are wrong, as the whole idea of a Gatcha game is to show off those pixels. It's all for bragging and there is nothing wrong with that. But let's even ignore that, you would be crazy if you don't think that they will ever introduce either a PvP system, or a leaderboard. Even looking at the Spiral Abyss, they are so close to making it competitive. If they added maybe 10 more floors and an in-game leaderboard, then bam, competitive. They could add so much more too.
(The last few floors shouldn't be intended to be beaten which you know some crazy bastard out there will do it regardless, and there should be a score system not so that people are competing to get even 10 more damage out than someone else, regardless of completion. We don't need a leaderboard that is everyone tied just because we all completed the same floor.)
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In the end, if you want a game to have years of content. It is better to have it feel like we are making slow progress constantly than have to have nothing at all to do while we wait for the next patch. Time Gating may not be the best solution, but it's at least better for the games health than just getting rid of it.

The Resin System

^{The necessary evil, for the good of the game.}
I have to say, you are not wrong for feeling like the Resin system isn't right. A lot of the complaints on it that I see are about how there isn't enough resin. Which I would agree with, but maybe not in the same way that you think. Hopefully you can understand why we shouldn't just get rid of it due to keeping people from burning through the entirety of the content and allowing you to stay somewhat competitive without devoting your life to the game. This directly addresses one of the most common complaints I see about the game...
There isn't enough resources for me to do anything!
At the time of writing this, I am ALVL40 and have 3 characters between 70-80 each with a level 80 weapon. I have done about 20 leylines since launch and have only started doing artifact domains as of yesterday. I read no guides before playing the game, and figured out how to save my resources just from what was shown to me in game. I by no means am someone who streamlines things, I just picked up early on that resources will be limited based on the systems in game and planned accordingly. My point isn't to call you an idiot and should get gud, I am just pointing out that there is enough resources to get to this point without having to pay for it. I even have 20 or so Resin tokens remaining, so I am sure you could max out a few characters if you are really on top of things.
Two important things to note, just because you hit a new World Level and your characters level cap has gone up, does not mean that they have to hit the cap at that point. You have 5 - 10 Adventure Levels to grind before the cap raises again and you are expected to level to cap over that time just like every other video game with levels. Besides I find the biggest jump comes from accenting itself, not the levels. (I could be wrong though.) The other is that, we are still in release, we are not supposed to be able to max all of our characters yet, it's possible but not intended.
They should raise the Resin Cap/Regen rate!
I fully agree, at least I did until they announced that you can save resin as a consumable in the next patch. I thought they should raise the cap to be a day and a half worth of resin regen, that way you don't get punished for not logging on twice a day. In exchange they add a daily log in bonus, even though the rewards are never that great, it's still a way to get us to log in daily for rewards and you also miss commissions if you don't. Now I don't know if they really should increase resin, instead I would argue it would just be better to lower the costs instead by half. In turn they should also reduce the reward you get from leyline/domain/boss by an equal amount. It would give us more control over what our resin goes into.
How does that fix the issue if we still get the same reward to Resin ratio?
I really don't think the issue is that we don't get enough mats or exp for our Resin, I think the issue is completely on the fact that you cannot make any progress without resin, which makes everything feel bad. If you spend 30 minutes making actual progress and 12 hours waiting to do it again, of course it's going to feel like crap. If you got to play for an hour to two hours to make the same progress, those two hours are going to feel incredibly better than the hour and a half of waiting you would have been doing. Let's be honest with ourselves, its the feeling of progress that we grind for.
Now I propose to protect those that do not have the time of day to invest more time than what we currently do, we add an option to spend double the resin (So the current amount) to get 1.5x the reward (25% less than we do now.) What this does is allow people to blow their Resin so they don't hit cap, but prevents those with the time from having the same issue as we do now as it wouldn't be economical to do.
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I am sure with each patch there will be more to do every day other than just the Resin burn to make progress, but as thing are in the early stages it really just comes down to gameplay loops, we want to play more without feeling like we aren't making any progress. Everything would feel better with just having more to do with our characters, treasure hunting is not a good excuse for those who defend the resin system as it does not matter if you use a level 1 or level 90 character at that point, and even the monsters in the solo open world are a joke to fight.
Heck there is even potential for miHoYo to make money buy adding a resin cap enhancer in the store, (ONLY if they fix the current issue before hand) where you can buy 5 more cap up to a maximum of 180 (A full 24 hours of regen). They can have it bought by primogems or you can save 50% buy using the crystals (the premium currency) to encourage whaling. This would allow us to be more lax on our log in while miHoYo can be greedy, while still giving us more leeway. It's not exactly the greatest choice for F2P players, but they at least they don't lose as much money from Resin without them gouging wallets for as much Resin. Sometimes compromise is needed.
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Primogems

^{I need my fix man... just give me 160 more...}
Now this one frustrates me the most, not from the lack of gems themselves but from the mediocracy of some of arguments I have seen. As of me posting this, on the front page there is a post claiming it take 9 years to cap a 5* constellation as F2P.
Now sure this is the case... if you ignore all mail, quests, chests, events, log ins, and on top of that only get the character on second pity every time... but I mean come on, really?
How am I supposed to max constellation a 5\ as a F2P*
First of all, as a F2P player myself, you don't, and this should never be guaranteed to you. This game is going to be massive, the story, art and music are freaking top notch beautiful. There are so many characters to play as and will be so many more and its going to be updated for years. You get all of that for free and are going to complain you can't max out every character for free too? That is just such a self entitled way of thinking. You literally have nothing locked away from you in this game if you don't max a 5*. You can do everything currently in the game with just the starter characters, and yeah I mean Spiral too. The arguments for this just tend to end up being "Why can't I get my incredibly powerful 5* to be brokenly powerful for free with everything else in the game?"
The absolute pity being 180 is ridiculous, that's going to be impossible to roll on all the banners.
Almost every darn argument I see are always backed by the calculations of an absolute pity. (180 rolls) Sure there is a 45% chance that you will hit the 90 pity, but do you honestly think that you will hit it every single time without reprise? No. That and banners will recycle over time and why do you need every character? Just decide who is the most important for you and save for them.
We get primogems way too slowly as a F2P.
Sure, it sucks how long it takes to get primogems, but I got 15k from just playing which is a ton! Now I realize that most of that is frontloaded from launch, but also it's LAUNCH, the player base (Specifically the amount of whales) is going to be the largest now. It's ridiculous to think that we won't be getting any more massive boosts with each new zone or major patch! Just going off the rate of primos from commissions and the single event that we had is just stupid. IF THEY PROVE ME WRONG AND NEVER GIVE US A BOOST AND MORE WAYS TO EARN WITH NEW CONTENT I WILL EAT MY FOOT THUMB. Alas everything is going to suck when you hit the soft cap my bud.
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Look I get it, missing out sucks and FOMO has got us all hard. BUT the fee to enter is nothing, there is no gate anywhere in the game preventing you from playing because you are F2P. You are NOT getting screwed over, you are only being lead to believe you are. IF you can't accept that then go whale, because that's the only solution here bud. I rather get all the zones, quests, domains, events, and every other bit of content for free than more characters that will sit unused in my collection...

Gatcha Rates

^{They see me rollin'... They hate'n...}
Awe man, doesn't it suck that you have to roll 180 times to get the banner character!? No, no it doesn't. Here is some math for y'all screaming 180 like bloody marry.
0.467 <- This is your probability of hitting a 90 pity. (47%)
0.5 <- This is your probability on not getting the banner on your first pity. (50%)
0.467 * 0.5 = 0.2335 <- This is the probability of not getting the banner on your first pity (23%)
0.2335 * 0.467 = 0.1090445 <- This is the probability of probability of not getting banner til Absolute pity (11%)
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Now I would like someone to explain to me, very clearly, how they plan on hitting absolute pity on every banner? I mean other than the gremlins taking you luck gorbobbles as you sleep so they can put it in their snorfholes. Look, I know 10% still sucks but think about this every time someone tries to scare you about the odds of getting a banner character. (I am sure the non-specific 5* like Diluc and QiQi will get their own at some point too. So don't worry your sweet beautiful face about them.)
So you don't think there is any issue with the gatcha rates?
Honestly the only people getting screwed by these rates really are the whales, and not because the rates are ridiculously low, but because how expensive it is to roll this many times. It's just the gem cost being too damn high. They are the ones funding the game for the freebies like you and I and in my opinion they are the ones that should benefit from change by lowering those darn prices. (Which may make some F2P no longer F2P as it would be more enticing, so it could be good for miHoYo.) Besides they won't lose much money as you bet your butts a lot of their earnings come from those getting full 5* constellations.
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F2P should still benefit from change to the gatcha!
^{This is actually a proposal for a change. Though I don't think it's 100% needed.}
IF this is not acceptable to anyone (other than the whales) then I have a second proposition... We raise the Pity to 120... Now, before you come at me bro, let me explain why. The first pity will always be the banner. Every other pity becomes the 50/50 like it is now, but will also remain at 120, the difference is that if you pull a 5* before the pity, if it isn't the banner the pity won't reset. This lets miHoYo still make bank of those that want to const, without completely screwing them. How this helps F2P is that they are way more capable to saving up for a specific character. You know if you have 19200 gems, you are 100% likely to get him and you also get a 72% chance to roll a 5* before then, if its not the banner then you get an extra 5* for those 19200 gems, if it is then you get to save gems.
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Im not sure I like that change and rather it stay normal, just give me more constellations.
^{This is actually a proposal for a change but different.}
Well, regardless of what they do, I have seen this suggested a few times and honestly I thought this was how it worked when I started. 'When you get a double, the constellation mat should be tied to the rank, not the character, so a Bard double can do a Fischl constellation upgrade as they are both 4*'. I really like this idea, but I would make one tweak to make it more lore friendly, and to make miHoYo more likely to make the change... It should be of the same rank, but element as well. It just makes sense that someone with one vision can't use another types material.
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In the end though, I really don't think much change is needed for the Gatcha, people are just being fed horrible information out there that keeps getting mentioned over and over again which makes them feel like 5* are impossible for F2P.

Conclusion

Things need to change, with the community, the game and miHoYo.
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Right now if miHoYo were to make all the changes that we as a community are asking for, the game would become pointless in a week. We all don't want that because we all love the game. The issue with us is that we see all these individual issues, that seem worse because of other issues that we just end up asking for too much from each issue. In reality we only need small changes for each issue to fix a majority of it.
If we keep hounding them for so much, our arguments just seem unreasonable and it will convince the developers to either not listen to any of them, double down on what they are doing or just make changes that end up being bad for everyone.
We need to be more concise with what the issues are and fix them together as a whole, and stop blowing up the wrong/false things into view. *Cough* ^{Like it taking 9 years to max a const of a 5\} for free to play if you ONLY farm that one character.)*Cough* It's just asinine.
But this by no means is me white knighting for miHoYo, they screw the pooch on quite a few things in some small things and they need to fix that. But some of us need to take a step back and realize this game is free... even if you never spent a single free primo, as it is you can experience every last inch of the game.
If you read this whole thing, then what the heck bud... I got mad respect for you as I went WAY overboard. I got so frustrated with the polarity of this fan base and just needed to slam my 82 cents in here. I love you, I love this game, I love everyone here. (even though I want to smack some of you.)
TL;DR: I AR SMURT FOR RITE MANY WURDS, YOU DUM WITH STOOPID ARGEWMENTS.
^{At least read the conclusion, it pretty much is a TLDR.}
EDIT: I forgot that I do think they need to change the 10 Gatcha to a 10 +1, right now it is incredibly misleading, forming the belief that the pity only happens if you do a 10 pull which is absolutely untrue. In fact other than time, it is ALWAYS better to pull singles, especially if you are F2P. The only way this becomes false is IF you assume that you will ALWAYS hit pity with no exception, which we know is mathematically an impossibility (Unless you just stop pulling forever lol), at some point you have to pull early.
I also wanted to bring up an idea that someone brought to my attention
ARTIFACTS... like holy shit... artifacts could be our saving grace band-aid.
The issue is we have no infinite grind to get stronger after we blow our resin... but artifacts are something that don't really change your progress as they are easy as crap to farm if you are willing to spend the resin...
But if they outright removed the cost of the artifact domains and only them... then made it so we don't get umpteenbillion every time we complete one... maybe 1-3 could work... because not only do you need a specific artifact to drop, you need it to drop at your highest available rank... then you need the right main stat.... then the four substats need to be perfect after investing more... say it with me... ARTIFICATS! Hell they could make 5* rare-er too (I have around 20 of them and I haven't been farming hard yet.) and it would still work perfectly... A nice change with this would be to change the one room fights to the single player little dungeon but co-op so they are a bit more than spam attack for 5 min. You know you won't be getting a full perfect 5* set any time soon, but damn, even one substat rolling better is progress man...

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Part I - What do you mean grinning while scrubbing toilets isn’t okay?

Chapter 1

I wish I’d known he was five minutes away from heaven.
Backs facing the frigid dirt wall, we sat together in a damp war trench, half a meter below the ground. The snow above our heads was melting all over my jacket, and all over Roman’s ushanka fur hat, but the guy didn’t care one bit. Most of us should have been familiar with the feeling when the freezing water crept through our shirts and penetrated our skin, but it had bothered me ever since we got down here. The amalgamation of mud and melting snow smelled and felt horrible, and being a good twelve centimeters taller than the average grunt, I couldn’t even move to get rid of that crap inside my tank top.
A bullet seemed to have found its way into Roman’s shoulder. The fucker should have been dead the moment he bit the bullet and dove headfirst onto the ground. But by some miracle, the sounds of rifle shots had stopped just as I dragged him back.
At least we were safe. For a while.
First Lieutenant Petrov had just communicated to us that the initial wave of adversaries had been repelled. The sound of anti-tank missiles as they exploded on cold, hard metal sank, lulled almost to a halt. I could hear footsteps squelching through the sludge before the soldiers glided from the battlefield to the trench underneath. Snow clung to their uniforms but didn’t cover them all the way, making them look like green leopards with white dots. Some soldiers were healthy enough, but I noticed traces of blood spattered on the snow as a couple of guys who had their legs blasted away tried to crawl down into their safe place.
The calm didn’t last long. A soldier threw a corpse in the trench, and his immobile body fell to the ground. As the guy who threw him jumped down to follow, he caught me looking at them and cried. “Couldn’t leave the mal’chik dead up there! The kid’s body’s gonna be riddled with holes!”
Why am I even here? I asked myself. Not once. Not twice. At least five times every day. What business did a cave dweller who was ‘produced’ in the backwoods of Murmansk have, being three thousand kilometers from home? I shouldn’t have even been Russian. If I had dropped from the military truck transferring breeding specimens and rolled a few meters to the left I would have been Finnish, adopted a Finnish name, and lived a peaceful life in the forestry industry. The Finnish couldn’t fight—except for that one time back in 1940, but we don’t talk about it—and they wouldn’t resort to fighting even if you placed their testicles under a guillotine blade. A life without cracking explosions every three seconds. . . that should have been my life.
But here I was, fifteen years later, questioning every single life choice leading me to become a hunting dog, wading across the country, and slaughtering for others. One didn’t last long in our profession, and for me, seven years was quite enough.
It seemed that Roman had spotted my fatigue. “Yo Alexei, ya good? Are ya hurt anywhere?”
“Yeah, what is it? Mud on my face?”
“You ain’t looking like yourself.”
“I always look like shit. Now can you shut up and hold still? Trying to save your life here.”
He was still dead lucky that it was one of the least likely spots to be fatal, but the wound itself was no joke. Most likely an artery had been hit as blood was gushing from it like a stream before I ripped a piece of cloth, pressed on the wound, and started patching it up.
“Heh, ya know—” He wiped the dirty water off his lips. “—you coulda been a medic if you weren’t a sniper.” His attentive eyes scouted my expression, and I tried to hide my discomfiture with my nagging.
“Stop. Fucking. Moving!” I yelled as a shrieking explosion erupted right next to my ear. “Did you even know you were shot? Freaking airhead!”
“Oh, this? This ain’t nothing but a scratch.” Roman didn’t mind my insults—he never did—and kept peering at my face with those deer-like eyes of his. It used to annoy me a lot, but once I learned it was Roman’s unique way of showing me he cared, I had come to terms with it.
Roman tried to lean forward to run his finger across my cheek, but I pressed him back against the wall. He had always tried, but it had been something I couldn’t tolerate. There’s a limit to how much you should care for someone.
If I had known it would be the last conversation we would have together, I would have let him do it.
“Hey, I know how ya look, dumbass. Ya might look like a lot of things, but ain’t never looked like ya head been bashed into a sack of shite before. Ya got a problem, pal.”
“What do you mean I have a problem? Those assholes just poked a damn hole through your shoulder!” I exhaled, “You know. . . you must’ve noticed you’re the only one around here who’s like they’re in heaven all the damn time, right? Has it ever occurred to you that you might be the odd one out here?”
For all I knew, Roman might have had an actual problem. There was no reason for him to be so bubbly. It disgusted the hell out of Commander Dzyuba who sentenced him to one-week latrine duty. And the even more disgusting thing was that the guy smiled and hummed through the entire week while wiping off other people’s shit.
Only a fool smiles all the time, they say.
“Whaddya mean?” He grinned from ear to ear, “Everyone ’round here deserves a lil bit o' sunshine and sparkles, if you catch my drift. I’m just giving them some.”
“Don’t you have men yelling in your face that we were born savages and should act like savages?”
“Savages, eh? Yea nah, mate, they told me we’re warriors.”
“Which means savages, Roman.” I shook my head. “Warriors are savages who know how to fight.”
“That ain’t true, ya know. It’s all just labels. Don’t let those bullocks get into ya head. Ya free to do what ya do. I do what I do and I’m living dandy, ya see?” He patted his head with his uninjured arm. “Deep within, we’re just little teddy bears. Folks ain’t fighting because they’re keen.”
Of everything Roman had ever been wrong about, that was something he was wrong about the most. Why would people fight for generations if they didn’t like it? Maybe most of them slashed throats as a hobby, who knows?
There was nothing commendable about this hellhole; about this city; about this whole country. Russia was just an expanded coliseum, crammed with mass-produced war clones. We were just gonna keep killing until there was not another person to kill anymore.
Another loud bang resounded from over the trenches and our exchange of glances communicated, Shit, there’s the second wave of foes. Without another word, I ripped another piece of cloth from the hem of Roman’s trousers and used it to cover his wound. He grimaced just a little, but that was a bad sign. He’s never winced.
“Stay still, you damn idiot! Stay still while I hold your blood for you!” I growled.
“Don’t worry, mate, you’ll be my eyes on my back and I’ll be yours! We’re gonna be a o-kay, and no one can tell me otherwise!” Roman kept on babbling as if I was the one who was losing blood, not him. “Whatcha gonna do when we see the Supreme Leader again? I bet he’s gonna give us those shiny gold medals! I’d love to have one hanging on the walls of my bedroom! Oh wait, then I gotta grab me my own room first . . . Do ya know when we’re gonna be granted our accommodations, Alexei? About time we got something, ya think? We’ve been fighting for years now!”
“We have to not die first.”
“We’re gonna walk out o’ here in one piece! Just ya see! Then we gon’ take you to get that taimen fish o’ yours. Your favorite dish, ain’t it?”
I thought I was used to Roman’s hopeless optimism. But that day, I burst.
“Can you just shut the fuck up and listen to me? You’re only like this because this is the first proper battle you’ve ever been in! You’re the only fucking reason I’m down this trench! You’re not going anywhere!” I pressed his other shoulder onto the dirt wall and bared my teeth, threatening him like a hungry wolf. But that move had never worked on Roman, and it didn’t work then.
“Yer a sick cunt!” He clapped his hand on my hand, giggling as if I had made an exemplary joke, “I ain’t a toddler inside a glass cage. I ain’t need ya to dictate my life, ya hear? If ya really care, let me go, will ya? I never told ya what to do.”
“Zip your hole! You won’t care shit about medals, and soon you won’t care shit about houses near the rivers. When the bullets fly right in front of your face, you will want to live! You will regret every single life choice. To hell with your idiotic ideals! You’re staying here, dickhead! You hear?” Those were what I wanted to say.
But when I looked into Roman’s eyes, they were brimming with enthusiasm. Unwavering optimism. The flash of a nearby explosion only bathed his visage further in its terrible light. As the light surrounded him, his very essence seemed to have transformed, painting him with a glow like that of a benevolent celestial being.
I didn’t say anything. If I had screamed into his ears, if I had begged him not to move an inch, if I had pleaded with him that I didn’t want to close the lifeless eyelids for people I cared for ever again, maybe. . . just maybe, he wouldn’t have died.
Over the trench and behind the defensive sandbags, we heard the voice of Vice Commander Smolov over the loudspeaker.
“Great Russia calls you to action, comrades! Time to strike! Get outta there and push them back! Now, now, NOW!”
Roman shook his shoulder to push me away and grabbed onto his rifle. His grin didn’t leave his face the whole time. “Ya hear? Let’s go!” It baffled me how he still had enough strength to get up. Either his injuries weren’t as worrying as I had anticipated or his rush of adrenaline had overshadowed all the pain.
“Please,” I begged him. He ignored me.
Roman sprang up from the trench. It was at that moment, I finally sensed danger. The sound of ammo leaving the muzzle. The smell of death. I knew when a bullet was coming. I have always had the ability to detect when danger was one inch too close for comfort.
“Duck! DUCK!” I screamed. But it was too late. A split second too late.
Bang. The damned bullet hit. The metallic taste of fresh blood permeated the air and clung to the tip of my tongue; a taste I would never be able to forget.

The Last Precursor is a brand new HFY-exclusive web-serial which focuses on the exploits of the last living human amidst a galaxy of unknown aliens. With his species all but extinct and only known as the ancient Precursors, how will Rodriguez survive in this hostile universe? Make sure to read the earlier chapters first if you missed them!
Join the TLP Discord!
Previous Part
Part 001
.......................................
José Rodriguez, the last living Terran, slowly opens his eyes.
A plain metal ceiling, covered in plexi-steel tiles, sits some twenty feet above his face. The Admiral lays motionless on his back, his arms and legs held limp in a straight pose. A strange sensation swallows him, akin to floating on a gently undulating ocean while riding atop a piece of plywood.
"Hello, Admiral," Umi beeps. "You slept for seventeen hours and fourteen minutes. How are you feeling?"
The Terran doesn't reply.
He continues to stare at the ceiling while countless thoughts and emotions mix with the strange, lucid dreams he left behind only a minute before.
They're all dead.
José closes his eyes.
Everyone I have ever known.
My friends. My comrades. My superiors. My enemies. Even the people I took for granted, those who merely 'existed' and caused me no grief.
Every last one of them is long gone. I can't ever see them again.
Slowly, the Admiral turns his head to the left. The eleven-foot-long cot from his personal quarters, its bedding material as hard as a rock after 100,000,000 years of calcification, provides no comfort for the Admiral. His 'pillow' proves little more than a flat, half-inch-tall piece of rock. Were it not for his durable body, merely laying on the bed would probably give him all manner of aches and pains.
As the Admiral looks around the room, a mixture of nostalgia and sadness glides throughout his veins. A second cot on the opposite side of the room, the bed his former bunkmate once used, Private Azaram, sits empty and covered in a thick layer of dust. A pair of lockers sit against the wall, between both bunks. In José's former life, he might have chatted with Private Azaram when they woke up. They would shoot the shit, tease each other a bit, and yap about all the vague mundanities of life.
But no longer will that happen.
José stares at his bunkmate's empty bed. Unbidden, a memory floats to the top of his mind.
Yo, Jojo, I hear you knocked your lady up. So, you gonna pop the question? Come on, man. Can't hurt to settle down for a couple decades, raise an ankle-biter, then return once you've had your fun.
I'm too busy for that, Nick.
Don't give me that crap. The war's been raging for hundreds of thousands of years. One soldier taking twenty years off to raise a kid won't change anything.
It will for me. I shouldn't have gotten involved with her.
That's love, man. Love! You know what that means, right? You've gotta stop running away from everything.
She'll be better off without me.
José...
The memory fades. José continues to stare at the other cot for several long seconds afterward.
"Admiral."
Umi's voice beeps above, as she prods the Terran again.
"I know you are awake. I have observed your brainwaves shifting into the green spectrum."
Admiral Rodriguez sighs. "Just leave me alone for a few minutes."
"...Very well."
Umi falls silent, leaving José to his thoughts.
Slowly, the Admiral moves his left leg toward the edge of the bed. He gently lowers it to the floor, then follows with his right. After twenty or so seconds, he pushes himself into a sitting position and coughs. A small cloud of dust kicks up around him, but he ignores it.
José sits on the edge of his bed. He leans forward, face in hands, elbows on his knees.
I'm sorry, Evelyn.
Tears well up in the Terran's eyes. The shock of the last two days creeps into the back of his mind as he finally takes some time to sit down and sort through his emotions.
I left you behind, and our child. I don't even know if it was a boy or a girl.
José lifts his thin, gangly arm, and presses his fingers against his eyelids. After wiping away a few tears, he sniffles quietly.
What the hell am I supposed to do? Do I even have a reason to live?
His thoughts shift back to all the pointless mundanities he once pursued. Promotions. Killing. The envy of his peers. The respect of his benefactor, Ramma.
José opens his eyes and glances at a small bedside dresser. With its former brown coloration lost to the passage of time, it now appears white as snow. The lone furniture piece on José's side appears to be on its last legs, as if a gentle nudge would cause it to crumble into dust. Only the lack of oxygen in the room for millions of years has allowed it to remain standing for so long.
However, José's eyes look toward the top of the dresser, where a broken picture frame rests. With its glass having long-since decayed into sandy particles along with the glue holding its wooden sides together, the portrait lies in a heap atop the dresser, apparently having fallen forward and broken at some point.
Slowly, José reaches over and nudges aside the frame's wooden edges. He pulls out a brown piece of paper, its corners curled, upon which a person's portrait used to rest.
Now, its faded coloration shows nothing.
José turns the piece of paper around in his hands, searching for any modicum of familiarity. Despite nothing being on its surface, his mind still fills in the image of a smiling, brown-haired woman's face.
"Evelyn..."
The Admiral lowers his hand and drops the worthless scrap to the floor. His shoulders slump as he leans forward, even more broken than before.
Mulling on the immense physical pain he endured during the surgery, as well as the loss of everyone he ever cared about, José's thoughts turn truly dark as he begins to imagine the barrel of a plasma carbine pressing against his skull.
It would be so easy. No more pain. No more worries. Maybe I could see her again and... apologize.
The Admiral's stomach growls, reminding him that he hasn't eaten even once in the last two days. Still, he doesn't move.
"...Umi."
"Yes, Admiral? How are you feeling? I'm presently detecting large amount of negative emotions within your-"
"I don't give a damn what you detect," José mutters. "Just shut up and answer some questions for me."
"Affirmative, Admiral," Umi replies without complaint. "Ask whatever you wish."
However, José hesitates. He closes his eyes and sighs.
"Do... do you have any... any audio logs? Video logs? Of the other crew, I mean. The deceased."
"Negative, Admiral. In the event of a gradual system collapse, my subsystems will automatically convert high-capacity files involving video and audio to text format to save space. I have already converted all available audio and video logs to text, as per my system's parameters. If I did not perform those operations, I would have experienced a much larger amount of overall data loss."
"Oh. I see."
The Admiral's body seemingly increases in weight. A creeping sense of isolation hits him, making him feel hopeless and lonely.
"Not even one person's voice remains. All I have are my memories."
"Admiral? Are you... in pain?"
"Not physically."
Umi's voice lowers. "You have endured an extreme amount of trauma, as of late. The body may heal, but the mind is not always so resilient. I would advise an immediate psychiatric evaluation, if possible, but..."
The synthmind trails off, making José nod.
"Who's left for me to talk to? Nobody. Just a bunch of aliens. Strangers I barely know."
"I have undergone a high-level of degradation to my Emotion Cores," Umi says. "Therefore, I am unable to properly offer counsel on this matter. However, it seems logical to me that you should at least attempt to speak to one of the Kraktol about your concerns, Admiral."
"I can't do that," José says. "Megla still considers me her enemy. Soren is probably friendlier than her sister, but she's still an unknown factor. If I reveal weakness in front of them, then perhaps I won't be able to keep them under control. Who knows what they might do when I turn my back?"
"Admiral. You seem to distrust the Kraktol conscripts. If so, why did you bring them aboard the Bloodbearer? This move seems... illogical."
"I'm human, Umi. I don't operate logically. Even I don't know why I let them come with me."
Shakily, José pushes himself off the bed and rises to his feet. His legs tremble visibly as he staggers toward the nearby wheelchair and plops into its embrace. His arms and legs appear slightly more muscular than when he first left the surgery room, but nevertheless, they're far too weak to support his current weight.
"If the Kraktol wished you harm, they could have killed you immediately following the operation," Umi says. "You weren't capable of defending yourself. The holo-crew would have posed little threat to the Kraktol, given their limited intelligence. Perhaps you should revise your opinion of Officers Soren and Megla."
"Perhaps," José answers, noncommittally. "For now... I can't trust anyone. I don't have a solid understanding of the political situation inside the Milky Way. I don't know who any of the major powers are. I already have at least one major enemy, but no allies."
Umi starts to reply, but José cuts her off. "The Kessu don't count. They're primitives. I doubt they'll be a major galactic power I can rely on for support and logistics."
"...Understood, Admiral," Umi replies, her voice low. "It seems that we must attempt to establish communication with the Kraktol's enemies. According to the data I've recovered, the Mallali and Avaru are our best bet."
"I'll worry about that later," the Admiral says. "Right now, repairing the Bloodbearer is my number one priority."
José reaches for his wheelchair's controls. He starts to drive it outside, but pauses.
Slowly, the Admiral lowers his gaze to the faded, cracked piece of paper sitting on the floor.
The only image he ever had of Evelyn.
The Terran turns his gaze away. With a small shake of his head, he drives toward the doorway, leaving his room behind.
Too many painful memories here. Perhaps I should make Admiral Baruchen's quarters mine after all.
...
José rolls forward on the wheeled machine in silence for five minutes. Eventually, he speaks to Umi.
"Where are Soren and Megla?"
"The two Kraktol woke up from their slumber five hours and six minutes ago, Admiral," Umi replies. "Since you stressed the importance of time and our limited resources, I took the initiative to guide them toward the engine ventilation system. Under my guidance, the two of them have cleaned out approximately 0.0054% of the accumulated debris and waste byproduct. The Bloodbearer will only reach low-operational-status once your crew clears out at least 20% of the oxidization clogging the engines."
"Mmm. Have those women meet up with me along the way."
"Orders received. Admiral, I must also mention a severe lack of resources for food production aboard the Bloodbearer. The biomatter storage is currently at 0% after I discarded all the hardened, rotted material. I was able to create some basic ration bars for the Kessu and Kraktol, but their nutritional value was negligible and every officer complained about the taste."
José groans. "No food. No engines. No allies. The whole ship is broken. Can't I get some good news for once?"
"Affirmative," Umi beeps in response. "The Kessu and Kraktol did not engage in verbal warfare while you were asleep. According to my calculations, this represents an improvement in their relations of 7.5%."
"...Thanks, Umi." José says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I don't know what I would do without you."
Umi replies with a sugary-sweet tone. "According to my predictive matrix; you would die."
José's only reply is a long, low groan.
.......................................
"Admiral!" Soren says, her voice containing a note of alarm. She and Megla trot toward José as he rolls down the Bloodbearer's primary connective corridor, arriving at his position after a few moments. "Are you alright? Your body seemed to be heavily injured when I last saw you."
"I'm dandy," José grumbles. "Just wonderful."
The Admiral glances at Megla. He waits for a snarky comeback, only to almost fall out of his chair when she speaks.
"That's great, Admiral. I was- I mean, we were really worried about you. We, ah... we thought you wouldn't make it. I'm glad you're okay."
José blinks several times to make sure he isn't still sleeping. "You were... concerned? About me?"
Megla crosses her arms and looks away. "Erm... only a little."
The Terran shakes his head to try and clear away the cobwebs in his brain. "I see. Well, thank you for your concern. I'm much weaker than before, so I can hardly move on my own. I hope you two will assist me in repairing the Bloodbearer's systems."
The Admiral's gaze falls toward both Kraktol officer's waists, where steel belts hang with a small assortment of attached repair tools. The two womens' usually pristine red and yellow scales appear dirty, caked with dirt and grease.
"Of course, Admiral," Soren says. She walks behind José's wheelchair and grabs its top handles to push him forward.
"What are you doing?" José asks, suspicion in his voice.
"I don't believe you should be expending any energy, Admiral. Please allow me to guide you wherever you please. It would be best if you could relax and leave the hard work to my sister and I."
Before José can reply, Megla strides over to Soren's side and huffs. "Kyargh! Let me push the Admiral. I'm sure you're still tired from sticking your head inside that greasy ventilation duct."
"No need," Soren says, a faint smile on her face. "I can handle this simple task."
"I know you can," Megla protests. "But so can I! Hmph, listen to your big sister for once, why don't you?"
Soren's smile widens. "You seem awfully eager to get close to the Admiral."
"I-I'm not!" Megla yelps, her yellow scales brightening intensely. She takes a step away from Soren with a strange look in her eyes. "I... I just want to help!"
"Kuhak!" Soren laughs. Her usual stoic demeanor cracks slightly upon seeing her sister's flustered look. "Something seems to have changed with your heart, Megla."
José sighs. "Ladies. Please. Stop fighting over me like I'm a piece of meat. We don't have time to waste. I'll drive myself to the Engine Room. You just walk alongside me and listen. I have a lot of information to relay."
Both Kraktol women frown for a moment before hiding their emotions. With a sigh, Soren pulls away from José and raises her palms. "I see. My apologies, Admiral. I did not mean to insult your abilities. You can surely move yourself if necessary."
The Admiral looks into the disappointed eyes of Soren, before glancing at Megla afterward. Both of them appear miffed that he would ignore their genuine, heartfelt offers.
However, José ignores their silly behavior.
"Come along. I want to examine the engine room's condition for myself."
Soren lowers her head. "Yes, Admiral..."
"Do what you want," Megla snorts, her annoyance plain as day. She crosses her arms and walks beside José on his left, while Soren walks on his right. They begin heading toward the engine room at a pace neither too fast, nor too slow.
An awkward silence ensues. After a few minutes, José clears his throat. "Did Umi explain the mechanics of a Triple-Induction Drive to either of you?"
Soren shakes her head. "No. We asked several questions, but the synthmind did not answer. She only guided us on the cleaning and repair process for the engine exhaust vents."
From above, Umi speaks. "Admiral. Given the two Kraktol are newly acquired crew-members, and given their origins, I have registered them as 'initiate crew.' Unless you remove the restriction on Class 4 information and below, I will be unable to provide them with information regarding this ship's features or technical blueprints. Based upon the information I've collected from the Dragon Breath's databases, the galaxy at large is unaware of the capabilities of 40th and 50th Era technology. Very few factions possess ships from later than the 30th era, so I have calculated that classifying this information as Top Secret is a prudent move."
José nods. "I agree. However, Soren and Megla are now officers of this vessel. In the future, please provide them with any general information of Class 3 and below as their knowledge-base evolves. I'll evaluate the rest on a case-by-case basis."
The Admiral speaks openly with Umi right in front of the Kraktol, allowing both of them to hear his words. They glance at each other out of the corners of their eyes and sigh.
The Admiral doesn't trust us. Given he's only known us for a day, that's to be expected.
...
It doesn't take long before José and the Kraktol arrive at the entrance to the Bloodbearer's Engine Bay. Its entry doors, barely maintained by one of the six Filth Expunger Units over the past 100,000,000 years, slowly slide open. The top and bottom squeal in a most annoying manner due to a large amount of rust accumulation, but the three officers ignore the awful sound.
Jose arrives inside a large, circular chamber, easily twice as big as an open-air football stadium. In the center of the room, three giant circular metal platforms sit next to one another in a triangular formation. They hum with energy, causing the air inside the room to vibrate and rattle all three officers' teeth.
An energy field twenty meters tall rises toward the ceiling above each platform, where a second set of platforms on the roof meet the field and keep its energy circulating to form a powerful containment field. Inside the energy fields, three giant orbs of explosive-looking energy rapidly whirl around, revealing themselves to be the cause of the intense, energetic humming sensation.
Hundreds of thick, Terran-body-width cables stick out of the walls and slink along the ground, connecting to the platforms on the floor, but also the ceiling. They suck the leftover energy from the energized orbs away to power the rest of the ship, preventing them from detonating with high-yield nuclear explosions.
Countless robotic arms, long-since rusted-over, stick out of the engine room's walls. Only twenty or so move around and poke at the various computer consoles scattered throughout the room, but it appears clear to José and the Kraktol that this room is just as decayed and dilapidated as the rest of the ship.
"Damn..." José mutters. "Even more things to repair. The work never ends. The inventor of bio-fusion once claimed his power sources would last for a billion years, so I guess he was right after all. The ship is likely to break long before the reactors lose their charge."
Soren gestures toward the far wall. "The synthmind had us clean the ventilation ducts over there. I only scraped out out the interiors of the first five, but more than a hundred remain."
Nodding, José says, "Yes, but cleaning the engine ventilation ducts is only the first step. We also need to clean and maintain the plasma warp conduits, then exit the ship and decalcify the exterior engines. Beyond that, we have to examine the damage this sector's plasma storm has likely caused the Bloodbearer's hull. If there are any breaches on the exterior, we must seal them up before entering Folded Space."
Soren's eyes flash with hunger. "Admiral, didn't you tell us you were going to explain the Triple Induction Drive and Folded Space? I'm dying to know more."
José smiles.
"Oh, yes. I had almost forgotten! Haha, your thirst for knowledge is quite admirable."
The Terran wheels toward one of the many nearby broken computer consoles. He gestures toward Megla's toolbelt, prompting her to step closer. Despite the weakness in his body and his atrophied limbs, his shaking and trembles appear to have mostly worn off since resting, so he easily snatches three odd-looking pen-gadgets from her before turning to the console.
Whirr. Bzzt.
José's hands become a blur as he gets to work fixing the first of many computers within the Engine Room.
"A Triple-Induction Drive is not something those from the 30th era would know much about, given how long it took us Terrans to perfect that technology..."
Both of the Kraktol lean in to listen as José explains this incredible technology and its uses to them.
Next Part
.......................................
Author Note:
Klokinator here! I am also the author of The Cryopod to Hell. The Last Precursor takes place in the [Cryoverse] which TCTH spawned. You do not have to read TCTH to enjoy TLP. However, I highly recommend it if you enjoy HFY themes, but be warned it will take some 200 parts to get to the relevant HFY elements due to the nature of the story. (A similar structure involving very few humans fighting against vicious demons that have taken over the galaxy.)
If you like this story, please consider subscribing to my Patreon! I am very poor and presently jobless due to Coronavirus, so every dollar helps. You get access to Cryopod artwork, and plenty of other exclusive posts, with more to come soon.
Thank you!

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Part I - What do you mean grinning while scrubbing toilets isn’t okay?

Chapter 1

I wish I’d known he was five minutes away from heaven.
Backs facing the frigid dirt wall, we sat together in a damp war trench, half a meter below the ground. The snow above our heads was melting all over my jacket, and all over Roman’s ushanka fur hat, but the guy didn’t care one bit. Most of us should have been familiar with the feeling when the freezing water crept through our shirts and penetrated our skin, but it had bothered me ever since we got down here. The amalgamation of mud and melting snow smelled and felt horrible, and being a good twelve centimeters taller than the average grunt, I couldn’t even move to get rid of that crap inside my tank top.
A bullet seemed to have found its way into Roman’s shoulder. The fucker should have been dead the moment he bit the bullet and dove headfirst onto the ground. But by some miracle, the sounds of rifle shots had stopped just as I dragged him back.
At least we were safe. For a while.
First Lieutenant Petrov had just communicated to us that the initial wave of adversaries had been repelled. The sound of anti-tank missiles as they exploded on cold, hard metal sank, lulled almost to a halt. I could hear footsteps squelching through the sludge before the soldiers glided from the battlefield to the trench underneath. Snow clung to their uniforms but didn’t cover them all the way, making them look like green leopards with white dots. Some soldiers were healthy enough, but I noticed traces of blood spattered on the snow as a couple of guys who had their legs blasted away tried to crawl down into their safe place.
The calm didn’t last long. A soldier threw a corpse in the trench, and his immobile body fell to the ground. As the guy who threw him jumped down to follow, he caught me looking at them and cried. “Couldn’t leave the mal’chik dead up there! The kid’s body’s gonna be riddled with holes!”
Why am I even here? I asked myself. Not once. Not twice. At least five times every day. What business did a cave dweller who was ‘produced’ in the backwoods of Murmansk have, being three thousand kilometers from home? I shouldn’t have even been Russian. If I had dropped from the military truck transferring breeding specimens and rolled a few meters to the left I would have been Finnish, adopted a Finnish name, and lived a peaceful life in the forestry industry. The Finnish couldn’t fight—except for that one time back in 1940, but we don’t talk about it—and they wouldn’t resort to fighting even if you placed their testicles under a guillotine blade. A life without cracking explosions every three seconds. . . that should have been my life.
But here I was, fifteen years later, questioning every single life choice leading me to become a hunting dog, wading across the country, and slaughtering for others. One didn’t last long in our profession, and for me, seven years was quite enough.
It seemed that Roman had spotted my fatigue. “Yo Alexei, ya good? Are ya hurt anywhere?”
“Yeah, what is it? Mud on my face?”
“You ain’t looking like yourself.”
“I always look like shit. Now can you shut up and hold still? Trying to save your life here.”
He was still dead lucky that it was one of the least likely spots to be fatal, but the wound itself was no joke. Most likely an artery had been hit as blood was gushing from it like a stream before I ripped a piece of cloth, pressed on the wound, and started patching it up.
“Heh, ya know—” He wiped the dirty water off his lips. “—you coulda been a medic if you weren’t a sniper.” His attentive eyes scouted my expression, and I tried to hide my discomfiture with my nagging.
“Stop. Fucking. Moving!” I yelled as a shrieking explosion erupted right next to my ear. “Did you even know you were shot? Freaking airhead!”
“Oh, this? This ain’t nothing but a scratch.” Roman didn’t mind my insults—he never did—and kept peering at my face with those deer-like eyes of his. It used to annoy me a lot, but once I learned it was Roman’s unique way of showing me he cared, I had come to terms with it.
Roman tried to lean forward to run his finger across my cheek, but I pressed him back against the wall. He had always tried, but it had been something I couldn’t tolerate. There’s a limit to how much you should care for someone.
If I had known it would be the last conversation we would have together, I would have let him do it.
“Hey, I know how ya look, dumbass. Ya might look like a lot of things, but ain’t never looked like ya head been bashed into a sack of shite before. Ya got a problem, pal.”
“What do you mean I have a problem? Those assholes just poked a damn hole through your shoulder!” I exhaled, “You know. . . you must’ve noticed you’re the only one around here who’s like they’re in heaven all the damn time, right? Has it ever occurred to you that you might be the odd one out here?”
For all I knew, Roman might have had an actual problem. There was no reason for him to be so bubbly. It disgusted the hell out of Commander Dzyuba who sentenced him to one-week latrine duty. And the even more disgusting thing was that the guy smiled and hummed through the entire week while wiping off other people’s shit.
Only a fool smiles all the time, they say.
“Whaddya mean?” He grinned from ear to ear, “Everyone ’round here deserves a lil bit o' sunshine and sparkles, if you catch my drift. I’m just giving them some.”
“Don’t you have men yelling in your face that we were born savages and should act like savages?”
“Savages, eh? Yea nah, mate, they told me we’re warriors.”
“Which means savages, Roman.” I shook my head. “Warriors are savages who know how to fight.”
“That ain’t true, ya know. It’s all just labels. Don’t let those bullocks get into ya head. Ya free to do what ya do. I do what I do and I’m living dandy, ya see?” He patted his head with his uninjured arm. “Deep within, we’re just little teddy bears. Folks ain’t fighting because they’re keen.”
Of everything Roman had ever been wrong about, that was something he was wrong about the most. Why would people fight for generations if they didn’t like it? Maybe most of them slashed throats as a hobby, who knows?
There was nothing commendable about this hellhole; about this city; about this whole country. Russia was just an expanded coliseum, crammed with mass-produced war clones. We were just gonna keep killing until there was not another person to kill anymore.
Another loud bang resounded from over the trenches and our exchange of glances communicated, Shit, there’s the second wave of foes. Without another word, I ripped another piece of cloth from the hem of Roman’s trousers and used it to cover his wound. He grimaced just a little, but that was a bad sign. He’s never winced.
“Stay still, you damn idiot! Stay still while I hold your blood for you!” I growled.
“Don’t worry, mate, you’ll be my eyes on my back and I’ll be yours! We’re gonna be a o-kay, and no one can tell me otherwise!” Roman kept on babbling as if I was the one who was losing blood, not him. “Whatcha gonna do when we see the Supreme Leader again? I bet he’s gonna give us those shiny gold medals! I’d love to have one hanging on the walls of my bedroom! Oh wait, then I gotta grab me my own room first . . . Do ya know when we’re gonna be granted our accommodations, Alexei? About time we got something, ya think? We’ve been fighting for years now!”
“We have to not die first.”
“We’re gonna walk out o’ here in one piece! Just ya see! Then we gon’ take you to get that taimen fish o’ yours. Your favorite dish, ain’t it?”
I thought I was used to Roman’s hopeless optimism. But that day, I burst.
“Can you just shut the fuck up and listen to me? You’re only like this because this is the first proper battle you’ve ever been in! You’re the only fucking reason I’m down this trench! You’re not going anywhere!” I pressed his other shoulder onto the dirt wall and bared my teeth, threatening him like a hungry wolf. But that move had never worked on Roman, and it didn’t work then.
“Yer a sick cunt!” He clapped his hand on my hand, giggling as if I had made an exemplary joke, “I ain’t a toddler inside a glass cage. I ain’t need ya to dictate my life, ya hear? If ya really care, let me go, will ya? I never told ya what to do.”
“Zip your hole! You won’t care shit about medals, and soon you won’t care shit about houses near the rivers. When the bullets fly right in front of your face, you will want to live! You will regret every single life choice. To hell with your idiotic ideals! You’re staying here, dickhead! You hear?” Those were what I wanted to say.
But when I looked into Roman’s eyes, they were brimming with enthusiasm. Unwavering optimism. The flash of a nearby explosion only bathed his visage further in its terrible light. As the light surrounded him, his very essence seemed to have transformed, painting him with a glow like that of a benevolent celestial being.
I didn’t say anything. If I had screamed into his ears, if I had begged him not to move an inch, if I had pleaded with him that I didn’t want to close the lifeless eyelids for people I cared for ever again, maybe. . . just maybe, he wouldn’t have died.
Over the trench and behind the defensive sandbags, we heard the voice of Vice Commander Smolov over the loudspeaker.
“Great Russia calls you to action, comrades! Time to strike! Get outta there and push them back! Now, now, NOW!”
Roman shook his shoulder to push me away and grabbed onto his rifle. His grin didn’t leave his face the whole time. “Ya hear? Let’s go!” It baffled me how he still had enough strength to get up. Either his injuries weren’t as worrying as I had anticipated or his rush of adrenaline had overshadowed all the pain.
“Please,” I begged him. He ignored me.
Roman sprang up from the trench. It was at that moment, I finally sensed danger. The sound of ammo leaving the muzzle. The smell of death. I knew when a bullet was coming. I have always had the ability to detect when danger was one inch too close for comfort.
“Duck! DUCK!” I screamed. But it was too late. A split second too late.
Bang. The damned bullet hit. The metallic taste of fresh blood permeated the air and clung to the tip of my tongue; a taste I would never be able to forget.

Cover Art | Table of Content |

Part I - What do you mean grinning while scrubbing toilets isn’t okay?

Chapter 1

I wish I’d known he was five minutes away from heaven.
Backs facing the frigid dirt wall, we sat together in a damp war trench, half a meter below the ground. The snow above our heads was melting all over my jacket, and all over Roman’s ushanka fur hat, but the guy didn’t care one bit. Most of us should have been familiar with the feeling when the freezing water crept through our shirts and penetrated our skin, but it had bothered me ever since we got down here. The amalgamation of mud and melting snow smelled and felt horrible, and being a good twelve centimeters taller than the average grunt, I couldn’t even move to get rid of that crap inside my tank top.
A bullet seemed to have found its way into Roman’s shoulder. The fucker should have been dead the moment he bit the bullet and dove headfirst onto the ground. But by some miracle, the sounds of rifle shots had stopped just as I dragged him back.
At least we were safe. For a while.
First Lieutenant Petrov had just communicated to us that the initial wave of adversaries had been repelled. The sound of anti-tank missiles as they exploded on cold, hard metal sank, lulled almost to a halt. I could hear footsteps squelching through the sludge before the soldiers glided from the battlefield to the trench underneath. Snow clung to their uniforms but didn’t cover them all the way, making them look like green leopards with white dots. Some soldiers were healthy enough, but I noticed traces of blood spattered on the snow as a couple of guys who had their legs blasted away tried to crawl down into their safe place.
The calm didn’t last long. A soldier threw a corpse in the trench, and his immobile body fell to the ground. As the guy who threw him jumped down to follow, he caught me looking at them and cried. “Couldn’t leave the mal’chik dead up there! The kid’s body’s gonna be riddled with holes!”
Why am I even here? I asked myself. Not once. Not twice. At least five times every day. What business did a cave dweller who was ‘produced’ in the backwoods of Murmansk have, being three thousand kilometers from home? I shouldn’t have even been Russian. If I had dropped from the military truck transferring breeding specimens and rolled a few meters to the left I would have been Finnish, adopted a Finnish name, and lived a peaceful life in the forestry industry. The Finnish couldn’t fight—except for that one time back in 1940, but we don’t talk about it—and they wouldn’t resort to fighting even if you placed their testicles under a guillotine blade. A life without cracking explosions every three seconds. . . that should have been my life.
But here I was, fifteen years later, questioning every single life choice leading me to become a hunting dog, wading across the country, and slaughtering for others. One didn’t last long in our profession, and for me, seven years was quite enough.
It seemed that Roman had spotted my fatigue. “Yo Alexei, ya good? Are ya hurt anywhere?”
“Yeah, what is it? Mud on my face?”
“You ain’t looking like yourself.”
“I always look like shit. Now can you shut up and hold still? Trying to save your life here.”
He was still dead lucky that it was one of the least likely spots to be fatal, but the wound itself was no joke. Most likely an artery had been hit as blood was gushing from it like a stream before I ripped a piece of cloth, pressed on the wound, and started patching it up.
“Heh, ya know—” He wiped the dirty water off his lips. “—you coulda been a medic if you weren’t a sniper.” His attentive eyes scouted my expression, and I tried to hide my discomfiture with my nagging.
“Stop. Fucking. Moving!” I yelled as a shrieking explosion erupted right next to my ear. “Did you even know you were shot? Freaking airhead!”
“Oh, this? This ain’t nothing but a scratch.” Roman didn’t mind my insults—he never did—and kept peering at my face with those deer-like eyes of his. It used to annoy me a lot, but once I learned it was Roman’s unique way of showing me he cared, I had come to terms with it.
Roman tried to lean forward to run his finger across my cheek, but I pressed him back against the wall. He had always tried, but it had been something I couldn’t tolerate. There’s a limit to how much you should care for someone.
If I had known it would be the last conversation we would have together, I would have let him do it.
“Hey, I know how ya look, dumbass. Ya might look like a lot of things, but ain’t never looked like ya head been bashed into a sack of shite before. Ya got a problem, pal.”
“What do you mean I have a problem? Those assholes just poked a damn hole through your shoulder!” I exhaled, “You know. . . you must’ve noticed you’re the only one around here who’s like they’re in heaven all the damn time, right? Has it ever occurred to you that you might be the odd one out here?”
For all I knew, Roman might have had an actual problem. There was no reason for him to be so bubbly. It disgusted the hell out of Commander Dzyuba who sentenced him to one-week latrine duty. And the even more disgusting thing was that the guy smiled and hummed through the entire week while wiping off other people’s shit.
Only a fool smiles all the time, they say.
“Whaddya mean?” He grinned from ear to ear, “Everyone ’round here deserves a lil bit o' sunshine and sparkles, if you catch my drift. I’m just giving them some.”
“Don’t you have men yelling in your face that we were born savages and should act like savages?”
“Savages, eh? Yea nah, mate, they told me we’re warriors.”
“Which means savages, Roman.” I shook my head. “Warriors are savages who know how to fight.”
“That ain’t true, ya know. It’s all just labels. Don’t let those bullocks get into ya head. Ya free to do what ya do. I do what I do and I’m living dandy, ya see?” He patted his head with his uninjured arm. “Deep within, we’re just little teddy bears. Folks ain’t fighting because they’re keen.”
Of everything Roman had ever been wrong about, that was something he was wrong about the most. Why would people fight for generations if they didn’t like it? Maybe most of them slashed throats as a hobby, who knows?
There was nothing commendable about this hellhole; about this city; about this whole country. Russia was just an expanded coliseum, crammed with mass-produced war clones. We were just gonna keep killing until there was not another person to kill anymore.
Another loud bang resounded from over the trenches and our exchange of glances communicated, Shit, there’s the second wave of foes. Without another word, I ripped another piece of cloth from the hem of Roman’s trousers and used it to cover his wound. He grimaced just a little, but that was a bad sign. He’s never winced.
“Stay still, you damn idiot! Stay still while I hold your blood for you!” I growled.
“Don’t worry, mate, you’ll be my eyes on my back and I’ll be yours! We’re gonna be a o-kay, and no one can tell me otherwise!” Roman kept on babbling as if I was the one who was losing blood, not him. “Whatcha gonna do when we see the Supreme Leader again? I bet he’s gonna give us those shiny gold medals! I’d love to have one hanging on the walls of my bedroom! Oh wait, then I gotta grab me my own room first . . . Do ya know when we’re gonna be granted our accommodations, Alexei? About time we got something, ya think? We’ve been fighting for years now!”
“We have to not die first.”
“We’re gonna walk out o’ here in one piece! Just ya see! Then we gon’ take you to get that taimen fish o’ yours. Your favorite dish, ain’t it?”
I thought I was used to Roman’s hopeless optimism. But that day, I burst.
“Can you just shut the fuck up and listen to me? You’re only like this because this is the first proper battle you’ve ever been in! You’re the only fucking reason I’m down this trench! You’re not going anywhere!” I pressed his other shoulder onto the dirt wall and bared my teeth, threatening him like a hungry wolf. But that move had never worked on Roman, and it didn’t work then.
“Yer a sick cunt!” He clapped his hand on my hand, giggling as if I had made an exemplary joke, “I ain’t a toddler inside a glass cage. I ain’t need ya to dictate my life, ya hear? If ya really care, let me go, will ya? I never told ya what to do.”
“Zip your hole! You won’t care shit about medals, and soon you won’t care shit about houses near the rivers. When the bullets fly right in front of your face, you will want to live! You will regret every single life choice. To hell with your idiotic ideals! You’re staying here, dickhead! You hear?” Those were what I wanted to say.
But when I looked into Roman’s eyes, they were brimming with enthusiasm. Unwavering optimism. The flash of a nearby explosion only bathed his visage further in its terrible light. As the light surrounded him, his very essence seemed to have transformed, painting him with a glow like that of a benevolent celestial being.
I didn’t say anything. If I had screamed into his ears, if I had begged him not to move an inch, if I had pleaded with him that I didn’t want to close the lifeless eyelids for people I cared for ever again, maybe. . . just maybe, he wouldn’t have died.
Over the trench and behind the defensive sandbags, we heard the voice of Vice Commander Smolov over the loudspeaker.
“Great Russia calls you to action, comrades! Time to strike! Get outta there and push them back! Now, now, NOW!”
Roman shook his shoulder to push me away and grabbed onto his rifle. His grin didn’t leave his face the whole time. “Ya hear? Let’s go!” It baffled me how he still had enough strength to get up. Either his injuries weren’t as worrying as I had anticipated or his rush of adrenaline had overshadowed all the pain.
“Please,” I begged him. He ignored me.
Roman sprang up from the trench. It was at that moment, I finally sensed danger. The sound of ammo leaving the muzzle. The smell of death. I knew when a bullet was coming. I have always had the ability to detect when danger was one inch too close for comfort.
“Duck! DUCK!” I screamed. But it was too late. A split second too late.
Bang. The damned bullet hit. The metallic taste of fresh blood permeated the air and clung to the tip of my tongue; a taste I would never be able to forget.

I wish I’d known he was five minutes away from heaven.
Backs facing the frigid dirt wall, we sat together in a damp war trench, half a meter below the ground. The snow above our heads was melting all over my jacket, and all over Roman’s ushanka fur hat, but the guy didn’t care one bit. Most of us should have been familiar with the feeling when the freezing water crept through our shirts and penetrated our skin, but it had bothered me ever since we got down here. The amalgamation of mud and melting snow smelled and felt horrible, and being a good twelve centimeters taller than the average grunt, I couldn’t even move to get rid of that crap inside my tank top.
A bullet seemed to have found its way into Roman’s shoulder. The fucker should have been dead the moment he bit the bullet and dove headfirst onto the ground. But by some miracle, the sounds of rifle shots had stopped just as I dragged him back.
At least we were safe. For a while.
First Lieutenant Petrov had just communicated to us that the initial wave of adversaries had been repelled. The sound of anti-tank missiles as they exploded on cold, hard metal sank, lulled almost to a halt. I could hear footsteps squelching through the sludge before the soldiers glided from the battlefield to the trench underneath. Snow clung to their uniforms but didn’t cover them all the way, making them look like green leopards with white dots. Some soldiers were healthy enough, but I noticed traces of blood spattered on the snow as a couple of guys who had their legs blasted away tried to crawl down into their safe place.
The calm didn’t last long. A soldier threw a corpse in the trench, and his immobile body fell to the ground. As the guy who threw him jumped down to follow, he caught me looking at them and cried. “Couldn’t leave the mal’chik dead up there! The kid’s body’s gonna be riddled with holes!”
Why am I even here? I asked myself. Not once. Not twice. At least five times every day. What business did a cave dweller who was ‘produced’ in the backwoods of Murmansk have, being three thousand kilometers from home? I shouldn’t have even been Russian. If I had dropped from the military truck transferring breeding specimens and rolled a few meters to the left I would have been Finnish, adopted a Finnish name, and lived a peaceful life in the forestry industry. The Finnish couldn’t fight—except for that one time back in 1940, but we don’t talk about it—and they wouldn’t resort to fighting even if you placed their testicles under a guillotine blade. A life without cracking explosions every three seconds. . . that should have been my life.
But here I was, fifteen years later, questioning every single life choice leading me to become a hunting dog, wading across the country, and slaughtering for others. One didn’t last long in our profession, and for me, seven years was quite enough.
It seemed that Roman had spotted my fatigue. “Yo Alexei, ya good? Are ya hurt anywhere?”
“Yeah, what is it? Mud on my face?”
“You ain’t looking like yourself.”
“I always look like shit. Now can you shut up and hold still? Trying to save your life here.”
He was still dead lucky that it was one of the least likely spots to be fatal, but the wound itself was no joke. Most likely an artery had been hit as blood was gushing from it like a stream before I ripped a piece of cloth, pressed on the wound, and started patching it up.
“Heh, ya know—” He wiped the dirty water off his lips. “—you coulda been a medic if you weren’t a sniper.” His attentive eyes scouted my expression, and I tried to hide my discomfiture with my nagging.
“Stop. Fucking. Moving!” I yelled as a shrieking explosion erupted right next to my ear. “Did you even know you were shot? Freaking airhead!”
“Oh, this? This ain’t nothing but a scratch.” Roman didn’t mind my insults—he never did—and kept peering at my face with those deer-like eyes of his. It used to annoy me a lot, but once I learned it was Roman’s unique way of showing me he cared, I had come to terms with it.
Roman tried to lean forward to run his finger across my cheek, but I pressed him back against the wall. He had always tried, but it had been something I couldn’t tolerate. There’s a limit to how much you should care for someone.
If I had known it would be the last conversation we would have together, I would have let him do it.
“Hey, I know how ya look, dumbass. Ya might look like a lot of things, but ain’t never looked like ya head been bashed into a sack of shite before. Ya got a problem, pal.”
“What do you mean I have a problem? Those assholes just poked a damn hole through your shoulder!” I exhaled, “You know. . . you must’ve noticed you’re the only one around here who’s like they’re in heaven all the damn time, right? Has it ever occurred to you that you might be the odd one out here?”
For all I knew, Roman might have had an actual problem. There was no reason for him to be so bubbly. It disgusted the hell out of Commander Dzyuba who sentenced him to one-week latrine duty. And the even more disgusting thing was that the guy smiled and hummed through the entire week while wiping off other people’s shit.
Only a fool smiles all the time, they say.
“Whaddya mean?” He grinned from ear to ear, “Everyone ’round here deserves a lil bit o' sunshine and sparkles, if you catch my drift. I’m just giving them some.”
“Don’t you have men yelling in your face that we were born savages and should act like savages?”
“Savages, eh? Yea nah, mate, they told me we’re warriors.”
“Which means savages, Roman.” I shook my head. “Warriors are savages who know how to fight.”
“That ain’t true, ya know. It’s all just labels. Don’t let those bullocks get into ya head. Ya free to do what ya do. I do what I do and I’m living dandy, ya see?” He patted his head with his uninjured arm. “Deep within, we’re just little teddy bears. Folks ain’t fighting because they’re keen.”
Of everything Roman had ever been wrong about, that was something he was wrong about the most. Why would people fight for generations if they didn’t like it? Maybe most of them slashed throats as a hobby, who knows?
There was nothing commendable about this hellhole; about this city; about this whole country. Russia was just an expanded coliseum, crammed with mass-produced war clones. We were just gonna keep killing until there was not another person to kill anymore.
Another loud bang resounded from over the trenches and our exchange of glances communicated, Shit, there’s the second wave of foes. Without another word, I ripped another piece of cloth from the hem of Roman’s trousers and used it to cover his wound. He grimaced just a little, but that was a bad sign. He’s never winced.
“Stay still, you damn idiot! Stay still while I hold your blood for you!” I growled.
“Don’t worry, mate, you’ll be my eyes on my back and I’ll be yours! We’re gonna be a o-kay, and no one can tell me otherwise!” Roman kept on babbling as if I was the one who was losing blood, not him. “Whatcha gonna do when we see the Supreme Leader again? I bet he’s gonna give us those shiny gold medals! I’d love to have one hanging on the walls of my bedroom! Oh wait, then I gotta grab me my own room first . . . Do ya know when we’re gonna be granted our accommodations, Alexei? About time we got something, ya think? We’ve been fighting for years now!”
“We have to not die first.”
“We’re gonna walk out o’ here in one piece! Just ya see! Then we gon’ take you to get that taimen fish o’ yours. Your favorite dish, ain’t it?”
I thought I was used to Roman’s hopeless optimism. But that day, I burst.
“Can you just shut the fuck up and listen to me? You’re only like this because this is the first proper battle you’ve ever been in! You’re the only fucking reason I’m down this trench! You’re not going anywhere!” I pressed his other shoulder onto the dirt wall and bared my teeth, threatening him like a hungry wolf. But that move had never worked on Roman, and it didn’t work then.
“Yer a sick cunt!” He clapped his hand on my hand, giggling as if I had made an exemplary joke, “I ain’t a toddler inside a glass cage. I ain’t need ya to dictate my life, ya hear? If ya really care, let me go, will ya? I never told ya what to do.”
“Zip your hole! You won’t care shit about medals, and soon you won’t care shit about houses near the rivers. When the bullets fly right in front of your face, you will want to live! You will regret every single life choice. To hell with your idiotic ideals! You’re staying here, dickhead! You hear?” Those were what I wanted to say.
But when I looked into Roman’s eyes, they were brimming with enthusiasm. Unwavering optimism. The flash of a nearby explosion only bathed his visage further in its terrible light. As the light surrounded him, his very essence seemed to have transformed, painting him with a glow like that of a benevolent celestial being.
I didn’t say anything. If I had screamed into his ears, if I had begged him not to move an inch, if I had pleaded with him that I didn’t want to close the lifeless eyelids for people I cared for ever again, maybe. . . just maybe, he wouldn’t have died.
Over the trench and behind the defensive sandbags, we heard the voice of Vice Commander Smolov over the loudspeaker.
“Great Russia calls you to action, comrades! Time to strike! Get outta there and push them back! Now, now, NOW!”
Roman shook his shoulder to push me away and grabbed onto his rifle. His grin didn’t leave his face the whole time. “Ya hear? Let’s go!” It baffled me how he still had enough strength to get up. Either his injuries weren’t as worrying as I had anticipated or his rush of adrenaline had overshadowed all the pain.
“Please,” I begged him. He ignored me.
Roman sprang up from the trench. It was at that moment, I finally sensed danger. The sound of ammo leaving the muzzle. The smell of death. I knew when a bullet was coming. I have always had the ability to detect when danger was one inch too close for comfort.
“Duck! DUCK!” I screamed. But it was too late. A split second too late.
Bang. The damned bullet hit. The metallic taste of fresh blood permeated the air and clung to the tip of my tongue; a taste I would never be able to forget.
​
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