A Journey That Changed The World

Archer felt his skin burn away after the explosion washed over them all. His body healed itself before crashing into a swamp, creating a crater, shaking the surrounding landscape thanks to the force. This scared everything in the vicinity away, allowing him some breathing room.

His head spun as he tried to send out a mana wave, but nothing happened, confusing and pissing him off. ‘Magic not working?’ he thought.

Without hesitation, he climbed his way up, only to be hit by a wall of filthy black water, blinding him as he covered his face, feeling like a regular human. Before he could clear his eyes, jaws clamped around his torso, shocking him once again. Razor teeth punched through scales and flesh alike.

‘What the fuck!’

He became angry and let out a rage-filled roar tore from his throat as pain exploded white-hot, but rage answered faster. His own claws appeared; he drove them deep into the creature’s gums and ripped sideways. Hot blood flooded his mouth as the beast spasmed, jaws springing open with a choked gurgle.

Following that, Archer dropped free, hitting the flooded ground hard, every nerve screaming yet still very much alive. He looked up only to see the giant crocodile charging him. Still, a strange noise echoed from behind him as an even bigger snake burst from the water, biting into the monster, wrapping it in it’s enormous body, crushing the crocodilian.

”Where have they sent me now? Jurassic Park?”

He shook his head, making his way toward dry ground as the snake began swallowing the crocodile. Archer slogged onto a root-tangled hummock and let himself collapse against a tree, chest heaving. The swamp stank of rot, blood, and something older, making the hairs on his neck rise even while his body kept knitting itself closed.

The titan snake was still busy behind him, working the dead croc down its throat with wet swallows that sounded like a tarp being dragged over gravel. He spat black water and blood, then tried again to pull on his mana. Nothing happened. Not a flicker. His chest felt muffled, like someone had wrapped it in wet wool.

”Great,” he muttered. ”New world, new rules, and they seem to hate me already.”

A final crunch of bone, and the snake finished its meal. The water settled into lazy ripples. Then the surface bulged again. A head the size of a fishing boat rose, scales glittering obsidian and jade. Two lantern-gold eyes fixed on him, unblinking. He tensed, claws flexing on instinct.

The serpent lowered its head until they were eye to eye. A forked tongue the length of a streetlamp flickered out, tasting the air inches from his face. It smelled of copper and lightning. ‘Little star-born,’ a voice echoed in his mind. ‘You bleed light. Why do you crawl in my mud?’

Female. Definitely female. And ancient enough that the words felt like they’d been carved into the world before language existed. Archer wiped his mouth with the back of one hand. ”Honestly? Someone upstairs has a sick sense of humor. You planning to eat me next, or can a guy catch a break?”

The snake’s pupils narrowed to vertical slits. Amusement, maybe. ‘You fought well for something so small. I am entertained.’

She drifted closer; water cascaded off coils thick as bridge cables. ‘But the swamp is also hungry. Always hungry.’

”Tell you what,” he said, pushing to his feet.

His ribs popped back into place with a wet click. ”Point me toward dry land and anything that isn’t trying to turn me into lunch, and I’ll owe you one. I pay my debts.”

A low hiss echoed from the monster. ‘Debts are currency here, star-born. Remember that.’

One coil slid forward, slow enough that he could have dodged if he wanted to. He didn’t. The slick scales nudged him gently in the back, turning him north-west. ‘Walk the root-road until the swamp gives way to stone. Do not drink the red water. Do not answer the singing.’

”And you?” he asked.

The serpent was already sinking; only those golden eyes were still above the surface. ‘I will watch,’ she said. ‘Try not to die too quickly. You smell interesting.’

Then she was gone, leaving only the fading ripples and the taste in the air. Archer rolled his shoulders, spat one last time, and started walking. ”Jurassic Park,” he muttered, kicking through the shallows. ”More like goddamn Monster Island.”

Somewhere in the distance, something big screamed at the sky. He grinned despite himself, claws glinting. ”Round two, then.”

Archer kept moving, boots squelching, every step announcing him to anything listening. He was halfway convinced the snake had sent him into a trap for her own entertainment when the smell hit: wet dog left out in the rain too long, mixed with spoiled milk and something sweet-rotten underneath, then the singing started.

Soft. Low. A woman’s voice, maybe a dozen of them braided together, coming from all around him. ”Come lay your bones down, darling, let the mud keep you warm.”

His skin crawled as he remembered the warning and clamped his teeth shut. The tune scraped along the inside of his skull anyway, promising rest, promising an end to the ache in his freshly knitted ribs. A shape detached itself from the draping moss ahead, tall, thin, wrong.

Archer noticed the gray-green skin clung to bones like wet paper, making it even creepier, sending a shiver down his spine. No eyes, just smooth stretches where eyes should be, and a mouth too wide, split all the way back to where ears would’ve been on anything human, confusing him even more.

‘More Terravian expriements?’

The creature smiled, revealing two rows of sharp teeth. More dropped from the branches. Others rose from the water without making ripples. Ten. Fifteen. They moved like puppets with half the strings cut, heads lolling, arms too long, fingers dragging in the muck. Seconds later, the singing grew louder, now inside his head. ”Come sleep, little star, let us taste the light you bleed.”

One lunged. Archer met it mid-air. Claws punched through its chest with a wet pop; black fluid sprayed like spoiled ink. The thing didn’t even flinch. It wrapped its arms around him and tried to pull him into a hug, mouth opening wider, wider, until the lower jaw unhinged completely.

He twisted, ripped an arm off at the elbow, using the severed limb like a club. Bone cracked against bone. The creature finally made a sound, a wet, bubbling giggle, and kept coming on the remaining arm and both legs. They swarmed him instantly. He became a blur of claws and teeth.

Heads came off. Torsos opened like wet laundry. Every time he killed one, two more crawled over the corpse to get at him. Their blood stank of ammonia and overripe fruit; it burned where it splashed his skin. A hand, cold, rubbery, too many knuckles, clamped the back of his neck.

Another looped tight around his thigh, jerking him toward the black water where pale mouths gaped in eager rows. Their song wasn’t sound anymore; it was pressure behind his eyes and brain, a throbbing pulse that tried to drown thought itself. He roared, spun, claws scything in blind arcs. Scales and slime burst under the steel.

Something fast latched onto his shoulder, teeth sawing through muscle until they grated on bone. The pain exploded, rushing through his body. Archer reached back, and seized a fistful of sodden hair. With a snarl he yanked the creature forward and smashed its face into the tree trunk.

Once. Twice. Cartilage crumpled; the singing fractured into a wet gurgle. Archer felt the jaw go slack in his grip and flung the body away like a broken doll. Wood splintered. The singing stuttered. He felt the water at his waist now, then his chest. They were winning by sheer weight.

Then the swamp itself answered. Something the size of a city bus exploded out of the water behind the pack. Moments later, the titan snake struck like a wrecking ball, mouth gaping wide enough to swallow a pickup truck. Five of the pale things disappeared down her throat in a single gulp, still singing all the way down.

Archer watched as the rest of the humanoids froze in fear. The serpent’s head rose and she regarded the remaining humanoids the way a cat regards broken toys. ‘The star born is mine,’ her voice boomed in their minds.

The word carried the weight of old law as the creatures let go of him so fast he almost fell over. They melted back into the moss and water, vanishing between one heartbeat and the next. Moments later, the singing cut off like someone yanked a plug. Silence rushed in, broken only by the drip of water from the snake’s fangs.

Archer stood chest-deep in black water, panting, coated in gore that wasn’t his. He looked up at the serpent drifting above him, utterly unfazed. ‘Told you I’d watch,’ she said, amused. ‘You owe me two debts now, little star.’