We were camped among the trees of a forest that separated the human kingdom from the demonic continent.
It had been just over two years since I had been transported to Ganopan, this strange world of swords and magic, but I confess that I was already quite used to the customs of these people.
Even though some of them had habits that were a little... strange.
Micah interrupted my thoughts when he grumbled beside me, chewing loudly on a generous chicken leg.
He was a huge Atlas lion, with black fur and a beard. His feline eyes were yellow, and he was as big and wide as a wardrobe.
"So let me get this straight," he said with his mouth full of chicken, "in your world, food is born ready-made in... cans? I can just get meat and potatoes without hunting or planting?
Before he finished, I choked with laughter at the question. I grabbed my canteen and took a long sip of water, still coughing a little.
"Yeah... something like that."
He shook his lion-like mane in unbelief.
"How do you survive being so lazy? Are you all nobles or something? Not that you look noble, with those skinny arms it's hard to believe you could wield a sword so well! Hahahahaha!"
He laughed loudly, throwing pieces of chicken everywhere.
Of course, it was very easy to talk about my physique, being a walking war tank. Just one of his arms was the size of my both legs together.
He turned back to the large animal roasting over the fire to serve himself again and cut off a piece of meat.
Vaer'ion looked indignantly at the lion.
"Micah, if you're going to waste food, at least do it after we cross the demonic fields. I'd rather not starve to death before we reach the plains."
Micah rolled his eyes and pointed the thigh at Vaer'ion. The scene was comical. I was trying to hold back my laughter.
"Shut up, pixie. I just want to know more about the world of our dear friend Rucas here. Are you going to tell me you're not curious too?"
I grinned, taking another bite of meat, while watching the two interact.
Vaer'ion seemed uncomfortable, but soon went back to eating. His golden eyes were fixed on his plate, but his pointed ears, adorned with ornaments, betrayed his attention to detail.
After two more bites, Micah finished his drumstick and was about to attack the ribs when a wooden spoon struck his hand with a crack.
He recoiled and looked up in the direction of the blow, fangs bared and a growl stuck in his throat.
"Leave it for the others, Micah. You're not the only one who's hungry around here."
Josephine appeared holding a large pot of mushroom and potato soup.
She was a beautiful white tiger. She had extremely eye-catching features and a very voluptuous body, even under the armor.
I fell in love with her as soon as I saw her.
She was kind and extremely generous, but any fool who underestimated her would end up with his head on the ground before he could draw his sword.
No wonder she was the youngest demi-human queen ever crowned.
Her slanted blue eyes scanned Micah from head to toe with scrutiny. He muttered something inaudible and backed away, visibly offended.
She set the bowl on a rock and sat down next to me.
My heartbeat increased as she was so close enough to feel her body heat.
"Your 'Earth' captivates me, Rucas."
While speaking, her steady and delicate hands served soup into two bowls, one for me and one for her. Since we met, she has been kind to me. Perhaps because she believes I miss home, just like her.
"Tell me more about the vehicles you mentioned. That motor... cinet, right?"
I swallowed the hot soup too quickly to answer her, which made me choke slightly.
"Motorcycles... They are small machines powered by a combustion engine, they are as fast as a horse, but they don't get tired. They can travel long distances..."
Her eyes sparkled whenever I told her something about Earth. Even Micah stopped to pay attention.
Suddenly, I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. Something seemed... strange.
Before I could process it, a figure emerged from the shadows of the forest.
The faint light from the fire illuminated Duncan's dark, bald face. The right-hand man of King Lorran of Illuvium, the human kingdom. He was an extremely strong man who carried a large shield on his back. Despite his armor and heavy shield, he walked effortlessly.
Next to him, laughing at something he had just said, was Tharsganon, the eldest son of the Great King Tharson of the Dwarf Kingdom.
He had short red hair, with a huge tattoo on the shaved part of his head that went down his back, and his beard was huge, braided in such a way that it hit his belly.
He was almost five feet tall, pure muscle and scars from battles won, but most impressive was the large hammer he carried resting on his shoulder, the Azbouarn Hammer, a mighty dwarven relic.
Behind them came Zuni'ah, Vaer'ion's older sister.
Her hair was so blond that it bordered on white, tied around her head in a crown of twigs and flowers. Her golden eyes gave her an angelic air, and if I hadn't known she was 1,000 years old, she could easily have passed for a teenager going through puberty.
She sat down next to her brother, resting her staff on the supply bags. Duncan took a bowl and served himself some soup, but remained standing, as he always did. This guy was so neurotic about security that he slept sitting up with one eye open.
After a few long seconds, while we were eating, Josephine broke the silence by turning to Duncan.
"So? How far are we from the patrols?"
Duncan finished swallowing a generous piece of potato from his soup before answering.
"A few miles and getting further. Zuni scattered them with a confusion spell. I believe we'll be fine until we cross the fields."
Zuni'ah's ears turned red.
At first, she hated the nickname I gave her, because Elvish names are rather difficult to pronounce, but as time went by and the others began to use it too, she sort of accepted it.
She took a strand of hair and began twirling it around her fingers, as she did when she was nervous or embarrassed.
"Yes, but stay alert. If they have three or four wizards, they'll soon notice my spell. As soon as we finish eating, we must break camp."
Tharsganon, who was preparing his usual pipe, let out a loud, boisterous laugh when Zuni finished speaking.
"Nonsense, utter nonsense. Not even the great sorcerer of the Demon King could compare to our talented little Zuni."
As soon as he finished speaking, another shiver ran from my lower back to my neck. But this time... it came like a cold centipede crawling up my spine.
And then I caught a pungent smell... rotten and... iron-like. I knew that smell. It was the smell of blood and... death.
Instinctively, I reached out, summoning my sword, and clenched my fingers around it.
"Rucas, what's wrong?"
I heard Josephine calling my name, but when I turned toward the voice, she wasn't there. No one was.
In the blink of an eye, the fire went out and everything went dark.
And cold... and then heat...
A very uncomfortable buzzing began inside my head, accompanied by a strangely familiar but at the same time very wrong voice that repeated several words alternately in my ears... sometimes in the left, sometimes in the right... which was making me extremely uncomfortable.
"...fear..."
"Guys?"
My voice came out with difficulty, it felt like something was pressing on my throat, but it didn't hurt, it just limited my voice.
"...anger...hatred..."
"Micah? Josephine?"
Only the darkness was constantly present. My eyes couldn't adjust to the darkness, and only that voice answered me.
"...guilt..."
In a sudden, instinctive movement, I drew my sword from its sheath and again, but in the blink of an eye... I was back at the campfire.
I looked down and saw the bowl of soup... at first I thought it was just something caused by fatigue... so I closed my eyes and let out a trembling sigh.
But then when I opened my eyes again... I saw a trail of blood.
"No..."
I followed the trail with my eyes and saw Micah's giant body, without both arms, covered in blood, huge cuts and gashes that exposed part of his organs like a display case. A trickle of blood ran from his half-open mouth.
I tried to move and run to him, but my body didn't move.
Next to him was Duncan. The imposing and fearless squire had the lower half of his body torn off. His guts were scattered everywhere.
His glassy eyes were fixed on me.
And where his legs should have been was Tharsganon. There weren't many wounds on his body, but where his head should have been, once smiling and cheerful, with a prominent wooden pipe, was the Hammer of Azbouarn, crushing his skull.
"Duncan... Thars... I..."
Before I could even finish, I heard crying coming from behind me. Heavy, uncontrollable crying. I turned toward the sobs, and my heart nearly fell to the floor.
Vaer'ion was shaking violently as he held Zuni'ah's lifeless body tightly, as if he could somehow hold on to the life that had already slipped away from her. His sister looked like a fragile child in his arms.
I put my hand on my chest because I felt an overwhelming weight, as if it were about to explode at any moment. My legs faltered, so I fell to my knees on the floor.
But then... I felt the crack of magic dissolving. I turned around suddenly, thinking it was some hidden enemy, but what my eyes found was something much worse...
It was Josephine... with my sword stuck in her chest.
She was falling to the side, her beastly form dissolving, her body returning to its original size. I rushed to catch her so she wouldn't hit the ground.
In my arms, her feline amber eyes returned to their normal blue color and met mine.
— Ru...cas... don't...
Her eyes went blank... they lost their beautiful sparkle of life. Her arm fell heavily around me.
And that feeling... As if thousands of needles were injecting boiling oil into my veins. Josephine's blood darkened, as dark as petroleum, and began to move strangely... as if it had a will of its own.
That symbiotic mass stuck to my arms and began to rise, quickly taking over my chest, and even faster toward my neck.
And then...