《Struggle for Survival》


 1. The Apocalypse

    The world was ending, and yet it was beautiful. A myriad colors shone in the sky. I had watched the Aurora Borealis before, the northern lights, but they seemed almost dull in comparison. Lifeless.


    The sky now was anything but.


    I ran. It was a panicked, primal instinct. Shelter. I needed to get away.


    There had been caves before, I¡¯d seen them. On the mountainside, next to the trail. My backpack was weighing me down, but I didn¡¯t have time to undo the straps. Plus, I¡¯d probably need it, if the world was really ending. Although, if I thought that thought through, perhaps I wouldn¡¯t need it if the world was ending. In fact, I would very much not need anything at all.


    Aha! A cave, up ahead. Somehow, I managed to run even faster over the uneven terrain, and that without falling over. The entrance didn¡¯t seem to be that big, perhaps a little bit more than my own height.


    I entered and it was as if a weight had been lifted from me. In the primitive stone age part of my brain, the hundreds upon hundreds of tons of smooth stone would surely protect me from the cataclysm that was happening outside. Yes, a literal hole in the side of a mountain would protect me from whatever was happening outside. Good thinking.


    It seemed somewhat ridiculous now that I had calmed down from the initial adrenaline shock, but what was I to do against that? What was even happening? Nuclear holocaust? An enormous solar eruption hitting earth? A gamma ray burst from deep space? A ¡ª


    [WORLD TAKEOVER COMPLETED]


    A voice spoke, no, blasted into my head. It was the loudest sound I had ever heard, and yet somehow my ears weren¡¯t hurting. I didn¡¯t even know from where it was coming from.


    [NECESSARY MINIMUM OF WORLDS AMASSED COMPLETE]


    [INITIALIZING WORLD CONGLOMERATION]


    No sooner had the words been said, that the world around me shifted. The stone under my feet lurched, and I fell down on my face. When I looked up, I could see the ceiling changing as well, growing higher and higher. I looked towards the cave opening, where I had just moments before entered what I thought would be my shelter, and I could see it closing. I tried standing up, to escape what had now seemingly become a death trap.


    However, it was not to be. The entrance grew closed, and with it, the flashing potpourri of lights flowing in from the outside stopped. The cave had been blazingly bright before. Now it was pitch black.


    I fumbled with my backpack straps in the dark. My phone was there. I could use it as a flashlight.A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.


    It took me longer than it should have, but, half-panicked and completely blind, I finally found it. I shone the light on what should have been an empty space of air, but now was nothing but smooth rock. I touched it. It was hard, somewhat cold, like any other rock I had ever touched in my life. It certainly didn¡¯t feel like an illusion.


    For some reason, testing it with a kick seemed like a great in my mind, up until I actually did it. Then, I was hopping around like an idiot clutching my foot.


    ¡°Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK!¡±


    I didn¡¯t usually swear, not much, but this occasion certainly deserved it. The world outside had gone to shit, and I was stuck in this cave that wasn¡¯t really a cave anymore. Did caves need to have an entrance to still be called ¡®caves¡¯? Well, mine certainly didn¡¯t.


    More importantly, what had that voice been? It had been loud, but not in the way loud noised tend to be. No, it had been in my head. I was sure of it. It sounded ridiculous, but it was what had happened. I hadn¡¯t been a religious person, but the events just now made me seriously consider converting. In fact, I¡¯d become a staunch believer if it just got me out of this cave again. Speaking of which, I had now walked across the entire thing, and I was truly, absolutely, trapped. The world had stopped shifting, it seemed, at least in my area. I could still hear the faint thrumming far away.


    I sat down. Despite knowing better, I still tried to make a call. First to 911, then to my mother. Of course, I had no reception. I didn¡¯t have it before whilst hiking the trail, and I surely wouldn¡¯t have it now whilst stuck in the mountain. Also, judging by the explosive lights that had lit up the sky, I was doubtful satellite service would remain untouched.


    So what could I do? I could perhaps attempt digging my way out. Or rather, chiseling my way out. Through who knows how many meters of stone. Without light, since my phone would eventually die out. Yeah, not an option. Outside help was also very unlikely, since I had no reception, and that was unlikely to get better. Plus, who knew how the outside looked by now.


    The next thought I had was waiting. Just, waiting. Whatever it was that was happening, it didn¡¯t seem to have stopped. I could still feel faint vibrations of the mountain under me changing and shifting. The voice, or god, or alien, or whatever it was, seemed to be the cause of all that. It had closed my entrance, perhaps it would, eventually, open it up again. Or open up another.


    And so I waited. And waited. And waited. I waited, trying to stay alert, trying to keep my eyes open, ready to dash out the moment I saw any shift in the walls, any new movement in the stone that could open an entrance.


    ***


    I woke up to a faint green-blue glow. Had I not turned off my phone? I fumbled around the moss with bleary eyes for it, trying to find it so I could conserve battery. Having access to a light source was crucial.


    Moss?


    There had been no moss before! I shot awake and looked around me. Everything had changed. The small-ish cave had perhaps doubled in size, and a kind of soft moss had grown pretty much everywhere. It glowed! I had never seen anything like it. I passed my hands through it; it was a pleasant feeling.


    But the biggest, and most important change, was that now there was an exit in what had previously been the back of the cave. Well, perhaps not an exit, but certainly a tunnel. It had to lead somewhere. Hopefully.


    Incredibly, it seemed like the world hadn¡¯t ended. Just changed.

 2. Into the Cavern

    I stretched a little. My neck and back were sore from falling asleep whilst sitting. Perhaps not the best idea. Plus, my right foot still hurt. Kicking the wall had also not been a a stroke of genius.


    Somewhat hungry, I grabbed a nutritional bar from my backpack and drank a few gulps water. I only had a few more of the first, and one, now half-empty, bottle of the second. Limited supplies that would have to suffice until I got out of this cave. Although, maybe I could hydrate myself by eating some of this moss. Or, perhaps that too would not be a great idea and I would die of stomach cramps. Hopefully I could find a drinkable source of water underground.


    I strapped on my backpack and made to explore the newly opened tunnel. Then, the loudest, most intrusive sound I had ever experienced in my life blasted into my ears like a rocket roaring off the launchpad.


    [WORLD CONGLOMERATION & INITIALIZATION COMPLETED]


    I stumbled at the surprise of it and pressed my hands against my ears out of instinct. That didn¡¯t help however, as the voice kept going, ignoring my feeble efforts to dampen its volume.


    [GREETINGS, INHABITANTS OF THE NEWLY FORMED PLANET KARAKT II.


    YOU HAVE BEEN ASSIMILATED, AND GIFTED WITH THE HONOR TO PROVE YOURSELVES WORTHY.


    STRUGGLE.


    SURVIVE.


    THRIVE.


    THROUGH CONFLICT BECOME STRONG, AND ASCEND TO MY SIDE.


    THE WAR ALWAYS NEEDS VOLUNTEERS. ]


    I found myself on the floor, screaming. My ears didn¡¯t hurt, but something inside my mind did. It felt broken, violated, by whatever it was that held so much power and had entered my very being as if it was the easiest thing to do in the world.


    Eventually, the pain subsided, and I lay on the soft moss looking at a beautifully lit ceiling. It was mesmerizing. The plants didn¡¯t emit light evenly, instead, the luminescence had an ebb and flow, like waves in the sea. Like night, and day. Life, and death. Yin and Yang.


    I seemed to be delirious. I slapped myself out of it.


    I thought about what the voice had said. It wanted conflict, that much was clear. And soldiers, apparently. For some kind of war. How making me be stuck in a cave achieved any of that was unclear.


    Although, going by the wording, the message had probably been broadcast to all other humans too. Perhaps it had been an accident that I got stuck here, or perhaps the voice just didn¡¯t care what happened to a solitary human who had foolishly entered a cave during the apocalypse.


    In a somewhat grimmer mood, I heaved my backpack and made my way to the tunnel. I still needed to get out of here, my food and water would eventually run out. And by eventually I meant tomorrow, I hadn¡¯t planned a long hike, and had packed accordingly.


    I wasn¡¯t necessarily claustrophobic, but nobody liked getting stuck in tight spaces. Luckily, the tunnel was still big enough to allow me walk upright without having to crouch.


    Everything was covered in the luminescent moss: the walls, the floor, the ceiling. It was a surreal experience to go through it. Some spots were bare rock, but even that was pretty, with white veins of what I presumed was marble running through it.


    The tunnel had a slight downward slope, I could tell. Not much, but noticeable. After a short time of walking through it, perhaps a minute or so, it ended.


    Then, my jaw dropped.


    Saying that it ended in a cavern would have been an injustice to the sheer size of it. I was still underground; a rock ceiling was visible way, way up. However, the underground space was enormous. It was so big that I could not see the other side of it. The air seemed to be slightly misty, but still. It had to be well over a kilometer wide, and much longer than that.


    I walked ¡°outside¡±, and found myself on a rocky plateau. To my left, another, smaller rocky outcrop. To my right, the plateau slanted and extended until the cave floor.


    Mesmerized, I walked forward and stood at the edge. Before me extended a vast expanse of green. Vegetation I had never seen before. The luminescent moss had mostly been displaced by other types of bigger plants, many of them giving off a similar green-blue light. There were trees growing everywhere. Thin, spindly ones with a single long leaf on top; thick, tear-drop shaped ones with palm-like fronds jutting out of them. Gigantic sunflower-like plants peeking out here and there. And, every so often, sharp beautiful white rocks could be seen poking out of the vegetation. Amidst it all a corridor of mossy plains and spiked shrubs.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    It was all alien; it didn¡¯t belong on Earth.


    But I supposed Earth didn¡¯t exist anymore. Now, we had apparently been merged with other planets into the horribly named ¡°Karakt II¡±. Also, why were we the second Karakt? Had something happened to the first?


    I stepped back from the edge. Perhaps standing so close was not the best idea.


    What should I do? I needed water, first and foremost. Then food; and then to get back to civilization.


    With so much vegetation, I¡¯d surely find water if I descended down to the forest floor. The plants needed it to grow so lush (presumably, I didn¡¯t know how this alien vegetation functioned), and water tended to collect at the lowest point. Perhaps there was a stream or smaller river flowing down the middle corridor? I was a bit too high up to make anything out.


    Food I would also probably find if I went down, in the forest. Perhaps some berries, or fruits. Although if they were safe to eat was another matter.


    Perhaps I could even hunt a rabbit or some such small critter. I had never really been good at that. Or even gone hunting, truth be told. The most I knew about the matter was watching a few survival documentaries on television.


    But the decisive factor was that I needed to get out of here. My tunnel was a dead end, only leading to the chamber I had initially been trapped in. There were no further tunnels in the cavern side behind me, and nothing else of interest on the smaller rocky outcrop that extended from the wall to my left.


    So, a descent to the cavern was what I had to do. The space was enormous; there had to be some connection to the outside world somewhere.


    Decision made, I descended the sloped ground with my backpack still slung over my shoulders.


    The air was¡­ dense. Full. Of something, I couldn¡¯t quite put my finger on it. But it had a certain presence and weight to it. A certain freshness that felt invigorating.


    I wondered if it had some hallucinogenic properties too, or else I would have to entertain the fact that I might have been going crazy. Air that was full? What lunacy was that.


    Reaching the bottom of the descent left me somewhere at the start of the mossy corridor, with the tree lines starting a bit further to my left and to my right.


    Ferns and some smaller spiky bushes were growing down here, along with the ever present glowing moss.


    The forest was loud. I could hear frog-like croaks that had a deeper tone than they should have; the high pitched chirping and whistling of some sort of birds; the bumming and buzzing of forearm-sized dragonflies that flew about.


    It was unreal. Like descending into a dreamworld. Or a nightmare.


    I skirted along the middle of the corridor between the tree lines, apprehensive to go inside for some reason. Still baffled at all the new sights and sounds.


    There were a few saplings and younger trees of the long, single leafed variety growing here. I touched one. The wood (if it even was wood and not some alien-analogy) felt smooth. Like the treated and sanded wood you might find as flooring in a nice house.


    The plant was slightly taller than head-height, but I could still reach its singular long leaf growing from the top if I stretched my arm out. It was soft, like touching velvet. Covered in minuscule hairs that gave off a little bit of light at their ends, which gave the entire thing a slightly glowy look.


    Thinking practically, it would make a nice walking stick if cut down. Also useful for parting overgrown vegetation out of the way, in case I had to wade through that forest. Especially if I had to go through some thorny bushes or a dense patch of plants.


    I took out my outdoor knife and started cutting with the serrated edge at the tree base. Or tried to. The young tree was much harder than I had expected it to be; indeed, much harder than it had any right to be.


    Was it naturally like that, or had the air and atmosphere down here somehow changed it? Or was it just a hardy alien species?


    Regardless, I wasn¡¯t someone that was easily deterred. I wanted that walking stick now, and I¡¯d get it. Even if it was extra durable.


    I needed a small victory. The past day and a half had been very hard.


    Like this tree! Hah.


    I seemed to be making some, if slow, progress. The steel teeth of my knife were slowly biting into the wood, making the cut larger and larger.


    And then I was through. Only took me about half an hour.


    I waved my new walking stick around. It was a little bit too long, reaching above my shoulders and almost to eye-height. Not perfect for walking. But cutting it had already taken so long; I would certainly not do it again any time soon.


    Feeling a little better with my new equipment, I was about to continue my way forward, when I noticed a change in my environment.


    There were more of those spiky bushes. Some bigger ones too.


    There hadn¡¯t been this many before; I was sure. Then again, perhaps I was hallucinating. The day had been strange enough for that to be an option.


    Puzzled, I walked closer to one. It seemed normal enough, in this alien cave. A rounded ball of a plant with a dense mantle of spikes. Cactuses were kinda like that, right? I could accept spiky bushes easily enough. Didn¡¯t necessarily want to touch the spikes themselves with my hand, so I did the next best thing and poked my newly acquired stick into it.


    It screeched.


    It wasn¡¯t rooted to the ground, like a plant would be, and instead toppled over when I poked it. It¡¯s now upside belly featured a huge teethed maw and six small, but stubby, insectoid legs.


    Then all the bushes started moving at once.

 3. The Murderous Bushes

    The spiky bushes started moving. A somewhat smaller one a few meters to my left leaped from the ground straight towards me. Out of pure instinct, I tried swatting it away, but it bit into my arm instead, holding firm to it.


    My forearm screamed in pain. I bat at it with my other hand, stabbing myself at its spikes in the process, but the thing fortunately lost its teethy grip and fell off.


    I turned to flee. There were a dozen of the murderous bushes, all converging towards me. I turned and ran with all I could. Desperately I ran, stick in one hand and blood flowing down the other, backpack heavy on my back.


    I felt a tug, and another one. My backpack was suddenly heavier; were they clinging to it? There was no time to take it off though, not with the straps holding it tight to my chest.


    And so I kept running, up and up the sloped ground, away from the forest with the monstrous bushes, with a herd of them trailing behind me. At some point I felt another one graze my thigh, but thankfully it could not get a grip and fell off.


    Halfway up to the plateau I looked behind, and saw that I had shaken them off. Apparently they did not want to get too far from the tree line. Still, I kept running.


    Once I reached the top of the plateau, I felt like I needed to collapse. The sprint up here had been tough. But before that, I fumbled with the straps of my backpack. I needed to get this thing and its riders off, now.


    Finally I heard a ¡°click¡±, and I awkwardly let it drop behind me, jumping away from it. Looking at the backpack, there was only one creature on it; the other one must have fallen down during the jostling of my panicked run.


    The thing was munching away at the textile, oblivious of me. It probably thought the backpack had been a real part of my body. It was smaller than most I¡¯d seen, perhaps melon-sized. Did the smaller ones jump further then? The one that had teared up my arm had been similarly sized.


    I gripped my stick, trying to not put too much pressure on my left arm, and swung it with as much strength as I could muster on the thing. Like a baseball bat. The spiky bushy beast detached from the backpack and went rolling down the slope.


    Relieved, I sat down on the floor.


    I was panting. Heavily. I was in okay-ish shape, but this had been too much. Sprinting all the way up here, with a heavy load on top of that. Probably had only managed to do so because of the adrenaline pumping through my veins. It wasn¡¯t everyday that one had to fight for their life.


    For my life? Could I have died?


    I looked at my arm. It was a mess; there were a dozen or so incision wounds on my forearm, all bleeding freely. I needed to get it bandaged. And yes, if multiple of these beasts had been on me at the same time, there was no doubt I could have died.


    The thought felt like a splash of cold water on my face.


    I looked down towards the forest, and could still make out a few of the green round bushes here and there, scuttling about. Like little fat spiders.


    I took my backpack, and went back through the tunnel. Back towards my cave.


    ***


    My cave. That¡¯s what I called this hole in the ground now. My cave. It sounded ridiculous, and yet that¡¯s how I felt about it. I did not want to go back outside, to the forest and the corridor in between infested with those horrible creatures. The soft, glowing, mossy cave felt like home in comparison.


    My arm was still bleeding and needed treatment. I sat down on the ground and laid out my backpack next to me. The two critters had done a number on it. It was seriously torn in multiple spots, I¡¯d have to see how much they had broken. As it was, the first-aid kit I always carried around on a hike was thankfully still intact.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    First I cleaned the wounds with antibiotic wipes (who knew what infections those animals could transmit with their horrible teeth), and then I bandaged them as well as I could. Mostly my left forearm, but I also had to clean up the little punctures I had gotten myself when I slapped the thing away with my right hand. As the adrenaline slowly wore off and inflammation started, it hurt a lot more. If only I had managed to dodge that thing. If only I had been faster. If only I hadn¡¯t entered this stupid cave in my panic yesterday.


    Something I had been trying to avoid thinking about finally came to the forefront of my mind. What had been those creatures? Those plants, that forest? This very cave with its strange moss?


    If I had harbored any doubts, now they were well and truly gone, together with my last bit of hope and sanity. The world had truly changed and become unrecognizable. Alien.


    I thought about what the voice had said. Or shouted, I supposed. It had wanted struggle. Conflict. Perhaps the environment had been modified to facilitate this. To encourage it.


    If so, I would certainly not give up.


    I would not die of thirst, or hunger, or eaten by those horrible hedgehogs. I would not die here in this sad cave, underground and forgotten from the world. I would not.


    I laid out my resources. Everything I had in my backpack.


    An almost empty two-liter canteen and two smaller (empty) plastic bottles.


    A munched on sleeping bag, together with it¡¯s half torn liner.


    A compass.


    The last dregs of travel rations.


    A small cooking stove together with a burnable propane bottle. The bottle was dented with small teeth indentations but thankfully still seemed to remain structurally stable.


    Some instant coffee. The bag had been teared open and now the black powder was strewn about.


    A phone that had run out of battery by now. The screen had also been cracked; bitten. Oh well, it wasn¡¯t like it would¡¯ve been useful anyways.


    Bear spray, intact.


    Two extra pair of warm socks. And an extra pair of underwear.


    Some sunscreen. And lip balm. And sunglasses. All wonderfully uselessly intact.


    Wallet and apartment keys.


    The first aid kit.


    Some cord and carabiners.


    The backpack itself. Quite torn.


    A flint fire-starting kit.


    And lastly, my survival knife and my swiss multi-tool. As well as my stick.


    I let out a small sigh after cataloguing my belongings.


    The compass was useful; it would allow me to orient myself even if I got lost in the depths of the forest. The torn sleeping bag was a pity, but could still be used to sleep in. Kind of. Perhaps my feet would stick out of the wrong hole. Although, it wasn¡¯t necessarily cold here, and I had apparently fallen asleep on the moss tonight, which was reasonably soft. Perhaps I wouldn¡¯t need it.


    I wet my parchy throat with the last of the water. Getting more would have to be my principal priority for now; one could easily survive a dozen days without food, but I knew dehydration was much more serious.


    The bear spray would probably be useful. Perhaps not against the spiked bushes, because their faces (and presumably eyes) seemed to be buried in the ground, but hopefully against other hostile creatures. Well, ideally I would not meet these, but after the foreboding message this morning I harbored little hope of this.


    I was hungry, and ate the last of my rations. It was probably a bad idea to not save them for later, but I needed the energy now. Especially with a wounded arm.


    The sunscreen was useless, getting sunburned was unlikely to be any danger. Perhaps I could lotion the green spiky horrors with it, and they¡¯d get a lethal allergic reaction? A small laugh escaped me. At least I hadn¡¯t lost my humor.


    That idea was obviously absurd, but another one popped into my mind. A much better one. I immediately got to implementing it.


    First the worst part; I would have to saw a slit into the end of my stick. The wood was unfairly durable, as I had learned whilst trying to saw it off before. So I measured and re-measured, until I was sure it was the correct size.


    The blade of my survival knife had a decent length; about as long as my hand. And it was suitably pointy.


    Then, I grabbed my multi-tool, popped open the screwdriver and got to separating the blade from the handle. It wouldn¡¯t need a handle anymore. Well, technically it would still have one, just a longer one. The thought made me grin.


    Once I had separated the flat metal blade, I jammed it into the slit I had cut into the stick, as far down as I could. Then, I cut off a few feet of cord and bound the whole thing tightly, so that the blade wouldn¡¯t bend or slip out the sides.


    Ta-da! I now had a functioning spear.


    The bit of progress improved my mood somewhat. My injured arm was throbbing from all the sawing, and I needed any piece of good news.


    I grabbed the now significantly more lethal stick and tried a few stabbing motions. I had no idea how a spear was used, the only ¡°knowledge¡± was the one I had gotten from Hollywood movies. However, sticking the pointy end into my enemies should do the trick.


    With this, I could fight back against the bushes.

 4. In search of water

    I wondered if I should give them a name. Spushes; short for spiky bushes. Or perhaps urchhogs, because they looked like a mix between hedgehogs and sea urchins. Or bushchins, bush and urchins?


    I decided to go with the first one just because it was the least awful of the lot. Giving my enemy a name seemed like the correct thing to do; it made them less menacing alien horrors and more common critters in my mind. More approachable.


    More defeatable.


    I had never been a big fan of hunting. I loved the outdoors, yes, but the biggest thing I¡¯d ever killed was a small lizard that I had once accidentally stepped on. That would probably change soon.


    I designated a list of essentials to bring along: my canteen and bottles, which I needed to refill with fresh water urgently. I clipped them to my belt. Well, I clipped the canteen, the bottles were plastic and didn¡¯t really have anything to clip on, so I tied them with some rope.


    My compass, in case I got disoriented. And of course my weapon. I didn¡¯t want to fight the spushes (God, that sounded so bad), but it might turn out to be necessary.


    I also took the bear spray and clipped that too to my belt. God, I looked like a Christmas tree with all these things jingling from my belt. But it was better than wearing the torn backpack, or having to carry them in my hands.


    I took a deep breath and left my cave again, into the tunnel.


    I was getting familiar with this tunnel by now, this being third time I was going through it. Still, I couldn¡¯t help but marvel at how beautiful it all looked. So serene. The softly glowing moss, with the occasional stalk ending in a pretty pink or yellow flower. The long and zagged veins of pearlescent white going through the rock. The heavy air that you couldn¡¯t see but certainly feel.


    At last, I saw the light at the end of the tunnel. How fitting. Hopefully that wasn¡¯t any symbolism of what was to come.


    I exited and found myself on the plateau again. Couldn¡¯t help but go to the edge and peek down. The forest extended on both sides into the distance, with the middle of it being the green corridor where the spushes seemed to live. If I looked really closely, it seemed like the cave and forest sloped a little bit towards the middle; so if there was a river or water anywhere that¡¯s where I would most likely find it. With the spushes.


    No use complaining, I would need to go down there anyways.


    I started down the slope when almost slipped and rolled down; the voice was back again in my head.[hugom, 1/20/2020 9:16:33 AM


    Should it be the same SYSTEM voice, or a new slightly more friendly system local administrator? I think I¡¯m leaning more towards the second, but I am unsure how I would differentiate the two in the future. Just dialogue tags like in normal speech?]


    [ SETTLEMENT CORES SHALL NOW BE GRANTED ]


    I caught myself and avoided what could¡¯ve been a pretty bad tumble down. No, not the same voice. This one was still loud, uncomfortably so, but it was slightly different.


    [ AS THE LARGEST GROUP OF MEMBERS OF YOUR SPECIES IN THE CURRENT SECTOR YOU ARE GRANTED A SETTLEMENT CORE ]


    A light shone in mid-air, at around eye height. It shone brighter and brighter, and then abruptly stopped. In place of it was now a round crystal of deep violet color hanging in the air. Melon sized. I stared at it dumbly.


    [ YOU HAVE AUTOMATICALLY CLAIMED OWNERSHIP OF THE SETTLEMENT CORE DUE TO BEING THE ONLY MEMBER OF YOUR GROUP. ]


    Something inside the floating crystal twinkled, and I felt my body respond to it. It was like a prod, a push into my very self. Into me.


    [ CONGRATULATIONS. BY CLAIMING THE SETTLEMENT CORE YOU HAVE PROVEN YOURSELF THE WORTHIEST OF YOUR GROUP AND ARE GRANTED WITH A MERIT OF LEADERSHIP ]


    A fizzling sensation, in my right hand. Instinctively I tried to jerk it away, but the fizzling remained. There was a light there now too, similar to the one that had appeared in the air just moments ago that had produced the crystal. I waved my arm about frantically, but the light kept shining brighter and brighter. I did not want my arm to be replaced by a round crystal, or any kind of object for that matter.


    Instead, the light winked out of existence and I felt something materialize in my hand. For no discernible reason my fingers closed tightly around it, as if it was a treasure that should not be let go under any circumstance.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    I looked at the object. It was white; a white stone tablet with circular black patterns inscribed into it. A myriad miniature glyphs, static, but seemingly flowing from one circle to the next.


    They were incredibly elaborate. I had never seen anything like them, and yet they seemed somehow familiar. Not any glyph by itself, but together they almost made sense. Almost, as if I could read ¡ª


    [ YOU ARE THE FIRST INHABITANT OF THIS WORLD TO CLAIM A SETTLEMENT CORE. CONGRATULATIONS. YOU SHOW PROMISE. YOU ARE GRANTED AN ADDITIONAL MERIT. ]


    The voice interrupted my train of thought. I expected another magical light to spring into existence, but it didn¡¯t happen. In fact, nothing happened at all.


    Confused I looked at the stone tablet. And the floating crystal. They had just suddenly¡­ appeared.


    But I supposed I should not have been surprised. If whatever being that was speaking into my mind could warp and change the entire world, its landscapes and vegetations and animals, at its will, then this act of materialization would have been an insignificant trifle to it.


    The thought was uncomfortable.


    I looked at the floating violet orb. The ¡°settlement core¡±. What did that even mean?


    I touched it. Nothing happened. It just slowly floated backwards a little bit from the impulse.


    I carefully put the stone tablet on the mossy ground, and tried to grab the melon sized crystal with both my hands.


    It wouldn¡¯t go down. I could move it left and right, even up, but it wouldn¡¯t budge below eye height. It was a bizarre thing. The crystal had a certain weight to it, and retained some momentum. If I pushed it left or right, parallel to the ground, it would slowly float in that direction until it lost momentum and then stopped. Up was easier to push, but then it would slowly fall down, as if it was swimming in a thick liquid. At least until eye height, then it would just stop. Didn¡¯t matter how hard I pulled, it stayed there. I even tried hanging off of it, but even with my entire bodyweight it stayed firmly floating.


    I didn¡¯t have time for this. I stopped acting like a monkey and left the mysteriously useless orb and the tablet that evoked such an uncomfortable familiar feeling inside of me there on the top of the plateau. I would retrieve them later. As it stood, I still needed water. I grabbed my spear off the ground with my right hand and prepared to descend again.


    My hand.


    The wounds were gone. They were gone. I had shoved the spiky spush from my arm, and my hand had suffered for it. But now there was no trace of any kind of wound or puncture on it.


    I quickly checked under the bandages of my left arm, but those remained. Plus, I could feel my entire arm throbbing a little, so those wounds were definitely still there.


    But my right hand was intact.


    Had it been the light? When the tablet materialized in my palm? Had it just magically healed me?


    It was all just too much. Too much at once. I needed the water. I would go down, find a river or something, get water, and escape back to my cave. Then I could think about all this stuff.


    And so I descended again. Thankfully, my spear doubled as a walking stick, and the way down was a little bit easier this time. I kept an eye on the trees and the green spiky bushes. Focused as I was now, I noticed that most of them were actual bushes, not murderous creatures. They just looked very very similar.


    Last time they had not attacked me immediately. I could see the tree I had made my spear out of from here; it had probably taken me a good half hour or so to cut it down. Perhaps if I didn¡¯t bother them too much they¡¯d leave me alone? Or perhaps they had taken offense at me harming the tree.


    It wasn¡¯t like I could experiment to see what it was, so I decided to do the next best thing and make a wide arc around any of them. I walked, spear held tightly and bottles jingling at my belt, along the mossy corridor that ran through the cave. Whenever I saw a spush I made sure to not get too close, and that seemed to have the desired effect of them ignoring me. It took me longer to cover the distance because I had to be constantly zig-zagging, but not being chased by hordes of spushes was certainly worth it.


    I did not go into the forest. Perhaps I was a bit exposed here in the open, but the thought of entering made me uncomfortable.  At least here I could see the spushes. What if there was murderous vines or something similar in there? I wouldn¡¯t even be able to distinguish it from the surrounding vegetation before I was done for. I had no idea what the forest contained, and I did not feel very curious at the moment. Curiosity killed the cat, and I did not want to be the cat.


    It was at this point, a few hundred meters of walking into the cavern, that I noticed a small gully opening up in the middle of the corridor. The sheet of moss parted a little, and I could hear the burble of a small stream below. Somehow, even in the stressed hyper-vigilant state I was in my face contorted into a stupid smile. I had found water!


    My first big success left me grinning, and I couldn¡¯t get the expression of my face. I had been right; the middle was the deepest point in the cavern.


    The stream however was too deep to access, so I kept walking along the gully.


    Always mindful of the spushes. They seemed to be increasing in numbers the further I went along.


    A little while later the gully widened and the stream had risen almost to ground height. I couldn¡¯t wait any longer and crouched down next to the stream, submerging my hands in the water.


    It was cool.


    It wasn¡¯t cool in the way teenagers try to be, nor was it cool in the way a January morning might be. No, it wasn¡¯t really even cold; perhaps only slightly below the agreeable temperature the cavern had.


    The coolness of it was the coolness that a soda commercial tries to sell to its viewers; the promised moment of cracking open the aluminum can on a sweltering summer day. It was the coolness of the bed pillow that is turned, of the water that a drowsy person might splash on their face before preparing to set out for the day.


    In short, it felt refreshing.


    For a moment I forgot myself and just drank, not using my bottles, not even using my hands to cup the water, just submerging my face entirely in the wondrous liquid and drinking like an animal.

 5. Fight with the Spush

    I stopped, wet hairs clinging to my face. Had I been thirsty? Yes, I had. Still, that was no reason to act this way. Drinking like it was the first drop of water I was seeing in months.


    Perhaps it was the fact that I had finally secured a source of water. The uncertainty of if I would be able to find some had been weighing on me, and dying to dehydration felt like a bad joke. Well, more of a joke than dying to spushes at least.


    I looked around. I had let my guard down, but nothing seemed to have happened. There was no army of the things surrounding me again. The closest one I could spot was a good fifty meters away from me doing whatever it is they did. Presumably munching on the moss, scrabbling to a different spot and then repeating the process.


    Calmer now, I studied the water. It even looked refreshing. The stream was perhaps a step wide and did not flow especially fast, but the water jumped and glittered and played with the light. Sparkling water indeed, not like the poorly named carbonated water you bought at the supermarket.


    I filled my canteen and my two water bottles. Even inside of the transparent plastic bottles the water looked different. It was crystal clear, yet still had a slight glow emanating from it. How strange. Like everything in this place, I supposed.


    I considered what to do now. I could keep going down the corridor, or enter the forest in search of something edible. I did however have four liters of water to carry now, so the best option seemed to go back to my ¡®base¡¯ and plan from there. Besides, I wanted to get back to the stone tablet. It had a peculiar draw to it. I wanted to read it, to understand it.


    And the settlement core was another mystery. What was its purpose?


    Mind made up, I headed back. I could see my cliff from here, a little sideways from where the treeless corridor ended and met the cavern wall.


    The way back took me longer. The spushes seemed to be more active now, and I had to go to greater lengths to avoid them. I also walked slower, trying to avoid the water at my belt sloshing around and making too much noise.


    Or, I tried walking slower, but could not at times refrain myself of skipping a step or two. My mood had improved drastically. The spushes had turned out to be a surmountable obstacle, and I had found water! It had left me refreshed, even energized, as if I had just pumped myself with coffee. I almost wanted to set out on a sprint and laugh at the slow creatures and their small stubby crabby legs.


    Which if I really thought about it, was a very stupid idea. They weren¡¯t really that slow, and there were a lot of them.


    It was then that I noticed that I was being followed. By a spush. A big one, reaching perhaps waist height. It didn¡¯t move when I stood still and looked back at it, but as soon as I started walking again it followed with its little disgusting waddling motion.


    How could it even see where I was? I didn¡¯t spot any eyes, or any other sensory organ. The only thing I knew they had apart from their spikes and legs was the enormous maw underneath.


    Disturbed, I kept going, with my prickly tag-along. Would it follow me up the slope to the plateau? Into my cave?


    I did my best keeping the distance to other spushes, but there was more of them now. And my spush stalker seemed to get increasingly closer. It didn¡¯t stop anymore when I stopped, but kept slowly approaching me. I increased my pace, until I was almost running, and finally reached the base of the slope. Somehow, miraculously, no other spush had taken notice of me.


    But I still had one stubborn fat spush closely behind. Tentatively, I jogged up the slope, but it continued its chase, further and further away from the green plains that were its home.


    This would not do.


    Midway up the ascent, I stopped. The spush was tenacious and did not seem intent on giving up. Even if I was faster than it, eventually it would catch up with me. And it wasn¡¯t like there was anywhere to run up here. At most, if I continued I would find myself trapped with it in my cave.


    I set the bottles, canteen, compass and bear spray on the ground. I did not want anything jingling from my belt. The nimbler I was for this, the better.


    I could do this. Even after the tense walk and my jog here, I was feeling good. I did not know what was in that water, but it had left me energized. Additionally, my palm was as good as new, and even though my left forearm was still hurt and bound with now wet bandages, it should not hinder me much.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    So there I was, standing with my makeshift spear in hand, in an unknown cavern that was bigger than any cave I had ever seen, ready to battle a creature that belonged in a horror movie.


    With me not moving, it didn¡¯t take long for the spush to close the distance. It stopped a few paces away from me, wary. I knew they were terrifying from my previous experience with them, but I had thought them to be more like herbivores. The spikes were for defence, and their maws had the purpose of eating the moss that seemed to compose the majority of their diet. Their previous attack on me more self-defense than anything else.


    This one however did not give off that feeling at all. Somehow, it was observing me, studying me. I could not see any eyes, and yet it knew I was here, waiting for it, with nowhere to run.


    It thought it was the predator, and I was the prey. But it was wrong. It might have an abundance of spikes that could leave me looking like swiss cheese, but I also had a sort of spike. And it was longer than those of the spush.


    In history, spears, stakes, and all manner of long sharp objects were particularly useful at stopping cavalry charges. The own momentum of the animals would impale them, leading to their death. I would do the same with the spush: wait for it to charge forward, and then let it skewer itself on my spear.


    At least, that was the grandiose plan in my head. Of course, plans rarely went as well in reality as they did in our minds.


    The spush, choosing its moment, finally launched forward. It did not jump into the air at me, like the smaller ones had done, instead it just charged towards me with a sudden, almost surprising for a thing of that size, burst of speed. The spush was perhaps only as tall as my waist, but it¡¯s small stature was deceiving. It was round, after all, and therefore had quite a lot more mass than me.


    And with heaviness and speed came momentum. I held out the spear in front of me, as planned, but I had not really thought the entire thing through. The knife that I had so tightly attached to the durable stick held true during the moment of impact, and the spear entered the spush, getting stuck inside. And whilst this may have seemed like the ideal outcome, the spush was of course not dead yet, and even if it had been, what happened next would have been unavoidable. The momentum of the thing carried it inevitable forward, and along with it the spear that was now stuck inside.


    Towards me. The butt of my own spear hit me in the stomach with a terrible strength, doubling me over. And so the spush kept running forward, with a spear inside of it and me hanging off at the other end.


    Through the pain (I thought perhaps the spear was pressing against my kidneys) I held onto the spear for dear life. It was an awkward position, but it was definitely better to be almost skewered by a blunt wooden stick than to be certainly skewered by the dozens of sharp spikes half a meter from my face.


    Eventually, of course, I fell off. The spush had slowed down, by virtue of the wound I had inflicted on it, or perhaps because it was simply tired of charging uphill against the proverbial carrot on a stick that it could never catch.


    I scrambled to a standing position. It seemed exhausted, wobbling slightly. Additionally, I could see a thick yellow liquid oozing out from where the spear was lodged in between its spikes.


    This was my chance. I dashed forward, or tried to, but my involuntary ride had left me quite wobbly as well. Still, it was enough. The spush didn¡¯t seem to react in time and I grabbed the end of the spear.


    This seemed to cause it pain, because it started thrashing about. But I gripped the spear tightly, holding my ground. I even tried jerking the stick left and right, to cause as much damage as possible.


    It was a bit like holding a goat by its horns. If you didn¡¯t, the goat could run-up from a distance and charge you with speed. But if you had a grip on its horns, it was mostly harmless.


    And so I controlled the spush, avoiding getting too close to its spikes. It¡¯s thrashing grew ever weaker and weaker, until after a while it just collapsed on the ground.


    Cautiously, I observed it. It had stopped moving, and was eerily still now.


    I gave the spear one last good jerk for good measure. Nothing happened.


    Was it truly dead?


    Then, something peculiar happened. A small mote of light, perhaps a quarter of the size of a fingernail, emerged from between its spikes. First lazily, and then with increasing speed, it flit towards me. Panicked, I tried evading it, but still it reached me. Then, it disappeared.


    But suddenly I was sure of one thing. The spush was certainly, truly, dead.


    Dead.


    It was dead, and I had killed it. I had killed it.


    Me, with my spear, with my own hands.


    I felt elated. Happy, strong, victorious. I had killed the spush, I had won, I was the survivor of this conflict.


    Drunk with adrenaline and emotions that I did not know where they were coming from, I janked the spear out of the dead creature and walked towards the edge of the path that went up, and overlooked the terrain. Extending below me I could see the cavern, with its forest, with the mossy corridor dividing it and with the spushes walking about.


    Sweaty, tired, but somehow full of energy I stood there. The world, the voice, could throw whatever it wanted at me. It could trap me here in this cavern, alone, separated from any other human. It could throw beasts and obstacles at me, it didn¡¯t matter. I would persist.


    I slowly raised my spear, the blade slick with yellow ichor, above my head. And then I yelled.


    It was a stupid, primitive gesture, but it felt right. I yelled and yelled, until my throat felt coarse. I kept yelling, at the air, at the world, until I fell into a coughing fit.


    Perhaps not the most manly ending, but I felt satisfied. The gesture had meaning for me.


    What I did not expect however, was for the world to yell back. Or, well, ROAR back.


    Because that is certainly what it was. A roar, deeper and much, much more powerful than whatever I had mustered.


    Below me, in between the forests a big black feline was standing. Staring at me.


    And then it started running towards the slope.


    Towards me.

 6. The big black cat

    It was big, and fast. A black blur amongst the green. I couldn¡¯t make out any details from up here, but I knew for certain that it would be much faster than me.


    I stood there, frozen for a second.


    Then I ran. I ran the only direction I could run, up. Killing the spush had been one thing, but this was completely different. This was a true predator. A big, black predator that had not liked me challenging it at all.


    I scrambled up the slope, again. Significantly more panicked this time. Was it still coming for me? I couldn¡¯t help but look back to confirm. Indeed it was. And it was much, much faster than the spush had been. Whereas the spush had short, stubby legs, this cat was endowed with much longer, muscular limbs.


    To be fair, I couldn¡¯t quite see how muscular exactly its legs were from this distance. I just imagined they had to be, judging by its frighteningly fast leaps.


    Or perhaps its speed was due to the fact that it had six legs. Six. Not four, like a normal feline. Or two, like I had. Six legs.


    I ran faster.


    Even in my panic I did not let go of my makeshift spear. I wasn¡¯t delusional enough in thinking I could beat this thing with it, but abandoning my only weapon seemed even more ridiculous.


    I reached the top, and stood there frozen for a second. What to do? There was nowhere to go.


    I could go into the tunnel, but that lead to a dead end. The monster cat would catch up with me. And rip me to pieces.


    Or, I could wait here for it. And get ripped to pieces.


    Frantic, I looked around. The orb and tablet were where I had left them, but those were useless. I doubted it would get too hurt if I threw a stone tablet at it.


    There was another, smaller, rocky outcrop a bit further along the cave wall, but that was way too far for me to jump to. Even if it hadn¡¯t been, the cat was sure to jump much more than me.


    I was trapped.


    The cat had almost caught up to me, but slowed its pace when it saw me stop. It knew it had me now, had me driven into a corner with nowhere to escape.


    I looked at it. It had green, almost iridescent eyes. Four short and thick legs attached at the shoulders, and two longer ones in the back. Two white lines that ran along its sides and ended in a bifurcated tail. And it was big.


    It roared, and I peed myself. Like a little dog whose owner is yelling at him, I couldn¡¯t help but pee myself a little. Some stupid remnant human instinct from the past, robbing me of my dignity in my final moments.


    Still, I did not really care. My mind was in overdrive. Thinking, uselessly, of what I could do to escape this thing. Thinking again and again at how I could get rid of it, distract it, whatever. The bear spray would have been useful, but it lay back where I had fought the spush. Stupid of me. Stupid, stupid stupid stupid.


    And then I had it. An idea so crazy it was actually slightly brilliant. The adrenaline coursing through my veins made it even seem like a good idea.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    They key was the orb. The floating, round, melon-sized crystal orb. The magical orb. Technically called settlement core or whatever, I only wanted it because of one thing.


    It floated.


    I turned, and ran to it. The feline got startled at my sudden movement and then dashed after me. I was prey that was trying to escape.


    When I reached the orb, I tucked my spear under my chin, laying it across my shoulders, and grabbed the mid-air orb. And then I kept running, towards the edge, pushing the orb in front of me. The orb had a weird combination of weight and weightlessness at the same time; it resisted being moved, but once I got it moving it retained its momentum for a time.


    And then, just before I went over the edge, I bit down on my make-shift spear so I could hold it in my mouth, grabbed the orb with both hands, and jumped.


    I jumped up as much as I could, giving the orb some additional upwards speed.


    And then I held on for my dear life.


    I held on as I felt a swish of air behind me; the cat had reached the edge and had tried to swipe me, not quite reaching me. I held on as I was sailing through the air, a hundred meters over the ground. I held on as my fingers cramped from gripping the orb so tight.


    Our trajectory was parabolic. First a little bit up, then just sideways, and then finally whatever strange gravity governed this ball made us descend.


    However, we were slowing down. Not our downward speed, that one was increasing, but our forward speed.


    The other rocky outcrop, the one that I had dismissed as useless and was now my lifeline, was right in front of me. My legs were going to clip the edge.


    I swung them up at the last moment, managing to get over it, and hit my ass against the rock-hard floor. The orb, still having some downwards momentum, bonked me in the head, left my grasp and went back up to lazily float at about head-height.


    I lay there. Wincing at the pain, panting at the exertion. Exhausted, but relieved. Eventually, I turned over and looked back.


    The beast was staring at me, it¡¯s long split tail flicking in displeasure.


    Really, it was quite the beautiful animal, if not for the fact that it clearly wanted to murder me. It started prancing around, probably unhappy that I had gotten away. It scratched at the cave wall, but the only thing that achieved was to get some of the glowing moss loose. Then it seemed to evaluate if it could jump over to me, but quickly gave that up after looking over the edge and seeing the long fall.


    Could it make the jump and reach me? The prospect was terrifying. It seemed much too far, and yet¡­


    I got up, and inspected my little island. There really wasn¡¯t much here. Just a small outcrop of stone, perhaps twenty paces wide, jutting out of the cavern wall. A few boulders. And of course the ever-present glowing moss. It was a bit longer here, falling down the mostly flat wall like magical green strands of hair.


    The feline started growling, frustrated. I gave it the finger. It was a stupid gesture, but then again it was the only thing I had. It started growling louder in response, somehow understanding I was mocking it, which only led me to give it the finger on both hands, which only made it angrier.


    Then the reality of the situation set in, and I stopped behaving like a child. I was trapped here. There really were only two paths out: down to the cavern floor or back to the bigger plateau. The first one was ruled out; the fall was much too long. The orb operated under strange and slow physic rules, but it did eventually accelerate under free-fall. Especially with me hanging under it. And even if I did somehow survive the fall, and I somehow didn¡¯t break a leg or at the very least twisted an ankle, then what? I¡¯d be stuck in the middle of the alien forest. Where the cat had come from. Would it hunt me in there? Were there more like it? Other, worse things?


    My alternative option of course was only a slightly better. I could jump back and die being eviscerated by the cat, instead of dying by excessive fall-speed.


    I sighed and lay down again. The black monster was still protesting at the injustice of its prey escaping it. Or perhaps it was trying to insult me and goad me into coming back. Or perhaps it was trying to speak and saying that it hadn¡¯t really wanted to eat me, just play some cards with me. It was all the same to me.


    After a while, it finally shut up and also laid down and stared at me, its forearms dangling over the precipice.


    I would just have to wait it out.

 7. A cornered animal is a dangerous animal

    Time had passed. And the thing was still there. Staring at me.


    I was starting to get worried that it might not want to leave me. It seemed smart; certainly smart enough to know that I had nowhere to go. Was it also patient enough to out-wait me?


    Eventually, I would have to make a decision. Either attempt to jump down, hoping that bringing the orb with me would slow down the fall enough so I would not die or get heavily injured. Or I could jump back, straight into the maws of the beast. Neither option appealed to me.


    And so, I kept waiting. And waiting. I spent my time collecting all the smaller rocks on my little island, and then I spent my time trying to hit the black feline in the face. Perhaps that would make it leave.


    Or perhaps I was just frustrated and wanted to smack that thing in its stupid face.


    I missed most shots, of course, but one particularly lucky throw did hit it on the snout. Which made it angry. It got up, paced around a bit, and then peed in my general direction. And then it laid down again, staring straight at me.


    If I had a nice DSLR camera, I would probably get a National Geographic worthy photo. It really was a pretty thing. Green-golden eyes surrounded by glistening black fur. Long white whiskers which almost touched the ground. Long, white tipped ears that were pointed straight towards me. And four legs that it kept dangling over the precipice, so as to be as close as possible. I could feel how much it wanted to kill me. All this, of course, framed in the alien green-blue glow of the ever-present cavern moss.


    Unfortunately, I neither had the camera, nor would I have any way of sending a photo to anyone. Did National Geographic even exist anymore? I seriously doubted it.


    Besides, a pretty head like that should not be in a photograph. It would be much better suited to hanging above a fireplace. My fireplace, preferably.


    Wishful thoughts aside, I went back to my waiting. I had, of course, examined the settlement core. It was a curious thing, but no matter how much I prodded or touched it (I had even tried licking it out of desperation), nothing happened. I had even tried to mentally communicate with it, trying to establish some sort of soul-connection and feeling more and more stupid the longer I tried, but that had also not produced any results.


    I thought about what its purpose could be. The voice had called it a settlement core, and it had given it to me because I was, apparently, the largest group of humans in the vicinity. This was bad, because there was only one human in my group, and that human was me. One solitary Emmet Larson. Which, since there hadn¡¯t been a tie, also meant that I was also the only human in my ¡®sector¡¯. I didn¡¯t know how big a sector was, but it did not sound small.


    I felt alone.


    Presumably, one would use such a core to create a settlement. How that differed from building a collection of houses somewhere and calling that a settlement was a mystery to me. Maybe formalizing it brought some advantages, but again, I had no idea what these could be.


    I had, together with the core, also received a stone tablet. I could see it from over here, a white square thing with black squiggles on it. Holding it had been a bizarre experience; it contained circular collections of glyphs that I had never seen before, nor resembled anything I had ever seen. Yet I had felt like I would¡¯ve been able to read them.


    Perhaps it contained the instructions for how to operate the orb. That would make sense, except the voice had called it a ¡®merit of leadership¡¯, which seemed quite unrelated, and more like its own separate thing.


    It didn¡¯t really matter, because the tablet was over there, and I was over here.


    I also experimented with the physical properties of the orb. I tried to scratch it with my knife, but that was completely fruitless. Harder than diamond. It floated at head height, but when I moved it towards a boulder, as soon as it got close it would slowly float up, until it was at boulder height + head height. Putting my hand below it didn¡¯t seem to affect it, and neither did anything happen if I put moss below it.


    It was truly a bizarre thing, and, more than anything, more than the alien landscape and underground forest and mutant cat, more than any of those things, made me realize that the world had truly, truly changed.Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    I cried, for a time. I was alone in who knows how large of an area, I was lost someplace deep underground, and I would likely die here.


    I had done some more testing, and the orb would not let me survive the drop down, I was sure of it. I had climbed atop the largest boulder, and let the orb fall; first on its own, and then I jumped with me hanging off of it. Alone it floated down relatively slow, but with my weight the acceleration was noticeable. Significantly reduced, but noticeable. I estimated the fall height to be about a hundred meters, and even with the orb that would not be survivable. On the moon, with 1.6 G¡¯s, 90 meters was sure to kill a human. With the orb I fell at perhaps two or three G¡¯s.


    Certain death.


    Which of course only left jumping back. Towards the cat. Which was still staring at me.


    ***


    Eventually I slept. I dreamed that I was a little mouse, being chased by an enormous black shadow with red eyes. I dreamed that the earth opened up below me and glowing vines sprouted and strangled me. I dreamed that I was in a desert, starving and dying of thirst.


    In short: I did not have pleasant dreams.


    Neither was it pleasant waking up with a parchy throat and a grumbling stomach. However, there were some good news: the beast was gone. It was gone!


    Had it finally gotten tired? Whatever the reason, it was gone! I scrambled up and went to grab the orb, to repeat the jumping maneuver. Still a horribly dangerous thing to do, but it would be a bit easier from this side, as the plateau was slightly higher. Plus, I could jump from one of the boulders and make use of the extra two meters of height or so.


    As I prepared myself mentally to make the jump again (it had been easier when I had been pumped full of adrenaline), I saw something that made my heart sink. The black feline was back. It was coming out of the tunnel that led to my cave, apparently having made a detour whilst I was unconscious.


    It was holding my sleeping bag in between its fangs.


    The monster made eye contact with me and then proceeded to prance around with its mouth full, proud of its find. Then it stopped, stared at me for a few seconds, as if it wanted to make sure I was looking at it, and ripped the bag apart.


    With the four frontal legs it teared long gashes into the fluffy bag, all whilst it shook its head fiercely left and right with the bag held firm in its teeth.


    It was an extremely violent and frankly quite terrifying display. Which I was sure was the intended effect, because as soon as the sleeping bag was little more than a collection of pieces of fabric and down feathers, it lifted one of its hind legs peed all over it, whilst maintaining eye contact with me. Then it laid down again.


    The message was clear: it would rip me apart as easily as it had ripped apart my bag.


    My enemy, because that is what it was, an overwhelmingly superior enemy, seemed smug. It somehow knew that the bag had been mine (probably could smell my scent on it), and it had enjoyed destroying me. It wanted to hurt me, to kill me.


    My situation was really desperate. I was stuck on this semi-island, this small outcrop of rock and moss high above the cavern floor. Resources were next to nill: a makeshift spear, a mostly useless floating bauble, and myself. No rations, no water, nothing. I wasn¡¯t particularly thirsty just yet, I had drunk a lot before (how long had I slept?), but eventually I would be. And what then?


    I realized that, objectively, I only had one single, terrifying option. Which was to kill, or attempt to kill, the easily six hundred pound monster that I had offended. I could not jump down from this height to the floor to escape the beast, and waiting until it eventually left was equally discarded. It had made it plenty clear that it would not give up easily. A good amount of time had passed, perhaps almost a day, and the cat was still there, staring at me. It had my scent, and it knew where my base was. Even if it eventually left to drink or poop or whatever it is these alien creatures needed to do, and I managed to jump back, my situation would still not be improved. Eventually, it would come back and find me. Or ambush me whilst I was in the forest surrounded by other deadly creatures. Or kill me in my sleep.


    One thing I had learned in life was that problems were best dealt with as early as possible. Delaying them almost never helped, and usually made them worse. Whether it was doing the dishes, writing an assignment or conveying your feelings to somebody, waiting rarely made the situation better.


    And the cat was a problem. Fighting the giant multi-limbed alien feline to the death perhaps didn¡¯t quite fit the analogy too well, but it was realistically the only option I had. Which sounded crazy and quite ridiculous. Then again, my whole life had taken a turn for the ridiculous the moment I stepped into that cave, thinking it would be shelter.


    Perhaps it had been, perhaps I would¡¯ve already been dead if I had stayed outside, when the sky started to explode. Perhaps everyone else who had been on the surface was dead, and I was one of the last survivors of humanity.


    Regardless, I would give it my best shot. I would not give up. If fighting this giant, smug monstrous bastard was my only path forward then I would take it, to the best of my abilities. I would show it why humans had risen to the forefront of the food chain, I would show it that it didn¡¯t matter if you were big, or had razor-sharp claws, or giant fangs that could rip my throat apart. It didn¡¯t matter if you were strong, fast, and moved with supreme feline grace. It didn¡¯t matter if you were the king in your little mossy underground kingdom.


    Humans. Would. Still. Beat. You.


    Ask the spush.

 8. Arrogance killed the cat

    Even with my newfound resolve, there wasn¡¯t much I could do right now. My plan, if you could call it that, required me to wait.


    And so I waited, sitting on the green moss, looking at the ceiling of this massive underground cavern, imagining what was out there. How much further did it go on for? What other kind of lifeforms would one find here?


    It occurred to me that a biologist would probably see this as a once in a life opportunity. Well, if the wildlife hadn¡¯t tried to kill him that is. I could see the beauty in the landscape; it certainly was different than anything else I had seen before. But I wished I could go back in time, back to the normal earth mountains and valleys. Those were plenty beautiful enough for me.


    The cat was beautiful in its own way too, all sleek and athletic. Danger always had a lure to it. But danger was also dangerous, and unfortunately I needed to deal with this particular danger.


    Like a medieval swordsman before battle, I examined my weapon, the makeshift spear. I didn¡¯t have a whetstone or anything like that to hone the blade, but it seemed sharp and pointy enough. It also was somewhat sticky, the yellow ichor of the spush having dried by now. Hopefully it was venomous, although I doubted it. It seemed like the spush relied on its spikes to defend itself against larger predators, and not some poisonous property of it¡¯s blood.


    But then again, I supposed it was possible, so I avoided touching the yellow substance too much. It was also kind of gross, but truth be told so was I. How long had it been since I had taken a shower?


    Some uneventful hours passed in which I did little more than look at the landscape, trying to not do anything too exciting so the cat would grow bored. And, eventually, it did.


    It probably had not slept in a good long while, and nature was calling. However, it still seemed fixated with me, and was loath to let me out of its sight. So it did the next best thing and laid its head between its paws, and eventually, after a long wait, closed its eyes.


    And that is when I started to get nervous.


    I had been alright before; knowing that the deed had to be done but that I still had plenty of time. But now my window of opportunity was rapidly closing in. The time to act would be very soon.


    I waited a little while longer, cold sweat starting to form on palms. Really, this plan was crazy. It was simple, it was stupid, and it was the only chance I had. But it was still crazy. Nothing I had previously done in life had prepared me for this. I had studied, I had worked, I had even played some sports. I had never really done any ¡®extreme¡¯ things. But to jump (literally) into a situation that I was unlikely to survive? Deliberately?


    My heart was beating in my chest, fast, but mostly loud. I could feel it pressing against my ribs, I could hear the blood pumping.


    Really, I had never felt this anxious in my life. Some people experienced panic attacks; I supposed this is what I was having now.


    And yet, there was no choice. Not really.


    I had to do this.


    Silently, I wiped my hands on the mossy floor and slowly stood up. I knew felines usually had a very light sleep. But I learned that, when my life was on the line, I too could be silent. The moss of course deserved some credit too; it muffled my footsteps quite well.


    Slowly and silently, the way only a man whose life depended on it could be, I pushed the orb towards the biggest boulder on my plateau, and climbed after it. And then I gave one last look around me. At the valley before me; at the drop in between me and where I would jump to; at the ever-present moss that reached all the way to the ceiling.


    In that moment I experienced some sense of serenity. Some kind of stoic equanimity. My panic receded, and my hands stopped trembling. If I died then so be it; I had given it my best.


    I looked down at the cat. It was still sleeping, its chest rising in slow, deep breaths. Facing in my direction, but eyes closed. Was it pretending tp be asleep? To lure me into a false sense of security? Could it be that smart?Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    I did not know, and there was no way of finding out. Well, no way except for one. I had already chosen my path; I would see it through now. I grabbed the orb above my head, spear interlaced between my fingers.


    And then I jumped.


    I jumped with all my might, as high up and as far forward as I could. I jumped like a man that had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I jumped like a drowning man reaching out to grab the lifesaving rope.


    The black monster was too deep asleep, or the moss muffled my hop from the boulder. Either way, as I sailed through the air clinging to the magical orb for dear life, my enemy stayed still. It stayed still as I reached the apex of my flight and started descending, and it stayed still as I was almost upon it.


    In movies, when the hidden soldiers sprung their ambush and launched their attack, they yelled. I always thought this stupid. Why lose the element of surprise? Why give up that crucial advantage for which you had laid in ambush for so long?


    And yet when I released my grip on the rough surface of the orb, when I suddenly plummeted through the air towards the black ball of muscle, my newfound serenity abandoned me and I saw myself screaming at the top of my lungs.


    The cat started waking up, of course, but it was too little too late. I fell through the air, wooden shaft gripped in both hands, and stabbed down as hard as I could the moment before impact. The sharp steel at the end made contact with black skin, and for a moment it seemed like it would not go through; the tough skin only bending and not breaking.


    But in the end the combined momentum of me and the spear proved to be too much, and the skin broke, and the spear plunged deep into the cat. The cat who, understandably, did not like it at all. As my feet made contact with its back, it exploded into motion. I fell on its back the same moment it was attempting to stand up, and bounced off like a ragdoll, hitting the spear-shaft on my way through the air and accidentally twisting it inside the cat.


    As I fell on the ground and rolled my way to a standstill on the mossy ground, the cat screamed. It was a deep, pained sound, but also full of rage.


    That was my cue to run.


    Originally, the plan had been to run away after my attack, hoping I had delivered a sufficiently serious wound, and wait until the animal bled out. The only place I could¡¯ve run to was down the slope into the cavern, because fleeing into my small cave was fleeing into a dead end. Aptly named, as it would probably end in my death.


    However, as I scrambled to stand up and started running in an attempt to flee from the obviously enraged beast, I forgot such thoughts. My panicking self didn¡¯t choose the sensible option, and instead chose to flee into the treacherous ¡°safety¡± of my cave. And so, I sprinted into the small tunnel, mad feline behind me.


    As I rounded the first bend, the cat was chasing me madly and smashed sideways into the entrance. Apparently it was sufficiently enraged to not care about that, or it had lost its sense of balance. Regardless, it continued leaping after me, rapidly eating up the few dozen meters of lead that I had.


    It followed me down the curvy path of the tunnel and had almost reached me, when the spear lodged in its side snagged on a piece of rock that jutted out of the wall. The the cat¡¯s momentum was abruptly stopped, the durable wood buckled and bent but did not break, and the cat stumbled and smashed into the floor. It stayed there for a second yowling a long, high-pitched cry, before it got up again and continued its chase, not managing the same speed that it had reached before.


    It¡¯s black fur was glistening with blood, like a Spanish Bull nearing the end of its fight. As I ran through the green glowing tunnel, I could hear the tock-tock-tock of the spear shaft hitting the wall with the cats stride, over and over again. The cat should have taken it out; the wound was only getting worse and worse each time the spear moved. And yet the beast continued forward, delirious hate shining in its eyes.


    I reached the end, the dead end, knowing that I would probably die here, once the cat reached me. I was honestly surprised it hadn¡¯t overtaken me already. But then I looked back, and I saw my enemy. It was slow, walking ungainly, like a drunk. It¡¯s six legs lacked the elegant rhythm that they had possessed before; now they seemed uncoordinated and klutzy. It¡¯s back was dripping with blood, leaving red stains on the mossy carpet. It¡¯s eyes were glassy, no longer filled with hate or arrogance, but tired.


    And then it keeled over, and died.


    After a while, after it had stopped breathing and blood had stopped gushing out in waves from its back, after I had recovered my breath, I was still staring at the dead monster.


    This had been luck. Pure, dumb luck. The spush had been one thing, I had been more or less confident I could beat it. But this? This enormous pile of muscle? This monster?


    I thought I would die, I really did. This had been a desperate gamble. And yet I had succeeded.


    I laughed, a little shrill. I couldn¡¯t hold it in; the tension that I was holding needed release, and so I laughed until my throat was raspy and I found myself coughing again.


    I stood up, feeling a little better, and walked over to the dead animal. It truly was big, more so up close. Bigger than the lions or tigers I had seen at zoos. But brawn wasn¡¯t everything, it seemed. Not even down here, in this gigantic underground jungle that I was stuck in.


    As I stood there, staring at what I had done, a few motes of brilliant light began to emerge from the animal. Similar to the spush, they floated up slowly, then seemed to make up their minds, and flew directly at me. Out of instinct, I tried swatting them out of the air, to no avail. They just went straight through my hand, like they weren¡¯t really there. I thought of a cat chasing a laser pointer.


    Then the motes of light entered me, and something broke deep inside of me.