“You look horrible...” A deep and rumbling voice reached out to Ozzy in the void.

  “Come on, come on get up.” It spoke again it’s accent a familiar slavic.

  “Ozzy. Open your eye.”

  Opening his eyes was quite nearly a death sentence. The pain that lanced through his head was worse than anything he’d ever experienced, worse even than what he’d experienced fighting the root sucker, he had no frame of reference for the torture that he felt should have just outright killed him. Then just as sudden as the pain had appeared and terrorized him it left.

  “Wh—what’s going on?” Ozzy gasped, clutching at his face, and subsequently a hot sticky substance he knew could only be blood.

  “You try shooting a rakthim. What you think would happen?” The grinding voice spoke again.

  As Ozzy tried looking around it was instantly apparent his vision was compromised, he couldn’t see anything out of his right eye and though the prior pain had left there was an ache and feeling of incompleteness where his right eye would have been. His stomach dropped, he pressed a hand to his face, feeling for familiar flesh that was nowhere to be found. Panicking he searched harder, looking for anything, hoping beyond hope it was just a flesh wound. He reached further.

  Fingers pressed deeper, moving through space that not a moment ago had been filled with an eye. Horror dawned on him, he was half blind, his eye was gone. He flipped out.

  “STOP PANICKING!” The voice roared with all of the volume and grit of a landslide, shocking Ozzy into compliance. “You’re fine Ozzy, it’s only a flesh wound. Remember fool, this is not your world, that can fix here.”

  Panning his single eye around Ozzy recognized the familiar surroundings and noise of Fauga’s little dining setup in his shop. Complete with an annoyed looking God and small spread of tea.

  “What’s going on?” Ozzy asked, though this time markably more in control of himself.

  “Like I say before. You try and shoot rakthim, very bad idea with such little gun.” Fauga chided.

  “I didn’t have a bigger one. What’s going on though? Why am I back here? Did it kill me?” Ozzy asked.

  Fauga looked pensive for a moment, like a parent trying to decide whether or not they were going to share something not age appropriate with their kid.

  “You died, very messy, head go everywhere.” He shrugged, talking about it as if it were no more important than the weather.

  “Shoot…” Ozzy muttered.

  “Yes, shoot, you shoot yourself. Technically suicide.” The giant god chuckled as he took a sip of tea.

  Ozzy looked at Fauga like he’d grown a second head. “I just died? What’s funny about all of this? My friends are all on that wagon and they’re about to to get mulched by that- that thing!”

  “No no no, dead but not dead. Like, heart stop beating dead, but I stop it. Hmmmm, you are hanging in the between you could say.” Fauga waved his hand in a disarming fashion, the other pouring tea into Ozzy’s cup.

  “Wait what’s going on?” Ozzy asked, feeling for all the world like a rat in trap.

  “I pull your soul into my shop to talk outside. We talk, I ask for help. You decide whether you want help me.” Fuaga said.

  “So I help you or I die?” Ozzy deadpanned, glaring up at the diety.

  “What?” Fauga flinched, staring down at Ozzy in a mix of offense and indignation. “I already help you, ungrateful little stranger.” The god snorted like an ox as he pointed down at Ozzy.

  “Wait you’re just helping me? No string attached?” Ozzy asked.

  “Yes stranger. I help because you are follower. Not to put leash. If you help I help more, but this?” He waved his hand. “I help like parent help child.”

  “Oh thank-“

  “You are dumb, and helpless, like child. It make sense you need help and I am only one around to help. Simple.” Fauga added helpfully.

  “Thank you Fauga.” Ozzy said, not really feeling the godly love. “I’m guessing you still need help with the messenging, killing people, and all that?”

  “Of course! It just good time to ask. Otherwise have to take you from dream and you get cranky, much more gratitude this way… Normally.” Fauga added.

  “Right… That was my bad, I thought you were trying to pull a fast one on me.” Ozzy admitted, chuckling nervously.

  “Hah! You should trust more little stranger! Less stressful!” Fauga laughed, taking a sip of his tea.

  “The only other advice I’ve gotten so far has been to not trust anyone unless they’re getting something from me though?” Ozzy said.

  “Good advice! But I already getting something from you. You follow, so I get follower.”

  “Wait you get something out of me just having a gun core? Like what?” Ozzy asked.

  “Lots! But not important and the time is short. Do you help or no?” Fauga asked.

  Ozzy pondered the question for a moment. He would honestly be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in helping Fauga out. So far the God had only been helpful without pushing or manipulating him for anything in return. In reality it was a lot like the way the god had described their relationship earlier. Ozzy was completely helpless out here and there was probably nothing stopping God from just exploiting and lying to him. Instead Fauga had given him a free blessing, advice, and now apparently saved his life, all of it just because he felt inclined to help.

  “What do you need help with? Like seriously, not a broad idea or simplification but a specific tangible thing you would want me to do?” Ozzy asked, leaning forward to grab the little tea cup from the table.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

  Pondering for a moment Fauga studied Ozzy, mulling over the things in his head before speaking. “There are men I want killed, or stopped, you may chose if you help.” He paused again, this time taking little longer as he took a long swig of his tea and belched. “I tell you before I want to join the above yes? This only possible by merit. There are bad men with power in Myreluck, they poison the city and seek to bring it down. They are agents of the below and have killed the followers of the above. If you can save the city then I maybe join the above?” Fauga ended his sentence as a question finalizing it with a shrug.

  “But you would help me right? Give me more power? I’m not exactly capable of much as it currently stands.” Ozzy said, laughing at his own expense.

  “Of course of course. If you help you are no longer follower, you become disciple, maybe prophet in time, but that is in long time and very far. You must get strong first before you fight other agents. At least tier two.” Fauga explained.

  Silence stretched between them as Ozzy made his decision. This wasn’t something to chose all willy nilly, but that was exactly what Ozzy was inclined to do. He liked Fauga, a lot really. The big guy was trying to do better by the world and through Ozzy was really his only way to do that. Plus if he did get stronger wouldn’t he try and make the world a better place anyways?

  He made his decision.

  “I’ll do it. It’ll be a while obviously, but that’s what I’m gonna work towards. I owe you one and I’ll do my best to make this world a better place.” Ozzy promised.

  “Bah, you owe nothing. We are same team.” The god winked at him. “But it is settled. You are no longer follower, you are disciple, and disciples see miracle!”

  ***

  Ozzy was back leaning against the pole as a surge of pain pushed into and through his eye rupturing his sight organ as his other stared into the gleaming green eye of the rakthim. Blood splattered as his eye popped, and pain exploded across his face but that was where it ended.

  Across the swamp the rakthim’s eye went dull, its color weakening as it momentarily slowed its pursuit. Likely in confusion as to why Ozzy was still standing even if a little injured. Then he saw it.

  The bullet that had been re-launched from his own head speeding back at the monster. He could only just spot the vapor trail, and by the time he noticed it,it was already too late for the Rakthim.

  It tried to cast its weird reflection magic again, its eye flashing as it readied its second return volley. It might as well have tried to stop the sunrise.

  Flying at more than twice the speed of sound the bullet struck the rakthims eye like a falling star. The eye that was probably as tall as Ozzy was ruptured, the iris caving as the back of the eyeball exploded outward deflating the sides.

  *BEEP BEEP*

  Ozzy ignored his watch as he watched in awe as the rakthim’s momentum slowed and it roared a second time. It was a pitiful roar compared to the first, one of pain and rage, and it began to thrash on the surface of the water. Its powerful muscles sending spouts of water hundreds of feet into the air as it tossed everything from islands and trees to the occasional unlucky monster up and into the air.

  The swamp wagon continued its way across the swamp. Gaining more and more ground from the monster as they watched it sit and rage. It was a terrible sight, and Ozzy could imagine the giant of the deep wrestling like this against other leviathans in apocalyptic battles for dominance.

  Jumping Ozzy whipped around as he felt someone clap him hard on the back. Emil was there, cheering and yelling into his face. There was of course nothing he could hear and Emil looked pretty funny just shouting nothing but the shaking and shoulder pats left a lot to be desired in the way a ‘Good job buddy’ celebration ought to go, especially for someone who felt like their head was going to explode from the pain of missing eyeball syndrome.

  After twenty or so seconds the rakthim did continue its pursuit though it was a husk of its former glory when it came to speed and fear mongering. It didn’t seem all that confident in catching up with them and just sort of slowly trailed them, fast enough it wouldn’t lose sight of them, but not fast enough they were in any danger of being caught.

  For the life of him Ozzy couldn’t figure out why, it had stopped chasing them. He didn’t think for a moment that losing an eye would have taken it out of the fight. This was one of the apex predator of this ecosystem and he doubted much anything less than an artillery strike would have been able to seriously slow it down. There had to be something else.

  He only had to turn to see what.

  A flat stretched out in front of the swamp wagon. It was smooth as glass and went on for nearly five hundred meters. Not a short distance but no real trouble for the wagon.

  On the other side of the flat Ozzy spotted trees and swamp once more though the environment took on a decidedly less hostile looking than he’d been accustomed to out in the swamp proper. Even from their great distance he could see the difference in color. Flowers, brighter trees, prettier water. It was like a swampy paradise, a scene out of a fairytale.

  It was the space in between them and that fairytale piece of swampland that gave Ozzy pause. Right before the flat turned back into swampland There was a clear demarcation of murky red water and the normal brackish water. Right before the normal water began the murky water roiled and Ozzy could tell creatures beneath the water fought, all scrambled for better position against the Murk. It was an ecosystem crushed together, and every creature within the press fought tooth and nail to get through the border and to suppress their brethren.

  The border was entirely empty of hunters however, and with a start Ozzy realized Colber wasn’t going to circle the border until he found them. Their captain was going straight over the border, monsters and all.

  Emil smacked Ozzy on the back of the head. He was shouting something into Ozzy’s face though once again there was of course no way of knowing what he was saying. It wasn’t until Ozzy smacked Emil back and gestured angrily at his ears and made an X with his arms that the hunter seemed to understand what he was saying.

  What ensued was a game of charades so well played, executed, and understood it would have won awards back on earth. It’s amazing the kind of information you can convey with just your hands and a scowl, and together they formulated a plan.

  They were already halfway across the flat when they finished their game of pointing and waving, Emil leaving for the front of the boat with the bag of gunpowder and shrapnel. While a grenade would have been better and would have cleared the way easy, they had to improvise.

  Gun powder, while incredibly flammable was not particularly explosive, at least not in comparison to something like dynamite or C4. The confined space of a barrel was what gave it the oomf it needed to shoot a bullet out at mach-whatever. A paper bag sealed with wax was a poor container in comparison.

  The general idea they’d had with the rakthim was that it’d make a big flash and enough heat that it’d at least check it out. With all of the monsters up ahead of them they’d be trying the same thing. Ozzy just had to make sure his aim was true to it.

  Emil tossed the bag of powder out to the left of the boat when they were about 70 feet from the border and just about to enter the monster ridden water. It was an impossible throw with such a heavy object for a normal person, but with his enhanced body he managed the throw comfortably. Then placing his hands on the front lower deck of the wagon he cast two spells, Castle Ramparts and War Shell.

  It was Ozzy’s job to ensure the bag of powder lit, and tracking it across the water with his double barrel he did just that. Two rounds of magical buckshot peppered the bag, tearing it apart and thankfully igniting the incendiary contents.

  Powder erupted in flames and brilliant light as a wave of heat spread over the wagon. Had they been normal earth rounds he doubted the effect would have been much to look at. With these magically enhanced, and quite literally massive rounds however? It was like Emil’d thrown a stick of dynamite over the water.

  In an instant the water in front of the wagon ceased to roil, in their place undercurrents and dark shapes as creatures moved beneath the surface to investigate the source of the explosion.

  As they crossed over the final stretch they were slowed considerably as monster after monster found out the hard way what happens when you run into a spiked dome that’s getting pushed at over a hundred miles an hour by a magical wagon. Several bumps later however they were across, and each man on the wagon unclenched their butts, released their white knuckle grips on the railings, and untied themselves.

  They were safe.