Chapter 07: All Consuming Hunger

  After the horrifying revelation of Ksh’zar’s second head, Magba pressed on with her tale, filling my mind with incredibly vivid sounds and images.

  Within our tribe, names are not bestowed at birth. A name signifies an identity, which must be earned through survival. Until a member of our species fully evolves into a Lizardman, they remain nameless, merely hatchlings and younglings lizards.

  It is only after becoming a full Lizardman that one is allowed to choose their own name, a tradition signifying our first true step into individuality. Some choose names inspired by their strength, others by their cunning. But Ksh’zar… he did not name himself after his first evolution. No, he waited.

  Only after he bested Murgar, only after he had proven himself beyond doubt, did he choose his name.

  Ksh’zar!

  And we all knew what it meant even before he told us. “The Hydra.” He had evolved into an unkillable monster as feared as venerated, something of myths and of terror. And he fully embraced it.

  He laughed later that day, two voices overlapping, a chilling sound that echoed through the caverns. "Do you see?" he asked me, grinning with both mouths. "I was meant to be more."

  From that day forward, we no longer fought for survival, we fought to conquer. Ksh’zar led us against the other races, against the Frogmen, the Kobolds and even the Marsh Orcs. Our victories were absolute, our strength rising with every battle. He taught us new ways to forge weapons, how to strengthen our hides, how to wage war in ways no Lizardman had before.

  And then, a few seasons and much bloodshed later, all across The Great Marshes, he became a Lord.

  We were nearing the end of The Great War, and almost all opposition had been crushed. For the victory speech, Ksh’zar appeared before our people not just Alpha, but a Lord. His body changed once more, where he had two heads, a third emerged, and his size became monstrous.

  Finally, a dark green, fin-shaped gem with a profound glow materialized on his chest. It radiated a powerful magical force, compelling all who were bathed in its light an uncontrollable compulsion to submit.

  He was no longer one of us. He was something more, something terrifying.

  A Lord is the greatest member of any race and for each of them it is said that there can only be one alive at a time. There were always legends of great Lords from higher species, capable of unimaginable feats, but they have always sounded like something of a legend to us.

  I clearly remember the first time he spoke to me after that change.

  His voices layered in a deep, guttural resonance. "Why do you fear me?"

  I did not answer. How could I? True to his words, one that does not strive to dominate shall be ruled by another who does.

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  But with his new form and three heads, Ksh’zar also became a creature of endless hunger. And hunger like that… a hunger that consumes everything, was bound to lead us to our doom.

  At first, his new powers seemed divine. Even the most grievous wounds sealed shut in moments, his severed limbs regrew within minutes, and his strength only grew with every battle. But such rapid regeneration came at a cost. His monstrous body demanded sustenance beyond anything possible. An insatiable, primal drive that gnawed at his mind like an unrelenting fire. No matter how much he devoured, it was never enough.

  As our hunting parties went ever deeper to find food with dwindling results, enemy slaves and prisoners began being sent to Ksh’zar. Not many of us minded at the time, but some knew that the war for the Great Marsh would not last forever.

  And so it happened, Ksh’zar hunger did not stop. At first, it was the corpses of our fallen enemies. Then, it was those wounded we had no use for. The enemy prisoners who had already broken? They became sustenance. And still, it was not enough.

  The first time he took one of our own, there was silence. The victim was weak, unable to fight, barely clinging to life after a vicious battle. A mercy, some said. A necessity, others rationalized. But the second time… the third… the tenth… that was when the fear began to spread.

  He never hid it. He made no excuses. “The strong must grow,” he had said. “And the weak must serve.” And in his eyes, there was no greater service than being consumed in his never-ending quest for more strength, more power, more evolution.

  Our warriors, the same ones who once knelt in devotion, now walked with their backs against the walls when he passed. Hunting parties returned with desperate eyes, their kills never enough to satisfy his endless need. And then came the whispers.

  If this continues… there will be nothing left for the rest of us.

  Some still saw him as our savior. Others, our doom. But no one could deny the truth, Ksh’zar was no longer a leader. He was a predator. And we… We were his herd.

  A few of our oldest and strongest of will gathered. Whispers in the dark, planning a stop to all this madness. But how can you kill an unkillable monster?

  I personally lured him into the deep caves, deeper than any had dared to go before with promises of a great enemy lurking below and ancient powers buried in the darkness. And Ksh’zar, blinded by his hubris and hunger, followed.

  The tunnels collapsed behind him. Stone by stone, we buried him alive.

  Even then, he did not die easily.

  For days, his roars shook those tunnels, his rage echoing through the caverns, shaking the very walls of the underworld. He clawed, he screamed, he ate the very rock itself in a desperate attempt to free himself. But hunger alone cannot move mountains and his greatest weapon became his doom.

  Eventually, silence fell.

  The Hydra was buried.

  But we were left broken. Our unity shattered and most of our strength lost.

  When the Frogmen and other enemy races saw our chaos, they returned, not as warriors, but as conquerors. They reclaimed their lands, their cities, their dominion. Filled with vengeance for their fallen, they killed and enslaved us and little could we do to survive.

  Ksh’zar gave himself an empire. And with his fall, so did it.

  Magba's head filled my thoughts again, her hollow eyes fixed on me, heavy with meaning. "So now you understand, little one. You are different, just as Ksh'zar was. You are not merely another Lizardling, but perhaps our chance to be more than slaves, to change the fate Ksh’zar bestowed upon us."

  The vision faded, and I was left gasping, my mind reeling from what I had just witnessed. The rise and fall of their race, now my race, tied to the insatiable hunger of one of our own. One most likely someone reincarnated from another world, like me.

  The Hydra who consumed everything, including his own future.

  And now, they’re betting on me, a half-starved, one-armed hatchling, to do better and fix things.

  I swallow hard.

  “Shhshhs fantastic!”