Jewelry of the apocalypse Book One: The Ruined City

Chapter 1 [Faded silver]

The necklace hadn’t been worth stealing. It wasn’t that the necklace itself was hard to get- it was- but he couldn’t see what the big deal was. To George, it was a regular old lump of gold. However, as he continued staring, a slight pang began to form above his stomach. “Ah, jeez, what’s this?” he asked. But nobody answered. Which wasn’t odd, not to him.

George carelessly set the heart-shaped necklace on the coffee table, unable to rid himself of the sensation. He ruffled his hair as he made his way to the kitchen.

Dirty plates cluttered the sink. He recoiled at the greasy stench as it slithered its way into his nose. “Ugh, I'll get to it later.” He never did. There was always an excuse to not do it.

The fridge hummed softly. His stomach grumbled in response. He let out a soft sigh as he reached for the rusted handle. Damn, I should probably eat something. George frowned as he stared at the bare shelves. The fridge light flickered silently.

Then out of the corner of his eye he spotted something, a mouse, food. His stomach gurgled with glee as he mercilessly stomped on the small mouse. Blood dripped from the heel of his raggedy sneaker. Maybe I should find new shoes. He thought as he picked up the small corpse, his stomach let out another soft rumble.

~

The streets of St. Henry were a sight to behold. Car horns blared in the distance, only to go silent moments after. Streetlamps flickered, briefly illuminating the road beneath. The wind whistled through the vacant department stores and the glass from their empty display cases lined the sidewalks. Rats the size of cats chased after colonies of cockroaches. The joints of abandoned mannequins creaked as their once hard plastic coats melted in the harsh, moldy sun.

Chapter 1 [Faded silver] end.

Chapter 2 [Weak link]

A hollow wind swept through the streets as George exited his apartment. Normally, his peppy neighbor, Mrs. Pleili, would have greeted him. Only the wind answered today. George pulled his scarf higher. His footsteps echoed across the metal walkway, clanging as they reached the stairs.

He looked to his left at the street-side arcade and remembered the constant laughter of children and how much it annoyed him.

Normally, a person accustomed to the busy sounds of the streets would be afraid of the overpowering silence, but George reveled in it. He let the silence wash over him like a cool spring. He could hardly remember the last time he felt so calm.

Glass crunched underneath the soles of his shoes as he passed by long-forgotten shopping centers, their displays laying bare in the afternoon sun.

Cracks stretched across buildings like vines, entangling every corner of concrete. The wind howled behind him, and George softly sang along.

~

What kind of cans should I get? he wondered. If I’m lucky, I’ll be able to get some canned peaches. “Or maybe there’s some meat in a can, that’d be cool,” he said not realizing that he had already passed the market.

Chapter 2 [Weak Link] end.

Chapter 3 [The door]

George continued to daydream about canned food until he suddenly felt his nose scrunch up in pain as it made contact with something. Seemingly unfazed by the blood, he backed away. As he backed away, he saw the words DED ED. “Huh, odd name.” He put his hand up to the lettering. He couldn’t figure out exactly what substance the letters were made of. He did know. Whatever it was, it was fresh.

His thoughts were interrupted by the low metallic clank as it rang from the other side. George raised his fists defensively, as if on instinct. He wasn’t sure exactly what he would find beyond the door, but he hoped that whatever it was had food. His stomach let out a hearty grumble at the thought.

Dust clouds filled the air as the door scraped across the ground. Loose gravel and sediment shifted as rusted metal scraped against more rusted metal. It was like this door hadn't been used in quite a long time. Was it to keep people out or to keep whatever was on the other side, in? He thought, eyes fixed on the doorway. As if it were a scene from a horror movie, the thing behind the door presented itself. He hadn't even seen the creature's face and yet he froze. As the monstrous silhouette stood before him, a deep primal urge within him flickered to life. All thoughts of food vanished as the dust began to clear revealing its features.

Chapter 3 [The door] end.

Chapter 4 [surprise]

He tried to back away, but his legs lost their strength with each step of the behemoth’s hooves. Lumbering ever closer. The monster towered over him, it’s human like face stared blankly at him.

George wanted to scream. He wanted to scream until his throat was coarse and dry. But he couldn’t, it was like everything had just shut down. Unable to move, he stared in terror as the behemoth reached for his leg. Its skin was a blue-ish gray. Instead of hooves, its front limbs had a more human look to them, each muscular arm ending in a hairy-knuckled fist. And each finger ending in fingernails ragged and filled with dirt and grime.

George closed his eyes, preparing for the pain. C'mon just get it over with.

If only I could eat meat, one last time... He thought resigning himself to his fate. Every part of his mind was telling him that this was where he would die. He sniffed the air, imagining that what was in front of him was a nice juicy can of meat instead his immediate demise.

As he continued to imagine, as strange scent filled his nose. It was familiar and yet foreign at the same time. He took in several more breaths.

Wait... He thought, unable to believe himself. This is.....

Meat! I'm smelling meat!

He was sure of it. His nose was only greeted by the stench of meat. Oh how it danced in the air above him- the image of cooked steak flashed in his mind.

His mouth began to water as more images of food came to mind. “Oh meat, chicken, beef, fish, how I love thee.”

He craned his head, eyes still closed, searching for the source of the smell. It bobbed and weaved depending on his direction.

His stomach began to growl, the fear that permeated throughout his body, dissipated with its mighty war cry.

It’s stronger in the east than the west, no, it’s..it’s “Right here!” He shouted as he sat up, extending his neck towards the beast’s thigh.

The sound of flesh tearing from skin filled his ears. It felt rough and course between his teeth. Damn, this thing must be ripped. Too bad I’m not into lean meat. The beast staggered back in pain. It let out a low rumbling roar, as it tried to maintain its balance, only to lose it moments later. Gulp.

George brought himself to his feet. "Heh, still good though." He wiped the blood from his chin and raised his fists in a basic boxing stance. "So it tastes like beef, huh?"

He opened his eyes, the once fearsome beast now seemed more like an afternoon snack to him. Blood trickled out of the gash in its knee.

He could feel the wind on his face as he leapt past the large fist hurtling towards him. “Whoa, watch it pal. You almost hit me there.”

The beast buried its knuckles into the ground, a plume of dust burst from the impact. It let out an angry snort as the familiar scent of blood filled his nostrils. George closed his eyes, blinded by the scent, he let down his guard. His eyes jerked back open as he felt his foot crumple under the grip of the beast's fist. "Ah..” It let out a rumbling snicker as it pulled back it’s other fist.

Chapter 4 [surprise] end.

Chapter 5 [DED ED]

The first thing going through his mind was Ugh god my head... He attempted to open his eyes but the swollen skin prevented him from doing so.

Blindly, George tried to move his hands only to find them bound together. His head turned at the sound of shuffling.

Was someone there? he thought as he tried to pinpoint where the sound was coming from. His head glided across the slab of metal underneath it. Movement was limited however as George heard the distinct sound of a lock clicking into place.

On the other side of the room, the beast grumbled, dabbing a large piece of cloth against the gash on his knee. Blood dripped from the rag as it pressed against the wound. As he continued tending to his knee, the beast nodded his head towards George. "He's a feisty one, be careful..." The beast growled in a low gravely tone.

The clack of heels resounded as the figure stepped across the room. A long scarf licked at the floor as they made their way to the metal restrainer in the middle of the room. On the slab sat a dusty looking man. His shoes were stained with blood as his entire body was covered with dirt. Across his arms, legs and chest were long metal bars with a small collar around his neck, the red light in the middle blinked before turning green seconds later.

Inspecting the man's body they moved his wrists weakly checking how strong their force was. However while they were tracing his fingers with their own, the hand tried to clasp down. They moved their fingers out of the way in time as they smiled, tusks glistening in the light of the moldy sun.

"Heh....you weren't kidding Rupert, this kid is feisty....." They spoke, their voice smooth and mischievous. It sounded like they were planning something.

The gruff voice, Rupert, spoke up again. "Oh Blaire come now, what ever you're planning......it won't work..." It sounded like these two people knew each other.

George croaked, his voice crackly after having not recovered from the fight he had gotten into earlier. "Uhm......What's-" Before he could finish speaking the smooth voice, Blaire cut him off.

"Oh it seems like our little spy has finally woken up, good.... Rupert, please undo the blindfold if you would..."

“What’s going on?” George spoke again, his voice clearer this time. Even though he couldn’t see, he still could smell the bountiful smell of Beef coupled with Pork. It was like he could see vague approximations of where his captors were.

He tried to swivel his head, he felt cold metal scrape against his chin. God what was this? A collar? He thought. “Who are you people exactly?”

The one who smelled of Beef, Rupert, answered. “Heh do you think we’ll tell you who we are just out of the gate?” A foul smelling odor snaked out from his mouth. It was like a mixture of garbage and garlic. His face scrunched as Rupert smiled smugly.

“He heard our names dear….of course he knows who we are you dolt..” The Pork smelling one, Blaire, snapped back.

“Besides, if he was a true spy, he would have to know his targets pretty well, wouldn’t you say?” George felt a sharp nail scratch underneath his chin, he had no choice but to lift it.

Chapter 5 [DED ED] end.

Chapter 6 [Companions?]

George's throat was dry as he tried to swallow saliva that wasn't there. Sweat beaded down his face as he stared down the intimidating figure in front of him. The first thing that caught his eye were the fangs that protruded from their mouth.

They resembled those of the wild hogs that he used to chase whenever he entered his grandfather's forest in his childhood. He could hardly think back to his past as Blaire continued to speak.

"Now you see little spy, you're under my control. heh." A sinister smile made its way across their mouth, twisting the fangs inside.

George absolutely had no idea what they were talking about. But it didn’t matter, as soon as they would move their hand away, he’d make a break for it.

“Heh you think you’ve got me, do you?” George smirked as his captors seemed confused.

What the hell is this kid going on about? Blaire thought as they looked at George quizzically. They took a quick look at Rupert who stood beside them, knee still wrapped in a cloth.

George continued to smile as the pair of bandits stared him down, wary of his next move. All I need to do is just reach into my pocket and I'll be Scott free! "Hah! is that all you've got?!" He said with full confidence.

Suddenly, the room exploded with rapturous laughter. Blaire's eyes practically leaking tears as they wheezed. The walls cackled and shook as Rupert held his stomach with one colossal hand. George sat on the metal slab utterly confused. Why? Why were they laughing when he had pulled out his....

It was at this moment that George looked down at his arm, which laid slack against his body. Oh shit.... He thought as the laughter died down.

"That was cute....." Blaire said, almost teasing George for his attempt to move. "I'm going to have fun breaking that fiery spirit of yours..."

Chapter 6 [Companions?] end.

Chapter 7 [Running away is always an option!]

It wasn't that George just couldn't feel their arm, they couldn't feel their body at all. Shit! I can't do anything, but they don't know that.......right? He thought as Blaire snickered to themselves.

"While on your own you're nothing special, that sense of smell though.....it does intrigue me....which kingdom are you a part of?"

George opened his mouth to answer but found that no words would come out. Instead he just stared at the pair with an open mouth and confused look in his eyes.

"Wont tell us ey? What are you working for that sick bastard K.M.?!" Rupert shouted, attempting to approach George, but Blaire put their hand up to Rupert's chest restraining him.

"Now, now you old fart....we can't assume that every person we capture is working for that....thing. Besides, He doesn't even look the least bit crazy. I mean c'mon." Blaire continued to explain, not wanting to lose any precious investments.

George looked past Blaire and Rupert, their argument slowly dissolving into nothingness. He stared at the world around them. Broken pieces of concrete and metal were strewn about the ground. The bench that Rupert was sitting on was just a plank of old crumbling wood hoisted by two black colored metal bars.

His eyes wandered towards the sky, which wheezed a sickly orange. Clouds of dust blow freely among the wind. George listened for the welcoming call of some kind of bird, as if hearing its song would bring at least some piece of mind to him. But as its ears rang, all he was met with was dread.

In the wake of its call, the very ground shook at George's feet. Stones jumped to get out of the way. Walls cracked and shuddered in terror. He swore he could hear the distant cry of an animal, but it didn’t sound like anything he’d ever heard before.

George squinted. The surroundings seemed to melt away as he focused in on the plume of dust rising several miles from them. “Hey, sorry to interrupt your little quarrel but I think we need to go…”

Rupert was the first to look up, putting one massive hand against Blaire’s snout. George could barely get another word in as he found himself in Blaire’s log-like arms. Rupert gathered anything that wasn’t nailed to anything else before tearing the concrete wall behind them out of the crumbling dirt.

George stared in awe at the hulking beast. Jorn Graft….I can’t believe I fought him and survived… His internal monologue was soon broken by another monstrous roar. Judging by how far it was that thing was big. And fast.

“What the hell is that thing?” George asked only to be met with a stern look. Before he could get an answer though, it was already too late.

The ground beneath their feet crumbled, what used to be the solid foundation of their escape now pulled them further into despair. George swore that he heard what could only be described as a cavern heave a heavy sigh.

“You’ve got to be shi-” Blaire yelled at the gorge. Their voice shouted back at them, amplified by the cavern’s ridges. George could only imagine what sort of creature could make a hole this large. Rupert made his way to Blaire as George’s body hung uselessly over their shoulder. George could feel Rupert’s colossal palm resting on his back. It felt warm- no it was burning hot!

George felt his entire body fill with this strange heat. It was as if every muscle fiber of his being was on fire. He hadn’t even noticed that he was no longer over Blaire’s shoulder.

“What the hell?! What’d you do to me? God damn it feels Gahhh!”

Rupert gave him a cold stare as George continued to flail about, nearly falling into the massive canyon three times.

He blinked as the warmness dulled, realizing that he could now move freely. It was strange, all Rupert had done was put his massive hand against his back and the numbness throughout his body seemed to melt away. Rupert just gave a silent nod as George approached him.

"Heh, thanks big man..." George flashed a huge smile as he patted Rupert's hairy arm.

The hell does this puny little man think he's doing, acting like we're friends... Rupert thought as George continued to pat his arm.

Huh, it feels just like a bear....but, his knees are backwards... George thought. He brushed the thick purple and navy fur that coated Rupert's forearm.

He had been so enthralled by its softness that he failed to notice the small maggots crawling along his leg.

Chapter 7 [Running away is always an option!] end.

Chapter 8 [Disgust]

Blaire watched as George swiftly and repeatedly crushed the maggots one by one, a look of pure disgust contorting the jovial expression he once wore.

As George's foot collided with the cracked pavement, the small pools of digestive fluid that painted his sole washed over the dirt to reveal traces of blood. Strangely enough, they couldn't find any of this blood on the now ragged purple hoodie draped overtop a dirty street shirt. That rules out any possibility that the blood was his. And whatever he killed, it was recent.

"You. Stupid. Fucking. Bug. How DARE you touch me!" George screamed, rage filling his body as he continued to grind each maggot that crawled out of the massive hole to a paste.

Before George could stomp on another one, he felt the cuff of his undershirt being lifted. It cut his breath short as the two looked eye to eye.

"What do you think you're doing, brute?" George spat as he spun, suspended in the air.

"For one, it's Rupert not 'Brute' you ankle-biter...." He stared at George.

"And Two, can you not try and bite me while I'm talking to you?" George stopped gnashing his teeth, trying to injure his captor.

"I swear, haven't even known you for more than a could hours and you're already the second-most childish person I've ever met..." Rupert sighed and turned his gaze towards Blaire, who huffed in response.

George folded his arms as he continued to swing several feet off of the ground.

"What, are these shits precious or something? Did I make you mad by doing that? Hmmm? hmmm?" George said in a mocking tone towards the pair.

Blaire was the first to answer. "No, do we look like Wrathlings to you? Besides I can't tell whether you're incredibly braindead or just too full of yourself." They raised a three fingered hand to George's face, silencing him. "That wasn't an actual question.."

George took a quick glance at Rupert, who blew a large tuft of his mane out from his emerald eyes. The combined gradient of blue and purple made it entrancing to the eye. George shook his head before looking back at Blaire.

"What do you mean 'Wrathlings' what are those and what do they have to do with me not wiping off those pieces of filth from this world?"

It was clear at that moment that Blaire had not met anyone as clueless as George in their life. How the ever loving hell did he even manage to survive out here? He looks no older than 24 and yet I see no trace of any mutation...is he an Untouched?

Blaire shook their head. No that doesn't make any sense... how on Braygen could an Untouched even survive against Rupert, let alone injure him? He can't certainly be a spy, nobody would ever hire someone like this maniacal idiot. They chuckled to themselves before talking to Rupert.

"Oy Big guy, set him down. He's not a danger to us.." Rupert nodded in response as he began to set George down next to the hole.

"Still. You're telling me that you've been out here on your own, without having come in contact with any of those fanatics, looking like a protagonist from one of those early age novels? You can't be serious..." Rupert huffed, putting his thumb and forefinger to his temple.

“The Wrathlings are a cult that worship those creatures that you enjoyed killing so much.”

“Wait so you’re telling me that there are seriously people who like these things?! Hah I don’t believe you..” George huffed, a smirk filling out his face.

“Well, liking them would be an understatement.” Rupert interjected, crossing his arms. “Some of the more serious followers have changed their very bodies to resemble them.”

George looked at Rupert with disgust. “Really? I can’t imagine myself ever willingly disfiguring my body just to appease some slug.”

“Those ‘slugs’ are called the Kings of Wrath and the one that they really worship is a huge one that they call Big Mama… Some believe that she’s been alive ever since the collapse of the Old World.” Blaire chipped in.

“But I have to agree with Rupert, how did you survive this long? These things are practically everywhere….”

“Look, I never told you guys anything. You just assumed…” George gave a sarcastic chuckle as he walked nonchalantly on the edge of the hole.

“Besides, it’s not like one’s going to show up right underneath us, right?”

As George finished speaking the ground began to rumble beneath him. Within the colossal hole a high-pitched screeching noise burst out, causing the edges of the hole began to crack and crumble as the resulting shockwave echoed from within the ground. George stumbled back and forth as the ground shook, he was literally teetering on the edge of what could be the mouth of a very large and very angry beast.

Chapter 8 [Disgust] end.

Chapter 9 [Big Mama]

George stared behind him at the cavern of circulating teeth. It seemed to go for forever.

“HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT!” George screamed, his voice dampened by the horrific screech behind him.

It was like a chorus of agony was screaming into the heavens, its sorrow filled song puncturing a gash into the sky.

Stars bled from the opening above them. George couldn’t care less of whether the night sky was the same as the one he knew, he was more worried about not falling to his immediate death.

“Rupert, GRAB HIM!” Blaire shouted as they dashed towards the edge of the hole.

Before George felt the familiar tug of Rupert’s hand on his jacket an unfamiliar sensation rippled throughout his body.

It was like the pain he had felt earlier that day, only it was sharper and focused itself around his heart. George let out a loud gasp as the air in his lungs was knocked out of him.

The purplish blue fur that dotted his knuckles thrashed in the wind.

“Hey, you need to stay with me alright?” Shouted Rupert, who was trying to navigate away from the cracked parts of the ground.

“Just head towards me and don’t drop him!” Blaire yelled, trying to make themselves heard over the hellish screams emerging from the hole itself.

“We have to get out of here before it gets hungry again?” Blaire said as they inched over to Rupert.

“What tier do you think this one is Blaire?” Rupert asked.

“Sounds to be around a Five but I can’t be sure what this one is capable of until we’ve found ourselves trapped in its many, many stomachs.” Blaire responded, holding onto the satchel at their side.

After reaching the two, Blaire saw how George groaned in Rupert's grip. it seemed as if the slightest bit of movement would cause him to ralph all over the place, which was not ideal.

"Hey kid, if you're about to puke, try to not get it on me. It's hard to clean vomit out of my fur." Rupert warned the barely conscious person in his hand.

Honestly, how did this kid even fight me? It's unbelievable...he's so......lean and barely any movement reduces him to a sickly leaf in the wind. Is there something special to him that I'm just not able to see? Maybe....Besides Blaire wouldn't let someone live if they weren't useful to them in some way...

Rupert thought as he continued to watch as George's face, now a shade of pale white, flowed in the strong breeze that screamed around them.

As the creature continued to scream, Blaire stood wide-eyed as a long cylindrical tongue slithered its way out of the hole. It whipped around with such anger that there was barely any time to react.

Chapter 9 [Big Mama] end.

Chapter 10 [Belly of the Beast]

George never would have thought that when he woke up this morning, he would be hurdling down a massive hole lined with rows upon rows of teeth, but here he was.

The wind whipped through his hair as he fell. Walls of pinkish grey flesh expanded and contracted as plumes of air shot out of large vents in between the rows of impossibly sharp teeth.

Compared to Blaire and Rupert, who had managed to fasten themselves on the fleshy wall, George could only flail his human arms uselessly in the air.

That same feeling of hopelessness he felt when he had seen Rupert beforehand had taken a hold of George’s throat. He tried to scream out for them but not a syllable could be made.

Oh god, oh god, oh god. Shit shit shit what do I do?! I can’t speak! Oh god I can’t breathe!

Panic gorged itself on George’s nerves, like a pig that hadn’t been fed in about a week feasting on the farmer’s corpse.

Thoughts whirred past his eyes as he continued to fall. Blurry images of a smiling woman fell away as the bottom of the chasm came into view.

Beneath him was stomach acid the size of the ocean. Its murky waters filled with crumbling buildings and debris. Among the deserted islands George spotted one with a metal pole jutting out of it.

I can probably use that as a boat! He thought as hope had seemed to emerge from behind the fog of doubt. If I can just reach that place I’ll be fine!

George stopped flailing his arms and brought them to his side, making him more aerodynamic. He was sure that he’d make it with this.

As thoughts of safety flooded his mind, he neglected to notice that his flight path was more than a bit off. The sharpened end of a broken pipe waved at him, its shimmer blinding him for just a moment.

Rupert watched as George fell onto the pole. He watched the pole pierce George’s chest. George vomited a torrent of blood onto the crackling pavement mere inches beneath him. He looked up at the blue-purple-ish dot that was Rupert. Shadows crowded the edges of his vision as his body slid further down the pole, his blood painting its exterior like a fence post.

For a moment everything fell to black. He couldn’t feel anything except the frost biting at his fingertips.

He wished he had more time. If only he could have done something differently. God, I wish I could do more than just merely survive! Please don't let me die!

In the midst of his cries to the void, he thought he heard a voice call out to him. "Do not waver, young one."

The voice had an almost haunting tone to it. W-who are you? George thought but the voice ignored his question. "Reach out and grasp the Heart of Evolution. Claim it as your own and live."

George mustered all the strength he had and reached his hand out into the void until his fingers were met with a cold, frost-like tingling.

No it wasn’t frost, it felt more like metal if anything.

He weakly opened his eyes for a moment, a cold metallic chain wrapping around his fingers. In the center of his palm laid a golden heart with a strange red liquid in the center.

It was then that he realized that he was no longer standing on the concrete island where he was impaled. But rather the inside of his apartment.

He thought about the voice as he stared at the heart. “What the hell happened?”

Chapter 10 [Belly of the beast] end.

Chapter 11 [Rusted Gold]

The golden heart seemed to glimmer in his hand as he stared at it. He had this strangely familiar feeling when it came to the necklace. It was almost as if he and it were connected.

His attention was suddenly drawn back to couch that he was laying on. How long had he been petting the cushion? He wondered as his fingers traced the odd pattern. It seemed to spiral off in a variety of directions.

This was his couch….he was sure of it. But how?

As the question continued to ingrain itself in his mind, a flurry of images clouded his vision.

He clutched his eyes shut as if doing so would dispel the pain he felt. A flurry of images flashed before his eyes. Pristine white walls and gloved hands reaching overtop him. “If I don’t see them then it hasn’t happened.” He told himself, his words soft like the first dusting of snow on a winter afternoon.

Somewhere in the middle of these images that same fleeting image of the woman appeared. Only this time the woman was dresssed in white. All he could make out was the fiery curls that adorned her head. They clouded her face, obscuring her features.

George sat on that cold wooden floor for what was about half an hour before he finally opened his eyes again. His cheeks were stained with tears as the methodical tapping of the water faucet kept its time.

He was slow to rise. He crossed the threshold of wood to tile as he entered the kitchen, the necklace now around his neck.

As he looked at the sink full of dishes, a memory flashed behind his eyes once more. It was of him looking at that same pile and dismissing it without a second look.

“Ugh….how long have these been here?” He asked the empty room. He shook his head and grabbed the sullied grayish sponge that slept beside the cold water valve.

The faucet ceased its counting as it sputtered to life, a stream of cloudy water splashed onto the pile, the caked on food seemingly laughing at the water’s pitiful attack.

Despite the sheer volume of dishes, he washed them relatively quickly. It was strange. He hadn’t felt this calm in a long time, at least that’s what it felt like. This newfound calmness was interrupted by the loud gurgle of his stomach. It growled at him, upset with the lack of food.

He turned towards the small fridge that sat next to the sink.

There’s probably nothing in there. He thought as the door swung open. The empty shelves greeted him with a dusty grin as the small light flickered behind the doorway.

As he closed the fridge he could hear something skittering across the room. He turned towards the source of the sound, it was a mouse.

As its claws scraped across the tiles George bent down to grab it. For a spilt second his vision flashed. The ground beneath him was covered in blood, as were his shoes. The mouse that once skittered around his feet laid dead in a pool of its own blood. Distinct markings littered the corpse, similar to that of his sneakers. A vision? No.... it was too real. Could this be Deja vu? He asked himself, his vision clearing as quickly as it was clouded.

He picked up the mouse with relative ease. It squirmed in his grip, high pitched squeaks filling the room. For a moment he swore he heard a voice whispering to him as it continued to squeal. His stomach began to snarl as the creature riggled its head around its fat neck. Something like this must have some meat on it…. He thought. The longer he stared at the creature, the more his mouth seemed to water.

Was he seriously thinking about eating this mouse? To be fair, there was no other food in the apartment and he was sure the rest on his floor had been looted so this was the best he could do, right?

Slowly George raised the poor creature up to his mouth, and with a sickening crunch the creature’s cries were silenced.

“Fucking hell!” He shouted as blood spewed out of the large wound in the corpse he now held. It seemed to jump out of the wound and splatter all over his shoes, and just like crudely burst can of soda George placed his mouth overtop the bleeding wound to stop the flow.

Chapter 11 [Rusted Gold] end.

Chapter 12 [Bloody river]

At first it all came at once. A torrent of blood entered into his mouth.

His first mistake was trying to stop the flow by placing his mouth overtop the wound, that just made his entire mouth fill with blood faster. It’s metallic taste pierced his tongue, shocking the senses and yet it felt right at home.

The gushing wound slowed to a trickle and then to nothing at all. A fresh stream of blood dotted George’s cheek as he pulled away from the drained corpse.

George never really believed in the whole adage that new meat just tastes like chicken, but George hungrily bit into the wound anyway.

Using his fingers, he dug his nails into its flesh, pulling back the fur to expose more of the meat. The meat was fatty almost springy, it seemed to melt in his mouth as blood continued to pour out of the freshly opened wound.

George closed his eyes as he ate. He let the taste of the fresh kill wash over him like warm water. It certainly didn’t taste like chicken but there was a calm familiarity to it. As George savored the carcass he was quick to notice the tingling sensation coming from his fingertips.

In moments the tingle turned to sharp pangs as his hands began to spasm, dropping his meal.

“Ah Jorn!” George shouted. He fell to his knees in pain. God damnit! What the hell was in that thing?! was it a disease? Defense mechanism? Fuck! George’s mind spiraled as he tried to understand what was going on.

The spasms soon spread to his entire body, knocking him on his side staining the hoodie a deep crimson.

Words got caught in his throat as the air inside him was taken hostage amidst the terrible pain.

The sharp stabbing feeling he experienced earlier dulled until it eventually fell silent.

He laid on the floor the sounds of the world returning.

His eyes went wide as he heard the distinct noise of bones cracking.

Chapter 12 [Bloody river] end.

Chapter 13 [Metamorphosis]

George’s mouth opened wide as a silent scream filled the room. He watched in horror as his fingers twisted and looped around each other.

His wrist contorted in hellish shapes as if the very bones themselves were colliding and splitting. The worst thing about it was that he felt it all.

Every crunch and crack his bones made.

Every muscle fiber that tore and snapped.

The skin itself wriggled around like a dying animal. He tried screaming but the air refused to enter his body.

Soon the pain began to subside as he closed his eyes. Darkness blanketed him in its soft embrace. It felt so welcoming in the dark. So calm. The memories of pain he had experienced mere moments ago seemed to feel like distant cries to him.

Slowly he opened his eyes, witnessing the aftermath of whatever had just happened to him.

As he picked himself up he immediately noticed the large amounts of hair on his hands. It was dark and curled in all directions, it was like he had superglued several tufts of black cotton to his hand.

“What the hell?” He said under his breath, marveling at the change.

The next thing he noticed were the tips of his fingers. His nails had grown to impossible length. Their sharpened point made them almost seem like daggers.

He slowly closed his hand into a fist. He almost immediately felt a small tinge of pain as his new nails poked at his palm.

Okay, at least my hand still functions like a hand. He thought.

He unfurled his fist, flexing his fingers before taking a moment to get accustomed to them.

He wanted to know how sharp they were, how far they could cut, who they could cut.

“There’s got to be a way to test these..” He said, glancing over at the couch. Its upholstery glittering in the orange light.

Knowing that nobody else was around, George raised his hand high. He could feel the air dig into the underside of his nails as they tore through the greyish white spiral.

Huh, clean marks George thought, surprised at how little effort it took.

Excited, George continued to hack up the poor couch, its springs crying out in pain as its stuffing flew all about the room.

Soon the entire room was blanketed in a wash of brilliant white fuzz and greyish white fabric. In the middle of it stood George, a crazed smile on his face.

He stood there among the wreckage of what used to be a living room. While George was pleased with the sharpness, there was something missing. He needed to truly test his limits.

Another vision flashed before his eyes. It was of a tall mismatched metal door. Before him were two words: DED ED. He could almost feel the blood painted on the door as he reached out his hand towards it.

In another flash, the vision was gone and George smiled, his wild teeth laid bare.

George knew what he had to do. Let’s kick the shit out of DED ED. He walked towards the wooden door that separated him from the outside world, claws at the ready.

George took one final look around the ruined apartment before smiling.

“Goodbye forever….I guess”

The room fell silent as wood splintered to the ground, George’s shadow waiving back as he left.

Chapter 13 [Metamorphosis] end.

Chapter 14 [DED ED II]

It wasn’t that hard to find the place he had seen. There were enough signs in the vision that he had so that he could track it down.

“Damn, can’t believe it took me an hour to find this pile of shit…” George sighed as he stood in front of it.

The mismatched plating on the door seemed half-hazardly put together. The way the metal curled and bent looked akin to a metalsmith novice’s first demonstration. The welding was clumped and messy. George could feel the roughness of it just by looking at it.

And yet George reached out his hand anyway. The metal itself was quite smooth, which meant that it hadn't been made recently.

You'd think that whoever lived here would do a better job...

Momentarily forgetting the extension of his nails, George ran his hands over the painted section of the door, a screech resonated from where the door connected with his nails.

George recoiled in pain at the sudden noise. Quickly he covered his ears with his palms but the damage was already done. The door's screech crawled into George's eardrum like an angry centipede, scratching and biting at the inside of his ears.

Teeth clenched, he stumbled backward. The dirt beneath him swirled around his feet as they kicked into the air. He could barely hear himself think as he screamed.

"Fuck! why is everything so loud?!" he asked slowly removed his hands from his ears. I still have no idea what's happening to me, but it seems that my ears are more sensitive because of it... George looked back at his hands. The nails now sported cracks and the hair on his hands moved less fluidly. I guess there's a time limit or something. I should be more careful then...

George faced the door once more. "Let's try this one more time..." He felt his conviction flow through him as a stepped forward only to be stopped. Where the metal door once stood, steadfast and unmoving, a tall menacing figure impeded his path instead.

Wait...why is everything dark? what the hell? why did I..... close my eyes?

Even though he couldn't see the figure, George knew that they were staring at him. He could tell that they were an animal of some kind. Bear? Lion? He wasn't sure. The smell of beef confused him until a single word came his lips. Frankly he wasn't even aware that he had said anything.

"Rupert, is that you?"

Chapter 14 [DED ED II] end.

Chapter 15 [A new start]

As soon as the words had left his mouth, he fell silent. Millions of thoughts flowed into George’s in an instant.

Is that their name? If so, how the hell do I even know it? Do I know this person? Can they even be called a person? Oh god has this happened before? No that couldn’t be, could it?

The tall figure slowly approached George, cracking his knuckles. “How the fuck do you know my name?”

More visions began appearing to George he stood speechless in front of the hulking figure known as Rupert.

However it seemed like they weren’t visions at all, instead are these my memories? He thought each memory ending with the same scene: a massive sickly green chasm and his blood splattered on the concrete below him.

As his mind was assaulted with images of his continuous death, George could feel something crawling up his throat. Shit! It was the remains of the rat he had eaten earlier!

He tried to fight back the urge to vomit but it was in vain as it all came pouring out at once in a disgusting pile of stomach acid, saliva, and rat. The claws he had planned on keeping safe suddenly splintered off and clattered to the ground. His hands shedding the tufts of hair like a dog getting a haircut.

It was all too much for him. He fell to his knees staining his pants in his own vomit as Rupert looked at him with a mix of disgust and disappointment.

“Pathetic….”

The next thing George remembered was the way that Rupert picked him up by the scruff of his hoodie, throwing him over his shoulder as he heard the door shut behind him, the broken shards of the nails glittering in the sun.

When George awoke, he was greeted by the cold stare of a pair of beady eyes. They were a mix of green and cyan almost forming a globe in their eyes. George simply stared into them.

“Are you sure you heard your name?” The voice asked.

George was surprised when he was able to sit up on the metal slab. From what he remembered, Blaire was always careful. So why change it now?

“Shouldn’t I be strapped down to the table? What if I attack you?”

Blaire sighed and stood up from the kneeling position they were in before.

“You said his name, right? You’re obviously powerful enough to know who we really are so it’s safe to keep you unrestrained.”

George, now fully sitting up, stared as Blaire walked away from the slab confused.

"If you were anything less, you'd either not know who we were or called Rupert by his moniker."

"What's his moniker?" George asked.

If I remember, that’s like a nickname, right?

Blaire turned around dramatically a sly grin on their face.

"He's the........... Monster of the Farlands!"

“I’m not a monster Blaire…. It’s a horrid name made by spiteful people.” Rupert scoffed.

“Oh come on! I know you love it..” Blaire teased.

“That’s nice and all but I think we’re missing something else here.” Blaire and Rupert turned to face George with mutual confusion.

It’s true that this time was different than last time but still there was always that thing…. Big Mama. Usually she came around now but the distinct lack of enormous quakes worried him. He walked cautiously around the ramshackled fort.

The pair continued to watch as George began to turn over every stone and loose part of the building.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Blaire asked they couldn’t just let a random person search through their things without knowing that person’s name, could they?

“George.” He said flatly as he pushed a stone over with a stick. He wiped his hands off on his already dirty jeans.

Rupert approached George and knelt down to his eye level. He could tell that George was concerned about something, but what he couldn’t tell.

“What’s got you so wound up?” He asked putting a large hand on his shoulder.

George simply looked up at him, the body of a rat squirming inside his mouth.

Chapter 15 [A new start] end.

Chapter 16 [The gates of Wrath pt. 1]

While the absence of Big Mama worried him, it wasn't too bad. Before he knew it, it had already been a week since George had started working with Blaire and Rupert. While the pair had been taking turns teaching George, he had been trying to work on figuring out what exactly the Heart of Evolution was. He had made several attempts to call out to the voice he heard but to no avail.

As he stood from the makeshift training ground he had made, his attention was pulled by Blaire, who was practicing their aim on drawings on the concrete wall in front of them. "So," George asked as another one of Blaire's bullets pierced the crumbling wall. "What are you guys doing out here anyway?" He never had the chance to learn this before so he thought that he might as well ask now, but he was met with silence and the cracking of the gun.

KRAAACKA-KOOM another shot was fired. Again. and again until all seven bullets were fired. After the gun was empty, Blaire set it aside and thought about how to answer him. While they trusted George enough to let him stick around, it wasn't to the point where they would reveal their mission, For all Blaire knew, George could be a spy from another kingdom, possibly even from Cabinruz's own personal guard. They couldn't be too careful after all.

"Well," They started, attempting to think of a good enough cover. "we were brought out here to explore one of the wonders within this city." Of course this was done through a carefully crafted fake smile. George scoffed as the image of those grotesque maggots came to mind.

"Ew, you don't mean the Kings of Wrath, right? those things are downright disgusting..." He said in a cold tone. Blaire was shocked at his answer. Shit! This guy even knows about the thing we're after. Just who the hell is he? And how much does he know really? Blaire thought to themself, side-eyeing George. He for the most part was confused by their reaction. Wait...why are they shocked? Do I look that clueless? Besides, you and Rupert were the ones who told me about them!

He sighed as he retracted the long fingernail-like claws back into his hand. It was an alien feeling to him. Over the week he had been told about some of the history of the place he found himself in.

He was currently in the Ruined City: Argrin. A once proud city that fell due to an apocalyptic event known as the "Evolution extinction". It was apparently some cataclysmic event that got rid of most of the population of the Old World. In the form of a virus it ravaged the world for years, mutating any who cam in contact with it.

"So how do you guys expect to find it?” George asked. “Don’t they make huge ass holes to feed?”

“While that is true...”Rupert began, standing from his spot. He reached into the large bag at his hip, rummaging around until he pulled out a strange looking crystal. “The obviously best way is to track them.”

“This here is a search stone. What happens is that you take one piece of the crystal and put it with the thing that you want to track. The rest of the crystal will become attuned to it and it will glow whenever the two pieces are near.” He explained further. “See?”

George looked at the crystal, the little light available to the area sparkled within it. Vast geometric patterns and structures visible to the naked eye. He was shocked at how such a thing would exist although it had occurred to him that the old world was certainly quite advanced as well, given the designs of the monoliths around them.

“So what happens if the piece gets destroyed? Does it lose the signal or something?” George poked at the crystal until Rupert put it away.

“Basically that’s all we know about it. The technology has only been around for a few years, so it’s still relatively new to us.” Blaire replied while packing up their gear. “Now we’ve got to head out before the signal gets too weak. Pack your things.”

George picked up the very few things that he had brought with him from his apartment as well as a few rats as prep. However there was one new edition to his gear. A small mole-like creature with a small set of horns and floppy ears trotted from underneath the rubble. “Come here Bonzai!” He said excitedly as if he were talking to a dog.

He had met the plucky little thing a couple days ago while scavenging for more rats. It followed him so much, eventually he resigned himself to keeping it, to the dismay of Blaire and Rupert.

In a moment Bonzai had climbed up his leg and into the small bag that hung by George’s waist. George had found him while out one day scavenging for more rats to feed on. Also during that time he discovered that he would only mutate if the creature he consumed was raw.

Rupert displayed a massive feat of strength as he picked up an entire concrete wall by the window and carried it half-hazardly behind his back.

As George caught up with Blaire and Rupert, the trio set off on their adventure to find their target.

Chapter 16 [The gates of Wrath pt1.] end.

Chapter 17 [The gates of Wrath pt. 2]

As George and the others followed the signal of the stone, they passed through abandoned shopping centers and crumbling towers. While the group had seen much of the Old World’s architecture, barely any vegetation could be seen among the sea of cracked concrete.

~

In the kingdom of Bazelong, the sun scorched the plains. A lone figure stared out from a high balcony as rows upon rows of workers toiled in the fields below. The figure stuck out a clawed hand and beckoned the workers to stop. From behind, a pair of glasses reflected the midday sun. The owner of the glasses spoke in a nasally voice. The kind of voice that people found almost sickly. “Sire,” the voice spoke as the clawed man sighed.

“What is it, Lieutenant Darwin?” The man spoke in a low, gravely tone, obviously annoyed at the interruption. Darwin spoke once more, stepping from the shadows to his king’s side. The man was large enough to cast a shadow on Darwin, with claws to match the imposing nature in his stance.

Darwin stuttered in his presence. “Well? Are just going to stand there? Speak!” Commanded the king.

Darwin fiddled with his glasses a bit, straightening them. “Well, you see sir, those mercenaries you sent to investigate the Ruined City h-have yet to offer correspondence with us.”

The king did not look back at Darwin as he asked. “And? What of it?”

“Well, it’s just I don’t see why you’re investing so much of our manpower into th-that wasteland? There are much more pertinent things that those men could be doing. A-and!” Darwin stopped himself as his king turned to face him.

Darwin shuddered as his long, floppy ears drooped at the sight of King Cabinruz sharpening his claws on the stone balcony. His eyes darkened at the thought that a mere noble had the audacity to question his intentions.

"Ah so you've finally shown me your true colors Lieutenant..." Cabinruz sneered at him, making no mistake to gnash his mighty fangs. With a deep rumble he reminded his subordinate. "So you believe that I am wasting my time. You think that your king has certainly gone mad as to depend on our kingdom’s Mercenary forces instead of the vast amounts of soldiers in the kingdom."

He let out a hearty sarcastic laugh as he squeezed one of Darwin's shoulders. Darwin knew that He wasn’t using his full strength and yet Darwin felt like his shoulder could shatter at any moment.

“But why Mercenaries? They’re nothing but immature, violent, brats the lot of them. Filthy peasants…” Darwin spat at the word brats, clearly disgusted.

“Don’t you forget the deal your father made with me…..I certainly know of many peasants that can do your job just as easily, if not better.” Cabinruz stared daggers into Darwin, increasing the grip he had on Darwin’s shoulder.

They stared at each other for several minutes before a purple orb sitting on the desk began to glow. Cabinruz shoved Darwin aside as he scowled. Before the dog-headed noble left, Cabinruz said one last thing. “You are not to question any longer, lest you face the consequences… are we clear?”

The clearly frightened Darwin nodded vigorously until he let out a stuttering “c-crystal..” and quickly ran from his sight, shutting the door behind him.

Before answering the orb’s call, Cabinruz commanded the workers to move.

It shined with a hollow glow, it’s light almost hauntingly beautiful. He pressed his hand to the orb and a loud crackling noise emanated from the center.

In a few moments a small purple ray shot out from the top of the orb, spreading out into a fan-like shape with a rectangle in the middle. As he moved his hand around on the orb, the sound of the noise warped and crackled as if he were changing the station on a radio.

Inside the rectangle, an image began to form . It was grainy at first but slowly became clearer. Before him was the image of the man who gave him the chance to live out his dreams. Or at least his head anyway....

In the center of the image was a head floating in what seemed to be a glass jar filled with a strange yellow liquid. connected to the base of the head's neck and the back of the skull were wires that snaked out of small ports on the sides.

The head did open its mouth as it spoke. "What is the progress of your mission, Cabinruz?" it asked.

Cabinruz answered calmly. "well sir we are almost done with the fields and the workers have been going at it for days on end, it should be done before the month is over."

"And what of the pests?" it asked slowly bobbing up and down. It was truly a saddening sight to see that great man now a mere head in a jar of unknown liquid.

“Well the mercenaries that I sent have not called in, so it is unclear whether the situation has been dealt with..”

The head finally moved, a snarling frown was visible. “Tch…..this should have been dealt with already. Do you understand the importance of this task? I cannot have any insubordination amongst my people. Any lose ties that come through here should be dealt with immediately. Is that understood?” God damn priest thinking that he’s better than me. I’ll have his maggot loving brain on a pike…

“Yes but can you please give us some more time? I promise, you will have your head.”

“Head! Oh yeah that’s right you’re so cute you little buddy..” George cooed at Bonzai, scratching the top of their head with a finger. Blaire eyed the pair as they lagged behind them. Granted they hadn’t known George for very long but they could tell that he liked his new companion more than he would people.

“Hey can you two keep up? We can’t lose the signal!” Blaire yelled back at the pair, George changing his mood considerably when he replied.

“Yeah… yeah don’t worry I won’t let you lose your precious signal.” He sighed as he placed Bonzai on his shoulder and met up with Rupert and Blaire.

“What’s the status on Big Mama?” Blaire asked, looking over at the search stone in Rupert’s hand. It pulsed a dull blue light as they walked. Unfortunately it had been this way for the past week, occasionally they had found large holes in the ground but all of them had been empty.

Rupert sighed. “It’s the same as when you asked five hours ago Blaire….” Sure, he’d been on long missions before but this had to be the most boring one they’d been on in a long while.

“Hey, since it travels underground, wouldn’t it be better if we went into one of its tunnels and followed that?” George asked, offering some advice.

The pair looked back at George. “Are you crazy?” Blaire asked. “Those tunnels are at least the size of a village, at most an entire country! Do you really think that we could catch up to it in time by going underground? What if the tunnel caved in?” Rupert added.

“Geez just trying to help, but I mean it’s also alive so wouldn’t it have to sleep eventually? Why not head out during the night?” He said yet again, put off by the pair’s rudeness.

Blaire and Rupert exchanged looks. Even while they hadn’t been tracking it for very long, it was still a surprise that they didn’t think about that. Amongst the silence, George cracked a smile.

“Really? You guys didn’t think about that? That’s precious…”

"Don't get too cocky..." Rupert said as the trio continued their journey under the cover of night.

The only light that illuminated their way was that of the crystal in Rupert’s hand as they passed through the stone wasteland.

Sure enough after a few hours of tracking the signal, George fought back the urge to vomit as he found himself climbing down the inside of the monstrosity mouth, his claws sinking into the flesh.

It took him nearly an hour until he met up with the others at the entrance of one its airways. He admired the absolute size of it thinking, I doubt Rupert would be able to touch the roof of this.

They didn’t even question why George was smiling to himself as they ventured deeper into the beast.

Chapter 17 [The gates of Wrath pt 2.] end.