by Noam Oswin
The owlish-vulture swooped down. Its beak poked around at the meat, before kicking it away and scattering it onto the floor. It took to the air, charging closer and closer until it arrived at the carcass of the first dead panther. The beak slammed into the dead creature’s eyeball and plucked it out of its head, swallowing it whole.
I chuckled. Even a vulture had pride not to accept something given to it freely. The red-winged vulture enjoyed its meal, my sole companion in the campfire-illuminated night.
Despite possessing [Duality], the world was vast. Perhaps it was larger than earth. The only thing supporting that assumption was the presence of multiple moons. Multiple satellites revolving around a planetoid object often meant the object’s mass and gravitational pull was enough to enable it. This depended on whether I was recalling my astronomy correctly. Astronomy was one of those things one had a fascination in passing, and something I never gained a tutor for. Father’s voice was clear: Why be bothered about other planets and galaxies when you are yet to make a difference in your own?
The vulture reared its head sharply. Looking in my direction. “How does it taste?”
The vulture slammed its beak back into the dead panther’s face and ripped off a portion of flesh. A laugh almost escaped me.
“I can’t relate. Don’t have a tongue you see.”
The vulture turned its head. Three hundred and sixty-degrees like an owl, it was something unusual to see on a creature that was not supposed to have that feature. Especially how its neck would imitate a braid when it spun. Its eyes were still on me. On me, and then back to where it came from. Where I sent it the chewed rabbit.
“That?” I said. “That was me reimagining fine dining. I used to be rather well-off. Relatively speaking. It was father’s wealth, not mine. A fact he ensured I never forgot.”
The vulture turned its head a second time. The tongue of the panther was now slowly being gobbled up by the creature. Its eyes remained on me, then to the campfire, then to the skies, and back to me.
“How did I get here?”
Another three-hundred and sixty-degree turn of its neck.
“I died. I was trying to save this woman who was enraged at me for laying off her father, you see, and she sent me off a building. I met a cosmic being and he offered up heaven or hell, but I turned him down on both accounts. Didn’t see the merit. He sent me here, to Alamir. As a worm. A worm.”
The vulture worked its way down the panther. The eyes were plucked clean, the tongue and flesh on the face were gone in a remarkably short amount of time.
A diamond dagger formed in my hand and was tossed towards the carcass. The dagger morphed into a gnome golem via [Golem Creation]. Turning the dead panther on its belly, it sliced straight down the throat of the beast to the genitals before vanishing.
The vulture gave me a tepid stare. Swiveling its head with another three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn, it waddled with its talons unto the opened carcass and went to work on the panther’s red intestines. It marveled me how much one tiny bird could eat.
“He turned me into a worm, but I crawled my way to a skeleton. Pardon the pun.” Stretching my hands in front of my face showed me white hard bone deprived of flesh. “Most men would have been driven insane, I tell myself. If they woke up as a worm, most men would go mad. I remind myself that I’m not insane despite it all. I’m better than the average man in that regard. Superior.”
Gobbling down the panther’s heart, the vulture’s throat expanded to allow the heart to pass through it. Almost like an old-timey Saturday morning cartoons where beings swallowed objects twice their size and took on the object’s shape. Nothing like that happened here, but the vulture kept gobbling up food without end.
“That’s enough about me. You, on the other hand, are far more interesting. Do you know you’re eating at least three times your body weight?”
Gulping down the panther’s heart, the vulture with the elastic neck burped. It burped.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
The vulture’s response was to flap its wings and go down and further to the panther’s genitals, before opening its beak and tearing directly into the testes.
“You know, there are some things you should not be eating.” I chastised. “Not that I can judge. I’ve eaten mosquito larvae, eaten my way out of a snake, snacked on rabbits and ants. I suppose I have no right to condemn panther balls as cuisine.”
The campfire was beginning to flicker in intensity. I created another tiny gnome Golem. The gnome gathered wood and other flammable materials, placed them into the flames to increase their intensity. The vulture was preoccupied enjoying its meal, picking off and scraping all the flesh from the dead panther’s ribcage.
“Tell me, bird, are you aware of Maslow’s hierarchy?”
The vulture’s head tilted at an odd angle.
“Of course not. Well, simply put, it’s a rather nifty motivational theory. Useful for benchmarks. Picture a pyramid if you will and at the bottom, we have the physiological needs of food, water, warmth and rest. Most of these are rendered moot for me as a skeleton, as I neither eat nor drink nor sleep.”
Reaching for a stick, I drew a pyramid on the earth.
“Above the physiological is the need for safety. Shelter, employment, personal security and property. I have none of these. Even if I’m to be a nomad, I’d prefer if I could rest without having to worry about panthers stalking in trees.”
I separated the pyramid into lines.
“Above the physiological, is the social need. The desire for love, companionship, intimacy, and belonging. Love would be a novel experience for me. Companionship and sex are also things I would prefer to have, but as it stands, I believe I’d settle simply a company that’s at least capable of holding a conversation.”
The vulture cried.
“You don’t qualify I’m afraid. Don’t look at me like that. You’re a bird, our conversation topics would be sorely limited.”
The vulture was quiet. Beady sharp eyes gazed into space.
“Continuing, above the social need, we have the esteem needs. That is the need for feelings of pride and accomplishment. Finally, at the top of the pyramid, we have self-actualization.”
The vulture remained still. Each movement of its feathers rustling in the night wind. Almost entranced, the creature seemed to understand me.
“Maslow’s hierarchy lists the things I need in the order I would like to attain them. To cast away this skeletal form and be able to eat, drink, sleep and fuck. To encounter individuals by which I can hold conversations and debates about morality, religion, politics.” My hand stretched out, reaching forward for the stars. “This is a vast unknown world… I want to enrich myself in it. I want to listen to its versions of Mozart and Beethoven, of Jackson and Presley. Lose myself in its cuisine and discover how it’s mysteries and secrets. I could very well be the first man from earth to find myself here, absurd and insane and unlikely as that is. It’d be a tremendous waste not to make the most of such an opportunity.”
“I’m a long way from pursuing that lofty goal however. Can’t enrich myself in the world when I’m too occupied trying to survive it.”
The vulture burped. Its wings went up, as it turned around, attention refocusing on its meal. “I cannot tell if you are mocking me, sympathizing with me, or both.”
One full panther was plucked clean of everything except fur. The red-feathered, rubber-necked vulture took to the air, and began approaching me, began approaching the second dead panther. “My, you’re a greedy one aren’t you?”
[The passive skill [Kataramenos’ Gift] has come into effect]
The vulture dropped from the air and crashed into the ground. Stiff. Frozen. It did not move. There was no motion from it. Its feathers did not rustle.
“Ah.” the words were in my mouth but did not come. The vulture had gotten close to me. Too close to me. There was a reason things were not supposed to do that. “Well, at least you had a grand final meal.
”
Leaving the spot underneath the tree I picked it up. The avian creature looked smaller in my hands. Felt lighter than a creature that wolfed down a whole panther. I plucked a single dark-red feather and placed it back on the earth. A shallow pit just large enough came to be under my command. I placed the vulture into it, and filling it with sand.
Retrieving the clay tray, I switched it from clay to concrete. Digging the concrete into the mound, I softened it enough to place the feather into it. “Hmm… this is the first time I’m burying anything, now that I think about it.”
My hands moved and carved on the concrete tombstone: A Hungry, Intelligent Vulture.
“I once killed a woman, you know.” I said, patting the fresh grave. “Her name was Milost. She was a Sage. She once killed me, setting me alight and burning my home, and yet, despite how much my mind tells me I’m justified in my vengeance, I still think about the utter waste it was. Her knowledge is gone, wasted. Her contribution to me remains unknown, unattained. She was a valuable resource, as a sentient person. I sent a bullet through her skull and wasted a life which could have brought me benefit, because it was unavoidable. I didn’t even bother to bury her, there was no time. And yet here I am, making a gravestone and little speech for you. For a vulture who had little to offer me. Odd isn’t it?”
Odd. Odder still that I was still talking.
“You have my thanks for letting me bounce my thoughts off you,” I said. “It’d have been rather sad, and perhaps make me appear a little bit insane if I was talking to myself –”
A laugh escaped my lips at the realization.
“I am talking to myself now aren’t I? Funny how that works.”
“Funny indeed.”
The air went still. Trees stopped rustling. Blades of grass froze in the wind. The makeshift grave shuddered, dirt scattering into the air. Darkness flooded the forest. The light of the campfire was swallowed whole. Sound muffled into an incomprehensible, deafening silence.
Ascending from the earth like a phoenix of the damned, the vulture rose. Neck bent and twisted. Eyes black and hollow. A smile inexplicably crept its way onto the creature’s curved beak as it hung limp in the air.
“Janus.”
The air was thick. Suffocating. I tried to move, yet my body was locked in place. Fixated. I could not budge. The sensation was familiar. Eerie. The voice, neither masculine nor feminine, tonally unidentifiable and devoid of any recognizable human accent. There was no mistaking who or what had taken control of the vulture.
“Oblivion.”
A cold, grasping feeling coiled around my chest. The vulture, possessed, vanished and reappeared directly before me. “I did not believe I would be seeing you so soon.”
“You didn’t? A shame. And here I was, arrogant enough to believe that you’d been watching me from up above, popcorn in hand, snickering and telling your god-buddies about my adventures.”
“You are upset.”
“No.” There was no chest to burn. No throat to be filled with a bitter lump. The biological nuances of the emotion of rage were devoid from me, yet, all the same, I felt it. “We’ve long since passed upset.”
The burning. Pulsating within me like an addictive substance, fueling my skeletal form as it swelled like the rotten corpse of a pregnant boar.
“You must have certainly thought yourself funny, reincarnating me into a worm.”
“I did not turn you into a worm Janus.”
“Of course,” I said blithely. “Hence why I currently trod through the hallways of a palace as the third noble son of a knighted Duke. Would you mind if I ordered the maids to fetch us a glass of wine while we chat?”
“Whatever creature you found yourself when you were reborn, it is solely as a result of your subconscious interpretation of your own value at the time of your death.”
My teeth gnashed against each other. Ground. Bony dust flittered out from the force. Bone-only fingers clenched tight enough for audible cracks to echo. “I applaud you. That tale is almost so well spun that I could almost believe it.”
“I have no reason to lie.”
“Just as you had no reason to twist my words and cast me into this world? Just as you had no reason to have listened to anything I did? Since when has reason become a feature you possessed? You, a supposed godlike being, who was baffled that a mortal would choose neither heaven nor hell, and in your infinite wisdom chose reincarnation as the middle-ground.”
“Janus –”
“What do you want?” My patience was thin. “You never appeared when I was on the brink of death, never appeared when I was a worm crawling on the earth, fleeing from death by ants. You did not appear when I was set on fire, begging for water like the rich man beseeching Lazarus’ mercy. The odds that you decided to appear before me now, out of the goodness of your heart are so small that I should be laughing at the absurdity of it.”
Oblivion remained silent for several seconds. “I am here to give you an important task.”
A scoff escaped me. “No.”
“You do not even know the details.”
“Nor am I interested in learning them.”
The vulture’s eyes dimmed. “Pettiness, Janus? The mortal man I remember was a soul who was worthy enough to be offered paradise or perdition. A man who felt sympathy for his killer, and an unyielding conviction in his beliefs. What happened to that man?”
“Spare me that drivel!” I roared. “I am no saint! I am not some paragon of humanity and righteousness and justice! Whatever ideals you mistakenly attributed to me are nothing more than the ideals you wished to see in me. I was just a man who wanted oblivion! But you – you gave me Tartarus.”
For the longest time, Oblivion said nothing. The vulture did not move. The thickness in the air was almost solid enough to tear a knife through it. My thoughts raged further, taking more effort than I was comfortable with to calm them.
“You are right,” Oblivion said, at last. “Alamir is not as I remember. Yet, that is not an issue. Should you wish to ever terminate the nightmare that is your existence, a suitably tall cliff or a comfortably large rock would suffice. Or perhaps, if you feel such methods to be too cowardly, a direct charge headlong into a foe beyond your measures would accomplish the deed quickly and painlessly.”
“I will not die while I’ve yet to accomplish anything in this second life. Suicide is not an option. Not until I have done something.”
“And what difference would it make if you die accomplishing nothing or die accomplishing everything?”
“The former would mean all I did was exist. The later would mean that all I did was live.” I announced. “And I want to live, Oblivion. I do not want to simply exist; I want to live.”
An ear-grating sound came from the vulture, a broken, pained sound, like the dying coughs of an elderly man.
“You amuse me, Janus.”
“I amuse you?”
“When I met you, you were a man who wanted nothing more than to die. It seems sending you to Alamir has given you a new lease on life and for that reason I am happy.”
My teeth were locked against each other. “And why would this make you happy?”
“I consider myself your friend, Janus. So, I am happy, that you no longer wish to die.”
“My friend?” I laughed. “Is that some sort of a joke?”
“You gave me a name. Never before had I met a human so brazen as to name the divine being offering to send him to paradise. Yet alone a human who names this divine being: Oblivion.”
“I was not aware that mockingly naming someone was the major prerequisite to form a lasting friendship.”
“Yet, of all the human souls I have met, you were the only one who conversed with me. For that reason alone, I will miss you, Janus.”
“Miss me? What are you talking about?”
“I will be going Janus. Going somewhere far.”
Initializing…
Administrator Key Found.
Administrator Dete
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Administrator Command Codes Accepted.
File [DTask.ns] Retrieved.
File [PSystem.ns] Retrieved.
Installing [DTask.ns]…
Installing [PSystem.ns]…
Files Successfully Installed.
Reboot Required.
A splitting headache tore through my skull, leaving me nauseated and disorientated. The vulture blurred in my vision, my head feeling lighter with each passing second. “What… what did you…?”
“I would prefer for these final few seconds to be spent in the company of the only person I can consider a friend.”
Nothing he was saying was making any sense. The urge to vomit overwhelmed me despite lacking a stomach. The world was spinning on its axis, and the vulture was slowly appearing smaller and smaller and…
“Though you may not believe me, and you may not understand, know this Janus… I… am truly sorry.”
A cold hand grasped around my chest and turned to a frigid, icy spear. Oblivion was… apologizing?
“I underestimated the severity of the world I thrust you in. There are beings in Alamir beyond my comprehension. I suppose, in a way, your naming was apt – I am oblivious.”
An earth-shattering roar deafened me. Pressure unlike anything I had ever felt in my life crushed me down into the earth. Thick, pounding footsteps rushed through the forest as did the sound of something breathing. Every intake was a slow, nasal wheeze. Every exhale was forced, nasal whistle. The splitting sensation in my skull worsened. The ice in my chest coiled around me like a python, and my skeletal body refused to listen to me. Refused to stand or rise or run.
“Janus,” came Oblivion’s voice. “It has been a pleasure.”
Oblivion’s voice died into a cacophony of screeches and squeals. My body shook. I forced myself to stay as still as I could on the ground, mimicking a corpse. Oblivion’s is screeching. The harsh, endless screeches and pig-like squeals did not stop. I did not know how long they lasted. I could not count the seconds, in which I lay still, unmoving, hoping and waiting for the noises to end.
They did. After what felt like eons, the noise ended. The colors of the world faded. The sounds, muted. Something within me felt wrong. Wrong. The world felt wrong. The grass died, came back to life and died again. The night air was stale, and despite the cloudless sky, thunder cracked and left the air with the faint smell of ozone. Ozone… and copper.