The Land: Predators

by Aleron Kong

  Richter forced one of Tabia’s new health elixirs into Heman’s mouth, going so far as to force the vial down his throat so it would all be swallowed. The potion would heal four hundred and fifty-one points of damage over the next sixteen seconds. That was how much pain Richter could inflict before the other man died, and he planned to use every point.

  Richter dug his fingers into Heman’s chest down to the second knuckle, eliciting another wave of pleading howls. If the half-gnome was hoping to appeal to the mercy in Richter’s heart though, he was left disappointed. There was no mercy. There was no heart.

  Instead, Richter gave him the promised gift: time. The dragon leaned over Heman’s face, at long last establishing a mental connection. In the last seconds of his life, Richter stared into his one milky eye. It might be blinded in the real world, but it still provided the conduit need to draw him into mental combat and prolong his anguish as much as the time-dilating effects of the psychic battle would allow.

  Heman’s mindscape appeared, with no mental defenses whatsoever. It was an open grassland dotted here and there with ghost-like figures. Instinctively, Richter knew these were Heman’s memories of his many victims, stuck in a perpetual loop of suffering for the psychopath’s amusement.

  Even if Heman had been in a castle, it would not have protected him from Alma’s wrath. With a savage roar, the great dane-sized dragonling sped from Richter’s territory to begin savaging the mind of the man that had dared to steal her master from her! Heman’s avatar tried to run, letting loose a squeal of animal fear, but there was no escape. She took him to the ground and tore long furrows in his consciousness with her claws. Red blood began to stain the ground of his mindscape.

  Richter continued to stare down at Heman’s screaming body in the real world, even as he watched the man’s psychic avatar howl as Alma pulled it apart. The dragonling was in no mood to be merciful and began by tearing Heman’s leg off. Then she began eating him, starting at his crotch. She snapped and tore his manhood free, the bloody morsel sliding down her gullet before she took another bite from his stomach. A hearty laugh began in her master’s throat, half madness and half heartless evil. Watching the unrestrained violence, something stirred in the hidden depths of Richter’s soul. A monster that had been bound and chained deep within him his entire life rattled its cage and dreamed of being free.

  Richter wasn’t consciously aware of any of that. The entire time that he had enjoyed Heman’s mental and physical torture, the dragon chaos seed had never forgotten himself. With clinical precision, in the last seconds of his foe’s life, he slid the tip of the chaotic dagger into the man’s side. Even with the health potion quickly repairing damage, it could not keep up with the havoc Richter’s talons were wreaking on Heman’s internal organs. The furious lord made sure never to push too hard or too fast and risk his victim dying before he wanted, but short of that, he brought a hellscape to The Land in the form of Heman’s ruined flesh.

  Too soon, Richter knew his fun was coming to an end. He gave an order to Alma, who abandoned her own sport and stared into Heman’s face. The man’s body had lapsed into unconsciousness, but his mind had no such escape, caught in the mindscape. Heman looked up at her in utter terror, and this man, who had thought he was a predator, learned what it truly meant to be prey. Richter’s own avatar had walked up during Alma’s assault and now looked down at the armless, legless and cockless avatar of his enemy.

  Richter’s smile was a mirror in time, the same heartless expression Heman had worn himself at the start of their pain-filled drama. His avatar squatted down, putting a hand behind the helpless man’s head and lifting it until their mental eyes met, “Remember. If you wake up, and you still feel raw about what happened here today…,” his voice was deadly with promise, “I’ll be waiting.”

  Not caring what Heman might say in response, Richter just dropped the mutilated body and stood giving a simple command, “Finish it.”

  A smile on her draconian face, Alma’s avatar sucked in a deep breath then exhaled near-invisible flames. She redoubled her efforts, and the new psychic attack burned away both the top half of his avatar and his conscious mind. With only five health remaining in Heman’s body in the real world, Richter triggered Brain Drain, the talons plunged into the other chaos seed’s chest providing the conduit needed for the special attack.

  Heman’s last health drained away, and his mindscape vanished, leaving only Richter’s. Alma’s avatar flew into the air roaring her triumph. The body of Richter’s enemy exhaled its last breath in real life and the light left his eyes. The forest was quiet; even the small creatures hiding in their burrows and bracken were struck silent by the violence and hate that had just polluted their home.

  The chaotic dagger flashed with a hungry, grey light before winking out of existence. The only remaining evidence that it had ever existed was the small hole it had made in Heman’s side. A torrent of prompts appeared in Richter’s vision, but he ignored all of that, his attention completely occupied by the incredible feeling coursing through his body. Grey Chaos energy flashed from Heman and into Richter all at once! It was completely different from the sense of fulfillment he experienced when had absorbed the chaotic shard and particle. That energy had felt raw and wild, but the power he had just taken from the other chaos seed felt… refined.

  “Damn,” Richter intoned slowly, closing his eyes in near ecstasy. “That does feel good!”

  The taking of Heman’s Chaos Points had distracted him for a moment, but he didn’t forget the damage that would be revisited upon his body as soon as the Messeji ran its course. Before he could move though, his attention was drawn back to his mindscape. The remains of Heman’s avatar had begun to glow with blue-white light that rose in thin streams. In seconds, they had formed a pyramid of memory, Brain Drain having captured a poignant moment in the man’s life.

  Richter looked at it in fascination, his curiosity even stronger than the bloodlust that had filled him only seconds before. He had never seen the process of a memory being captured before. All he had time for was that feeling of fascination, before a grey rent appeared in the center of the memory pyramid. He did not know it, but it was the same tear in reality that always appeared when a chaos seed was reborn. It was the doorway to the Realm of Chaos. A great wind appeared a moment later, a sucking force thousands of time stronger than a tornado, which picked up Richter’s avatar and pulled it through the rent in reality.

  Alma cried out for her master, but the tear closed, taking with it any hope that she had to follow.

  CHAPTER 93 – Retained Memory

  Richter looked around. Everything was a grey that was at once both featureless and filled with infinite variation. He thought he might be moving, but then he was sure he was standing still. There was nothing. Then he was standing in a sea of tables. Strapped to every table was a person. Some were screaming. Some were laughing. Many stared upward, unblinking, their chests slowly rising and falling.

  There was no orientation, but somehow, everywhere was up. Richter looked around. Screaming as loud as a mouse’s whisper and dancing with glee.

  “I’m losing my mind,” he commented, as panicked as a summer day’s eclipse.

  “I know,” another version of himself answered, “but at least we’re better off than that guy.”

  They both looked over at a Richter strapped to a table. He turned his head and smiled with a mouthful of candy scorpions, stinging him again and again until he died of diabetes and was reborn as a phoenix made of ice and plasma. The entire process lasted the same length of time that it took a man to forget an inconceivable thought.

  Another Richter agreed, as he flew off on bat wings, “Yeah, it could be always be worse.”

  “You know, I always thought you were cute,” second Richter told him, running a finger slowly down his chin.

  They grew old together, lived a life of joy, but could never agree if the answer really was forty-two. When Richter died, the tombstone read, ‘He’s Richter�
� mostly because they ran out of money and the letters were twenty dollars each and apostrophes were free.

  “Noooooooo!” Richter screamed, squeezing his head to keep the cosmos inside contained. The effort was futile.

  ~WHAT IS THIS!~ A voice as large as a universe boomed.

  A spotlight fell from above, and a fetus that would one day be named James/Silk/Richter, floated in the middle of it, surrounded by seven faces the size of fractal realities. The entire septet regarded the interloper that had defiled their realm.

  ~SACRILEGE!~ one face boomed. Two more agreed, but four did not.

  ~I RECOGNIZE WHAT THIS BEING WILL BE,~ spoke the first face before it mated with the fifth and was eaten by their children who phased into a unisex progenitor that underwent mitosis.

  ~DEATH!~

  ~MERCY!~

  ~SALVATION!~

  ~HOPE!~

  ~CHOICE!~

  ~CHOICE?~

  ~CHOICE! CHOICE! CHOICE!~

  ~CHOOSE!~

  It took a time beyond Richter’s ability to understand for the seven Lords of Chaos to stop their argument, but he did know that one photon had traveled beyond the curve of the Universe and found itself lonely. The Lords had agreed though, on the one thing that always unified them. The one constant of their constantly shifting nature: choice.

  It took further ages beyond measure where suns hatched dragons before Richter realized that the word that had been echoing the whole time was actually an order and, marvel of marvels, it was directed at him. He wasn’t even sure that he knew what “him” was, but for the first time in seven eternities, Richter had an orientation. The simultaneous, infinite realities of the Realm of Chaos were too much for his mortal mind, and could barely be survived by the quasi immortality of his soul, but now he was given one chance among an immeasurable number to save himself.

  Now a full-grown man, still floating in the light, he saw beneath his feet every possibility. Acts of profound joy, worlds of hatred, galaxies of unfeeling robots and universes of peace so oppressive that gods prayed to demons for mercy. Each represented an ideal and a concept in every possible variation. The deepest part of himself understood that he was being given a choice of what principle he cherished above all others. For Richter, given every choice in existence, there was none. Without speaking, before he was even born, his choice had been made.

  Freedom.

  There was a moment of intense quiet, as the seven faces of the Lords of Chaos observed his infinitesimal insignificance. Then they all sped around the periphery of the circle they had made around him, slamming into one another and merging into one. That singular visage regarded Richter’s naked form. Its mouth opened. It yawned wider and wider, impossibly large, until it swallowed not only Richter but the entire reality he dwelt in, and then itself.

  He floated through memory and time.

  “Richter.”

  “Richter,” the voice was gentle and reassuring.

  The chaos seed opened his eyes, marveling for a moment that he had eyes, and saw a kind-looking man sitting across from him. That was when Richter realized he was sitting. That was when he realized he could feel again. Looking around, he saw that they were in a cozy wooden room. A fireplace was set against one wall and a merry blaze danced inside of it. He could feel a faint bit of heat on the side of his face. It didn’t feel hot, just nice and warm.

  The chair he was sitting in was plush. It held him with just the right amount of support, and was upholstered in a soft red velvet. A thick rug was beneath his feet, but his bare toes felt nothing but softness as they kneaded its furry top. Across from him sat the man that had spoken. He was a white man about fifty or sixty years of age, but laugh lines and a kind smile made him seem younger. He was wearing brown linen pants and a simple white long-sleeved shirt that looked like it was made out of soft and supple cotton.

  The man was looking at Richter, waiting for him to collect himself. He was reclined easily back in his own red chair and seemed content to patiently wait. A side table nestled against the side of his chair with a silver tray resting atop it. A teapot and two small cups rested atop that. Richter could detect the faint scent of mint.

  There were no exits from the room that the chaos seed could see, except for possibly the fireplace, but he didn’t plan to dive into the flames. Besides, this was literally one of the most relaxing and calming rooms he had ever been in. His thoughts still felt a bit scattered, but after a minute he had collected enough of himself to want more information. He used Analyze on the man.

  Nothing happened.

  That was not exactly true. Something did happen, just not what Richter had expected. No status window appeared, but the man did laugh.

  “I am afraid none of your skills, abilities or magic will work here, young chaos seed.” The man’s voice was friendly and kind as it had been before, a fact which really did set Richter at ease. He realized he shouldn’t be so relaxed, but it didn’t change the fact that he just wanted to trust this man. Another distant part of him realized there was probably some magic at work here, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care.

  “Allow me to introduce myself. I am one of the infinite archetypes of the Lords of Chaos. I was selected to speak with you because of your CHOICE and because being exposed to the raw power of the Lords was ripping your essence apart.”

  Richter thought back to the eternities that had just passed in the blink of an eye and couldn’t disagree. He only remembered vague flashes. A laugh, a scream, an intense hunger so great he could devour whole worlds… somehow, that last snippet of memory disturbed him intensely. Was that his hunger or something hungering for him?

  The archetype waited for Richter to deal with his internal thoughts, once again exhibiting saintly patience. When the chaos seed met his eyes once more, the older man continued, “For convenience sake, you may call me Pug.” His eyes glittered with devilment as Richter’s own eyes widened. “No relation,” he added, but Richter was almost sure he caught a wink as the man turned his head to the side and coughed.

  “Let me give you some information,” Pug told him. “When you claimed a memory from the other chaos seed Heman, the memory that you gained was actually from his time in the Realm of Chaos.”

  “That place with all those people strapped to tables?” Richter asked. “That was real?” One thing he did remember were the wails of pain and fear coming from what had looked like hundreds of thousands of people being restrained.

  “Yes,” Pug replied with sympathy in his voice. “You already know how deleterious being exposed to the Realm can be for your people. The tables help to limit the Possibility Curve and keep their essence more or less intact. At least for most, and before you ask, the answer is yes. You went through this process as well.”

  Richter blinked, processing that as he continued to listen, “Your world was touched by the Lords of Chaos millions of years before you were born. A small spark of their infinite was left in your species. I do not know why. As an archetype I know many things, but can still only grasp the smallest iota of the Lords’ true power and knowledge. What I do know is that they were… unhappy to find that your planet, their planet, had been harvested. They have now put a stop to it, through your own actions, but not before hundreds of millions of Earthers had been brought to The Land.”

  “Through my actions?”

  “Yes. It was your action of touching the first crystal shard and ending the Epoch of Banished Gods, that let the Age of Chaos begin. It greatly increased the Lords’ power in The Land and allowed them to exert influence not only on Earth but also on the world you now call home.”

  Anger began to swell in Richter’s heart. An anger that had been denied to him for many months, “If they didn’t like it, if they’re so powerful, then why did they have to wait for me? Why couldn’t they have stopped all of this from happening before we were all taken?” Richter demanded. “Before I was take from my family?” He stopped talking, extremely confused. Why did he suddenly care that he had
n’t seen his family? Why was he so angry?

  Pug wasn’t bothered by the outburst. Instead, he just nodded in sympathy, understanding more about Richter’s heart than the chaos seed did himself. “The Lords’ Power is the mastery of infinite Possibility, but Possibility is not the only infinite power. I hope you are not offended when I tell you that any further explanation would be too complicated for you to understand. After what you have experienced, I believe you know in your heart that I speak the truth.”

  He waited until the defiance left Richter’s face before continuing. If the chaos seed hadn’t even been able to tolerate existing in the Realm of Chaos, he probably did literally lack the capacity to understand the motivations of its Lords, let alone their relationship with other ‘infinite powers.’

  The archetype continued speaking, “Suffice it to say, they had to wait until the conditions were right. Until you, or another chaos seed, released more Chaotic essence into The Land. I understand your frustration more than you know, but you should feel proud. No more of your people can be taken from the Earth against their will. I must tell you, however, that the corridor between The Land and Earth, now that it has been created, can never be fully sundered. Humans may still find their way to The Land if they so choose.”

  “Can anyone find their way back?” Richter asked with desperation in his voice. He missed his friends and family desperately. It was as if all his emotions had been trapped behind a dam for months, but now that barrier had burst. He felt like he was drowning in heartache and sorrow.