Warrior: Monster Slayer (The Monsterworld Saga Book 1)

by Sam Ryder

  It hit me. She must’ve drugged me before I’d even woken up. Some kind of a delayed thing. Shit, she’d had time to clean up my coffee table, undress me—my heart sped up slightly at the thought of her hands touching my skin while I was sleeping—and then re-dress me.

  And when the drug had knocked me out again, she’d probably had help to transport me here. Which meant there were others. Women, men, it didn’t matter. They’d abducted me.

  Oh gods. I’m going to die.

  I tried to sit up, but her gentle hands, which were much stronger than they looked, guided me back down. “Yes,” she said. “Your body is ready for the transformation.”

  “What are you talking about?” It was the best alternative for the question I really wanted to ask: What are you going to do to me?

  “You are an Outcast. Level 1. Both in your world and ours. In your world, there are no free passes. Here, you are lucky. You get one. Level 2: Warrior. The rest you’ll have to earn.”

  Earn what? And lucky? Other than the fact that I was looking at a beautiful woman standing over me, I wasn’t feeling fortunate about my circumstances. “I don’t understand.”

  “I know. But you will.”

  Something caught my attention past her. Something moved. Someone. The someone who had been speaking with Eve before. The one who sounded weak. Persepheus.

  It took all my energy, but I managed to crane my head enough to get a better glimpse around the edge of one of Eve’s hips.

  My breath caught at what I saw:

  A female—I don’t want to say ‘human,’ because she was clearly not—with hair the color of the clouds, long and silky, draped around her like a thin blanket. She had a face that might’ve been a statue carved from marble. From what I could see, the color of her skin was a moving target, shifting, transforming, a miasma of blue and green, like the ever-changing waves of the ocean. The waves of her body made crashing an art form. From the graceful swell of her breasts to her narrow waist to hips that seemed to flow down to her legs like bends in a river, she was beautiful. No, beyond beautiful. Eve was beautiful. This creature was otherworldly. Which was exactly when I noticed the gills on either side of her neck.

  Despite my exhaustion, fear and confusion, I felt a stirring inside me. From what I could see, she was naked, covered only by that snow-white hair.

  Is that the real color of her skin? I couldn’t be certain. What I could be certain of was that each perfect finger and toe was connected to the next one by a thin swath of skin.

  Webbing. This woman, I knew, was a creature of the sea.

  Persepheus, Eve had called her.

  Persepheus was perched on a smooth, gray rock, resting her head in one palm. Water from a crystalline pond lapped at the edges, soaking the ends of her waist-long hair.

  Her eyes were the color of storm clouds, watching me with an intensity beyond anything I’d ever experienced. Her lips, either naturally or painted blue, parted slightly, and it looked as if she might speak.

  They closed and she rolled to the side, making barely a splash as she entered the pool. It might’ve been a trick of my eyes, but I swore I saw her webbed feet fuse together into a single finned appendage that resembled a dolphin’s tail.

  Eve, who’d allowed me those few moments of quiet inspection, smirked and softly guided my head back down. “Wait,” I said, trying to fight against her to catch another glimpse of the other woman—Persepheus—as she swam through the water.

  “The Three Goddesses thank you for your service. Now sleep.” She held something over my face. A piece of fruit, cut in half, but unlike any fruit I’d ever seen before. Its flesh was bright white, even in the dark. Glowing slightly. She squeezed it with one hand and held my mouth open with the other. Juice dribbled out, slowly at first but then spurting. I tried to fight it, tried to spit the liquid out, but it stuck to my tongue. It wasn’t bad tasting, sort of a mix of sour and sweet. Sliding down my throat. I choked, gagged, but it was too late. The world started to spin.

  Darkness found me once more.

  FOUR

  THE CIRCLE

  Motherfucker!

  That was the curse I tried to utter as I came to, but what emerged from my mouth was closer to an animalistic gurgle that sounded like, “Mushramfishstick!”

  Again, I couldn’t see, though I was certain my eyes were open. Something was wrapped around me. Not just around my legs, arms and torso, but around my neck, face and head too.

  Which meant I would suffocate and die. Which meant I couldn’t breathe. I fought at whatever held me, but it was fruitless. It was too strong, tied too tight. My throat and lungs began to burn as I struggled, starving for air. I’d thought my life ever since my brother had died six years earlier was bad. Well, this was worse.

  Why was I thinking about my brother at a time like this?

  Because he was the cool, strong one. He was my idol. And then he’d—I still couldn’t understand it. How could someone so perfect be sad? He’d taken his own life. Overdosed on the drugs we didn’t even know he was addicted to. None of us knew. Not my parents or me or his friends. But he had other friends. Different friends. They knew. They knew the real Jason Ryder.

  The sad one.

  The one who’d wanted to die.

  And yet, here I was thinking about him, because I didn’t want to die. I had every reason to: fired from the only real job I’d ever had, tires slashed, abducted by a psychopath…

  I fought like a lion.

  I felt something tear in the covering, which was made of cloth. Thick, sturdy, but not impenetrable. I fought harder, digging my fingernails into the sides, trying to get some leverage.

  I was out of time. Out of air. I had no choice but to open my mouth and suck in the slime and choke on it until it drowned me.

  I gagged, trying to spit out the viscous liquid but instead it rolled down my throat, into my lungs. My chest filled with air and I breathed. I breathed the slime.

  It was impossible, but that was what happened. The adrenaline rushing through my veins slowed and my heart settled back into a slower rhythm.

  My last thought was one word:

  Cocoon.

  Once more, I slept, breathing the slime in deep heaves.

  ~~~

  I would like to say when I awoke again I was more prepared. After all, I’d played video games where my character awoke in weird situations and had to figure things out. Though I’d never had a character start out in a cocoon, I’d virtually experienced a coffin, a locked room, a mineshaft and lately, plenty of alien worlds with all sorts of things that wanted to eat me.

  But being a hero in a virtual world guaranteed nothing in reality.

  I panicked, clawing and scratching at the cocoon and making a high-pitched scream that dispelled globs of slime from my lungs and throat.

  Guess what? It worked. One point for me.

  My fingers tore through the cloth—at least that was how I chose to think of it, even though I had a feeling it was something less…normal…than cloth.

  Once my hands were freed, it became easier to finish the job, raking the cocoon away from my face first, then the rest of my body. Light pierced the shroud, blinding me. Jamming my eyes closed, I continued to work. Pieces of the material continued to stick to me like giant cobwebs but having it off my face made all the difference. Once I felt unhindered, I rolled over and tumbled out of what was left of the hammock-like cocoon. The fall was short, but enough to bruise my knees and elbows. I was still breathing the slime, even though I now had access to air.

  I shoved two fingers down my throat and gagged, removing them just before I vomited up a bucketful of ooze. My chest heaved as I sucked in a ragged breath of air—real air. It tasted sweet and delicious, especially compared to the bitter liquid. I spat a few times, trying to clear the taste from my mouth, but it lingered.

  I opened my eyes, squinting against the shock of the bright sunlight. It wasn’t the color I was used to—silver rather than gold—but it was warm and f
elt good on my slimy skin.

  Water. I needed water.

  I remembered hearing the sound of water back when I’d awoken in that place with the vines where Eve was speaking to the water creature, Persepheus. Now, however, I heard nothing but—

  Scuffling. Stones tumbling across hard terrain. Heavy footsteps. A low thrum. Or a hum, deep and somewhat out of tune.

  What is that?

  I looked around, dimly aware that I was half-naked, bare from the waist up with my loins covered only by, well, there was no other way to describe it: a loincloth.

  My skin was slick with the slime and as smooth as it had likely been the day I was born.

  Freaky.

  But that wasn’t all.

  My beer gut was gone, replaced by a washboard abdomen with bulges that looked like the edges of beer cans under the surface of my stomach. A six pack. Above, my pectorals bulged, pulling the skin taut. On instinct, I flexed them, and for the first time in my life, they responded, quivering slightly, like a plucked bowstring. On either side of my torso were my arms—except they weren’t the arms I knew so well, the ones flabby from disuse. I had shoulders and biceps and triceps and all the other kinds of ceps that the ripped models on male fitness magazines had.

  The bottom of me picked up where the top left off, my legs sculpted and strong, like I’d done a thousand squats a day since I was a teenager. Which was a thousand squats more per day than I’d ever done in my life, unless you counted tying my shoes. (Fine, I lied, I preferred to sit to tie my shoes.)

  Even my gluteus maximus was hard and tight.

  Was I taller too? It was hard to tell, but everything about my perception seemed different, like the ground was further away. From elementary school to high school to college, I was always average height. Average everything, really.

  Something else felt different.

  I plucked at the front of my loincloth to take a peek.

  Holy shit.

  Like any other dude, I’d gotten my fair share of spam ads and e-mails touting the positive growth effects of various male enhancement drugs. And like most guys, I ignored them, because I had always considered myself adequate in the, um, manhood department.

  Now I was huge. It looked even huger because there was no hair down there either.

  Shnikes.

  What was it Eve had said? About the Levels? I was a gamer. I understood levels. Leveling up usually required completing a specific task or gaining enough experience points over a period of time. Getting to the next level typically resulted in some reward in the form of greater abilities or weapons. She had said I got one level up for free. Level 2: Warrior.

  I might look like a warrior, but I didn’t feel like one. I felt scared enough to require an adult diaper.

  The low humming sound was closer now, which snapped me from the changes to my body. I was in a boulder field of some kind. Enormous, dark rocks surrounded me, blocking me from seeing further than a dozen yards in any one direction. More cocoons hung in the air around me. No, hung was the wrong word. They hovered. Nothing tied them up. Hell, there was nothing to tie them to, the air above the boulders open to reveal the weirdest sky I’d ever laid eyes on. It was blood-red, streaked with black clouds with sharp edges. Between the clouds, rays of silver sunlight pierced through, bright and sharp. My eyes had adjusted now, and I no longer had to squint. Overall, the light was less harsh than the golden sun I was used to.

  Which freaked me out a little. Okay, a lot. Because if the sun was different, then I wasn’t on Earth anymore. And if I wasn’t on Earth anymore, then this wasn’t a standard abduction with a request for ransom.

  You’ve been playing too many video games.

  Which led me back to my original belief that this was some sort of an extended dream within a dream brought on by stress or drinking or something I ate. The belief I already knew wasn’t true.

  This was happening. Really happening.

  I took a deep breath, my heart pounding away under my new, Greek-god-like muscles.

  One of the other cocoons was moving slightly, swaying from side to side. Bulging in spots. Something was trying to get out. Or someone. Someone like me?

  Awakening in a slime-filled cocoon on an alien planet was one thing. Doing so alone was another.

  I ran over to help the prisoner escape, as I hoped they would’ve done for me.

  I focused on the main spot that was bulging, which seemed to be thinning out as layers of the sticky cocoon material fell away under our combined efforts.

  “Ouch!” I shouted as something sharp slipped through the cloth-like material, slashing across my palm. I looked at my hand, which had a cut from forefinger to wrist. Already blood was oozing from the gash. “Dammit.”

  The cocoon was opening, the sharp instrument sliding from end to end, like it was peeling a banana. A knife or a razor-blade or a—holy shit—claw?

  It was true. The sharp thing that had cut me was white, almost translucent, and slightly curved. It was attached to a toe of sorts, with bluish fur on top. More toes emerged, with more claws.

  From there the thing inside made short work of the cocoon.

  I backed away slowly, my eyes glued to the spot. I bumped into another cocoon and a hand shot out and grabbed my head, roping around my mouth. Dirty humanoid fingers, slightly too long and—are those webs on the end?—pressed again me, trying to hang on.

  I cried out and twisted away, but by then the thing with the claws had emerged from its own cocoon, landing with a heavy thump.

  Oh. My. Gods.

  It was a lion, but unlike any lion I’d ever seen before. For one, it was twice as large as the big cats that were always lounging in the shade at the zoo. If they were the kings of the jungle, this beast was the king of kings.

  And there was the blue fur, of course. Its mane was thick and a deep navy hue, while the rest of its coat was shorter and turquoise. I guess it isn’t the slime that removes the hair, I thought. Or else this guy would’ve looked really weird. Like me, it was gagging on the slime. It sneezed, and a bunch of the gunk came out. It took a breath, its chest heaving as it stood there panting.

  The blue lion was the least of my concerns, as now whatever was in the cocoon behind me had broken free, landing with a barely audible sound behind me.

  I spun, instinctually raising my hands to defend myself. My eyes widened at the sight.

  A massive blue lion was one thing. At least it resembled a species I’d seen before. This thing was different. Completely. It was tall for one. Not Yao Ming tall, but Yao Ming on stilts tall. It was long-limbed and thin, with partially webbed feet and hands. Its face was long too, its mouth a narrow, dark oval spewing out slime. Its eyes were black beads above a slitted nose. Its uncovered skin was light green with gills in various places.

  My nose crinkled when its own loincloth slipped away to reveal its sex organ. Holy mother of cows… An elephant’s trunk was the closest comparison. It was definitely a dude.

  The gilled alien thing had finished spewing out the slime and noticed me watching. His eyes darted to his penis and he quickly pulled the inadequate loincloth back up.

  “Snick darth who nuff,” he said.

  “Same to you, buddy,” I said, my arms still raised to protect myself. Behind me, I heard a low growl.

  Shit. I was so awestruck by the alien I’d forgotten about the world’s biggest lion.

  I half-turned and began walking backwards so I could see both newcomers on the edges of my peripheral vision.

  The lion wasn’t growling at me. It was growling at the opposite side, where another cocoon was wobbling. Somewhere beyond the enormous boulder behind it, the low humming rose to a crescendo. Something moved past the boulder’s apex.

  The lion released a powerful “ROAR!” Its head was raised and it looked ready to maul the world.

  Until it wasn’t.

  Its powerful body crumpled in the center as a massive spiked club came down on its head. Gore exploded from both sides, bristling wit
h tufts of blue fur. It splattered across my face and I recoiled, staring in shock at where the king of beasts had stood a moment ago, invincible.

  Until it wasn’t.

  I followed the line of the club, which was the size of a redwood tree. Spikes protruded at short intervals, except where the thick part of the club transitioned to a long smooth shaft that eventually reached a handle gripped by meaty fingers bristling with dark hair.

  At this point, I was out of words to express my shock and horror, so my jaw simply dropped open as my blood curdled.

  The thing that gripped the club—that had ended the biggest lion in the world with one Paul Bunyan chop—was straight out of a fantasy movie or game. A troll maybe? Its head was flesh and presumably blood and bone, too, but square-shaped. With a blunt nose and round eyes, it looked almost puzzled by the world itself. It was trying to extricate its club, which was stuck fast in the ground.

  Which gave me a chance to escape.

  Maybe.

  I’d never been much of a runner, but I ran now, scurrying behind another of the unbroken cocoons, trying to put something between me and the troll. “Holyshitfuckmotherfuckingsonofabitch,” I muttered under my breath, because crap, I was scared out of my mind and unable to control much of anything, including my language, at that point.

  I caught sight of the alien out of the corner of my eye. He was moving now, running with long, loping strides for something I hadn’t noticed before.

  A rack attached to one of the boulders. Where there were weapons. Lots of them. There were long swords and spears and big old hammers that looked too heavy to lift, much less swing with any amount of strength. There was even a fancy-looking composite bow with an entire quiver of arrows.

  Which is what the alien grabbed, slinging the quiver’s strap over his shoulder and bringing the bow to bear. With practiced ease, he fitted an arrow and drew the string back until it was taut.

  The troll spotted him, too, grunting as it pulled even harder at its stuck club.