I made some friends.
The Wildlands were a lonely place. I figured out early that to keep myself sane, I needed conversations—even if the other party wasn't exactly… responsive.
That's Bob, the rock I've been kicking for the past twenty minutes. And this—this is Steve, the stick.
"Abra Cadabra!" I pointed my mighty wand. Nothing happened.
"C'mon, Steve. Help me out here. No? Too advanced? Fine. At least tell me where to go."
I spun him around and let him fall. He landed pointing northeast.
"Northeast it is. Good choice, Steve."
Bob didn't argue. Steve didn't either. That's the thing about my new friends: very agreeable.
So I talked as we walked. About food. About Julius. About the cave. About the dream. The Wildlands have a way of pulling words out of you, even when you don't want to say them.
"So yeah, old KFC? S-tier. They just aren't the same anymore. Whaaat? Bob, that's disgusting. Nobody likes their soggy bread."
Bob disagreed.
"That's just rude. Anyway, I should take you both to Earth once I figure out this space magic thing. You'll love it there. Fried chicken's way better back home. I'm starving just thinking about it. You want some fried chicken right now?"
"I would like some."
I froze. I looked at Steve.
"…Was that you?"
Silence.
I looked down at Bob.
"You've been quiet this whole time. Was that you?"
Still nothing.
The bushes ahead parted, and a man in battered armor stepped out. Old dents, red rust, the weight of years clinging to him like a second skin. His face was hidden under a visor, but his voice was steady.
"You walk strange roads… stranger still with strange company."
I tightened my grip on Steve. "Bob, Steve… you guys hearing this too?"
Neither answered.
"I am no figment of your fevered mind. This dreary land may have rattled your wits, but I am quite real."
My jaw dropped. "Oh my gosh—you're real! Who are you?"
The knight gave a dry cough, visor tilting slightly. "My name is Edward Forobix, at your service. Might I have the honour of knowing yours?"
"Oh, I'm John! John Delinger. Wow. I've never seen another person this deep in the Wildlands—alone, I mean."
He paused, as if ruminating over my words. "Ah, John Delinger. A fine name. You say you have never seen another soul this deep in the Wildlands? And yet here you are—alone as I."
"Fair. But I'm kind of used to being the special case."
His shoulders shifted, like he was suppressing a laugh. "Then we are both peculiar cases, it seems. One could almost say… kindred spirits."
I couldn't see his face behind the helmet, but I swore I heard him grin. My interest sharpened.
"For you to be a special case and survive in the Wildlands, you must be quite capable, eh?"
"I've heard people say that, yes."
"That is awesome! Say—I'm looking for a space-warping creature. Have you seen one?"
"A space-warping creature?" He tilted his head, considering. "I've seen my share. Why, just the other day I found this majestic herd of stallions. Faster than the wind. My blade could not even reach their hide."
"Ah, I already have that one. That's no good."
"In that case, I've seen none else in recent memory. I fear I can only go by the tales I've heard."
"Ooooh. Tell me about those tales!"
"But come, sir Delinger. Would not such stories be better told over a hearty meal? Perhaps some fowl, roasted and crisp, if fortune favours us?"
"Sounds like a great idea! How about we find that chicken together?"
He extended his hand to point ahead. "After you, Mr. Delinger."
Despite our friendly banter, I stayed on guard. Nobody this calm, this deep in the Wildlands, was ordinary. I watched his every movement, and I was sure he watched mine.
I slipped into stealth out of habit—chickens were jumpy, after all—quiet as a rabbit on moss.
Edward followed. Full plate armor, yet he moved like water, not a single clink or scrape of metal.
"For a knight you're good at being quiet." I remarked.
"For a barbarian, you're good at being barbaric." I swear I heard him grin.
"There." I whispered, testing his hearing.
"Indeed. I smell the distinct aroma of fowls." He answered. Acute senses confirmed.
We stopped by a bamboo forest. It seems it's the flowering season of the bamboos. There were seeds everywhere, and the chicken lookalikes were feasting. The 'chickens' were actually a rainbow colored bird. Closer to a peacock more than anything.
"By my troth, what wondrous creatures. Their plumage rivals the hues of a stained-glass window." Edward remarked as we hid behind a bush.
"I agree. Although they're not the only creatures around." I pointed.
The Rainbow Colored Birds were not the only creatures taking advantage of the seed feast, there were squirrels, bears and primates hanging around, all on guard.
"Yet they are not alone, good sir. Peer yonder through the stalks—you shall glimpse a slithering shadow." He pointed in a direction.
I narrowed my eyes, trying to see what he was pointing at. My Aiming Rune focused on the creature perfectly camouflaged behind the bamboo.
"That's a giant ass snake."
"That is a Green Reticulated Emerald Python" He whispered right next to my ear.
I looked at him. "That's a very apt name."
"A most fitting name, is it not?" He nodded. Hand stroking his helmed chin. "Apt… elegant… bestowed, perchance, by a fellow of singular intellect. Dashing, too, if I may hazard."
I stared at him. "Did you just name this snake?"
"Why, how did you know good sir? Indeed I have!" He made a surprised look. Which in itself is surprising, considering he is wearing a helmet.
I rolled my eyes. "You know anything about it?"
"Fear not, it bears no venom. Yet its strike is swifter than the blink of an eye. Prudence would counsel distance."
"Oh, you've seen this snake before?"
"I have read about it"
I tried to read his helmed face. "Must be one good book. The wildlands have many unique and undocumented creatures, like this snake."
"It is a family inheritance."
"Did your book say something about catching those birds?"
"Those birds—hm. They seem but ordinary game to me. I daresay I could procure us a fine repast, if you would permit it."
"Be my guest." A chance to see this guy's skills. Weird fellow. Alone in the Wildlands, speaking like some old English knight. He's bound to be interesting.
He stepped forward and drew his sword. A claymore—ancient, nicked, unpolished, like it hadn't seen care in years.
"Very well. I shall begin the hunt."
No stealth. No crouching. He simply walked, sword low, trailing through brush. Branches and stalks parted like silk under the blade's edge.
"Fowl of the forest!" he called, voice ringing like a challenge. "Pray, lend us thy flesh, that we may be nourished!"
The gathered beasts—birds, squirrels, even the wary primates—stared at him. Not prey. Not predator. Just… wary.
"Very well," he said, almost kindly. "Then I shall come to you."
The rainbow birds retreated deeper into the bamboo, weaving among stalks too narrow for a man in plate to pass. Edward didn't slow. He walked forward—and to my shock, he passed through the bamboo as if it were smoke. Immaterial. Phasing.
The birds panicked, scattering. Edward raised his sword high and swept it in a broad arc. A crescent of force lashed out—sharp, invisible—and birds fell where they stood. A score of bamboo stalks toppled with them.
The forest went still.
Until the python lunged.
Emerald coils whipped out, thicker than a man's chest, mouth yawning wide.
Edward raised one gauntleted hand. The serpent slammed into an unseen barrier, scales rippling from the impact.
"Easy, serpent," Edward intoned, calm as prayer. "I have taken what I need. I do not wish to mar your reign."
With a simple push, the barrier flared—and the python slid back, unharmed but rattled. It narrowed its golden eyes, hissed low, then turned and melted into the undergrowth.
"Till next time, king of the forest," Edward whispered. Not to me. To the snake. But I heard it clear as day.
He stooped, collected three of the fallen birds, and strode back. Even under the helmet, I swear I felt the grin radiating.
"Shall we, Mr. Delinger? The table is set."
I grinned back. "I'll get the firewood."
I was on cooking duty since Edward had done his part. He just observed me the whole time—me coaxing sparks out of sticks, skinning the birds, bleeding them clean.
"So, Edward. What are you doing here in the Wildlands?" I asked as I bit into roasted meat. Tender, juicy, though bland without salt or spice.
He lifted his visor at last. Human mouth, a trace of stubble, hair blonde beneath the helm. He chewed thoughtfully before answering.
"I am here upon a mission."
"What's the mission? If it's not classified, that is."
"It is no secret," he said, tone solemn. "In truth, John Delinger, you may prove an ally in it."
From a hidden compartment in his armor, he withdrew a folded parchment and handed it to me.
"What's this?" I unfolded it. A sketch of a giant earthworm stared back.
"It is called the Chompworm. That is my quarry."
"Cool name."
"Aptly given," Edward said with a nod. "The beast devours vast swathes of earth and stone, storing all within an engorged stomach. And within…" His eyes gleamed. "The space is greater than it outwardly appears. There, it compresses the common into the rare—base dirt wrought into magical minerals."
I blinked. "Wait. Did you just say the insides are bigger than they look?"
He grinned, and this time I had proof, seeing it plain.
"Indeed, John. The insides belie the outside. Is this perchance one of the space-warping creatures of which you spoke?"
"Yes! Damn it, yes! It's not just any space-warping creature—it's a storage space-warping creature! My dream come true! If I acquire its powers, I'll basically have my own spatial ring!"
"A most convenient gift," he mused, rubbing his chin. "Tell me, then—have your eyes fallen upon such a beast?"
I thought hard. A giant worm… then it hit me. That cute one from the other day. My eyes widened. "Wait. Does it coat its tunnels in slime?"
"Just so," he confirmed.
"Bristles on its face?"
"As shown upon the page."
"As big as a train?"
"It is indeed as such."
I smacked my forehead. "I saw this worm before! Oh God—if only I'd known it was a space-warping creature! How many others have I let slip past me?"
Edward's grin grew sharper. "Then fortune favors us. Retrace thy steps, and together we shall find it."
"If only it were that simple. This is the Wildlands. It's probably gone from where I first found it." Then I snapped my fingers. "Wait! I remember its smell. If it's nearby, I'll know. Also keep an eye out for big holes in the ground—that's how I spotted it last time."
"Very well!" He lowered his visor and rose, steel glinting faintly in the firelight. "Lead on, John Delinger. The hunt awaits."
We ran, scanning the ground for holes, me sniffing each one for that familiar stench of Chompworm slime. Edward trailed behind, letting me lead.
"So what do you even need the Chompworm for?" I called over my shoulder.
"My client demands its death," he replied, voice firm as steel.
"Yeah, but why—" I stopped mid-sentence. One hole reeked of rot and slime.
"There!"
We dove in. Slime coated the walls, half-dried, half-fresh, criss-crossing tunnels looping in every direction.
"Guess we found the place."
"Indeed," Edward said, drawing his battered claymore.
Our steps echoed as we moved deeper. I sniffed, checking the walls. "Let's follow the fresher slime. These are old."
"A sound strategy."
I led the way down a slick slope. Sunlight vanished behind us. Then Edward's armor began to glow, casting a steady silver light through the tunnels.
The air grew wet and heavy. Slime squelched under our boots.
"We're close," I whispered. Vibrations throbbed through the ground. Too late.
The ceiling split open. A gaping maw of teeth and slime crashed down toward us.
"Above!" Edward shouted.
We rolled aside as the Chompworm tore a new tunnel. The earth shook, dust raining down.
I swung, landing a punch against its hide—only to feel my strength vanish into it, like hitting a vat of cornstarch.
"This thing's tough!"
Edward's voice rang out over the quake. "I should have warned thee—the minerals it devours are fused into its flesh! Its defenses are near-unbreakable!"
The worm tunneled on, leaving a fresh hole. We shared a look, then dove after it.
"For its size, it moves at bloody lightning!" Edward yelled.
"Let's take it up a gear!" I shouted back. We ran. I grabbed the worm's tail, slowing it down, but I felt it strain. How strong was this thing??
"Take your shot, Edward!"
He leapt high, blade gleaming—only for it to bounce off the worm's hide.
"Unbelievably dense!" he cursed.
"My turn!" I hammered it with my fists. Stronger, harder—still nothing. The ground should've shattered from the force, but the worm's body drank in every ounce of impact. Edward carved at it too, his slashes sliding uselessly off.
The Chompworm didn't even fight back. It didn't need to. It was a wall of flesh and stone. Practically unkillable.
"I have a most reckless plan, Mr. Delinger!"
"I'm all ears! Mine was just 'hit it until it dies'!"
"Its hide may be unbreakable—but what of its innards?"
My grin split wide. "I like your style! Let's do it!"
"Very good! I'll carve us a path!"
I punched upward, collapsing the roof. Sunlight crashed into the tunnels.
"Such endless strength!" Edward laughed. He slashed so fast the falling rocks turned to sand.
"There's the mouth!" I shouted.
"There's the mouth!" he echoed.
We leapt into its path, teeth bared, grins widening.
"You ready, Edward?!"
"No, I am not, John!" He roared with laughter.
And together we were swallowed into the dark.