Chapter 87
Written by Bayzo Albion
I lifted my gaze. Ahead stretched a dense, untamed wilderness. Darkness where trees murmured secrets about the intruder in their midst. No signs, no paths, not even a scrap of a map. Just endless thicket, where any step could be your last.
"Would've been nice if someone drew an arrow or something..." I griped.
The wind rustled the leaves in response—suspiciously like laughter.
"Fantastic, Balthazar," I exhaled. "Welcome to the hunt for invisible prey. Lost your divine powers, lost your status—now you're about to lose your mind too."
No turning back. I crumpled the paper, shoved it away, inhaled the forest's earthy tang—and plunged into the depths.
Forward, to where flowers might sprout from the bones of fools just like me.
I'd been hacking through the undergrowth for a solid half-hour now. The forest grew denser, damper, the air thickening like syrup. Every rustle in the grass made me whip around, but so far, nothing sinister had reared its head.
Then I froze.
On the path ahead, something black and glossy scuttled along. At first, I mistook it for a regular ant. But no—this "ant" was the size of a dog.
Up close, insects always look alien under a microscope, but here, in the flesh, that otherworldliness was amplified to nightmare levels. Its body was encased in a sleek black exoskeleton, more like armored plating than natural hide, giving it the vibe of a mechanical abomination rather than a living creature. Antennae quivered in the air, probing the world like invisible tendrils. Those compound eyes—hundreds of tiny facets—glinted with eerie reflections in the dim light. But the worst were the mandibles: long, curved serrated blades, like twin saws poised to clamp down on anything in reach.
My back pressed against the nearest tree trunk, heart hammering so loud it echoed in my temples. I couldn't move, couldn't even draw a proper breath.
The ant paused. Its head swiveled, antennae twitching toward me.
And I swear—it "sniffed" me out.
*Don't move...* My mind screamed in silent panic.
The ant stirred. At first, it moved sluggishly, its six legs shifting with a deliberate laziness that thrummed against my nerves like a drumbeat. Its mandibles snapped shut, slicing through the silence with a sharp, metallic click.
I couldn't hold it together—I bolted.
I ran like I'd never run before in my life. Branches whipped across my face, drawing stinging lines of fire on my skin. Roots snagged at my feet, threatening to send me sprawling. My breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, tearing from my lungs. Behind me, all I could hear was the grating scrape of its legs on stone and the crunch of snapping twigs.
Then, abruptly—nothing.
I dared a glance over my shoulder: the monstrosity had halted, simply staring. It seemed almost bored, as if chasing down something as insignificant as me wasn't worth the effort. But I couldn't let my guard down; it could still sense me, I was sure of it.
I surged forward again. That's when my foot slipped, and I crashed face-first into a filthy puddle. The viscous muck enveloped me from head to toe, cold and clinging like a second skin. My first instinct was to scramble up, but a wild idea pierced through the panic: *What if...*
I smeared my hands over my face, my neck, coating myself in the reeking, icy sludge from crown to soles. The stench was nauseating—rotting earth mixed with something metallic and foul—but I kept at it. If this could mask my human scent, it might just save me.
When the ant lumbered closer again, its antennae quivered wildly, probing the air for that familiar trace... and finding nothing. It took a few hesitant steps, paused, swiveled its head in confusion, and finally turned away, vanishing back into the undergrowth.
I lay there, barely breathing. Only when its shadowy form melted into the forest's gloom did I allow myself to rise.
Now, I crept forward on foot, cautious and silent. The mud caked my skin, tugging uncomfortably at my clothes as it dried, but I felt it like armor. My salvation.
*Well, nature,* I thought with grim satisfaction, *your first assassin failed. Let's see who you send next.*
I trudged onward, my breaths heavy and labored, the mud crusting cold against my flesh. My legs wobbled beneath me, and my heart still raced as if trying to escape my chest.
Then it hit me like a tidal wave.
"Damn it all!" I roared, slamming my fist into the nearest tree trunk. The bark bit into my knuckles, but the pain only fueled the fire. "Am I really this worthless? A god—former god, whatever—and I can't even handle an ant! Not a dragon, not a demon, but a goddamn insect the size of a dog!"
I kicked a stone viciously, sending it ricocheting into the bushes. Helplessness burned through me like acid. I wanted to howl at the humiliation, at how easily this world had written me off as fodder.
But then, flashing back to those terrifying mandibles clicking inches from my skull... I started laughing. Loud, raspy, bordering on madness.
"Ha-ha! But I'm alive!" I gasped to myself, leaning against the tree as the laughter dissolved into heaving breaths. "I'm still here. I outsmarted death."
I closed my eyes, pressing a palm to my chest, feeling the frantic pulse beneath. For the first time in ages, I truly *felt* it: blood pounding in my temples, heart thundering, lungs aching from the sprint... and it thrilled me. This wasn't the immortal, detached chill of godhood. This was raw, fragile life—terrifying, exhilarating, *real*.
I smirked at my own trembling hands, dirt-streaked and raw.
"Well, Balthazar... looks like you're finally breathing for real."
I lingered there a moment longer, waiting for my breaths to steady. The anger ebbed away, leaving behind an odd lightness, as if a massive weight had lifted from my shoulders.
"If one oversized ant can shake me up this bad..." I muttered, "what the hell's waiting when I find that flower?"
I scanned the surrounding forest. Branches swayed in the wind, whispering secrets behind my back. Far off, a bird cried out—or something mimicking one, at least.
I fished the crumpled paper from my pocket again. The white lily. So simple, so seemingly innocent. Yet marked for masters only.
I chuckled dryly.
"Fine. That's where I'll find out what I'm really made of."
A warmth bloomed in my chest—not bravery, exactly, but stubborn defiance. If the world craved my end so badly, let it try. But now, I wasn't just a fallen god stumbling through; I was a man tasting life for the first time, hungry for more.
I tucked the paper away and pressed deeper into the thicket.
"Alright, lily. Let's see who breaks first."
I'd been trekking through the forest for hours now. Each step dragged, not from exhaustion alone, but because the woods themselves seemed to pull me back, resistant and unyielding. The canopy overhead knit together so tightly that sunlight barely filtered through, casting everything in a perpetual twilight. It felt like the trees were leaning in, murmuring in some ancient, indecipherable tongue.
Every so often, I'd pause. Listen. Twigs cracked somewhere distant—maybe a beast, maybe the forest taunting me. The air hung thick and pungent, laced with dampness and decay. No sign of the white lily. Not a single bloom, not even a weed I could pretend was close enough.
I spotted a few traces along the way. Long gouges raked into tree bark. Crushed leaves smeared across the ground. But these weren't from any flower. They screamed warning: *Turn back.*
The sun dipped toward the horizon. I realized I'd been wandering aimlessly, frustration boiling in my veins, but my body was too drained to push on.
"Brilliant," I grumbled, slumping onto a fallen log. "Day one of the hunt: zilch. But hey, I learned how to flee from ants and inhale rotting muck. Real hero material."
Night crept in swiftly. I hadn't managed a fire or even a proper shelter. Hunger twisted my gut like a knife. A pair of rabbits darted nearby in the gathering dusk, but I was too slow to react. They vanished, as if mocking my ineptitude.
I collapsed onto the cold earth, wrapping myself in what passed for a cloak, and tried to sleep amid the nocturnal symphony. The forest thrummed with life—scrapes, rustles, distant hoots. I lay there, stomach empty, anger my only sustenance.
– – –
Morning greeted me with a biting wind and a hunger that clawed at my insides, impossible to ignore. My eyes burned from fatigue, but a fierce determination ignited within. I pressed on through the woods—and finally spotted them.
Two rabbits. Snow-white fur with black-tipped ears. They nibbled at tree roots, oblivious to my presence.
"No way," I whispered. "Today, something's mine."
I froze, scooped up a stone, and hurled it. One rabbit bolted into the bushes, but the other hesitated—just long enough to seal its fate. Minutes later, I clutched its warm body. I ambushed the second soon after.
Two rabbits. My first real trophy in this unforgiving world.
My stomach growled in anticipation, and I grinned, feeling a spark of triumph that life wasn't always a snarling beast out for blood.
The morning air was raw and chilled, the sky a muted gray through the treetops. Breath fogged before me as I sat, gripping my prizes. To a god, this might be trivial, but for the new me—a mortal scraping by—it was a monumental win.
First, I kindled a fire. Yesterday's exhaustion had sapped my will, but today, despite trembling hands, I forced myself: dry branches, splinters, flint striking flint. Sparks flew, and flames crackled to life, mocking my efforts with their merry pops.