Chapter 45: Survival of The Fittest: Death in Many Forms
Year 0003, I-III Month: The Imperium
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Blood Bath
"Run!, run for your lives!"
The head captain watched in horror as their formation crumbled against the onslaught of ten massive Grimfangs. Their carefully planned defense was shattering like glass under the relentless assault of these monstrous wolves.
Though he could no longer see where the other six beasts had gone, he knew with grim certainty that some of the slaves had escaped into the depths of the great forest. There was nothing they could do about it now.
"We must retreat! At least one of us should survive to report back to our nearest outpost!" he bellowed, his voice hoarse from shouting commands.
"Move! Move now and don't look back!"
The remaining slaver guardsmen of Corvus had no choice but to obey. They abandoned their positions and fled toward the direction of their nearest outpost. It was Kirka Village, currently under the management of Chief Rommel—almost 600 kilometers away from their current location, but the closest Corvus outpost available.
They ran desperately, hoping to escape this accursed forest with their lives intact. Bursting from the hidden path, they sprinted toward the main road, praying these damned wolves wouldn't follow them there.
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Cornick Sandeval
Head Captain Cornick Sandeval panted heavily, using his remaining strength to run. Each breath burned in his lungs, but he couldn't afford even a second's pause. The Grimfangs couldn't chase all of them as they fanned out in different directions, but he worried about the six beasts he'd lost sight of during the chaos.
He couldn't spare concern for the others now. His own survival consumed his thoughts. He was due for retirement this year and had planned to finally start a family somewhere peaceful, away from all this.
In truth, Sandeval had never taken pleasure in the slave trade. He had originally joined the respectable side of the operation—the Zargos Mercantile group—where he had served as a veteran guard. But today's mission had come from the very top; he was specifically requested to lead this transport because of his intimate knowledge of the hidden routes.
He had first been subjected to one of these secretive runs during his second year as a guard. Back then, he had been naive, believing in the Zargos Mercantile group's sterling reputation. The reality had shattered his illusions. Behind the respected merchant facade lay a shadowy empire built on human suffering.
There he had witnessed the true depravity humanity was capable of to further their position in the grand scheme of this cruel world.
Nearly thirty years have passed since then. He was no longer that naive young man. His wisdom had grown particularly after surviving a disastrous year-long underworld run where they had nearly been wiped out by the beasts of the great forest—much like today.
After that harrowing experience, he had requested a transfer to a base guard position. Though the pay was better as an escort, it wasn't worth compromising his morals or risking his life. For years, he had managed to keep his hands relatively clean, only being requested as an experienced office a few times to run an escort operation like this one.
But fate, it seemed, had different plans. Just before retirement, reality slapped him hard across the face. He was tasked with leading this escort mission with a handful of veterans and numerous young recruits. Now, 90% of those recruits lay dead, and only half the veterans remained.
Sandeval sighed in bitter disappointment. Why did he have to face these beasts on his final mission? He had wanted a peaceful finale to his long career. Instead, he was running for his life, the screams of the dying echoing in his ears.
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Freedom, But Not Free
The slaves who had managed to escape into the deeper forest were still being pursued by the Grimfangs that had split from the main wolf pack. During their desperate flight, they encountered other monstrous denizens of the forest—Boarats with their razor tusks, snake-like beasts with venomous fangs, and countless other predators that ruled this untamed land.
After days without food, even the most poisonous and alien-looking plants began to appear appetizing. Their minds, already fractured by trauma and starvation, could no longer properly assess danger. The vibrant colors and enticing shapes of unfamiliar fruits beckoned like sirens to those who had lost their reason.
The consequences were swift and terrible. Many collapsed to the ground, mouths foaming, after consuming the poisonous vegetation. Some didn't die immediately—their suffering prolonged as their bodies heated to unbearable temperatures and blisters erupted across their skin, even affecting their internal organs. These blisters would eventually burst, one by one, leaving their victims in unimaginable agony.
Even more horrific were the parasitic creatures that lived within certain plants and fruits. Once ingested, these parasites found new hosts in human bodies, slowly devouring them from within—an alien horror previously unknown to these unfortunate souls.
Of the hundreds who had initially escaped, far fewer remained. Those who survived such terrible sights no longer dared to eat anything unfamiliar. They could only quench their thirst with water from the numerous tiny streams that flowed toward the river. Some developed an almost preternatural ability to smell water sources, and they took desperate chances when they found them, gulping down whatever liquid they discovered.
They could only hope the waters were safe. But this was one of the Great Forests of Arkanus, and inside Centuury, the harshest world environment imaginable—a place that seemed designed to kill them at every turn.
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Meanwhile a Relative Peace is in the Village
While these events unfolded several hundred kilometers away, the villagers of Maya Village remained unaware of the approaching survivors. They busied themselves chopping suitable trees, reinforcing the village walls, and expanding their dwellings for future projects.
Their disciplined routine continued uninterrupted: hunting every few days to restock supplies, daily training without fail, and tending to their newly prepared garden fields. Christopher had fully recovered and joined the men in their forestry work, while Jonathan was healing well enough to manage minor tasks around the village.
Their root cellar now bulged with Boarat and Rabbiet meat, alongside foraged mushrooms, wild vegetables, and fruits from the forest floor. Maya Village stood as an oasis of order and prosperity amid the deadly wilderness.
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Human Adaptability
Days or perhaps weeks had passed—the escaped slaves had long lost track of time in their desperate struggle for survival.
Donna and her small group had managed to endure by finding potable water and recognizing safe fruits to eat. Slowly, they began to regain their sanity and think clearly again. They had started to adapt, demonstrating humanity's remarkable ability to survive in hostile environments.
Only a dozen of them remained from the hundreds who had initially fled in the same direction. Their hearts had hardened like stone; they cared only for themselves now. The law of the jungle—survival of the fittest—ruled their every decision.
They had witnessed the cruelty that emerged when humans faced such harsh conditions. Self-preservation instincts overrode reason, sometimes driving survivors to kill others for their meager supplies.
Such an incident had occurred within their group days earlier. The arrogant former nobleman, who had survived thus far, showed his true nature when he pushed a frail man directly into the path of an attacking beast to save himself. He then attempted to attack Andy Shoor, the man who had previously stood against him and initiated their escape.
But Andy still retained his wits. A former mercenary with combat experience, he easily subdued the nobleman, beating him severely before leaving him for the beasts to finish off. Andy refused to waste precious energy or dirty his hands with execution; he needed every ounce of strength to survive.
Andy's experience had taught him the harsh realities of this world long before his enslavement. His career as a mercenary had ended when he found employment with the kind-hearted Lord Kirka, serving as an escort for merchant caravans. During a delivery mission to the south, bandits had ambushed his caravan. Andy was among those captured and eventually sold to the Corvus Slave Trade.
Despite the years that had passed, he desperately wanted to return to his lord's service. Now, he was just another slave fighting for survival in this merciless environment, but his training gave him advantages the others lacked.
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First, Came Desperation and Then Survivial
Cannibalism had emerged during the first desperate days of their escape. Some, driven mad by hunger, attempted to eat their fallen comrades who had died from poison. Poetic justice perhaps that they too perished, the toxins still potent in the flesh they consumed.
Death stalked them relentlessly—if not as prey for the forest beasts, then by poisonous flora, or simply through the slow agony of starvation.
The ragtag group of surviving slaves now found themselves approximately 200 kilometers from Maya Village. In just a few days, they would reach its perimeter, unaware of the sanctuary that awaited them.
Whether they would survive to reach it depended entirely on their tenacity, a measure of luck, their hard-won survival skills, and their ability to maintain some semblance of cooperation despite their fractured trust.
The great forest remained indifferent to their suffering. It had witnessed countless deaths before them and would witness countless more in the years to come. Centuury was unforgiving; it took without remorse and gave nothing freely.
As night fell, Donna gazed up at unfamiliar stars through gaps in the forest canopy. The distant pinpricks of light offered no comfort, no guidance. Tomorrow would bring new dangers, new decisions, new deaths. She closed her eyes, wondering if she would live to see another sunset in this world that seemed determined to erase all traces of her existence.
Andy kept watch, his experienced eyes scanning the darkness for movement. In the distance, something howled—a sound neither wolf nor any creature he recognized. He tightened his grip on the crude spear he had fashioned from a broken branch. The forest was speaking to them in its own tongue, and its message was clear: you are not welcome here.
They would march at dawn, pushing ever forward, ever closer to Maya Village—their unknown salvation. The survivors had no goal beyond the next step, the next hour, the next day. But sometimes, survival itself is victory enough in a world bent on destruction.