Illusiveone
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3: The Accidental Liberator, Beginning of Greatness
🕑 Added 2024-08-09 09:03:26 +0000 UTCHe fucked up.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he muttered as he ran toward the rocky outcrops. The area was a maze of large boulders, offering potential cover but also potential dead ends.
Jason's heart pounded in his chest, feeling as if it might break out at any moment. Each beat was a hammering thud, reverberating through his entire body. His legs felt like lead, and his body ached with exhaustion. Every step was a struggle as he pushed himself toward the rocky area.
He could hear the man getting closer, each thunderous hoofbeat echoing his growing panic. His vision blurred, and his head felt like it was spinning. He had never felt such a combination of fear and exhaustion before. The world around him seemed to narrow to the sound of his ragged breaths and the pounding of his heart.
He nearly fell down as he navigated through the large boulders. His eyesight was fading, and he felt dizzy, as if he might collapse at any moment. His body screamed for rest, but he forced himself to keep moving.
Suddenly, his foot caught on a hidden root, sending him sprawling to the ground. Pain shot through his leg, but adrenaline forced him back to his feet. He glanced over his shoulder, the bandit now dismounting and closing in on him with a sinister grin.
He heard the man laugh mockingly as he stumbled to the ground again, saying something in a language he did not understand. Desperate, Jason grabbed a handful of rocks from the ground and aimlessly threw them in the man's direction.
One rock struck the man in the shoulder, causing him to curse and falter momentarily.
Seeing the man was distracted, Jason quickly darted behind a large boulder, his chest heaving as he tried to quiet his breathing. He pressed his back against the cold stone, listening intently for any sound of the man's approach. His heart pounded in his ears, and he fought to control his panic as the footsteps grew closer.
The man's footsteps crunched on the gravelly ground. Jason's heart pounded in his ears, each beat a countdown to his discovery. He clutched another rock, a larger one in his hand, ready to defend himself.
The man stopped, peering around the rocks with a predatory gaze. "Sōvē, ñuhys byka," he taunted, his voice dripping with malice. "Ābrar jorrāelagon daor."
Jason held his breath, his legs trembling. He could hear the man moving closer, his boots scraping against the stone. Jason's grip on the rock tightened, his knuckles turning white.
For some time, there was utter silence, only the sound of the wind and the man's horse in the distance. Jason let out a sigh of relief, believing he was free believing that the man had given up his search.
Suddenly, a hand reached around the edge of the boulder. Jason screamed, taking the rock and hitting the man's arm, causing him to yelp in pain. "Īlva byka skoros," the man screamed.
The pulled him from his hiding place. Jason struggled, but the man was too strong. "Let me go!" Jason shouted, kicking and thrashing, but the man held firm.
"Hen ñuhor jēdar, ñuhys byka" the man snarled, his grip tightening. Jason elbowed him in the ribs, but it only seemed to make the man angrier. They grappled, rolling on the ground, fists flying. Jason managed to land a punch to the man's face, but the man retaliated with a knee to Jason's stomach, knocking the wind out of him.
As they struggled, they fell, tumbling down the rocky slope. Jason found himself on top of the man as they rolled. When they finally stopped, the man got the upper hand, straddling Jason and wrapping his hands around his throat. The man's sinister expression filled Jason's vision as he felt the pressure on his neck.
"Jā, ñuhor sōvēs ," the man growled, his eyes filled with murderous intent.
Jason's world began to fade as he struggled, his hands hitting the man's face in a desperate attempt to free himself. He was slowly losing consciousness, his body telling him to give up.
Then something happened.
Just as both his hands touched the man's face, Jason felt as if electricity coursed through his body.
Images began to flash in his mind—a boy being taken from his family, mistreated by his captors, and taught how to fight. He saw the boy grow into a young man, relentlessly training with a sword. It felt as if he had always known how to wield a sword, as though the skill had always been ingrained in him.
He realized he was seeing the man’s memories. It was strange as if he saw a movie in a few seconds. The connection broke, and the man stumbled back, screaming, "What did you do to me? What did you do to me?" He held his head in despair and shock.
‘What the fuck happened?’ Jason thought, holding his neck and coughing. ‘Wait, did I just understand him?’ The realization hit him like a bolt of lightning.
“I understood you,” Jason said, his throat still hurting.
The man snarled and looked down at the ground. There, lying in the dirt, was his sword. He picked it up and lunged at Jason with murderous intent, the blade gleaming in the fading light.
Jason froze, unable to move. His trembling arms instinctively went up in front of him, trying to shield himself from the inevitable blow.
‘This was it,’ he thought.
But the sword never came. Instead, he felt something strange at the tips of his fingers, a sensation he had never experienced before. He then heard the man's screams, but they seemed to be getting fainter, as if the man was moving away from him. Jason opened his eyes to see, to his astonishment, the man flying away from him, flung through the air by some unseen force.
The bandit soared over the rocky terrain, his screams echoing as he flew higher and higher. Finally, the man crashed to the ground with a sickening thud, his body twisted and lifeless.
"What the fuck," Jason muttered, staring at his hand in disbelief.
Then he noticed it—small and large rocks around him were floating in the air, defying gravity. They hovered, spinning slowly, as if weightless. Jason touched one, marveling as it floated away from his fingers, unaffected by the laws of nature.
"Am I doing this?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
He moved his arms gently to see if the rocks would respond. To his amazement, they did. As he moved his arms, the rocks floated and swirled around him, following his movements like obedient servants. He marveled at the sight, his fear momentarily forgotten. He waved his hand, and the rocks shifted direction. He clenched his fist, and they stopped, hanging motionless in the air. He released his grip, and they resumed their gentle orbit around him.
"This is incredible," he whispered.
Jason heard the sounds of horses approaching, their hooves pounding the rocky ground like a war drum. He looked up and saw the rest of the bandits riding toward him, their faces twisted with fury and some in fear. The panic that had gripped him moments before was now replaced with something else—anger.
He climbed up onto the boulders to get a better view of the approaching riders, his heart pounding not with fear, but with a dark determination. "It's me or them," he muttered under his breath, raising his arms and trying to replicate what he had done before.
He focused all his concentration on the riders. He could feel the strange energy coursing through him again, the power that had flung the first bandit to his death. He locked his eyes on the riders, his mind straining as he tried to grasp the force within him.
Suddenly, the riders were lifted into the air, their horses rearing and whinnying in terror. The bandits screamed as they were wrenched from their saddles, their bodies suspended in mid-air like marionettes. Jason could hear their desperate cries, filled with fear and confusion. He could feel their terror feeding into his own power, amplifying it.
With a fierce determination, Jason clenched his fists. The air around the riders seemed to compress, crushing them with an invisible force. The bandits' screams turned to agonized wails as their bodies were contorted, bones snapping under the pressure. The sound was horrific, a symphony of pain and death.
The power was draining him, each moment sapping his strength. But he held on, pushing himself to the limit, until the screams finally stopped. The riders were nothing but broken bodies, and Jason released them, letting them fall to the ground in lifeless heaps.
He himself stumbled from the boulder, exhaustion crashing over him like a wave. He barely managed to lay down on the ground, his body trembling with fatigue. His vision blurred as he looked up at the sky, a weak smile spreading across his lips. He had done it. He had survived.
He laid there for a while, fading in and out of consciousness. The world around him seemed to spin, his mind struggling to stay focused. He could feel the rough ground beneath him, but it felt distant, as though he were slipping away.
Through his hazy vision, he saw a figure approaching. The silhouette was blurry at first, but gradually came into focus. The figure was wearing robes and a large sun hat that shaded their face. Jason blinked, trying to clear his vision, but he was too weak. The figure drew closer, and he could make out the gentle sway of their robes in the breeze.
Jason, barely able to move, instinctively raised his arms to defend himself as the figure approached. But he stopped when the man before him raised his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"I am not with them. I’m here to help," the figure said, his voice calm and reassuring.
"Wa...water," Jason whispered, his throat dry and voice weak.
The man immediately took a waterskin from his satchel and gently placed it against Jason's lips, cradling his head with surprising care. Jason drank greedily, the cool water soothing his parched throat and reviving him slightly. Each gulp brought a bit more clarity to his mind, the fog of exhaustion slowly lifting.
As he drank, Jason could see the man more clearly now. The figure before him looked to be in his thirties, with a wild beard and long hair that fell to his shoulders. He wore a large sun hat that shaded his face.
In his eyes, the hat made him look effortlessly cool.
"My name is Garth. I am a maester from the Seven Kingdoms. Let me help you, sorcerer. I mean you no harm," the man said calmly, his voice steady and kind.
"Jason," he said, introducing himself with a hoarse voice. "My name is Jason."
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Jason sat on a rock, staring at the fire Garth was tending to. Night had fallen, and the sky above was a sea of unfamiliar stars,the constellations he had known were gone, replaced by a sea of twinkling lights that felt both alien and beautiful.
He now knew where he was. He had gleaned it from Garth during their earlier conversation. Garth had spoken of being a maester from the Seven Kingdoms, and when he had questioned him further, Garth mentioned he was from the Reach, specifically from the city of Oldtown.
It all clicked for him then. He wasn’t just in another world—he was in one he was deeply familiar with. He had just finished reading the books after watching the TV shows.
“Fucking hell,” he muttered to himself. He was in the middle of Essos now.
‘I wonder if he was going to run into Daenerys…oh wait didn't Garth say something about King Aerys..must be before the rebellion’ he thought.
Garth was a nice enough fellow. The man had abandoned the caravan he was traveling with to help him, and he owed him big time for that.
"How are you feeling?" Garth asked, coming closer, his voice gentle and full of concern.
"Good," Jason replied, though his mind was still reeling from everything he had learned.
"Good," Garth repeated, smiling. He hesitated for a moment before asking, "I, um... mind if I sit?"
"Sure," Jason said, nodding toward the space beside him.
Garth sat down beside him, and for some time, there was an awkward silence. It was clear that Garth had something on his mind, but he seemed hesitant to bring it up. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Garth spoke up, his voice breaking the stillness of the night.
"May I ask some questions, if you don’t mind?" Garth asked, his tone polite yet eager.
"Of course," Jason answered, trying to sound more confident than he felt.
Garth smiled, looking relieved. "Wonderful. I… umm… saw what you did to those bandits. I have never seen anything like that before," Garth began, his voice gaining momentum as he spoke. "You see, in the Citadel, we are taught that magic has faded from the world, that the days of dragons and sorcery are long gone. But what I saw... what you did... it was like something out of the old tales. The way you lifted them, the power you used... I mean, I’ve read about the sorcery of the Valyrians, but to see something like that in person...”
Garth suddenly stopped, looking embarrassed by his rambling. "I’m sorry, I just... I have so many questions."
"It’s alright," Jason said, his tone reassuring.
Garth let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “Thank you. It’s just that... well, I never thought I’d see something like that , and now, here you are. You’re like living proof that magic still exists.”
Garth, unable to contain his curiosity, began firing off questions in rapid succession. "Who are you? Where are you from? How did you get here? What kind of magic was that? Are there others like you?..."
Jason felt a knot tighten in his stomach as he tried to figure out how to answer. He knew he couldn’t tell Garth the whole truth—he was from another world would the man believe him. Instead, he decided to keep his answers vague for now.
"I'm from far to the east," Jason said slowly, carefully choosing his words. "I don't remember much about how I got here. Maybe it was some kind of experiment gone wrong. Honestly, my memory is a bit fuzzy."
Garth's excitement dimmed slightly, replaced by a look of concern. "I see. That must be difficult for you. But perhaps in time, more of your memories will return," he said, trying to be encouraging.
Jason nodded, relieved that Garth had accepted his explanation without pressing for more details. He decided to shift the focus. "Where are you headed, Garth?"
Garth’s face lit up at the question. "I’m on a quest to travel the world, to explore places no Westerosi has ever seen. I want to document everything I find, to go beyond the known maps and bring back knowledge that will expand our understanding of the world."
‘That sounds fun’ Jason thought, as he was studying to be a historian himself before coming here.
"Would it be alright if I came with you?" he asked.
Garth's eyes widened with delight. "You want to join me? I’d be honored to have you along, Jason. Two travelers are always better than one, especially when one of them is as... unique as you."
Jason smiled, feeling a sense of relief and excitement. "Great, it's settled then," he said, extending his hand to Garth. "Where are we going?"
Garth shook Jason's hand firmly. "We’re heading to Tolos. From there, we can take a ship to Qarth."
"Thank you, Garth," Jason said, shaking the maester’s hand with gratitude. "I think we are going to get along well."
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