Regularr
patreon
Chapter #13 — OVER!
🕑 Added 2024-03-25 20:18:10 +0000 UTCShittu uttered a curse towards Orion as he laid eyes upon the ravaged shack, adorned with claw marks left by wild animals.
No matter where the Incarnation journeyed, the fate of his people remained unchanged: Relentlessly pursued and murdered for sustenance.
To compound the dire situation, the Water of Life had seemingly lost much of its potency, aligning with Shittu’s previous prediction.
Its strength had waned to the extent that It could only sustain the average Pleigusean for a maximum of one day.
In theory, this might have been acceptable, if not for the unexpected decline in the rate of replenishment.
The once abundant rivers and lakes had diminished to a mere fraction of their usual size, forcing the weaker Pleiguseans into confrontations with the ferocious beasts born of the Paradisean’s flesh. As anticipated, the outcome for the nomadic people of Pleigus was nothing short of wretched. Shittu had journeyed to a total of five remote villages, scattered across considerable distances from each other, yet there he bore witness only to scenes of bloodshed and devastation.
The limited food resources; the declining fertility rate; their God losing favor with the Universal Will and the Creator—all these factors combined had significantly reduced their number. Yet, the beasts continued to outnumber the Pleiguseans at a ratio of 1 to 150 still, and this was already a conservative estimation, since Shittu intentionally excluded herbivores from the count as their primary food source were readily available grass and leafs.
But, the truth of the matter was: Even herbivores still posed a great threat to the Pleiguseans due to their horns and hooves.
The odds stacked against the Pleiguseans were so incredibly high, it’s a real wonder how they had lasted this long.
‘Maybe they hadn’t.’
A nagging voice echoed in Shittu’s mind, speculating whether they had already been wiped out. The Incarnation clenched his teeth tightly, so tight that without the boons he had received, they would have surely shattered.
Sensing the abnormality in its Master; an irritating scent which reeked of despair and hopelessness, Garou the Wolf nudged its head against his palm in hope of consoling him, but blinded by loss, Shittu saw not the companion that had accompanied him through treacherous cliffs; towering mountains and coursing rivers, but instead a beast that’s just as responsible for his people’s losses as its brethren.
With a harsh motion, he forcibly pushed the creature away, leaving the wolf perplexed and whimpering, its head tilting in confusion.
Startled by the suddenness of his reaction, Garou instinctively retreated, its frightened gaze fixed on its Master. Taking a swift sniff, the animal whined and sunk its fangs into his sleeve, tugging him along. Initially assuming that the wolf was simply seeking mindless fun, Shittu coldly yanked his arm free.
But, Garou persisted, refusing to let go until it dawned on him that something was awry.
Shittu cautiously followed the Wolf, squinting as he observed the scene: A boy slumped against a tree. Chest ripped open; half-chewed on intestines spilling down his lower-half, yet to Shittu’s surprise, he’s alive still, by some great miracles.
Despite his weak breaths and inability to call for help, the boy’s vacant and haunted gaze remained fixed on something in the distance.
If it weren’t for the presence of the Wolf, the Incarnation would have overlooked the boy entirely. Expressing gratitude with a glance, Shittu nodded before rushing to give first aid.
Using the Water of Life that he had brought along, the Incarnation quickly healed the boy’s wounds, but in doing so, it also depleted several days’ worth of their own sustenance. Nevertheless, Shittu thought it was a small price to pay. Much to his confusion, the boy remained rooted in place.
With no other options, the Incarnation securely fastened the shell-shocked boy to their back with vines. And so, the trio—two humans and one wolf—embarked on their grand adventure.
In the initial days, the boy showed neither signs of speech nor movement.
He had to be fed to prevent starvation, unable to eat on his own.
Previously, First would have reacted with frustration to the boy’s helplessness. However, having experienced the fear and despair faced by the Pleiguseans on a daily basis, Shittu just couldn’t bring himself to blame the traumatized child. If anything, he was afraid—worried that the boy would remain in this state indefinitely.
On the fifteenth day, he woke up to the sounds of something—someone moving
Taken by surprise, Shittu instinctively reached out for Foremost to protect himself and turned towards the source of the sounds.
Much to his surprise, he saw the child he had been carrying for days softly caressing Garou’s matted fur.
Feeling a sense of relief, Shittu greeted the awakened child, “You’re awake?” Who merely nodded in response.
Struggling to find the right words, for what could he say to a child who had been through so much? Shittu simply asked, “How are you feeling?” The child trembled and pointed at their mouth, then stomach.
“Hungry?” The child nodded once more, prompting Shittu to offer him a piece of deer jerky that had been prepared from the deer they had hunted together with Garou earlier. Perplexed, the boy stared at the charred lump placed in front of him. “Here…”
Shittu knelt down and gently placed the jerky in the child’s hand, demonstrating by taking another piece and slowly chewing it. “It’s safe to eat, see?” He reassured, opening his mouth wide to show the partially chewed jerky. “Go ahead and eat. We need to leave before dawn breaks.” After some persuasion, the hesitant boy cautiously took a deliberate bite, cringing slightly at the taste, but swallowed the food nevertheless.
This was how the trio operated.
The journey to the Promised Land was indeed as treacherous and long as they had anticipated, but neither Shittu nor the boy, Damasï, ever lost hope. Throughout the decade-long travel, Damasï had grown almost as tall as Shittu himself and had even acquired a spear of his own, though it lacked the gleam that adorned Shittu’s weapon. “Father, look!” Damasï cried out with genuine excitement, a feeling he hadn't experienced in years.
The last time he had felt this way was when he crafted his first spear.
At last, the trio had stumbled upon a settlement that appeared to be intact, and not reduced to mere ruins like the ones they had encountered before.
Relief washed over them as they laid eyes on the bustling town, realizing they had finally found a safe haven of their species. However, their optimism quickly eroded as they surveyed the inhabitants. The faces they encountered were marked by a sickly paleness; their ribs barely coated by a thin layer of skin–stretched around their skeletal frame.
Having seen this far too many times, Shittu didn’t lose his composure... The same couldn’t be said about Damasï. Hands clenched by his sides, the boy asked bitterly.
“Is this what we’re destined for, Father? Is this what’s in store for every Pleigusean? Pursued; murdered everywhere we go… And even when there’s no threat, we’re doomed anyways?”
“No... Your Creator made you to be great.”
Chuckling, Damasï let out a sigh as he picked up a leaf and placed it against his nose. Although he failed to see the benefits of such actions, his adoptive father had insisted, warning him about the dangers of diseases and the likes. Damasï laughingly retorted, “If that’s the case, then our Creator did a terrible job, ‘cause I don’t feel great at all.” His eyes swept over the drowsy citizens of the small town once, before he added. “I doubt these people feel too great either…”
Inwardly upset, Shittu managed to swallow the insult, his expression remaining stone-cold. Deep down, he knew that Damasï’s words held some truth.
He couldn’t deny that when creating the Pleigusean, First hadn’t put in much effort. The species was merely an experiment, a means for First to understand his Father, and little else. ‘A failed one’, First the Paradisean would have concluded, then seethed at his inability to recreate perfection. Shittu, on the other hand, simply redirected the conversation. “This does not look like any disease I’m familiar with… It must be a new strain.”
Shittu was well-aware of Baræque’s endeavors within his little corner of nightmare.
First had willingly visited that cavern in the past, witnessing firsthand how the Plague Father meticulously brewed his diseases in a relentless pursuit of creating the ‘ultimate lifeform’.
Proud of his cauldron in which contained all the horrors and afflictions in Existence, Baræque was that he invited the Eldest ‘by fraction of a second’ Paradisean to taste a spoonful of the lumpy green liquid.
As the only one who understood the implications of the Plague Father’s Creations, First agreed, allowing him to dissect each and every disease. This disease was not in the list. “Is it incurable, Father?”
“Not curable… Not with what we have.”
Crestfallen, Damasï slammed his spear against the muddy soils. “We finally found a group… Are they doomed?”
“Not necessarily. It is treatable.” Shittu answered, “All in Existence has a counter. Fire and Water; Light and Dark. Illnesses’ are—”
“Hidden properties of herbs,” Damasï rolled his eyes. “I know. So you have told me a million times. The question is how do we know which herbs to use?”
“We just have to find it.”
Deep in thought, Shittu scratched his chin, recalling one of the numerous conversations he had shared with Baræque. ‘Most of my recent Creations derive from certain original strains. I try to keep making entirely new affliction to the minimum and mix them more. It’s the quality of my Creations that I strive for, not the quantity.’
So the Plague Father had said, which meant, “I need to know all the symptoms.”
There was a cure, Shittu just needed to know which strain this new disease had evolved from, and he could fashion new formulas. It’d take many tries and just as many lives, but… Shittu looked at the seemingly desiccated town and muttered. “It’s not like we have a choice.” Seeing his serious look, Damasï immediately fixed his attitude, offering. “I will go ask around. See you here by midday.”
That was sufficient communication for them as they went their separate ways.
Several hours later, the three regrouped at the square. “Sounds like it… But something seems off,” Shittu mumbled.
Coughing was usually the most prominent symptom with the disease he was thinking of, but the townsfolks spent far more time shitting than they did coughing.
While pacing, the Incarnation—too occupied with thoughts—stepped on something in his absentmindedness. He lifted his legs to see a tiny bug oozing yellow, and kicked it away. “No matter… Damasï, get me these—”
After listing off pages worth of names, Shittu reminded. “Get as much as you can. I have already asked the townsfolks to prepare a hut for us. The volunteers will be here soon.”
“Did you tell them the risks?”
Damasï asked worriedly, and Shittu answered. “I’m no liar.”
“And they still came?”
“They have nothing to lose.” Damasï didn’t notice it, but
Days quickly passed… Days and lives. Shittu though he had witnessed every form of suffering, but nothing could compare to the sorrow he felt when a distraught mother clung to his legs, begging for her child's return, nor the guilt when a husband smiled hollowly to his wife’s death, not by the disease but by the supposed ‘treatment’. Still, Shittu persisted… Until finally, “His breathing has stabilized. Thank the Creator!”
Herbal mixtures made, Damasï and Shittu tirelessly administered the treatment to as many people as possible. In a short period of time, they noticed a significant improvement in the patients’ condition.
The lowered fatality rate allowed their bodies to effectively fight off the infection.
Surprisingly, neither Shittu nor Damasï contracted the disease, despite their continuous contact with infected individuals. However, their relief was short-lived.
After three weeks, those who had recovered earlier started to return to the clinic, now showing signs of relapse. Shittu had anticipated the possibility of relapse, but he hadn’t expected every single person he had treated to relapse after such a short time. On the thirtieth day, Damasï began exhibiting symptoms also, and on the thirty-third day, Shittu himself succumbed to the illness.
‘So it’s not transmissible through people?’
During his own struggle with the disease, Shittu could sense First attempting to help. Yet, all attempts to aid him were thwarted by an invisible, seemingly insurmountable barrier. Shittu knew that only someone with the power to stop a Paradisean from interfering could only be their Father.
‘Twenty more have died,’ Shittu exclaimed in between intense bouts of coughing.
Weak and drenched in sweat, he leaned against a rock to steady himself. “What am I doing wrong? Will you really remain on the sideline?”
As one of the few remaining individuals with the strength to continue working thanks to his blessings, Shittu did everything he could, but even his endurance was gradually diminishing.
Feeling helpless, Shittu sought solace by a nearby lake to freshen up, when a troubling thought crossed his mind– ‘Could the water be contaminated?’ Coincidentally, both Damasï and he began to experience symptoms mere days after their clean reserves ran dry, and they had to sustain themselves on the local river.
Yet, instinctively, he dismissed such a notion.
Baræque, although deranged, wouldn’t dare tarnish the precious Gift bestowed upon all inhabitants of Paradis by their Father, would he?
And even if he could, the good bacteria in the Water of Life would eat away at any ailment.
After gathering the Water of Life, Shittu went back to experiment, and sure enough, “It really is the Water! We’re saved, Father!”
But, the good news quickly turned sour.
Even the process of boiling the water appeared ineffective in eliminating the source of the disease. The Incarnation exhausted all possible solutions, including adding potent antibacterial herbs known to be beyond Baræque’s current capabilities. Unfortunately, none of these efforts yielded any results. Overwhelmed with a sense of helplessness, Shittu sank to his knees and clasped his hands in prayer along the polluted riverbank. ”Father, do you truly desire our demise?”
With his head bowed to the ground, he pleaded sincerely. “Please, help me.”
And I responded…
The winds blew, and an oddly shaped pebble next to Shittu’s face turned.
At first, the edge’s visible, yet from this angle, it looked… “Circular? No. What does shape have to do with anything?”
Confused, he muttered, then another thought hit him.
“I’m looking at thing from the wrong angle?”
Above the pebble was a snail, pulsing with yellow lines.
Suddenly, a realization struck Shittu, and he eagerly grabbed the snail, pressing it against his face.
Instantly, he recognized the species – it was the same snail he had accidentally stepped on when he first arrived.
Unfortunately, First was neither fond of nor knowledgeable about Orion, the God of Beasts.
He could not recall if there was something significant about this specific snail species. “The only way to find out is by testing it,” He thought determinedly.
Without hesitation, Shittu tossed the snail into his mouth, chewing it raw.
He didn’t stop when the poison it excreted burnt the back of his throat;
He didn’t stop when his stomach churned, when his body begged him to take a dump and rid it of the poisonous substance;
On his face etched a grin so wide it could’ve split his lower jaw from the upper. Even if physically he’s extremely hurt, nothing could dampen the joy he’s experiencing. Happily, Shittu ran back to the town, carrying several of the same snail he found at the riverbank.
Despite the difficulty spotting them due to the tall grass, an enormous quantity of snails could be seen crawling near the river, contaminating the water with their poison, causing harm to any who drank from it. There was even a nest situated upstream.
Upon further inquiries and receiving multiple affirmations, Shittu’s suspicions were confirmed. “Find and kill these creatures…” He ordered the last few able-bodied men and women in the town. “Gather them up and burn. A day after they’re wiped out, the water may be consumed again.” It took almost a year, but once one food source was ‘reclaimed’ from the snails, and people started getting better, the Pleiguseans; under Shittu’s leadership; quickly eradicated the threat.
Standing in the now bustling town, protected all around by a natural barrier of mountains, Shittu smiled confidently.
“This would make the perfect capitol for our people.”
Perhaps it’s due to the efforts he put in helping the people of Pleigusea, but the air’s all the fresher to Shittu now.
“All hail the King!”
Or maybe it’s just the cheers of his people.
“Men and women of Pleigusea, I bring the good news—”
Shittu’s eyes swept across the hundreds of faces staring at him. They’re weak still, their bodies—ravaged by the poisons—had not recovered completely, but never before had their faces been so bright… Never before had the Path seemed so illuminated.
“Let it be known that we will never run again! This catastrophe, as with all waiting for us ahead, will fall to us!”
Roaring cheers erupted.
“I hereby declare the Age of Terror is OVER!”
