"I hate Truck-kun, and
I hate the four wheels he rode on!"
The blazing sun overhead seemed to take up half the otherwise empty, pale blue sky, while golden orange sand dunes stretched to the horizon in all directions. I stood there, trembling with grief and shock in the hot, dry desert air, unable to believe this was happening to me. I had been murdered by an actual truck, just like in some cheap light novel, reincarnated into another world, and I didn't even get a t-shirt. Seriously. No underwear either. Unceremoniously dumped into a new world, in the middle of a vast desert of sand, and I was completely naked. I think it was pretty reasonable that I was also
really upset. Dying sucked.
It was a day that had gone from bad to worse. I'd been born and raised in Vancouver, on Canada's wet west coast, a city on the shores of the mighty Fraser River and on the foothills of coastal, snow-capped mountains. It's a beautiful city with terrible traffic and wealth disparity spiralling out of control. I was of a generation that was never, ever going to own their own home because houses were only for the rich these days. I was not rich, and likely never would be. I worked as a line cook in one of the many bland chain restaurants that had driven out independent places many years ago. On the upside, it was a career that wasn't going to be replaced by artificial intelligence in the near future. On the downside, I barely got paid enough to survive and pay eye-gouging rent.
Earlier that day, I'd been called in by the head chef for a talking to. It was right at the end of shift. She pulled me aside, out of the kitchen, and into the office. Nancy was a nice woman, strict but fair. She was about five years younger than me. It had been a real wake-up moment the day I'd realized that my boss was someone younger and better than me. I was only in my thirties, and I'd had to face the truth that I'd somehow begun working in the kitchen as a job, a theoretically temporary position until I worked on finding a "proper" career.
But at some point, I'd never gone after anything "better", just let the years pass, drift by, and disappear faster than anyone could imagine when they're young. I'd never gone to university, never applied myself to going to culinary school, so that
I could be a head chef. Waking up one day to find yourself answering to someone way younger had made me feel old and question what the hell I'd been doing with my life. Kinda sad, when you think about it, because there shouldn't be anything wrong with being a line cook or a server or dishwasher or anything else; they were jobs that needed doing. But they were jobs that paid little, and less every year, so a house was something I was only ever going to walk by and long for, never enjoy for myself.
Chef Nancy had been awkward when she'd first begun working at the restaurant. Telling the younger staff what to do had come naturally enough, but it had taken her months to gain enough confidence to command people older than her without looking sheepish about it or blushing. So as she had me in the office, easily a head shorter and half my weight as well as being years younger, there was a brief flash of uncertainty in her features, but she quickly tightened that up.
She spoke kindly but firmly while looking me in the eyes, "James, this isn't easy to say, but I need to give you a second warning."
I wilted and felt resigned. This wasn't a surprise. I even nodded at her.
She opened her mouth to speak, closed it, then seemed to say something else, "You know it's my job to make sure the kitchen is as efficient and productive as possible. If we have people making mistakes or taking too much time, it throws the whole rhythm of the kitchen off. Others can't do their jobs properly, and customers get their food late."
"I know. I'm making your job harder. I'm sorry."
"And if the kitchen has problems, if the customers aren't happy, then the restaurant makes less. This is a cutthroat business. We have to be doing our best all the time."
I nodded. I'd become the one feeling sheepish.
She licked her lips, glanced away, but took a breath and firmed up again. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone the way you have. Or how long it takes to get over it. I think I speak for all of us when I say, we're sympathetic. It's why we've all tried to be as understanding as we can be. Patient."
They had been. More than they should have needed to be. I mentally kicked myself for letting them down for so long.
"It's just…this can't go on forever. I'm sorry. I know you're still hurting, but we just can't keep covering for you anymore. I have a boss to answer to as well. I'm afraid that, if you can't pick things up right quick, we're going to have to let you go. I don't want to, and I'm sympathetic, I really am, but that's the position we're in."
"It's ok. I understand. I'm sorry."
She looked embarrassed again, perhaps because I wasn't putting up any fight. "You don't have to be sorry. Just…try to, you know, be your best. More like you were…before. I need you back, James. To the guy you used to be."
Be myself again after losing the love of my life? As if that were possible. But I nodded in acknowledgement and backed out of her office, both of us likely thankful the awkward moment was over. I shuffled to the locker room to change, embarrassed and guilty. A lot of the people working there were decent. I felt ashamed to be letting them down.
Someone slid into the locker room right behind me: Raj. He nudged my arm, then threw his own around my shoulders. "Hey, man."
"Hey, man." My spirits picked up a bit. Raj was a great guy and my closest work friend. We'd both been line cooks together for a long time. He was the only one in the restaurant who'd known Cerise and been friends with her too.
"I heard what Nancy said."
"Great."
"Come on, don't be like that. Nothing to be shy about. We all go through rough patches. But Nancy is right: it's time to pull yourself out of your funk, James."
"I…don't know how."
"You've been grieving for a long time. You spend most of your time alone. You and I have hardly hung these last two years."
"Sorry. I—"
He cut me off. "No, no. It's not me accusing you of anything bad, and you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm just saying, I miss my friend. You needed time to go through things after Cerise passed. Totally understandable. But you can't stay miserable forever. It's time to get out there and doing things again. Spend more time with mates, maybe start dating. You have to move on."
A bit of resentment got hold of me, despite his kindness. "I don't want to move on. I still love her."
"That's not what I mean. I don't mean move on and forget her. I mean, move on and
keep living. Would she want to see you throw the rest of your life away by being sad all the time?"
"No." I sighed. "That wasn't her at all. She'd never want someone to suffer for her sake."
"You can't move on until you
start moving on. I'm not saying you've done anything wrong. But sometimes you just have to take the next step, move forward, heal. Even if it means you carry some scars and memories, things that will stay with you and shape you forever, at least allow the open wound to close. You're a great guy, James. I know you're hurt, but you've still got love in you to give. And there are others out there who might want to love you too. Like Monique."
Monique was a very beautiful server in the restaurant. Fairly new. We'd talked a couple of times, and she'd seemed nice. But dating? "I…don't know if I'm ready." Honestly, I hadn't even thought of that kind of thing at all.
"You'll never know if you're ready for anything until you actually give it a chance."
I sighed again, slipped out of his arm and leaned my back against the lockers. "Merde. I'm sorry I've been such a bad friend the past couple of years. I've been letting you down too."
"No. It's what friends are for. But there was a time to just stand by your side and let you process, and now there's a time to give you the kick in the backside you need. Yeah? Tough love." He smiled to take the sting out of the words.
I chuckled. "Yeah, you're right. I'll think about it. For real. I promise." I knew he was right, intellectually, even if I wasn't sure I really had the will to actually move forward. What was the point if Cerise wasn't there to move forward with?
Raj clapped me on the shoulder. "Good. Monique is beautiful, fun, and a breath of fresh air. If you don't get on that, you're gonna lose out on someone else who's special. And they don't come along every day." He mockingly acted disgusted. "I don't know why so many amazing women are into you."
I waved the idea away. "You don't know she's into me."
"I do. She hinted it to Sandy, and Sandy told me. Sandy tells me everything." He waggled his brows.
I snorted with amusement.
"You might win the lottery twice if you can bring yourself to go buy that ticket. You're a good person. You deserve to have someone love you again. And someone else would be lucky to have you love them back. Doesn't mean you love Cerise any less. Just means there's more love to go around, and it's time you started living your best life again."
I turned to open my locker and began to change. "Thanks. I'll, yeah, I'll give it some thought. Tonight. Promise."
I left the restaurant just after 2 AM, walking the eight blocks home, still embarrassed and guilty, but thanks to Raj, not as down as I might have been. It's crazy how important friends are. Him and a couple of other friends, the patience of coworkers, and the support of my parents, they were a big part of how I'd even survived the past two years without Cerise. But that's all I'd been doing: surviving. Barely. I'd never had the will to do more.
But Raj was right: Cerise wouldn't want me moping over her forever. I knew I'd never stop loving her or missing her. But I owed it to the others in my life to pick myself up again. They'd been supportive when I needed it the most. It was time to try harder. Not just for my sake, but for theirs too.
It was as dark as night ever gets in the city with all those streetlights and building lights on. Even at 2 AM, there were people on the roads. Which is why I didn't really pay attention to the lights coming at me as I strode across the crosswalk during a red light. I assumed they'd stop.
But the lights kept coming, growing larger. An engine gunned.
I finally broke out of my thoughts and looked over to my right. A silver and red box truck was roaring down the street, coming right at me, headlights blinding me, the driver not slowing in the slightest despite the red light and the fact that I was in the middle of the crosswalk. In fact, from the sound of the engine gunning in that last moment, the truck had sped up!
There'd been a moment of terrible pain, gut-wrenching regret, and panic at what I'd be leaving behind.
The next minute, I was in an endless desert, with sand dunes, clear blue skies, and a sun that wanted to murder me all over again. The only saving grace was that I was at a round oasis about the size of an Olympic swimming pool, with a small ring of dark greenery around it: grass, palms, some bushes. Paradise right? No. There was nothing to eat and nobody around.
I…did not handle the transition well. Dying was very difficult to process.
I spent the first two days in shock, loss, and anger, impatiently waiting for help to arrive. Since I was awake and aware, and there were no angels or demons, this didn't seem like some heaven or hell type place; I didn't think this was some afterlife. I assumed that it was some kind of isekai thing happening, but if it was, it sucked. No sexy goddess descending from the heavens with an apology and gifts to compensate for screwing up. No OP skills. No stats page. I'd just been abandoned, naked, at an oasis in a vast, empty desert with nothing but sun, sand, and tiny insects biting my most delicate bits whenever I sat down. Because I was naked.
I threw a tantrum, kicking a lump of garbage someone had left there, kicking golden sand, and stomping on clumps of emerald-green grass. Assuming some kind of omnipotent god was responsible, I shouted up at the clear, light-blue sky, "If I ever find out who's done this to me, I am gonna kick the deity right out of them!"
I quickly sunburned. Boiled lobsters looked less red than I did,
everywhere. It was all I could do to try to find a shred of shade under the thin palms and follow it all day as the sun moved through the sky. But palm trees don't cast a lot of shade. I was starving, too. But that didn't matter because I was pretty sure the thirst was gonna kill me first. Going days without liquids, in that heat, on top of my trauma at being sent there, was causing me to spiral into despondency.
The only water was in the oasis. It was super clear, but everyone knows you
don't drink unfiltered, wild water because you can get really sick. Animals and insects use it, leaving behind all kinds of bacteria and viruses. So I avoided it, hoping I might figure something else out.
So I sat in partial shade, burning to a crisp while I stared at a pool full of water I couldn't drink, muttering, "Thanks, system or god or aliens who did this to me. Really helpful. Go fuck yourselves."
That night, my body screaming out for food and water, tired and miserably burned, my mood sank lower and lower. I didn't how I'd gotten there or why, but as I sat and shivered in the cool night air, it was very tempting to just say screw it and give up. It had been all I could do just to wake up every day and go through the motions back home. But to now face this?
Why try?
When the next day dawned, I woke with the sun, because it was instantly bright and hot everywhere. I hadn't figured out what to do about the water situation. No help had come along, no travellers had arrived. I looked in all directions, but it was nothing but sand dunes as far as I could see. I had two choices: drink the oasis water to survive, or walk out into the sand and sun and say goodbye to it all.
Whether it was because of Raj's earlier pep talk or just fear of death, something in me wasn't ready to give up yet. So, I did it. I knelt at the edge of the oasis pool with my knees in the warm water. I stared at the liquid with longing and dread. "It's been four days, Waterholics Anonymous, since my last drink, and if I don't drink something, anything, I'm a dead man." I plunged in and drank the water. I couldn't help it. I was too thirsty.
I guzzled about three litres before I noticed the corpse rotting under the water.
Staring right up at me.
"Gah!" I leapt backwards and fell on my ass.
It scared the stuffing out of me. You never, ever want to look down into a pool of water and see anyone or anything staring back at you. It's just
wrong. Terrifying.
I later spent two hours reaping the consequences of drinking bad water. It
was polluted. "Because F my life, right? I deserve this." It started with cramps. Nothing too serious. Then it worked its way through me with dramatic speed. I barely got a hole dug in the sand outside the oasis in time.
By day five, I was running on fumes. I was starving so badly that I became lightheaded. I remained dehydrated. The dry air of the desert just yanked water from my body without asking because it did not care at all about consent. I knew I shouldn't drink more of the water because some dead thing was lying at the bottom of the pool. But I needed to hydrate, so I drank it again, even knowing what would happen.
I spent the afternoon ensconced over a fresh hole in the sand, not feeling well at all.
In fact, I spent so much time out in the open desert, away from the shade, burning while squatting over my little latrine holes, that I dragged a few ratty old palm fronds out there to make an umbrella-type enclosure as shelter from the sun. I stood in the super-hot sand, looking down at it, oddly proud. "I have been sent to a new world, and the first thing I did was build a toilet. Behold, my grand empire. Gaze upon my works, ye mighty, and despair." I sighed and returned to the oasis, where it wouldn't feel like I was walking on a stove top. I needed to make sandals.
I wished I could boil the water to kill the bacteria in it, but there were only a couple of dozen palm trees and some bushes around for fuel. Without the shade, I'd fry to death in the blazing sun since there wasn't a cloud in the sky, ever. Not that I had any idea of how to make fire without matches or a lighter. No one born after 1990 had any sort of bush or camping skills that worked in real life.
An idea hit me. I figured I'd try to filter the water. There was all that sand, right? I made a cylinder out of rocks and dead palm trunks, about a meter tall. I filled it with sand and poured the water through, catching it with a fallen palm frond at the bottom. Of course, the water was brown and muddy, but…it seemed to work. A little. The gritty sand didn't taste so bad. I went to the sand toilet somewhat less.
I spotted some kind of coconut or breadfruit thing hanging from some of the palms, each about the size of a 10-pin bowling ball. They were purple and hairy, like diseased rambutan. A few rotted ones were on the ground. They made durian smell like the world's best perfume. It was a bit like the worst smelly feet with an undertone of
holy hell, this is stupidly disgusting!
But one fell out of a tree on day six. I had been desperate for food for a long time. I spent probably an hour trying to crack the stupid thing open on a rock. Finally did it. Inside was really gorgeous, pink and blue flesh with little black seeds like in a dragonfruit. I ate some.
Flaming diarrhea. It
burned coming out.
I sighed in my new deluxe sand toilet, then moaned, "Fuck my life."
The next day, I learned that there were scorpions in the desert. They were the size of chihuahuas. Their crab claws were as big as a child's hands. Whenever they closed, it sounded like a pair of scissors snipping shut. That made my skin crawl.
Soon enough, I could tell that this really was some crazy fantasy or sci-fi world for sure. The lapdog-sized scorpions fired little lightning bolts out of their stingers with a crackling zap. And they really stung!
I did three laps around the oasis before the first one gave up chasing me. I was still naked, so I was flapping in the wind the whole time. Ever try sprinting in sand with a sunburned penis? Awesome good time. I prayed that whatever god had brought me there would get to experience the same.
Eventually, I escaped the scorpion. It wouldn't come into the water to get me, thank cheeses sliced. So there I was, starved, thirsty, and treading water. I looked down.
I could see the corpse under me. It was still staring with sightless eyes.
Good times.
The next day, I laboriously hauled the decomposing body out of my only water source. Probably should have done that earlier. I barely had the strength to do it. It took ages to dive down and pull it out. To my surprise, but not really, the dead person wasn't human. That made sense since I wasn't on Earth anymore, or so I definitely reasoned. It was a lizard person dressed in loose, dirty white robes like one of those desert people back home, bedwetters or bedwins or something, I couldn't recall their name. The robes made the dead guy heavy as heck with all that wet cloth, so I had to strip the corpse under water before I could even drag it up the bank.
He had no pockets and nothing on him except a ring. It was a fairly simple, silvery band with squiggly Arabic and Sanskrit-style symbols. When I went to pull it off his finger, it came off with a wet squelch and lots of gooey, decomposed flesh. The guy was mush, so he must have been down there a while. I washed the gunk off. Holding the ring up in the sunlight, I studied it.
I'd had enough experience with fantasy books and games to know you never, ever put on random jewelry you find somewhere because it could be cursed. On the other hand…it was unlikely the ring had led to the guy's death. I hadn't seen blood on the clothes, so I didn't know how he'd died. But he'd been wearing the ring, so maybe it was safe. Perhaps I was feeling a little reckless. I agonized for a whole minute or two before finally slipping the ring onto the middle finger of my right hand. I still had my wedding ring on my left.
As the metal slipped into place, much too large for me, my nerves were on edge. I released the ring, tense and waiting for something bad to happen. A second passed. Another. I let out a breath, relaxing. Too bad the ring was too large. I liked the writing style; it was neat. I reached to pull it off, thinking maybe I could hang it around me neck or something.
The ring trembled.
I froze.
The ring trembled more. Then it shrank fast around my finger with a pinch.
"Ow!" Panicking that the thing really was cursed after all, I tugged on it hard, trying to get it off. But it wouldn't budge, wouldn't move in the slightest. A sick feeling of dread took hold of me too. I stopped tugging and looked at the ring.
The symbols or writing glowed with an eerie red light.
"Aw crap. It's so cursed." I tried again to yank it off and failed, feeling extra stupid.
One symbol glowed white, and for a second, I thought, Oh, cool. Nice colour combination. Then white light shot out of the ring, and I may have screamed like a little girl in fright.
Luckily, nothing harmed me. A translucent white square appeared in the air over the ring like a hologram. A drawing of a fancy hourglass appeared with sand running through it. It didn't last long before the sand ran out and the hourglass faded. A single word appeared in white:
WELCOME
It faded, replaced with a word written in dark blood red:
FIGHT!
Then the words and holo screen faded back into the ring like nothing super weird and curse-like had happened at all. I felt sick to my stomach because I'd done something foolish. I tried even harder to pull the damn thing off my finger and get increasingly worried when it wouldn't come off. I resolved to never, ever put on unidentified magical items ever again.
What was this thing? The screen and words seemed like advanced tech, but could have just as easily been magic. It had told me to fight.
My head snapped up and I looked in all directions, worried that something was coming at me, that a fight was about to start. But there was nothing but the oasis and the desert. All was quiet. Frowning at the ring, I wondered if it had been some kind of general instruction or just cheering me on, like keep fighting the good fight. From the form and the words, the ring might be some kind of computer device or data terminal. Could be a communications device. I had no idea. I tried touching all the symbols, but nothing activated.
I tried speaking, "Hello, computer. Wake up. Screen on. On screen. Beam me up, Scotty." Nothing had any effect. I stared at the ring. "Great. Well, that's mysterious. I'm sure nothing bad will come of this at all." With nothing seeming to be done about the situation, I resolved to move on.
I was still standing over the dead lizard guy, and he was starting to melt in the heat. Extremely hungry still, I gave some serious thought to eating the guy. But the body was pretty rotten. So I decided to bury him out in the sand beyond the trees, away from my latrines. That took another age. It didn't help that one of those annoying little electric scorpions popped out of the sand to chase me. If only I'd had the strength to throw the corpse at it.
Good news, though. I now had clothes. They were the clothes of a dead lizard person who'd been rotting under water for who knew how long. And that's exactly what they smelled like.
I managed to make it to another bright dawn in the desert. Somehow, despite how sick they both made me, I was surviving on polluted water and poisonous fruit that smelled worse than I did. Maybe eating only a handful meant it harmed me less. The water filter seemed to be working a bit too. I only spent half the day squirting liquids in agony. But I remained in bad shape, still starving, thirsty, and dizzy at the slightest movement. My whole body was in pain from the nasty sunburn, my skin was tight, and every movement was misery. I would have been constantly crying tears if I'd had any water in my system to spare.
Sand is about as pleasant a replacement for toilet paper as you'd expect. Got a bit raw down there.
But even more good news arrived!
The palm trees were home to killer tarantula-style spiders the size of my hand, NOT including their legs. Because giant scorpions weren't enough of a challenge. Why not include something that suddenly drops out of the palm tree you were sitting under, wraps its hairy legs around
your entire head and then proceeds to bite the back of your skull over and over? I managed to rip the infuriating thing off, which wasn't easy because of course its legs have talons, and then I threw it on the ground as hard as I could, which did nothing and tried to stomp the assassin bug to death only for it crawl up under my brand new robes, which did not include underwear, and it took another bite out of some
really soft places.
I finally killed the thing, but was bleeding from places I'd really rather not be. Not to mention the wounds all over my head. I washed them in water that a guy had died in and rotted in. Super clean. I couldn't wait to see what kind of horrible infection that led to.
This world sucked.
I didn't have to wait long. By the next day, the wounds were very itchy.
My sunburns hurt like hell on fire. I wondered how the desert creatures survived and realized that they hid under the sand. The scorpion had been hiding that way before I had come along. So I buried myself as well under some wet sand to get away from the sun. It was much cooler, and I felt like an idiot for not doing it days earlier. Feeling stupid was becoming a dangerous habit.
There were no spiders that day. But I still considered burning down all the trees just in case there were more, even if it meant losing all my shade and food sources. Because screw spiders with a leg span like an umbrella.
That evening, I saw a scorpion watching me from across the oasis. Just eyeballing the hell out of me with its dozen eyes glinting in the setting sun with promises of murder. Because that's not creepy as can be, right?
I barely got any sleep that night because of that electric demon. Scorpions are nocturnal. I kept waking up, afraid it was stalking me. I huddled in my hole in the ground, hoping to avoid it. And any friends. The exhaustion and pain seemed never-ending. I was so tired of this trial.
Day eleven turned out to be a day of glory and death! Not my death, though.
I shouted up at the sky in triumph, "Muahahaha! Suck it, isekai world!"
I'd wondered if the dead guy had had anything else on him, so I'd taken a dive in the oasis. Rooting around in the mud at the bottom, I'd come up with a spear. A freakin'
spear, baby! It was nothing special, just a plain wooden shaft and triangular bronze head about the length of my forearm, probably cheap army issue or something.
Guess who took that spear and showed that lightning-throwing scorpion from hell who's the boss? Hint: it wasn't Tony Danza. Guess who danced all around the oasis like a lunatic, making all kinds of noise, taunting it until it came up out of the sand in an explosion of rage and lightning, expecting to kill my sorry ass only to get a face full of sharp bronze? Guess who stabbed it in the face until it had no face?
I screamed at it, which was probably reasonable given my unhealthy emotional state at the time, "Stupid, faceless, lightning bitch who kept shooting lighting bolts in my ass. Yeah, that's who's dead. BECAUSE FUCK YOU!!!" Catharsis takes many forms. Not all are pretty.
But wait. It got better.
We've all seen pics of people eating weird stuff. We've all laughed at the idea of eating a scorpion. Well, I finally did it.
There was a big, flat black rock on the edge of the oasis that sat in the sun all day long. It got super hot. If you splashed some water on it, it hissed and popped like a frying pan.
I cut the stinger off the scorpion. I didn't think it was poisonous because the stinger wasn't actually a barb, just a tiny quartz-like crystal, but why chance it? I tried to clean it; took some guts out. I had no idea what was edible. But I was so hungry, I'd eat just about anything. I fried the scorpion on the black rock for a good long while until that thing turned black too. I'd rather eat charcoal than get yet another bacterial infection. Not like I'd had enough of those, right?
I sat and bit into the crunchy specimen. It tasted like half-burnt seafood chicken. Yep, really disgusting.
I sighed. "I miss my wife's cooking."
I woke up with severe cramps in the middle of the night. Explosive conclusion to the scorpion saga.
The next day, a growing stench drifted on the wind. The patch of desert I'd been fertilizing was really starting to smell. "I hope that isn't going to attract any nasty monsters or something. Doom flag. Because I hate myself." I decided to start digging latrines a little deeper from then on.
Then, the impossible happened.
The scorpions couldn't bury themselves in the oasis because there was too much grass, palm tree roots, and such. They hid in the loose sand of the desert beyond. Mostly. Some seemed to come in and try to find shady places under the bushes. Wanting to keep the nasty things out of my home, I patrolled the oasis and killed a scorpion I found trying to hide in the shade of a large clump of tall grass that was providing a pool of shade. My trusty new spear made quick work of the thing.
Then the cursed ring on my finger flashed a few times, then glowed red.
I looked down at it in worry.
The white holo screen appeared above the ring. A single number was written:
1
It was written in blood red. That boded well. The number slid up, and stats appeared:
- Strength 12
- Speed 14
- Health 15
- Mana 8
- Endurance 5
Levelling. I couldn't believe it. The world actually had a video game system. Or the ring did. I'd levelled up. My first thought was — awesome! That excitement rapidly faded to worry.
This surely raised a whole slew of problems. Like disparity from unfair levels, abilities, and powers. As if capitalism hadn't been bad enough back on Earth, now imagine evil dictators also had super high power levels, and selfish billionaires possessed OP skills.
Tyrants probably ran wild in this world. Murder-hobos everywhere. You couldn't tell me that if you gave people super strength and speed and crazy magic skills, a bunch of them wouldn't abuse the hell out of it all the time for personal gain. It was probably pure chaos out there. Assuming there
were other people out there. It was entirely possible that I had been sent to a barren planet with nothing but electric scorpions and assassin spiders.
Then, I recalled the lizard guy. I guessed there
were people. Couldn't wait to get my ass handed to me by some pissant narcissist with a temper and higher levels. Yay.
I also got a skill: [Lesser Resistance: Disease].
That…was pretty cool, actually.
The next day, my wounds hurt. A bunch began leaking dark yellow pus from my head, face, neck, and yeah, more tender places. All were definitely infected. If the skill I'd gained was doing anything, I couldn't tell. I had a runny nose and aching muscles, so I probably had a fever. It was fine, though. I'd just pop over to the hospital and then the pharmacy, all handily provided by a wonderful universal health care system. Some antibiotics would clear things right up.
Oh, wait. I couldn't.
Because I'd been bloody isekaied, if that was even a word.
I was so sick of the situation. It wasn't fair. Why was life so often so unfair? I'd just gotten to the point of thinking about trying to heal and move forward after losing the love of my life, and then this happened. Taken away from everything and everyone else. The friends and family who'd supported me, the life I'd had. Gone. All of it. Just so I could be tortured in some desert until I starved to death.
The fever got worse. The next day, I could barely do anything all day. I just hid in the damp sand hole, in the shade of the palm fronds, willing myself to get better while my mind wandered.
Thanks to the fever, I began hallucinating or remembering:
Cerise and I argued today. I don't even know why. Stupid stuff. And…hell, I know it's my fault. I just couldn't stop myself. She's so beautiful and wonderful, the light of my world, and I hate looking bad in her eyes. So I tried to defend myself, argue out of it, even blamed her at one point for something not even true.
I'm so ashamed of myself. I love her so much. Why can't I just be honest with myself? With her? Admit when I screw up? I'm so scared to apologize, even though I know I should, that it's the right thing to do.
I don't deserve her love. Never have. But seeing the look on her face and the pain I've caused, I've never felt so worthless. I need to be better. For her. Or my love is a lie.
That night, another scorpion found me. It crawled by, seemingly unaware of me entirely until I saw it, flinched from within the hideout, and the palm fronds over my head rustled. I barely had the strength to kill it. Got a fresh electric burn on top of the sunburns. Awesome.
I stared at the dead bug long after it had died. Eventually, I just shook my head and flicked the dead thing away with my spear in disgust. Then I decided I was just gonna stay in that damp hole I'd dug, buried in sand, palm fronds over my head, until I felt better. I was too weak from the fever to eat or drink anything.
I was definitely dying. I wasn't sure I cared anymore.
A thought slipped into my syrupy brain at some point, and I darkly chuckled to myself. "Heh. I'm already buried. If I die, I'll have dug my own grave. Literally."
The fever grew worse. I started talking to the air:
"There were potatoes on the barbecue. I asked because Sasquatch said so."
"Do you feel like Marly isn't always bright red?"
"I hate Mondays. No, seriously, potatoes."
"I'm falling! I'm done now. Holy crap, that was scary."
"We need to seriously consider better security, or
all the Batmans are gonna steal the potatoes.
All the Batmans."
At one point, it seemed like a really smart idea to lick the pus.
I licked the pus.
The pus was gross.
Something foul began stinking up the hidey hole. I pinched my nose, grossed out. "Did someone mess themselves?"
I looked down. "Oh, that would be me. Heeheeheehee."
Lost, my mind scattered all over the place, I drifted back in time. In a way, I was lucky because I recalled one of the best moments of my life in shocking detail:
Cerise, I love you so much. I'm sorry I'm not good with words. I wish I was, like, a poet or something. I wish I could share just…how big this feeling is. It's like my chest is going to explode and swallow me whole. Ok, that's stupid, but I made you laugh, so that's a win, right?
You're the most beautiful woman in the world. You're fun and kind. So patient. Wise. I've never respected anyone so much.
I never knew happiness, real happiness, until I met you. Every day feels more fun now. Even when you're not by my side, I'm thinking about you. All the time. The world literally feels more colourful. You make me more positive. More hopeful about the future. Thank you for that. You'll never know how grateful I am.
I don't know why you're marrying a lump like me, but I swear, I will always love you and honour you, and do everything I can to make your dreams come true.
My wedding vows. We'd kissed after, and I'd cried. I remembered that, and for once, I hadn't cared if anyone had seen me because she'd been grinning and crying too, and I'd been so stupidly happy. The honeymoon sex had been like starlight cocaine on steroids.
I woke up in the cooling desert evening, sweating like a pig and stewing in filth. It was hard to think straight. Everything hurt. My stomach felt like it was gnawing away at me from the inside. I was thirsty, dizzy, and light-headed. I was pretty sure I'd been out of it for a while because of the fever, but I didn't know for how long. Had it been hours or days?
I weakly crawled out of the hole and drank from the edge of the pool. I just lay on my stomach, face in the water, making a bit of effort not to drown but also not entirely caring if I did. I knew I had to drink slowly or I'd probably vomit it back up. Not that it would matter because I'd just be on the sand toilet again later. Yay.
What was I even fighting for?
My whole body was in pain. I was exhausted. On an intellectual level, I knew this is when we're at our worst and we think our darkest thoughts. But at that moment, I thought about just letting myself fall into the pool. Killing myself. Maybe that's what had happened to lizard dude. Emotionally, the lure was strong.
But then I thought about what Cerise would think of that if she were looking down on me. Of me giving up like that. She'd be so disappointed in me. What kind of way is that to repay her love and faith in me? I hated myself for even thinking of suicide. I hated being weak.
I dug a fresh hole on the edge of the water. It took forever because I was so feeble from the fever. I crawled inside with my spear and pulled the palm frond over my head again. At least if the infection and fever killed me, it wouldn't be my fault. I drifted off again, into dreams or sleep, I wasn't sure.
Another scorpion woke me in the middle of the night. It heard me or saw me move. Scorpions seemed really alert to movement or vibrations. Lightning bolt to my face. I stabbed once, missed. Lightning bolt to the shoulder. Could barely see anything, even with the blanket of stars overhead. No moon that night. Just kept stabbing with the spear, feeling weak. Eventually, I got it.
I must have collapsed and gone back to sleep for a while. Woke up with the sun up. The dead scorpion was looking iffy, but I took it over to the cooking rock and baked it or fried it or whatever. Ate it. My head was so foggy that I couldn't really think straight. I cooked some of the stinky fruit too. Pretty sure it had gone bad, but I was beyond caring. I think cooking it or maybe letting it rot weakened the poison because it hurt less going through me later.
Food gave me enough energy to filter some water. I did that a couple of times before I was just too tired to move anymore. I crawled back into the dirty hole I'd been in, still sick as could be. This world sucked.
At some point, I started singing,
Jingle Bells,
Batman smells,
Robin laid a potato.
Catwoman hissed
Ivy and Harley kissed
And Joker needs more ammo
Potato!
I woke up late one morning. I felt absolutely spent, and my limbs were like jelly. I was like a half-dead kitten that had been stepped on. But the ache in my muscles was gone. My head felt clearer. The fever had passed.
[Lesser Resistance: Disease] had probably saved my life. Maybe having system skills wasn't so bad.