Savanto

Six

A flock of dark birds—a sight as rare as it was eerie in the desert—hovered in circles, like a whirlwind of blackness, above the distant heap of bloodied corpses, dismembered and placed in a warped, artistic fashion. The heads, detached from the bodies, served as the garnish of that nightmarish pile of corpses, all turned outwardly for any travelers to look into the emptied eye sockets of Mosaran soldiers that had been unfortunate to meet their end in such a brutal way. It was shadowed by the red sun that hid under the horizon.

Santiago and the line of a dozen riders observed such a scene from the peak of the closest dune, the smell of rot was rank, knocking back several of the warriors, once stoic and fearless in the face of the unforgiving desert. The woman—the guide in which everyone relied on to navigate the sands, removed the veil from her face and leaned to a side so she could puke. Santiago did not feel the impact of the rotten flesh, but just by looking at his fellow travelers and the gruesome scenery before him was enough to send an unpleasant growl to his stomach and dizziness he could barely control, able to stand with his back erect so not to show any weakness.

"Master... the madness! Who would do this to the Mosarans?" Zamani asked, shaking its head in anxiety.

"Easy Zamani," Santiago said, caressing the side of the Elekron's neck.

"Can we leave?"

"Shesh" Santiago commanded, "If we do now, I don't know what the Mosarans would do."

The young Shial avatar eyed the tall, muscular, and cloaked man he had come to know as Sunso—or asshole, in his mind—while uttering his thoughts to his companion.

"Who did this?" one of the riders asked, with an unsettling voice, "I've never seen something like this in the desert, not in all my years serving as a patrolman. 

"Was it a monster?" said another.

"What monster erects a monument of death and gore like this?" Sunso retorted, trying to keep his cool, "Captain, what do we do?"

Despite the findings, the captain did not budge, showing resilience to the explicit violence displayed before him, yet as Santiago lingered in his discrete observation of him, he could see how disturbed the commanding officer of that patrol was, taken aback by the findings. He did not blame the grisly Mosaran—what stood down the slope came from the imagination of the twisted, the evil.  

"No choice," the captain said, breaking his silence,  "I see green garments among those killed, they are members of the Sha's Armies, let's head down there and investigate. How many do you see Sunso?"

"Gods, they must be about thirty, no... fifty in all." said the tall man as he leaned over to better glance at the heap, "The birds have not landed on the bodies, meaning that they have just found it, probably making sure no other predators or living things remain to steal their prize."

The captain looked at the birds, then to the horizon.

What's it going to be captain? thought Santiago.

"I really hope he decides to leave, this place has been desecrated..." Zamani said, responding to its master's thoughts.

"Oh? How come it's desecrated, don't you leave the carcasses of those you kill lying in the desert, my friend?"

"Master, look at the bodies, whoever—or whatever—did this did not feed itself on the Mosarans, it just killed them for sport... and the way they were arranged..." Zamani shook its head again in utter disgust.

"All right, let's go." the captain commanded, reading his horse to go down, yet the beast refused, utterly chary of what laid ahead, "Go, you coward beast!" the captain yelled, kicking its sides with his boots, punishing his mount for its insolence. But the animal refused nonetheless, even backing down a few steps.

"The beast knows better," Zamani commented.

"Look who's talking," Santiago retorted. 

"Yes, I am, we of the 'Beast' Realm know better than to stand in the open while we contemplate this... abomination."

"All right, I'm sorry."

"Wait captain," Sunso exclaimed, interrupting the beating by extending his hand, "the ones responsible for this s*******r could be lurking around, waiting for more to take the bait. For all we know, that might've been the way the murderers piled so many corpses."

The captain stilled his horse, giving up as he considered the possibility Sunso had opened to him.

"There isn't a single soul a few miles away, don't you think we would see them coming from a distance?" the captain remarked.

"Not from that angle," Sunso explained, "the bodies are placed just where this dune ends and another one begins, it is the perfect dump for bodies and for new prey to come and investigate without being ambushed."

The asshole seems to think, Santiago said, what a waste of human—or Mosaran—resource.

"Your observations regarding the terrain are on point, as always," commended the captain, "what do you propose? Honor dictates we give rest to the restless in the battlefield or... whatever this is."  

"I happen to have an idea captain, without compromise."

"Speak."

Sunso pointed at the masked, young man riding, "Send the slave to investigate while the patrol guards the perimeter, with that rod of his he should  be able to defend himself, plus the Elekron can help, he is the perfect candidate."

Well, s**t.

The captain considered Sunso, eyeing Santiago with a renewed interest. Not even once had the scarred and seemingly experienced man looked at the Warrior-Servant he had mysteriously decided to escort until "he got him to the right track to Zalm" the way he was right now. There was relief in his all-golden eyes. It was so irritating, Santiago had never felt so disposable, not even when he was betrayed back in the real world.

The feeling of being used, betrayed, was coming back to him, and he did not want it yet it still emerged from a previously hidden darkness in his heart and into his more superficial, direct psyche. 

The blurry picture of a woman he had worked so hard to forget was now coming back to the young man. Her shape, curved and perfect—he remembered. Above all else, the smile, that seductive, irresistible, out-of-this-world smile.

The smile!

Santiago arched his body, holding his chest tightly with both arms, leaning his face towards Zamani's head.

He ached, but not of fear, not of disgust, he could feel an unseen wound within him tearing up his heart, a nameless pain that drowned his mind and choked his throat. Then the anger came in, invading his mind, his thoughts. He could not seize it, nor stop it, he was losing control of himself.

Shit, stop... Stop! He yelled inside.

"Master," the reptile's voice was heard in his mind like a small whisper, he had lost focus.

The captain blinked, "But... he's property of the Lord of Ekur."

You liar, you want to do it, so do it, captain! he thought.

"He is a slave captain, make no mistake, expensive or not, armed with fancy looking relics or not, he is nothing. And what better way to die than to do so serving the Sha's army?" Sunso said, looking at the hurting slave with complacent eyes, "send him over, check on the bodies, and then come back, we will stand guard."

Damn them.

"Well, I suppose it can't be helped."

Damn them all to hell!

Santiago did not understand what was going on, he wanted to remain calm, analytic, just how he perceived himself, yet he hurt so much. Static began to appear, blurring his sight, distorting the player interface on the edges of his peripheral view. It would seem the system could not link the neural pathways on his brain when he was under that much strain.

Pathetic, he thought, I can't even play this game to distract myself. It's all the same! The reviews were right, Savanto is an alternate reality, this is no escape from it, it's another variant!

"Slave!" The captain shouted, "See what you can find, and make of that, we will remain here."

Still arched in his rider's chair, Santiago turned his face towards the captain.

"Shrug it off, coward," Sunso commented, "you heard the captain."

He could feel all the eyes on him. He did not care.

Whatever, I should probably just die and leave this god-forsaken place, this was all a mistake.

"Zamani, let's do this."

The Elekron did not move.

"Zamani..." Santiago repeated, annoyed, "this is an order."

A message appeared in front of him.

Your relationship with Zamani has decreased -10

"Zamani?"

"If you go, what happens to me?"

"What?"

"I chose you, master, I chose you because you held the spirit of Ishkur, the very patron god that protects my kin, I saw potential in you."

"Leave it, Zamani, let's just go."

"Slave! Are you listening?" Sunso yelled, "the captain commands you to go and check the bodies, now!

"Zamani, this is no time to talk about your people."

"You know what happens to Elekrons that join the surface dwellers as their companions? As their mounts? We are frowned upon, outcasts, as we drop our pride as the marshals of the desert in favor of traveling with your folk. If you die, I die."

"Zamani, go! That's an order!"

Santiago pushed his hips forward, clearly indicating his wish, yet, like the horse before it, Zamani refused. The reptile raised its upper body, violently shaking off its rider, and then raised its rear, effectively jettisoning Santiago—and spear alike—towards the slope.

The crowd of riders laughed at the scene.

"Nay, you deal with whatever issues you have, master, I will leave to hunt and come back once you have collected yourself," declared Zamani. 

Santiago laid on the sand, his masked face down eating it. Not only he was sunk in the dune's slope, but he also wanted to emotionally and mentally sink there too, never come back.

"Useless Warrior-Servant, you should've been assigned to more menial duties, like cleaning the Lord's palace."

Just... let me finish this, please, Santiago said, eyeing the log off button—still offline.

He wanted to cry, but his character would not. He had never felt so trapped in his life except for that one moment that had sent his usual, rational, and mature self downhill, literally.

He heard footsteps coming towards him—probably Sunso walking to beat him to a pulp until he died or obeyed. He would not obey, so he might as well kill him.

"Come now, servant," said a feminine voice, "Let's just check the heap of corpses and leave."

Santiago lifted his head, turned sideways, seeing that the guide, the woman who had helped him earlier—and had refused to give her name out of fear—was kneeling next to him, grabbing his heavy body and trying to raise it. A sudden embarrassment made Santiago stand up on his two feet, whilst the woman joined him.

"Yes, let us, please," he said coldly.

"Such a worrisome servant, you are, follow me," she said, walking towards the gore sculpture.

"Guide! What do you think you are doing?" the captain said, "Come back here."

"We're already on it captain, let us see this to the end."

"Damn it, you filthy, Shial-loving b***h, the captain ordered you to..."

"Very well!" the captain said.

Sunso sealed his lips, shocked at the captain's endorsement.

Santiago looked at the woman. Now that they stood together on their feet, he could see how small she was compared to the rest. She was probably a head and a half shorter than his avatar.

"You sure about this?" he asked, now suddenly concerned, as he remembered the last scolding she had received because she had lingered too much with him, this rebellious behavior would not go unpunished, if not by the captain, by the hideous Sunso next to him.

"Why do you ask, are you worried about me? I have somehow numbed to the stench and I have my sword ready, so stop senselessly worrying about me and let us go."

"But Sunso..."

"He's angry, rather furious, isn't he? Good. Better to rot with these corpses that once belonged to strangers than to stand next to him with the evening's cold shivering my spine for another hour while you do your thing. Don't you worry about me, come on, servant, walk!"

It did not take them long to get a few inches away from the garnish of that eerie sculpture—the heads. They had all been ripped off of their eyes, leaving dark sockets instead, and their cheeks and lips had been positioned to emulate smiles, grins of mockery to their savage fate. Santiago passed them to look at the dismembered limbs and torsos that formed the main pile. The only closer could the young man notice how precise the assembling had been, for it was more than just accumulated body parts, deathly effigies made of limbs stood out like spikes—they were legs and arms, each of them carved in a language Santiago did not understand, and the fingers twisted and broken to form faces with blood eyes painted in the palms and knuckles.

This scene, or event, was undoubtedly written by a Lovecraft fan, Santiago said, trying to keep his heart at a calmer pace. The pain was still there, but he had to wear it off somehow if he was going to see the end of this. The woman had already made another sacrifice to help him for the second time. That unknown drive that led him to save Zamani the previous night  

The guide unsheathed her sword.

"I know this writing," she said, sickened.

"What does it say?" Santiago asked, curious.

"They are prayers, offerings to Uri'Akk, the blood goddess."

"Why would they kill soldiers to raise such a monument to her?"

"Wait... this skull has more carvings to it."

As she examined the writings, Santiago reached out to touch the sculpture,

"Stop, don't touch anything."

"Why?"

"It talks about the Eyes of Uri'Akk," she uttered, "This is not just a monument," she turned to the garnished heads, the lack of eyes, she then turned to Santiago with a pale look, "It is a ritual."

"What?"

The guide cleared her throat, ready to enunciate:

O' accursed mother, daughter of war and injustice,

watcher of those who see without eyes.

Let us see you favor the strongest,

those who refused to ogle with lies.

And instead gave in to the gift of the Sadist. 

"Should you be reading that?" Santiago asked, "How do you know it's not..." 

There was a sudden tremor, just as if the woman's words had awakened something. 

"s**t, I hate being right sometimes... this game is so predictable it's scary."

At that moment, they had not perceived the sun's fall, but as soon as the light abandoned the dunes' peak, leaving nothing but shadows, a sliming substance, pitch black with red overtones, emerged from the bodies. Santiago stepped back, the woman with him. He readied his polearm, ready to fight as his eyes fixated on the slimy liquid that flowed towards the top of the heap of bodies, it then formed a stick-like shape, followed by an ocular organ with is lids closed.

Behind the newly appeared abomination, a mob of humanoid figures, all covered in b****y rags, twenty in all, armed with clubs and maces, also arose from the sand in front of the one the riders had appeared to—they had been laying on the ground, bidding their time for the night to come, becoming one with the dune.

It was a trap.

What's up with these nights? Do the developers love attacking players every evening? Santiago thought.

"Servant! Ready your rod." the woman shouted.

"What?"

"Your weapon," she continued, "it's attuned to Ishkur's power! Ishkur and Uri'Akk are bitter enemies, if you have a trump card now is the time to use it!"

"Oh, right!"

He thrust the spear into the ground, creating a new lightning rod.

"Step back!" he ordered, as the electrons began to rise, to c***k.

The guide distanced herself just in time for the lightning to descend, irradiating the clouds above with blue light and crashing down on the rod, which was just a few meters away from the pile of bodies and the eye-like monster. The ensuing shockwave electrified the sand, crystalizing it and setting the bodies on fire, their decomposition susceptible to the scorching attributes of Ishkur's Blessing.

The dark, evil-looking ocular organ shrieked in pain before the divine lightning. It opened its eye, revealing a yellow sclera and blood iris that, despite no lid nor brow to help give it emotion, was the very personification of hate, violence, and the hunger for more violence, just to see blood flow—and it had its eye fixed on the one-eyed mask of Santiago's avatar.

"I... I think I angered it."

"You bet you did, that was incredible." the guide said.

Santiago felt a sense of awe at the power he had unlocked so far. He had defeated the Mangallu, who towered before him, he could certainly take out a monster that was even more susceptible to his lightning.

A s***h hit him from behind. His back arched backward, responding to the pain. His HP lowered, a message appeared before him.

Critical Strike

What? Who?

He turned to face his attacker, ready to defend himself, but his arms lowered the moment he saw the guide with the sword bloodied. She twirled the curved blade, toying with the splashing blood that came out of it and landed in the sand. The fire was still spreading, illuminating the slope between the dunes where the two small contingents stood, watching.

"You...?"

The woman removed the veil from her face. Her expression had changed, now looking more vicious, her golden eyes fixated on him like a predator looking at its prey. She then smiled whilst staining her mouth with his blood, sending a shiver down Santiago's "Hardskin" spine.

"Yes... I," answered the woman, "I will be your opponent."

"Charge!"

The warcry of the riders followed the captain's roar, as they rode down into the pit. The unknown attackers first threw a volley of spears at them, killing off three of the riders, before jumping into the fray as well. The Eye of Uri'Akk, the eldritch monster atop the burning bodies, remained transfixed in the duel happening between the two outcasts.

Santiago grabbed the polearm and tightened his hand, transmitting the power of Ishkur to the weapon. The woman's smile grew wide, to the point where her cheeks were forced and her eyes opened wide to sustain it. She looked as crazed as the eyeless faces all over the place.

"You are indeed a strange Warrior-servant, I shall have my fun with you first, before adorning my monument to the Sadist Goddess with your hardskin limbs. My greatest intrigue, however, will be to see what's behind a Shial's mask."

Santiago breathed in, then out, a new resolve had appeared. He felt the chains of being manipulated by a woman coming up to torment him again. But a thought had pervaded any sense of emotional ache—the woman before him was not real, and so he could fight her, and defeat the monster that had come out that Mosaran guide.

"Like hell I'll let you," He responded.