"I don't think you have to be who they say you are."
-Heard by a friendly woman after revised number 43.
Coras shoved two trees apart, ripping them from their roots, and making way for his armor's girth. The jungle was dense with vines, bushes, and trees. It was the fastest route to his current destination however.
After he had dealt with the Elves, Harlem had given mana for his armors repairs, as well as given him both coin and information.
Said information however, required marching through one of the densest jungles on the continent. The jungle was actually the border line for Navahownum and Teilax. Though Coras had never cared much for the borders, even though he had once fought for them.
That had been centuries ago however, and that time had taught him an undeniable truth—men would always change, and with them, so would borders. It might take decades or even centuries, but everything changed eventually.
Coras paused, he had found a narrow section of the river he needed to cross. He prepared himself, then jumped. He jumped a good two-hundred feet across and landed deep in the mud on the other side.
The mud splattered all over his armor and Coras moved to step, but a massive green snake slithered out of the water a moment later. It circled around Coras quickly and began to squeeze.
The snake—now known as a Firn Snake—was enormous. Though Coras knew them by the name "Mountain Snakes." And like the name implied—the snake's girth was easily ten feet in diameter.
Its length could be anywhere from a hundred and fifty to nearly four hundred feet. The last time Coras had fought one of these things, he'd nearly been killed. His arms were forced against his sides, and the snake tried continually to crush him.
"You're taking my time," Coras said nonchalantly, "get out of my way."
Coras raised his arms, forcing the massive creature's body to separate off of him. He got his gauntleted hands high enough to grip the creature's girth.
The beast spasmed in pain and brought its head around to try swallowing Coras whole. Punching the creatures wouldn't do much good, their ability to absorb shockwaves was impeccable.
So Coras reached up, grabbed the now exposed fang, stopping the snake dead, and tore it free. The snake rushed to go back into the river. But before it could get away, Coras drove the fang into the snake's body.
Coras turned, then continued down his path.
According to Harlem's information, there should be a saint somewhere in the jungle. A saint said to grant any man or woman their wish, so long as they triumphed through the forest.
Coras didn't for a second think this to be true, a saint granting any wish was just gossip among men. Legend to drive the desperate and the greedy to their deaths.
If it were not for the fact that his previous lead had been bringing him past this area, he wouldn't have bothered. However, rumors come from somewhere. This one could have been from some drunkard, or it could have been from an event of some sorts.
Harlem had said that a group of soldiers died in the jungle, all except one. That man had found the saint and wished for his and his comrades' safe return out of the jungle.
Apparently the soldiers had been revived from the dead in front of the asking soldier's very eyes, then had been escorted safely out.
Coras soon spotted the mountain the legends talk about, the one with a peak like a perfect pyramid. Coras jumped—his first leap took him several dozen stories high. When he reached the peak of his jump, he jabbed his hand into the mountain to get a good hold. He then pulled himself up and jabbed another hand into the mountain side.
He kept going—one hand after the other. The action didn't tire him, he could go far longer than any regular mountain climber. That said, it still took him time. When he reached the top he sat down to rest. He wasn't tired, he wasn't even winded. But his armor needed time to regenerate the mana it lost.
The armor worked strangely—when he exerted himself to a certain point it would start to run low on mana and required him to sit still for a time.
Coras felt something shift—at first he thought his armor moved, but when he looked up he saw the forest floor right in front of him.
He looked up the mountain side, and found the areas where he had climbed. He had somehow been transported back down to the ground.
Coras thought for a moment. He should get back to his hunt, but the fact that he was safely on the forest floor, rather than near the top of the mountain told him that this saint could indeed exist. When his helm regenerated—he stood, then jumped, and began scaling the mountainside again.
Coras climbed, he had been at it for three days now, and every time his hand touched the top, he was transported back down to the forest floor. He should have given up after the first day, and continued his hunt. But what was happening could very well suggest that the legends weren't legends after all.
He didn't hope, he didn't feel frustration at the fact he had been going at if for as long as he did. He hadn't felt any emotions since the day his hunt started. He couldn't be curious, or hurried, he could even feel indifferent, he just was.
Coras was driven by a purpose, and while he felt no need nor desire to fulfill that purpose, he did believe that it should be done. Of course that wasn't how he always thought.
It wasn't until his grandfather begged the question: "Should a man do what needs to be done because he feels it should be? Or should he do it because it simply needs to be done?"
Coras reached the platform, he prepared to jump again the moment his hand touched it. He paused, waiting for his transportation to happen—it didn't. He climbed up, then looked around.
"If you're here you might as well show yourself!" Coras shouted, "I have come to ask something of you."
"Who are you and what do you want?" Coras turned to the man who spoke.
The man was sitting down on the edge of the cliff—where Coras had been climbing—his legs dangling off. The man's voice was deeper than average, and his hair was short. His frame bespoke a man toughened through war, not bulky but powerful.
His form exuded more than just a strong frame however—confidence spilled out of him more than any other Coras had seen. Even with his back to Coras, his posture suggested someone who was the hunter in their current situation.
The man turned his head, and his eyes made Coras step back, and fall back. It was not out of fear, nor any desire on Coras' part. My armor acted on its own, Coras thought, did this man do something? He didn't use any mana so far as I can tell.
No… he was using mana, but it wasn't flowing in any general direction like it should be. The man was exuding mana in every direction at once.
"That shouldn't be possible," Coras said.
Even in his long life, he'd never seen anyone, man or otherwise use mana in such a way. It was as he said, the act shouldn't have been possible.
Mana could be manipulated for sure—but you needed glyphs, chants, or pulxed items to do the actual manipulating. For a man to use his body for such a purpose would go against the laws of the world.
"You've got quite the sharp eye then," the man stated casually. He stood up.
"You are breaking the world's law, tell me how?" Coras asked.
If he could learn how this man did what he did, perhaps his hunt wouldn't be in vain.
"Is that your wish?" the man asked.
Coras thought for a moment, "No," he said. "If you truly grant wishes then I—"
"No," the man cut Coras off.
"No?" Coras asked.
"No," the man repeated. "I do not grant any wish asked of me."
"What should I do to gain such a wish then?" Coras asked.
"You leave," the man replied, "and grant it on your own. I can take you out of this forest—you were rather persistent in seeing me after all. But I will not give you anything else."
Coras paused, thinking. If this man would only perform one act for him, he could either ask for the secret, or to be taken out on the other side. Either one would be beneficial.
The secret would help his hunt, and getting to the other side—which would normally have taken him several weeks, would take him only one. If he included the three days of climbing.
"May I ask how you bend the natural laws?" Coras said, "as well as ask you to bring me to the north-west side of the jungle?
"No," the man replied.
Coras nodded, then stopped himself from speaking, a thought occurring to him. The man said he wouldn't grant just any wish that is asked of him. Coras had implied some sort of trial but the man deflected. Coras didn't know whether or not he was making a mistake, but if his guess was correct…
From the start the man gave off a sense of authority, as if he was in control of everything.
Coras could win, so he charged with a thrown fist. The man disappeared, and Coras glanced around. Something strong hit him from behind, sending him into the mountain.
The stone shattered on impact, and a miniature rockslide buried him. Coras climbed out a moment later, his armor was dented, though the strike should have done more than make a simple dent.
"You've got some guts, I'll give you that!" the man shouted, Coras looked up at him. The man stood tall, and his light brown eyes stared at him with a mix of excitement and anger. He appeared right in front of Coras. "You should have just walked away friend," the man's hand formed into a claw shape, and a grin formed on his face.
Coras pushed himself out and swung.
Coras appeared at the jungle's edge, his armor was scarred with dents and chips. At least he brought me to the north-west edge, Coras thought. He had assumed the man would simply throw Coras off the cliff after he was finished toying with him. But he had been fairly nice—considering he had been attacked.
Couldn't even land a hit, Coras acknowledged, it's been a while since I've been beaten. Coras shook his head—I wasn't beaten, I was thrashed, like a feline playing with its wounded prey. There was no resentment in the thought, no anger or frustration. Just a reminder that he could be beaten.
He began walking. The man had been ridiculously strong, strong enough to make Coras think him a Sasscare—but his eyes had been human. While Sasscares could take the bodies of other creatures, their eyes gave them away.
Whether they were hollow or too filled with life, no Sasscare had the skills necessary to mimic the human soul. All but one, Coras thought. She was a special case however.
Though she could have disguised herself as that man; Coras doubted that. Sasscars might be able to change shape, but their personalities were the same no matter how much time passed. That man had been an entirely different anomaly.
Coras continued walking until he found the next city. The place wasn't as great as that of a real city, but it would have markets and taverns, maybe even a few callers. Places and people that would talk. And with his coin pouches full, he should be able to continue his trail.
That said however, something was off. The moment someone saw Coras they either looked away or shuffled back. Street stalls were full but no one was shouting their goods.
Groups of five or more men were spread out, watching with a perpetual scowl. What had happened to this place wasn't Coras' business. He would leave once he gathered the proper information.
Coras kicked a stone poking out of the ground. Rather than tripping him, the stone shattered from the force. It wasn't just the streets however, the stone and wooden buildings were ill maintained. Though there were some people around, no one spoke, and not even children were making any noise.
"E-excuse me sir," a quiet voice sounded.
Coras kept walking, he stopped when a child ran ahead and stopped ahead of him. The child was teary eyed. Coras watched the child, waiting for him to speak. The child fidgeted, then brought something out of his pocket.
"Would you like to buy this sir?" the child asked, holding out a simple chain.
Coras patted the kids head, then walked around him. Coras couldn't tell for sure, but the child had seemed distressed, and he had once seen a father tending to his upset toddler by patting his head.
It was likely the fastest way to get the child to leave him to his hunt. It didn't work. The child darted ahead again, chain in hand.
"You can have it for free sir," the child said—his hand barely reaching to Coras' waist.
The child stuck it in Coras' hand, then ran off. Coras let it happen without a question. It had gotten rid of the child and hadn't cost him a coin, so there wasn't anything to waste.
Coras moved to toss it but paused—the armor resisted letting him, only for a brief moment however. So Coras held it up, inspecting it. This was osmium. Pure, untainted osmium. The same metal his armor was made of.
Coras turned back to where the child had run off, but he was already gone. He looked back at the chain, the links were very detailed. Coras didn't know how his armor was made, but he had once hired someone to fix it the first time it had been damaged.
The greatest metallurgist he had found gave it back to him—explaining that the metal was too dense, and that modern technology wasn't advanced enough to shape it. He had to rely on the suit's self-restoration to fix it. Something he hadn't known it could do until them
So the fact that someone had made a detailed and pure chain spoke volumes. Coras held onto the chain—if the child had known what it was he could have gotten a good amount of money for it.
"I told you not to spend my money," a man said in an angry whisper. Coras continued walking, ignoring the person speaking. "What do you think this is, gold?"
"No," a woman said, "the woman called it osmium, I thought it might sell well."
Coras immediately glanced over. He turned and walked over to the apparent couple. The man quieted the moment Coras grew near.
"Who gave that to you?" Coras asked the woman.
The two didn't respond, the man looked in shock at the eight foot armored giant. While the woman shrunk down, hiding behind the man. Coras brought out three full raches, holding it out to the couple.
"Tell me who gave that to you," Coras said.
The woman just stared at Coras, but the man was looking at the money.
"Some woman, I don't know who," the man said.
"What did she look like?" Coras asked.
"She was tall," the woman said, snapping out of her trance.
Coras looked towards the woman. "Any other distinct feathers?"
"Um," she replied. "She had a square face with a curvy figure. And I think she was missing a finger."
"Which finger?" Coras asked.
The woman stuttered, rubbing one arm. "I think it was her left ring finger."
Coras handed her the coins, then took out another. "I'll give you this if you tell me where she went."
The woman looked at the man, then back to Coras. "She told me she was going to Barista Tavern. I don't know why she mentioned it—it didn't connect to our conversation."
Coras nodded and turned the words over in his mind… "Did she say anything else, even if you didn't understand it, can you mimic the sound?"
The woman raised an eyebrow, then opened her mouth to speak. "I don't know if I can replicate it, but ... It was something along the lines of "Rad keys dn, guyalp enod ew era." I don't think I've ever heard the language before."
Coras nodded, then left them. The woman had done well enough, but Coras guessed the actual words were "RaeD KeEs dNa EdiH gNiyAlP EnoD ew Era."
I never recalled we were playingNearie, Coras thought.
He found the tavern a few streets from where he was directed. Just like every other place in the city, it was quiet. His entrance didn't cause a stir as it usually did, and the people—few as they were—were each just staring at their drinks.
Coras walked up to the bartender, and looked in his eyes. The man didn't say anything, and didn't react. Though his eyes were that of a human, many could be convinced he was a statue.
"I'm looking for a tall curvy woman!" Coras shouted—making sure everyone could hear. "She has a squarish face with the left ring finger missing. I'll pay well for any who can give me information."
Coras waited, letting the words hang in the air. Then out of nowhere; one man started laughing. Another followed suit, then another and another. Soon enough the entire tavern was laughing, pointing either their mugs or their fingers at Coras.
"LoOf dNaRg Eht sI SiHt!" one man shouted.
"DaeDnU eHt!" another shouted.
"SseNerAwa on hTIw nAm eHt!" another shouted.
"Fo NekOpS dAh NeEuq ErA mOhw fO gNik Eht!" yet another shouted
"NaM sA syAd SiH eRa eNoG!" another shouted.
"NOITANIMOBA EHT, sRetSnOm GnOma rEtsNom!" the last shouted.
They continued laughing, and Coras turned around to find the bartender cleaning a glass with terror covering his face. Coras reached out to the last man who spoke, he grabbed the Sasscar's shirt and raised him to face level.
"Where is she?" Coras asked plainly. Not at all acting like someone who was ready to kill.
"ReHtaF tUoy kSa DluoHs uOy eByaM," the Sasscare said with a grin.
Coras raised a fist, then struck the Sasscare's host's head. The head burst, popping like a balloon. Coras tost the now lifeless corpse to the side. The others immediately quieted—then one after another, each body slumped to the floor. The Sasscars leaving their hosts.
"My father," Coras said, "She intends to visit his grave then?"
Coras set down a few coins for the horrified bartender, exchanging it for the mess. Then walked out as smoothly as he came in.