Grit, Volume #2: GRIT, #2

By Landon Cook

Olv had paved his path in blood and torn his relationship with his adopted family. Their situation becomes more uncertain as the lands of Voncressa lacked their vital resources. Desperation corrupted his mind further down the spiral, leading him to make choices that end with his imprisonment. He will have to face new challenges, and a demon who holds the key to his freedom.  

 

 

   

• Language: English
• Publisher: Landon Cook
• Release date: Nov 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9798215589557

Book preview

After these long three years, a sense of dread has corrupted our minds with a stigma. My thoughts only express my future death, but my purpose here was for something greater. It was not an easy discovery, and my peers were not as thrilled as I was. However, I could reshape their minds with hope, twisting their perception into something more magnificent. For they see this life as a prison, and such perception would only destroy their well-being.

On the other hand, I will give my people strength. For hope may be a fiction, but without it, we would only allow fear to drive us into madness, and when rage becomes our drive, it will spread like a virus—keeping us all locked within an infinite cycle without any sign of breaking. Sleeper chooses the scenarios in this world for a reason, and we must do what we can withstand through the suffering and rise towards its conclusion. Even so, let my words speak true.

Allow the sun's presence to scold the sorrow and give others hope—so they can fight as well.

Let it be told, let it be said.

-Personal mementoes from Phader Talios

Chapter 1: Within This Endless Road

In the lands of Voncressa, a melancholy aura swept over the surroundings with its haze; the trees swarm with insects that leave slimy trails behind. They use their long legs to climb higher as their tiny bodies stick to the surface. However, a certain hunger comes from a lurking beast. Utilizing its tiny beak, it plucks the insect away with a quick swipe!      

Trots roam the land in search of their next meal. A curious sound catches one's attention and turns its small eyes to the sound of the phantom figure skulking around the nearby trees. He pulls the bowstring back and keeps his arrow pointed at the monster. Knowing danger was near, the Trot screeches a horrifying sound while the phantom quickly releases his string and misses his target completely! Damnit! He muttered.              

He drops the bow as the beast gallops towards him. He pulls out a broken sword from his sheath and readies himself. The phantom leaps away from the sharp beak and then counters the monster by grasping its long feathers! In fear, it shakes its head around, trying to break free. Then, with the blade steadied in the phantom’s hand, he plunges the shattered sword deep within the skull, leaving the beast—forever silenced.

The fight was over, but the cries of numerous Trots echoed past the many trees. The phantom grunts as he pulls away from the flesh binding. The galloping emitted closer. His heart produces pounding waves inside the chest. His efforts are not in vain when the blade completely slips out.

He ran far enough into the vast fog and planted himself within the large bush before they spotted him. His eyes caught on the bow, realizing he had forgotten it. His chances to recover it were faint. The herd arrives, seeing a member lying lifeless on the soil. They foam at the mouth as their bellies groan a longing pain.

Eventually, the phantom pulls away from the sight to continue onwards as they devour his kill.

He finds what he has been looking for; A particular herb crawls at the tree’s side. A broad patch of moss and grass that squirmed like worms. The Phantom pulls out the broken blade, although the herb is out of reach. He quickly looked at his surroundings and found a pile of branches.

Using the leather band from his sheath, he wraps the blade to the end of the branch, turning it into a makeshift spear. Lifting it high, he uses the sword's beaten edge to cut the herbs from their body as pieces of plant rain upon his brown hair and stick against his mantle. After pulling out a jar, he begins picking up every herb that tries to escape his grasp! The herbs are placed inside before a puncture is made in the lid.

After pulling off his gloves, he rubs his face out of frustration. Olv... you can’t miss every piece, he says to himself.

These herbs are not easy to find here, especially in this weather. Hopefully, this will be enough; perhaps Kastfo can provide a remedy.

Only a week had passed since the death of Draigo, and the wound inflicted upon his father, Argo, and his state of recovery was uncertain. Toran and the youngling remained within the village, while Kastfo had to manage this new feeling of Isolation. Being alone with more than one human made her question the future.

Wind drifts inside the cave creating a hollow melody. The fire is bright and comforting as Sol, and the young one plays together in the warm environment. Toran and Kastfo look at each other with disdain across roaring flames, eyes brightening from its illumination.

Everyone’s attention turns at the sound of stones crushing from Olv’s boots. Sol ran up to him, bumping her head against his arm. Not now, he said bluntly.

Kastfo walked over with her claws tucked and her head pointed down in despair. Did—did you get them?

It took me some time, but—I did get a few, he handed over the jar; she took it from him and walked to Argo’s home, where he remained asleep. Olv followed after he placed the bow he had recovered.

Argo’s limp body lay in a corpse-like state, with his mind in a coma. Kastfo took the herbs one by one and placed them inside her father’s mouth. They will reach his stomach soon... she said, continuing the process.

Is there anything else I can do?

Kastfo shifted her eyes towards him with a certain coldness, Our resources will dwindle faster than before... I’m afraid the only thing you can do is, well, work.

Then I am off once more, He says, turning on his heels.

What about your mask?

Olv pulled the mask out from his pocket and looked at its ripped nose, We are all out of materials. I will have to see Grigmain.

Toran approached Olv with a stern look while grasping his walking stick. That monster on the bed will try to kill us when he finally wakes!

Kastfo's flashed fangs at his words. He was afraid and saddened by the death of my brother! Of course, he will be angry...

Toran’s worry grew further, Are you sure staying here won't result in my or the young one’s death? We are in enemy territory! There must be a better way to live, not alongside these... He stopped himself from finishing his sentence.

Remember what I said back in Rolfida? Look at yourself now. You can barely stand. Just make do with what you have right now. Maybe find something to do in the meantime... Olv stuffed the mask into his pocket, I’m going to head out now before it’s too late. We can talk more about this later. He walked to the supply cache to fill his sack with a handful of food and bolok leaves.

One whole week of this. Searching, maintaining. A ‘decent’ life is a luxury at this rate. Sol attempted to follow. Stay here and protect them. Then, after patting her head, he moves onward. More walking... More pain... How much longer can I keep this up?

The fog slowly began to ease away as Olv ventured over the hills. The sun’s beaming light showed the path and gave him the needed guidance. I’m almost there... I should prepare myself. The village of Cofokot came into sight. Wait—what is going on down there?

The Gramnorian villagers were gathered at the scene while a Brekoth youngling stood in front of them in flashy attire. At least their eyes are set on that mutant, making it easier for me to pass by unnoticed.

Olv masked his scent with the bolok leaf while in the village, remaining hidden in the shadows. Meanwhile, the Gramnorians listen in to the Serpent speak.

His pudgy neck squirmed with excitement, Let it be known! Let it be said! I am here to bring all of you good news. Our great lord Cog—the gladiator king, had added a new breed into the coliseum...! So, bring your family along for the best show in Voncressa!

Yurla adjusted her eye patch, What exactly is this new breed? Did your brothers and sisters find the rest of the Klinced or something?

No-no, no! They are all dead at this rate. What I have for all you to bear witness to—are the humans!

The villagers muttered to each other as Olv lurked behind the barrels and boxes: The great Cog has never been beaten by a Gramnorain, let alone a full-grown Folkler.

The humans will be slaughtered well before they have the chance!

The Brekoth youngling gave a strange laugh, They had been eager to kill for many moons...! Cog would never release a Mugbite to fight a Rayne unless that Mugbite had a slim chance of winning, He explained with optimism, They have been beaten—mauled, and gone through the most exquisite forms of torture! If I can make a one-word description for these worthless flesh sacks, it would be—bloodthirsty.

Is that what Argoth envisioned for my people? To be used as puppets for their amusement...

The serpent’s vertical eyes caught on to a slight sway of Olv’s mantle. ...Interesting, he whispered to himself.

Olv opened the door that led him inside Grigmain’s shop. He noticed the Ode sleeping behind the counter with a snore that could shake the mountain. Olv locked the door and placed the mask next to Grigmain. Wake up, he said with no ease.

With a loud snort, Grigmain flung himself, Gah-ha! Olv, what are you doing here?

Morning... Olv said as he patted his mask.

Grigmain looked down, and his tired expression turned into shock.  By the Sleeper... he lifted the material and stared at the damage. What did you do to my creation!?

I had a run-in with a—Gramnorain. It did not end well. Let’s keep at that.

Grigmain could sense the human holding back. It's a good thing I have a spare nose, He walked into the back room and returned with his materials. You could have at least washed this... Olv rested his back against the dirt wall and waited for Grigmain to finish, but the Ode was curious about the young man’s foreboding stare. What are you holding back, young one?

I’m not holding back anything.

You’re a liar, Olv... That look in your eyes. Something awful must have happened.

I killed Draigo, he said bluntly.

Grigmain’s eyes opened, You are serious about this, aren’t you...? Does Argo know about this?

He does...He even tried to kill me when he heard the news. Kastfo intervened and saved my life, and now he’s unconscious. Grigmain offered no response to Olv after hearing his words; he hesitated to stitch the mask.

Grigmain? Olv asked, wondering what he might be thinking.

I suppose after all that harsh training he put his son through...He still loved him to the very end. The adopted son murders the blood one. It’s hard to—completely grasp, you know? Almost poetic in a twisted sense, but there is a rhythm to the both of you... his beastly lips shuttered, I will stop speaking now...

You think the both of us are the same, don’t you...? Just remember, I did it to save my people...

Are you not entirely sure yourself...? Did you follow him? Did you hunt him down at his very home and slaughter him?

Just fix my damn mask; I don’t have time for this. Olv threateningly yells, striking fear into the Ode.

As he is about to speak, his nose catches a strange scent, You were followed, Grigmain pointed out.

What?

Go into the back room, now!

Olv ran to the back room as Grigmain paced over towards the door. Once he opened it, he found himself staring at the Serpents viper's eyes, Greetings, are you the owner of this place? His eyes shifted fast as he tried to catch any small detail.

Yes, I own this establishment... is there something you need? Grigmain said, trying to calm himself.

A few moments ago, an interesting visitor was hanging around this village, Though I only managed to catch him from the corner of my eye. I tracked his steps here...

Olv hurries with the string that binds the new nose to his mask.

Well, that is interesting, but I’m busy... you should come back later. Grigmain starts to close the door. Only to be stopped by the serpent’s freakish hand.

I’m afraid my curiosity has gotten the best of me... I need to enter and do some—inspecting. The serpent opened the door wider, So. Where is this human of yours?

I don’t know what you are talking about.

DON’T PLAY, DUMB! I know he is here in this very room. The serpent’s puggy neck started to tremor.

Do you need something from us? Their attention turned to Olv wearing his stitched mask.

What breed are you? he said, shocked by Olv’s attire.

Whord, he replied.

Why are you wearing that mask—Whord. The serpent asked.

I am a mutant. Deformed. Olv answered as he placed his sheathed sword on the table.

The serpent caught on to his aura, You look well equipped. Are you hunting by any chance?

Olv took an exceedingly small moment to answer, One of my human slaves escaped from his kennel, and now it is up to me to catch that filthy thing.

The serpent kept a cautious stare, I see...You know, it is illegal for Gramnorain kin to enslave humans. Olv clenched his jaw while sweat dripped down from his face. I can let such an action go if you would be willing to bargain the flesh bag.

Grigmain’s thick fingers started to shiver from this conversation.

Olv’s gaze pierces through his mask with hatred, It’s a deal...

The serpent smirked, Then you and I shall go hunting. He turned around and gestured for Olv to follow. As he passed Grigmain, the Ode placed a small sack in his hand. Round. Lumpy, Stitchberries. Your debt to me will grow higher than the trees at this rate.

After the two exited the village, Olv took his time evaluating the serpent’s wears and finding his exploits. The serpent lacks defense in his attire; however, there is a sheathed long sword on his side. As for the environment, the trees are scattered, leaving significant gaps between each one.

Olv thought: I better start a conversation to keep his thoughts active, Back at the center of the village. You preached about an event taking place, something about a coliseum?

You never heard of it before? The serpent asked.

Olv noticed sap pouring down from the nearest tree. I usually keep to myself. I don’t keep accounts on everything. Olv used the broken blade to collect the sap, carefully hiding it before the serpent noticed.

I see... It started when the lords noticed the local villages' battle for land and control. The great and mighty Cog managed to use their frustrations for other means, to fight in a glorious battle for one’s village. They would wait months, even years, just to prove themselves.

Olv noted, I happened to hear about this... Lord Cog, what is he like? Olv discretely covers the hilt in the sap.

The vertical eyes focused on Olv’s mask, You had never met him before, let alone seen him...? Then, suddenly, he turned to Olv and, with a quick jolt, swiped his claw against the mantle! I knew it, I knew it!

Olv jumped back and took in the devastating blow; quickly, he took the berries from his pocket pouch to devour them. Unfortunately, the wound did not stop bleeding, the roots were slow in their process, and the pain kept a steady momentum. Bastards! Why are you taking so long...? He held his chest, keeping the blood within his body.

The serpent reached for his hilt, What! What is this, tree sap!?

Olv coughed from the pain and devoured more berries. The roots finally swarm over his wound, repairing the flesh. He held on to the handle of his broken sword and readjusted himself. During his preparation, the serpent goes for his second strike!

Olv kept the sword tightly within his grasp with its broken blade ready to strike, using it to perry The Serpent's dagger-like claws. Then, noticing his opening, he swipes The serpent's fingers with a well-timed