Ichor Cell-Chapter 27: Traveling friends

“We probably should have considered this before we left.” Alex said for the third time that day.
“You shouldn’t blame yourself too much. You’ve been through a lot recently.” Duran replied from beside him, his tone as flat as ever. “Though you definitely should’ve remembered.”
The two of them were currently laid out on the ground under a battered canvas tarp they found lying around, the edges weighed down with stones. The sunlight outside was blinding, spilling across the ground in merciless sheets of gold. Inside, it was like being inside a sauna made of wet cloth and regret.
“You boys okay in there?” Came Grenil’s muffled voice from above. The old man sounded entirely too amused for someone who’d nearly been eaten alive three hours ago.
“Oh, just peachy.” Alex called back from underneath. “We’re thriving, actually. Haven’t you heard? Heat therapy has great health benefits. You should join us
.
”
Grenil’s chuckle filtered through the tarp. “I don’t think so. I’m old and dying, I should let you young ones enjoy the benefits. It sure sounds like you’re having fun.”
“We’re melting.” Alex grumbled. “If you hear sizzling, that’s my soul evaporating.”
Duran shifted beside him, perfectly calm. “I think it’s quite nice, actually.”
Alex turned his head. “Aren’t you largely immune to pain and temperature?”
“I am?”
“Common wisdom says so.”
“…I don’t know if your wisdom is as common as you think it is.” Duran replied hesitantly.
Alex glared at the tarp ceiling. “You know, I’m starting to think you came with me just to annoy me.”
Grenil spoke again, his voice muffled by the canvas. “You two sound like an old couple.”
“Keep talking, old man,” Alex muttered. “You’re next on the tarp rotation.”
His only reply was another chuckle.
Hours passed in slow, sticky silence. The only sounds were the faint rustle of the tarp and the occasional exasperated sigh from Alex. Grenil said that he was going to take a nap to pass the time. Duran remained as still as a statue—if anything, he looked content, resting with his hands folded over his chest like a corpse taking a nap.
Pushing that thought away, he considered the old man’s reaction upon first regaining consciousness.
When Grenil had first woken up, Alex and Duran had already been in hiding. He had been half-expecting screaming, accusations; at least some cursing. What he’d gotten instead was confusion, followed by surprise at his survival. The old man had been surprisingly accepting of Alex’s… circumstances.
“You’re… taking this really well.” Alex’s muffled voice came from the tarp.
“I was taken hostage, beaten, and stuffed in a cage last night.” Grenil said. “I’ve run out of energy to be surprised by things. And honestly, the first time I met you, you were naked and covered in blood. It didn’t take a genius to figure out something was off.”
Alex rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Yeah, I… didn’t make a great first impression.”
Grenil chuckled dryly. “It was pretty concerning, but I’ve seen worse in my youth, believe it or not. Some of them even wore clothes.”
“Comforting.”
“Point is,” Grenil said, leaning back against the tree, “You didn’t leave me there to die. You didn’t have to come back for me, but you did. Whatever else you did or are, that counts for something.”
Alex hadn’t known what to say to that. He still didn’t.
Now, as he lay under the tarp, the heat making his head throb, he found himself thinking about Elara. Although he had put on a brave front, it did hurt him how she had just… left. And the worst part was, he couldn’t even blame her.
She was the second person he had met in this world, and in the short time he’d known her, he’d come to rely on her; maybe even consider her… a friend. To have her show such open fear of him, such open
hatred
… he couldn’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt.
Especially with Grenil as a comparison.
Eventually, as the light dimmed and the air began to cool, Grenil’s voice finally came again. “Looks like the sun’s finally set. You two still alive under there?”
“Barely,” Alex muttered, sitting up and peeling the tarp off his face.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be ed if seen on Amazon.
“Great, now go be useful and find some food. I’m hungry.”
A few days later.
They’d figured things out.
Well, mostly.
Duran, a carpenter before he died, was quite handy with wood. While a lot of his memories were fogged or fractured, the sheer volume of these ones ensured that he hadn’t forgotten his craft.
With him giving instructions, Alex managed to craft a rickety cart out of some trees he had felled. As it turned out, super strength and razor-sharp nails lent themselves pretty well to woodworking. Duran also managed to help out a bit with Alex's dagger—which he had somehow picked up in the chaos that night. The end result was surprisingly solid—if ugly as hell—and worked well enough to carry a few people.
Now, they travelled by night. The cool air was nice on Alex’s skin, and the darkness let them move freely without risking an unfortunate case of spontaneous combustion. Grenil rode in the cart while Alex and Duran took turns pulling it along the rutted dirt roads.
During the day, the situation switched. Their two photonically challenged members hid in the cart, their lifesaving tarp pulled overhead. That unfortunately meant that Grenil had to sleep out in the sun, but the old guy didn’t seem to mind.
Food hadn’t been an issue yet—at least, not for Grenil. Alex made a point of hunting every night, bringing back rabbits, birds, or whatever else he could catch. The old man cooked while they rested, and for a while, it almost felt normal.
Almost.
While he hunted, Alex had finally gotten the chance to drink from an animal. Surprisingly it helped, a little. The animal blood dulled the hunger enough to keep him sane, certainly more than the banana, but it didn’t satisfy him.
It was thin, flavourless—more like water than sustenance. Worse, it did nothing for his strength. His mana didn’t stir, his body didn’t feel lighter. It was like eating a loaf of bread for lunch; sure, it’ll fill you up, but it’s still pretty severely lacking in nutrients.
Still, it worked. For now.
The nights were quiet, peaceful even. The sound of the cart wheels crunching over dirt filled the silence, accompanied by the occasional croak of a frog or hoot of an owl. Every so often, Grenil would hum softly to himself—some songs neither Alex nor Duran recognized.
“You know,” Alex said one night as they followed the faint outline of a river road, “This is kinda peaceful. I like it.”
“Why would you say that?” Duran complained. “Now we’re definitely getting attacked by a herd of exploding sheep, just to spite us.”
“What? Why?” Alex shot him a look. “Also, did you just say exploding sheep?”
“Well, you know, the god of spite. He likes to visit travellers that are enjoying themselves and making their lives difficult for no other reason than he wants to.” The ghoul replied, completely ignoring his second question. “Of course, it doesn’t happen to all, or even most, but it’s significant enough that people know about it.”
“Really? But… why?” Alex asked incredulously. “Also, exploding sheep?”
“I heard that him and the god of travels had a disagreement some centuries ago, and he’s been doing this since.” Grenil snorted from the cart. “I don’t know if I believe it, but it’s just as likely a theory as any other.”
Alex was speechless. “But… exploding sheep?”
His questions were destined to be left unanswered.
They stopped near dawn, setting up their cart in a hollow between two boulders. Duran went about checking the cart’s joints while Grenil prepared what passed for breakfast. Alex sat nearby, his stomach twisting in on itself.
He frowned at it. He’d drunk from enough animals now to know for certain: it wouldn’t be enough forever. No matter how many cute bunny rabbits he drained, it would never be enough to
really
sate him.
It made him nervous.
He shoved the thought away, forcing himself to focus on the here and now.
Grenil’s voice cut through the quiet. “We’ll reach a village tomorrow night. I think I recognize this road.”
“That’s good,” Alex said. “We could use a real roof.”
“And real food,” Grenil added pointedly. “I am tired of unseasoned meat.”
“I’m tired of hunting shit every night.” Alex shot back.
“Then walk faster,” Grenil said with a grin.
Even Duran almost smiled at that. Almost.
The next night, they reached the village.
It was a respectable settlement—a decent size, ringed by a wooden palisade and faintly lit by torches along its wall. The air smelled of smoke and tilled earth, with the faintest trace of baking bread wafting on the breeze.
“Finally,” Grenil said, stretching from the cart. “Civilization.”
“Don’t get too excited,” Alex warned. “Look.”
The heavy gates were shut, a set of intimidating iron studded wooden doors. Two guards stood on the walkway above, spears resting over the palisade as they leaned lazily against the railing.
“They shut at night?” Duran asked.
“Standard practice,” Grenil said. “Keeps out bandits and beasts.”
“Right,” Alex muttered, staring up at the wall. “Guess that means us.”
Grenil glanced back at him. “I’m sure they’d let in some weary travellers. You can at least go ask.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’ll go great.” Alex gestured to himself. “Hi there, totally normal person here. Definitely not a monster. Don’t mind the fact that I’m
still
basically naked. Please let me in.”
“We do need to get you some clothes.” The old man chuckled.
They pulled the cart closer to the tree line, hiding it among the shadows at the edge of the road. From there, they could see the gate clearly.
“Let’s wait until morning,” Grenil suggested. “Once it opens, I can drag you boys through. I’m sure they won’t question some old man and his sickly grandson.”
“Yeah,” Alex agreed. “Better you than me.”
Suddenly, he frowned. His hearing had just picked up a snippet of conversation between the two, and it was… concerning.
“…Yeah, I heard about it too,” one of the guards was saying, his voice carrying faintly through the still night air. “Message came through the temple a few days ago, right? Said there’s a new Disaster-class monster roaming the countryside.”
“Disaster?” the second guard repeated. “That’s what they call the ones that can level buidlings, right?”
“Yeah. Supposedly this one’s extra dangerous, though.” The first man leaned forward against the railing, the torchlight catching the edge of his helmet. “Doesn’t look like a monster at all. Walks around like a man. They say it heals from anything, moves faster than you can blink, and drinks blood.”
The second man snorted. “Mhm, I’m sure it does. I definitely believe something like that would be a mere Disaster level.”
“I don’t care what you believe,” the first replied. “Orders are to keep an eye out for anyone suspicious—especially travellers at night. It’s said it might have a weakness to sunlight; just let everyone that comes in stand in the light and we’ll be fine.”
The other guard shifted uneasily. “And what’s stopping it from just killing us all before then? We don’t have a single disaster class stationed here.”
“Don’t think about that. I heard…” The rest of the conversation faded into a quiet murmur.
Alex crouched lower in the shadows, jaw tightening. “Well… that’s not good.”