Ichor Cell-Chapter 5: Break in

As the sun finally began its journey across the sky, the city of Crebes started coming to life.
The dusty streets slowly filled with pedestrians hurrying on their way to work or to buy necessities at the market. Craftsmen opened their storefronts and shouted out their prices, hawkers peddled their wares to every passerby, food stalls enticed them with the promise of a warm meal to start the day while guardsmen lazily watched over it all.
Amidst the hustle and bustle of city life, a certain old man was making his way down a nondescript side street, his footsteps heavy with exhaustion.
Grenil rubbed his face wearily as he approached his store, trying and failing to remove the last bit of sleep from his eyes. He hadn’t gotten a lot of it last night, some sort of nightmare keeping him from resting properly, and it showed.
For a normal person, this would merely be an annoyance that they would soon forget. They'd grumble about it a bit, say a few prayers to the god of sleep, and then go about their day.
Grenil was not a normal person.
Throughout his long life, he had realised that his dreams were somewhat prophetic. Whenever he had nightmares, some sort of upset would happen in his life. It did not always happen that same day and nor did it always lead to an unfortunate change; after all, he had met his late wife after a week straight of nightmares, may the gods bless her beautiful soul.
However, change was more often than not undesirable. Humans were simple creatures, happy to enjoy the status quo, and anything or anyone that rocked the boat was not welcome. Even a positive change may only appear so in hindsight, while not appreciated at all in the moment.
Simply put, Grenil was dreading the next few days, while staying hopeful that it would be a blessing instead of a curse.
After turning left at his intersection and walking another short distance down the street, Grenil finally reached his destination, but when he raised his hand to unlock the store, he suddenly froze in shock.
Instead of the same old rickety door that the store had had since the gods knew how long, in front of him was… only a door frame. Looking at the way the rusty hinge was hanging by a single nail, it was obvious that a violent force had ripped it clean out of its frame and thrown it somewhere.
Now wide awake, Grenil cautiously looked further inside.
Peering through the dark interior, he immediately found the door, or at least its remains. The blow had simultaneously split it in half while blasting a bucket sized hole through its center. The bottom part was lying on the wooden floor several feet into the dimly lit space, while the upper half could be seen embedded into a vegetable crate further inside.
“No! My cabbages!” he exclaimed, rushing inside without any regard for potential danger.
Skidding to a stop before the unfortunate box of produce, he anxiously checked it over.
“Dammit!” He cried, “This crate cost me over fifty coppers! Whoever’s the bastard that did this, you better not let me catch you!”
Gritting his teeth at once again having his dreams proven right, he turned around to pick up the bottom of the door only to once again freeze at what he saw.
Right before his eyes, just next to the now empty door frame, laid the figure of a naked man covered in blood, slumped sideways onto the floor. The gentle rise and fall of his chest was the only indication that he was alive.
Putting the pieces together, Grenil’s conclusion had him glaring at the figure in anger.
Walking up to him, Grenil drew back his leg and delivered as powerful a kick as his old body could at the young man's leg.
“Damnit! What is this kid made of? Stone??” Grenil swore as he gripped his shin and hopped on his other leg.
He had kicked the boy intending to wake and berate him, as well as demand reparations for the damages; instead of kicking flesh it had felt more like kicking a tree trunk. One reinforced with metal.
As he hopped around and cursed all 18 generations of the young man’s ancestors, Grenil heard a low groan from behind and whipped around with his hands raised in defence. Instead of an attack, what greeted him was the sight of the young man turning over to face the wall, muttering something before falling silent.
Grenil stared for a few more seconds before turning red. A vein throbbed in his temple as he glared at the carefree interloper. He snorted in anger.
“I see. So that’s how you want to play it?” He muttered and turned around.
Navigating his way around the boxes of produce, he headed deeper into the store until he reached a separate room with nothing in it but a few buckets, a big barrel and a water pump.
‘Thank the gods this place came with a pump pre-installed. So much time would be lost on going to the well every day.’
He mused as he grabbed the nearest bucket and placed it under the faucet.
Walking over to the side of the pump, he gripped the protruding handle and started rotating the wheel. He wasn’t a craftsman, so he wasn’t sure how exactly it worked, but he knew that turning the wheel made water come up from the groundwater below, and that was enough.
After a few seconds, Grenil heard a gurgle, and with a splutter water slowly started flowing into the bucket. When it was over half full, Grenil cut off the flow and let the last of it trickle out into the bucket.
Picking it up, he made his way back to the store entrance and stopped a few steps away from the young man.
“So you want to barge into MY store, ruin MY cabbages, hurt MY foot, and still get a restful sleep?” He snorted with irritation, “Not gonna happen.”
“Wakey wakey sunshine!”
And with a swing and a splash, the contents of the bucket were sent flying at the prone form on the ground.
Alex was having a nice dream. In fact, he was having some of the best sleep he’d had in years, despite his bed feeling harder than usual for some reason.
He dreamed that he got superpowers and could punch through walls and jump higher than a building, but he also dreamed that he got into a fight with magical laser sword owners and lost an arm. A bit weird, considering it was his dream, but whatever.
Later, he saw himself punching a man off a wall, and when he went to check on him—despite him obviously being dead—the man turned around and said-
“Wakey wakey sunshine!”
The entire ocean suddenly splashed into his face, rudely interrupting his dream and almost drowning him.
“Ack- Ahem- What the- Cough-” Waking up with a series of coughs and splutters, Alex gasped for air only to receive another faceful of water, drowning his rising protests in more coughing.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Well aren’t you a rude little shitstain!” An old, cranky voice sounded out somewhere in front of him.
“What the fuck do you mean,
I’m
rude?!?” Alex furiously wiped the water out of his eyes to get a good look at his assailant.
“Well what else are you if not rude? Just a general nuisance?”
“What are you on about old man?!?” Alex roared as he finally managed to open his eyes and beheld the source of his excessive hydration.
Standing in front of him was what could only be described as the most stereotypical old codger. A balding head with thinning white hair on the sides, hunched back, wrinkly… everything. If one were to search up the definition of “cantankerous” in the dictionary, the picture would just be this guy.
The old man in question was also glaring at Alex with a bright red face and clenched fists. The old man was taking deep breaths to calm himself, but it obviously didn’t work.
Alex idly wondered whether he was about to watch someone die from a stroke in real time. He decided to warn him about the dangers of getting too angry at such an advanced age.
“Hey old man, you should-”
“Pay me back for the damages you caused me, shitstain, or I swear to the gods I’ll call the guards!!!”
Before he could even finish his sentence, the old man interrupted him with a roar of fury loud enough to wake the giants from their eternal slumber. The sheer volume of the shout was such that Alex almost passed out again from sheer shock.
As it was, he only clutched his ears in pain and ducked his head defensively, not willing to have his eardrums ruptured first thing in the morning.
“Are you fucking crazy?!?” He roared back, finally getting angry at the senior citizen, “You break into my house, douse me in water and then threaten to call the cops on me? Are you insane!?”
That seemed to
really
get under old man’s skin as he somehow got even more red and started letting out a weird whistling sound, like a boiling teapot. The bucket in his hands started shaking, making Alex start to genuinely worry that he might complete the legendary “Infuriated until he spat blood” achievement.
Thankfully, the old man closed his eyes and took one more deep breath to forcefully calm himself down, leaving Alex genuinely impressed. Being able to control such obviously extreme levels of emotion was not easy.
Opening his eyes again, the old man looked at Alex with an amused gaze, as if watching a performance at a circus.
“Ok then, youngster, pray tell how exactly did I break into your home?” He asked.
“What do you mean how?” Alex questioned in confusion, his incredulity rising by the second.
“If you don’t know, who am I supposed to ask? You obviously used something to break…” He trailed off, finally turning away from the old man and getting a good look at his surroundings.
Taking in the dusty wooden floor, the dim lighting coming from the shattered doorway and the crates and shelves of various produce, Alex couldn’t help but blink.
“Uh… Where am I?”
At that the old man widened his eyes and stared at him for a moment, before suddenly bursting out laughing.
“Ahaha… You… You just… You’re saying that you broke into my store and don’t even remember how or why?” He wheezed in between fits of mirth, his hands on his knees to support himself.
“I do not recall ever brea… king…” Alex stuttered to a stop before suddenly widening his eyes, “Are you saying… it wasn’t a dream?”
Needing to verify the truth, Alex looked down at his arm, only to find a perfectly normal, if very pale, limb staring back at him.
‘That doesn’t prove anything!’
Trying to get up, he pressed his hands on the ground, only to once again send himself flying into the air, twisting and landing smoothly on his feet.
"What the hell?!?" The old man scrambled back, tripping over himself in his haste to get away.
Alex froze.
“Well then, I guess that proves it, but lemme check just one more time.” He muttered.
Turning around, he quickly approached sunlight streaming through the torn open doorway and extended a finger to touch it. As soon as it contacted the light, his finger started turning red with a sizzle and pain lanced through his hand.
“OW! Fuck!” He exclaimed as he pulled back, waving his hand to get rid of the sting. “Well, I guess that does it. It was real.” A slow grin spread across his features.
“Oh great, so he’s a gods-damned lunatic. Wonderful.” A voice dryer than the Sahara cut through his jubilation, freezing him as he remembered that he had an audience.
Turning around, he was about to apologise for his unsightly display, only to frown when he saw the old man standing in a defensive stance at the other end of the room.
“Uh… What are you doing?” He questioned.
“What do you mean “What are you doing”? I’m distancing myself from the crazy person that broke into my store while covered in blood and then demonstrated Supernatural strength before being burnt by the light of the sun. You are obviously some sort of foul beast disguised as a man and I refuse to go down without a fight.”
Despite the man putting on a brave front, Alex’s could see the slight tremors in his hands and the sweat beading on his face. Of course, the biggest tell that the old man was bluffing was the fact that his heart was beating faster than a jackhammer.
With a sigh, Alex pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to ward off the incoming headache.
“Ok, look, I know this probably doesn’t look all that reassuring, and in your place, I wouldn’t believe a word I said, but think about it logically. Do you really think I’m some sort of magical creature from hell that has supernatural strength but is scared of sunlight? Is it not more believable that I just have an allergy to sunlight and am a bit stronger than normal?”
The old man stared it him for a minute, obviously considering his completely reasonable and iron-clad-
“What do you take me for? An idiot?” He snorted in disbelief, lowering his hands slightly from sheer incredulity.
Alex was stunned.
“You… You’re actually more willing to believe in magic than an unusually athletic guy with allergies?” He questioned just to make sure.
“Boy, there are gods walking this earth and monsters attack this city on the regular. You think I can’t see magic when it’s right in front of me?”
At that Alex was
really
taken aback.
“So this world really does have monsters? And there are
gods
??”
If this were a cartoon, Alex’s eyes would have popped out of their sockets and telescoped out halfway across the room. Thankfully this wasn’t a cartoon; the old man was already terrified as it was, and weird telescope eyes might just do him in.
“Hah, so you really aren’t from this world, abomination. You don’t know about gods or even the basic structure of the world, and I’m supposed to believe you’re a regular person? Though it is strange that you aren’t even aware of monsters. You should all come from the same place…”
Alex smacked himself in the face. He had forgotten himself in his excitement and announced his… extraterrestrial origin.
‘God damn it. Now what? This old coot won’t believe a word I say, but it’s not like I can leave this place for at least another few hours, and I doubt he’s just gonna leave me here on my own. Plus I need information about this world and I’d be a fool to not use such a great opportunity.’
He sighed.
‘Well, gaslighting time.’
“Ok, look, old man… What’s your name again?”
The man stayed silent, simply tightening his fists when Alex looked over. Alex sighed. Since the soft approach wasn’t working, maybe hitting him with the harsh truth would yield better results.
“Very well, I shall simply call you Scrooge, because you seem kinda miserable. So then Scrooge, you see, even if I was some sort of bloodthirsty monster from another world, if I really wanted to harm you, I would have done it already, don’t you think? There’s literally nothing stopping me. You think your brittle old bones would be able to fight back against me? I’m pretty sure you’d break your fist if you tried punching me.” Alex stared at the old man, waiting to see a reaction.
After visibly struggling for a few moments, the old man finally opened his mouth.
“Grenil.”
“Huh?”
“My name. It’s Grenil. Not Scrooge.”
At that Alex smiled, “Wonderful! Nice to meet you Grenil, I’m Alex, short for Alexander. As you can see, I’m in a bit of a pickle. I’ve found myself in this city by complete accident with no possessions, no money and not even any clothes on my back. So I would greatly appreciate it if you could maybe lend me something to put on, even just a bag or something.”
After a short consideration, he added. “I would also be very thankful if you could maybe give me a quick rundown of this city and where I even am. I could maybe help out around the store for the rest of the day as repayment and I swear I’ll be gone as soon as the sun goes down. Pretty please.”
Grenil looked at Alex for a while longer, as if trying to gauge his truthfulness. Unfortunately for him, the only part of his backstory that was a lie was the bloodthirsty monster part. Everything else was pure truth. Grenil must have sensed that, because he finally relaxed a little, though he still kept the crates in between the two of them just in case.
“Very well,” He finally said. “I shall help you out, but after you leave you will owe me a favour. Having the ability to call a favour from someone with Supernatural strength could be very useful.”
“Deal, however, the favour can’t be something outside my capabilities or go against my interests. If you ask me to go face down an army on my own, I’m not doing it. Same thing if you ask me to kill an innocent baby.”
Taking a deep breath, Grenil finally lowered his hands and walked over to the crates to sit down. Once there, he rummaged around for a bit before pulling out a rough hemp tunic and throwing it at Alex.
Once Alex put it on, Grenil linked his hands together and rested his elbows on his knees. He leaned forward to stare intently at the now dressed Alex.
“Very well then, young Alexander, what would you like to know?”