Records of Immortality-Volume 1—Chapter 31: Echoes of Prey
A small rabbit darted through the undergrowth, its ears twitching as it scanned for threats. A dark-azure bolt cut through the air and struck it down.
Ashan emerged from the bushes, his breath haggard and his complexion pale.
"Rabbit for dinner tonight," he muttered, sitting beside the carcass to skin it with his sword.
His thoughts drifted to the hellish days on this strange island.
'How long has it been? One week... no, almost three.'
Tap! Gnshss!
The cries of rakshasa echoed in the distance.
Ashan's face hardened. He finished skinning the game and melted into the bushes just as a group of Ganshka marched along a nearby trail. They were equipped with crude weapons, their greenish-brown skin covered by rags.
'Ganshka... the most common rakshasa species. That old fucker Dhren told us about these gremlins but was stingy with details on the others.'
Ashan observed from his hiding spot.
'They live in tribes. Low intelligence, but they work together.'
Over the past three weeks, he had learned to avoid their marked territories, hunting only stragglers who wandered too far.
'I'm starting to think all our training was just to survive this last hurdle.'
Silently, he slipped away, using [Conceal] to mask his presence until he reached his hideout: a small, naturally formed cave hidden by the branches of a large tree. He pushed the foliage aside, threw the rabbit inside, and grimaced at the pungent smell that assaulted his nostrils.
"I'll never get used to this," he muttered, pinching his nose as he rearranged the branches, allowing slivers of the setting sun to filter inside.
He ate his dinner quietly. As his body rested, his mind raced.
'I've identified three rakshasa species.
Old Dhren gave us their names—Ganshka, the shark-like Krakhan, the crab-like Pashkula—but little else. The Ganshka flee when alone, always move in groups, wield weapons, and some can even cast mantras.'
He finished the bland meat. "Without salt or chilli, it's just fuel."
Leaning against the cave wall, he continued his analysis.
'If my vision is correct, we'll soon be fighting their hordes. And the lion-faced beings... the Manuga race is here, too.'
"We need to regroup. It's a shame that having an affinity for fate doesn't grant me the knowledge of divination." Ashan furrowed his brows.
'From my past life, I know divination requires a personal object or body part from the target. I have neither, nor do I know the technique.'
'For three weeks I've tried scrying, but as expected, affinity alone is useless without the method.'
He massaged the bridge of his nose. "Enough. This trial has no time limit. I should focus on Sadhana and grow stronger."
Ashan calmed his mind, formed the Root mudra, and began his practice.
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***
Southern Forest
"Help! Somebody, help us!"
The desperate cries of Arashen-rank members echoed as they beat against the hardwood walls of their prison—a large container suspended high in the trees. Many had given up, sitting in devastated silence.
"Silence! One more sound and you all get a taste of the abyss!" roared a voice.
The speaker had distinct feline features: large whiskers, slitted eyes, and a bright orange tail that lashed behind him. "Why do they still have the energy to beg?" he asked his companion, who merely nodded and produced a large whip.
The whip cracked, smacking against the prisoners. Cries of pain filled the air as they curled into balls, clutching their wounds.
"Why are we keeping them alive?" asked another, a female with sharp green cat-eyes named Cloe. "Didn't the human promise us freedom if we killed the kids who entered this place?"
"Cloe, do you truly trust humans?" the feline-man snapped. "These are the Chief's orders. Now go and capture more. Soon we will have our revenge and our freedom."
Cloe's eyes flared with suppressed anger. "Aren't we becoming just like them? What's the difference—"
Slap!
"Who am I?" the male demanded, having struck her hard.
"Brother... Vice-Chief Lash!" she answered, recoiling.
Lash's mouth twisted into a grin. "I will be Chief one day. You will obey me. Now go!"
Cloe nodded and ran off, her thoughts a storm of conflict.
'Why must we torture them?
They're just kids, the same age as me.'
***
"So, have you found the
correct
way yet?" Roderic asked, his voice thick with mockery.
"Tch! That way," Dris said, clicking his tongue.
"No more of your bullshit!
For three weeks, your 'directions' have gotten us into nothing but fights with Ganshka.
You're listening to me now!"
Roderic shouted, his patience gone.
Dris waved a dismissive hand. "Calm down, bitch."
Tip! Tip!
The sound of falling water reached them.
They followed it to a clearing, where a clear spring was surrounded by wild animals drinking from it.
"Whoa! Look! Fresh water!" Dris exclaimed, running excitedly toward the spring.
An arrow thudded into the ground, narrowly missing his foot.
"Fuck you! Run! It's another Ganshka territory!" Roderic cursed, already retreating.
"I'm going to kill him!"
"Ah, damn those greenish bastards!" Dris yelled, scrambling back as a volley of arrows began to rain down around them.
***
"Imla, do you have a plan?" Damara asked. The two were resting under the shade of a large tree.
"It's been three weeks. We can't eat, sleep, or find a moment's peace in this hellish place."
"Then we should be thankful we're Sadhakas. We can sustain ourselves, barely, without those comforts," Imla replied, wiping blood from her spear.
Damara grimaced. "Yeah. The benefits come with plenty of disadvantages."
Imla set her spear aside and looked at Damara seriously.
"Why are you practicing Sadhana, Damara? Is survival your only reason?"
Damara furrowed her brow.
"What a strange question." She thought for a moment.
"Right now, it's necessary to stay alive... I think. Even if I have to kill." She lightly clenched her fists. "What's your reason, if not survival?"
Imla's expression darkened. "I think we've reached a point where our personal reasons, hopes, and desires don't matter.
We do what we must, not for grand ambitions, but simply because it must be done."
"Oh? You're starting to sound like Ashan," Damara chuckled lightly.
"I suppose I am. We are weak, so we do what we must... what a sad and cruel reality."
Imla muttered softly, "But one person does have a grand desire, even though he's still weak." An image of Ashan flashed in her mind.
"Did you say something?" Damara glanced over.
"No. You sleep first. I'll take guard." Imla stood up.
Overhead, the pale crescent moon cast its feeble light. The melody of hooting birds and chirping crickets created a strange, yet peaceful, contrast.
***
"Here, tie this around your arm." Helma gently nursed the wound on Ballio's arm. "You're a fool. Why do you get so stupidly excited when you see the Manuga race?"
Ballio grimaced as he rubbed his nose. "Well, you're the strange one if you aren't excited to see another intelligent race! Their wolf-like ears and their..." He continued mumbling excitedly.
Helma shook her head in dismay.
"It's a good thing we lost them, or you'd have served yourself up on a platter."
"Oh, come on! I'm not that stupid," he stopped mumbling to protest.
"Another night in this strange place. You know, I'm starting to miss our days in the cave," Ballio sighed.
"Yeah," Helma agreed with a soft sigh. "Me too... a little."
Volume 1—Chapter 31: Echoes of Prey
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