Chapter 30: The Land of Mud Lord of the Crows
Along his path, Germain encountered many new and unfamiliar things.
Gigantic insects with compound eyes, so massive they could dwarf several aircraft at once, buzzed ominously overhead.
Tiny black specks, no larger than fireflies, flitted around his feet, occasionally sparking small flames in the air.
Familiar-looking plants though twisted and alien stretched toward him with thorny vines, withered branches, and swollen fruit, releasing bursts of strange pollen.
Following the compass north, and sticking to his rule of "don't stop, don't touch," Germain pressed forward.
After climbing a gentle slope, he finally left the desert behind.
Before him spread an endless expanse of reeds, brown and yellow, stretching as far as the eye could see in both directions.
These reeds towered like trees in the human world, their roots sunk deep into gray mud.
Germain checked his pocket watch. It showed he had been walking for half an hour.
He decided to rest at the edge of the reed field. Pulling out his compressed biscuits and a bottle of water, he took a sip before opening a note app on his phone now, of course, completely without signal and typed a short entry:
"Human world time, January 14, 1:00 a.m. Traveling north from the Dry River Valley. Half an hour later, taking a short rest on muddy ground. Observations..."
His fingers tapped rhythmically across the screen when suddenly, he sensed a strange presence approaching.
Turning around, Germain met the gaze of a crow.
This crow was about the size of a human child, covered in gleaming black feathers.
But it had multiple crimson eyes set not only on its head, but also along its abdomen, wings, and back.
Those eyes darted in all directions, independent and restless. The creature's dull expression only made it more unnerving.
It stretched out its short, sharp beak, pecked at Germain's backpack once, then withdrew.
After tilting its head to study him for a moment, it pecked again.
"You want my backpack?" Germain muttered, tightening his grip.
He snatched the pack back cautiously, rose to his feet, and took a step back keeping his eyes on the strange bird.
The many crimson eyes blinked in eerie unison. Then, suddenly, the crow opened its beak wide and let out a piercing, unnatural scream.
Within two seconds of the sound rippling through the reeds which moments ago had been as still as a lake a response came.
From deep within the thicket, came the sound of beating wings.
A dark wave of shadows rose into the air, surging like a living storm.
Hundreds of many-eyed crows filled the sky, blotting out the faint light as they circled above Germain or perched atop the giant reeds.
Now, hundreds of glowing crimson eyes stared down at him.
Germain instantly realized the danger: he was surrounded.
The air filled with a deafening cacophony of shrieks and flapping wings.
Then, all at once, the murder of crows dove toward him a dense, suffocating storm of black feathers.
They closed around him like a giant net cast from the heavens.
In this place, such a net of crows could strip the flesh and skin from a beast in under three minutes.
The bones bare, still slick with bits of meat would then be dragged down into the mud below, feeding the gray sludge that nourished the towering reeds.
It was a cycle of death and renewal the natural ecosystem of the many-eyed crows.
But Germain had no intention of joining that cycle.
As the cloud of birds descended upon him, he raised his hand and a bronze flamethrower materialized.
Fwoosh!
Flames burst from the small nozzle like writhing serpents, sweeping across the black sky.
In an instant, the "dark cloud" transformed into a blazing cloud of fire.
"Aaaahhh!"
The crows screamed in agony as the hiss of burning feathers filled the air, creating a hellish symphony of sound.
Within moments, most of the flock fell from the sky as charred, smoking husks, crashing into the mud below like fiery rain.
The survivors fled in panic, streaking into the deeper parts of the reed forest and vanishing into the distance.
Was it over?
Germain stopped the flamethrower and exhaled slowly.
He avoided using it too often it consumed fuel quickly, like burning gasoline or diesel, and every use was a costly waste of energy.
He nudged one of the smoking carcasses at his feet with the toe of his boot.
The bird's body was completely blackened, its many eyes sealed shut.
They said crow meat was sour and impossible to eat. Germain briefly wondered if that was true then decided it wasn't worth finding out.
He didn't plan to linger here.
But just as he prepared to leave, the entire reed field fell silent.
No bird calls. No insect sounds. Not even the whisper of the wind.
From the heart of the reeds, a distant gust began to blow, parting the tall stalks and revealing a muddy path.
Gradually, skulls, rib cages, and skeletal fingers emerged from the gray mud, crawling upward like restless beasts.
Empty eye sockets turned toward Germain.
Something was coming.
A chill crept up his spine.
Then he saw it.
From the depths of the reeds emerged a massive figure.
A towering beast, humanoid in shape but monstrous in aura, cloaked in tattered, shadowy wings. Its face was obscured by darkness, only the tip of a sharp beak glinting faintly in the dim light.
Crack.
Walking upright, its dark red talons crushed the countless bones beneath its feet, grinding them back into the endless mire.
Dozens of scarlet eyes opened across its head, neck, and abdomen shimmering through the blackness like glowing coals.
The Lord of the Crows had arrived.
It stepped forward from the mud, staring directly at Germain.
Among the writhing mass of eyes, one in particular stood out because it was closed.
A moment later, Germain's left arm began to tingle and twist.
With a grim suspicion, he rolled up his sleeve.
A small lump had formed at his elbow. The skin split open and a wet, crimson eyeball pushed through, blinking twice before fixing its gaze on him.
"Pressure +5."
The words appeared faintly in the air from his Hunter Badge, but Germain ignored them along with the new eye on his arm.
Raising his bronze flamethrower, he unleashed another surge of orange-red fire at the Lord of the Crows.
Ordinary crow-like creatures were weak to flame like the hurricane moths he had faced before.
But this one's wings were thick and shield-like, deflecting the fire with a heavy, muffled sound.
Each time it flapped, the flames recoiled, bursting back toward Germain.
He dodged the backlash just in time, cutting the flame.
Seeing that fire was useless and wasteful, he discarded the flamethrower replacing it with a musket in one hand and a butcher's saw in the other.
He tucked a small silver bullet into the pocket of his hunter's coat, dropped his backpack, and began to circle the towering monster watchful, silent, and ready.
(End of Chapter 30)