Prologue III

0 PA

Sam had learned a lot of things over the last few days. Some of which were kind of obvious in retrospect, and some of which completely threw him off guard.

For starters, just because he was their chief didn’t mean he could opt out of gathering food. Everyone needed to help collect food, be that through fishing, foraging, hunting, or growing crops. If you couldn’t hunt, you fished. If you couldn’t fish, you foraged. If you couldn’t forage, you tended to the small farms in the village. Be you child or elder, man or woman, you had to contribute, no exceptions.

Of course, normally the chief would hunt with the other men, since they were generally one of the strongest warriors in the tribe. But he didn’t know how to hunt or fish, so instead he is out in the forest, foraging with mostly women and children, and trying to find berries that wouldn’t poison people.

He had almost made that mistake on the first day, and he didn’t think his status as divinely-appointed-ruler would last long if he kept making (what was to them) dumb mistakes.

Another thing he had learned was that what ‘chief’ or ‘king’ meant to him meant something a hell of a lot different to them.

“Sam!” Lia shouted, slamming an arm into his back hard enough to send him stumbling forward. “We’ve got everything we need for today, so come on, let’s head back!”

Specifically, for them, ‘chief’ really only meant ‘first among equals,’ rather than the more medieval-style kingship he was familiar with. Y’know, courts, castles, all that jazz. The fact it wasn’t anything like that was kind of a relief, honestly. If he had to keep up some façade of nobility or deal with court intrigue, he might just take his chances out in the wilderness.

Lia—who he had at first thought was made his minder by old lady Mai, until he realized he was actually supposed to be hers—was a hyper, loud woman with huge beefy arms and the attention span of a toddler. Not that that wasn’t common for the village—the beefy arms, not the attention span. Everyone who lived out here was jacked as all hell, making him look like a stringy noodle in comparison.

“Got it,” Sam nodded to her, then turned towards the others. “Bai, Ming, Xi, come on, let’s get back to the village!”

Bai, Ming, and Xi were all children, with Bai being the oldest at ten winters (which apparently made him actually thirteen years old or so—they didn’t count the first three years of a toddler’s life, something something child mortality), and Ming being a young girl at six winters.

All three groaned and grumbled at having their exploring cut short—and Xi had some suspiciously purple lips, the glutton—but dutifully followed the two adults back home.

Home. Urgh.

Well, okay, his frustration was probably getting the better of him. The village was perfectly nice and all that, but it had only just started to sink in—really sink in, not just leave him in a sort of dazed acceptance—that this was now his new life. That he wasn’t back in Chicago, and would probably never see his home again. No more air-conditioning, or cars, or plumbing…

Shit, his girlfriend probably thought he was dead.

Sam shook his head. Bad thoughts, just… just don’t think about that.

‘Hm. Easier said than done.’

“So, what’cha thinking about? You’re making one of those weird faces again.”

Lia, thankfully, was a great distraction.

‘Wait, I don’t want to talk about home. Shit, improvise! What’s a safer issue to talk about?’

“…I’m just worried about how easily people are accepting me,” he finally decided on. It was a legitimate question he had. Maybe it was just because he wasn’t all that religious, but if God himself had shown up in his backyard and told him he was sending down a divinely appointed President, he wouldn’t have accepted it so easily. Probably because that’s not how democracies work, but the metaphor still worked. Sort of.

Of course, that was only one of his issues with it. The other issue was… well…

Okay, there was no easy way to say this. These people were all blatantly Asian, and he was a white guy. Who was now ruling them. As a dictator.

‘I should not be the only one having a problem with this!’

Of course, these people (as far as he knew) didn’t have the centuries of oppression and racism that he had to recognize as being a part of modern culture, so… uh… did that make it better?

“Eh? That’s what you’re worried about?” Lia asked incredulously.

“Well, I mean, I just showed up and took over, right? I’m just surprised that nobody’s started anything over it.” Sam smoothed down his frown, trying not to let too much of his nervousness show on his face. “Just, we’re practically alone now, and I promise I won’t make an issue of it. Is there anyone, anyone at all, who doesn’t like the fact I’m in charge now?”

Lia, stared at him, looking actually thoughtful for the first time since he had met her. Then she opened her mouth and— “Hm. No, not that I know of.”

He gave her a dry look. “Well, thanks anyway.”

She scoffed, shaking her head and incidentally whipping Sam with her braid. “You worry too much about dumb things. Do we have food? Yes. Do we have water? Yes. Do the gods still favor us? Obviously yes. Otherwise? Nobody cares.”

“Well, I don’t like him!” Bai piped up from behind them, “He never lets me practice with the spears!”

“Because you almost stabbed your own eye out!” Sam shot back, rolling his eyes when Bai stuck out his tongue. His suspiciously purple tongue. “If you want, think of it as punishment for sneaking out more berries than you’re given!”

“Wait! You guys have been stealing berries!” Lia yelped angrily, spinning around to look at the suddenly panicking children.

Huh, was she actually being responsible for once—

“Without me!?”

And there it is.

After that, they walked back to the village, the sounds of the forest drowned out by Lia brutally haggling with the kids over berries, trading chores and toys over optimal berry-stealing times.

Like he said, this life could have been worse.

--

The people in his village divided up the work into teams, normally of around five to ten people, rather than having everyone doing everything all at once. So, once the five of them got back, they tagged in the next group to go foraging while they set their harvest over with the rest of the food.

“Hey, Lia!” A man called out. “I thought you were supposed to be out foraging? Don’t tell me you’re slacking off again!?”

Turning towards the man, Sam took in his appearance. He was rather short, with the same dark brown hair most of the village had. His hair was rather long, with two short braids framing a youthful face, which was currently split in two by a mocking grin.

That was about as much as he could see of the man before Lia jumped on him, tackle-hugging the newcomer.

“Basi!” she shouted, lifting him so high up that his feet weren’t touching the ground, “You’re back from the hunt! That was so fast!”

Hunts, as Sam had learned, could take up to weeks at a time. Most of the meat the village got was through trapping small game like rabbits and foxes, but every so often a larger hunt for deer would be set up. One of those groups had left the night he arrived—something about it being an auspicious night, he didn’t fully understand these people’s customs yet.

Basi had been a part of that group, so Sam knew even less about him than the rest of the village.

“So who’s this?” he asked Lia curiously.

“Ah, right!” she yelped, spinning around and depositing Basi next to Sam. “This is Basi, my little brother. Little brother, this is Sam, our chieftain. You saw him before you left, yeah?”

The man sent Lia a scathing look. “I’m older than you, and you know that.”

“And yet you barely reach my chin~” Lia sung at him, jumping out of the way when Basi took a swipe at her, and dashed off across the village with a cackle.

Basi sighed, before flinching and turning back to Sam with a chagrined expression. “My apologies, Chieftain. I didn’t mean to ignore you. I just… my sister is…”

Sam held up a hand. “Don’t worry, I understand,” he waved him off, remembering his own brothers. ‘Man, the shit we got up to…’

Damn it, now he was sad again.

“Ah, right, I have something I was supposed to tell you.”

Sam bit his cheek, trying to knock himself out of his funk, and focused on the shorter man in front of him. “You do? What is it?”

“While we were hunting, we stumbled across another person, someone not of the village. We spoke with him for a bit, and he was apparently scouting out a new hunting ground for his people. From what he told us, they apparently set up their own village over a day’s walk down the river.”

That was… huh. There were people that close by? That was kind of worrying.

Should he… did he need to do something about that? Would those people be a threat? Or was he just being paranoid and they were just as peaceful as his village?

Sam blinked, noticing that Basi was still standing in front of him, looking increasingly awkward at his continued silence.

Right, some formalities still had to be observed.

“Thank you for telling me about this, Basi, it’s very useful. You can go about your day, now.” Sam waved him off. Relief overcame the other man’s face, and with a quick bow that was too short to really be proper (not that Sam really cared all that much about that kind of stuff) he turned and ran off in the direction his sister had gone.

Probably to dish out some brotherly justice.

Sam snorted and shook his head, thinking again on the info he had been given.

There were two options on what that other village could be. Either it was just a normal village that just happened to be close by, or there was another person from Earth there.

Somebody like him.

The idea of that sent a thrill of fear through him. What if they saw him as an enemy? He remembered the words of the God-Thing.

“But of course, you all need a goal. After all, what is an experiment that never ends? So, the goal I give you is simple. Ascension. On Earth, you will only be immortal. You will have no supernatural power beyond your boons. So, when the centuries have passed. When your numbers have been whittled down to almost nothing. When only ten of you remain, I will grant those final ten true godhood. Those final ten will ascend.”

What if… what if they tried to kill him? The God-Thing said that only ten people would survive in the end. Or would they? Was it even necessary to reach the ‘end?’ What even was the end, in this case?

He shook his head. Thinking about it like that wouldn’t help him at all. He would just have to hope that they were the same as him. Just as scared and lost as he was. There was no reason to expect the worst in someone he hadn’t even met yet. Maybe they should team up? Two heads were better than one, after all.

Or maybe he was overreacting, and it was just a normal village with a normal, mortal leader.

Hm. Something to think about.

Feeling… not lighter, exactly, but much calmer, he turned and headed deeper into the village.

Ushi was going to teach him how to carve deer bones today, and that was way to cool of a skill to miss out on.

--

“Once, there was a Hunter.”

Everyone was seated around the firepit at the center of the village. It was one of the village traditions Sam had learned about. Every other night the people would gather around the fire, and Old Lady Mai would regale them with a story from the ancestors—one that had been passed down from her mother, whom had had it passed down from her grandmother, who had learned it from her aunt, so on and so forth.

“He was an honest sort, making his living among the forests of Di-shi. Every day, he would head out of his camp, and hunt his prey. Some days it was squirrels, some days it was foxes, and some days it was deer. Some days he found nothing, and on those days he was sad.”

The stories weren’t actually that great. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with them, per-say, but they were basically early fairy tales. They were good, but they were clearly the prototype of what would later become better stories.

“However, one night he discovered something breathtaking. It was an auspicious night, the night of the full moon, and all know the spirits become restless under its heavenly glow. The Hunter had been travelling home from a late night of foraging, when he heard some voices laughing and shouting. The Hunter was curious, for he knew there was nobody else in the woods—and if there was, he would have chased them out long ago.”

Y’know, Sam was pretty sure this was rhyming in their native language. He could barely hear something beneath her words, almost like a song, but his mind translated the words before he could pick anything up. It was pretty disappointing—he would have loved to be able to hear the original prose.

“So, with a hunter’s grace, he got low to the ground, and snuck through the undergrowth. Soon, he arrived at a pool of water, hidden away by large rocks. And upon looking into the pool, he was shocked. There, in the water, were ten beautiful women, bathing beneath the stars.”

“However, they were no ordinary women, for their skin was as blue as the sky, and their eyes lit up like stars. They were the handmaidens of the Dawn, her beautiful children, who claimed the day back from the night, so that their mother may safely guide the Sun back into the sky.”

“The Hunter watched them for hours, spellbound. And then, when he finally forced himself to turn away, he saw the garments of the women, laying on the rocks by the pool. And so, thinking quickly, the Hunter stole the garments.”

‘Wait, hang on, he did what?’

“Eventually, the night began to end, and the women turned to put back on their clothes. However, they were shocked to discover their garments were missing! One of the women, Gongzhu, got out of the pool telling her sisters she would find their clothes.”

“And so she walked, searching through the forest, when she came across a man. It was the Hunter, who had their garments by his feet. Staring at the man, Gongzhu was entranced by his handsome face, and so told him, ‘You have seen my body, and so have seen all of my secrets. Because of this, I am now impure. If I am to be redeemed, we must be wed.’ To which the Hunter agreed.”

‘Really, no regard for the clothes he obviously stole? You just see a pretty face and instantly forget everything else, do you Gongzhu?’ Sam inconspicuously rolled his eyes. ‘This is one of those morally dissonant things, huh. Well, it could be worse. At least it was mostly consensual.’

“And so Gongzhu returned to the pool. She gave her sisters back their garments, and they made to set off. But Gongzhu could not and told her sisters as much. She was to be married, and so she could not return with them to the heavens. The sisters were worried but allowed her to stay. And so, they returned, and she stayed.”

“When the sisters returned to the heavens, they managed to keep the loss of their sister from their mother for thirteen winters and twelve summers, before the Goddess took notice. ‘Where is your sister,’ she asked the remaining nine.”

‘Wow,’ Sam thought amusedly. ‘It took her 13 years to realize her daughter was missing. She definitely deserves a mother of the year award.’

“The sisters told the mother where Gongzhu had gone and—enraged—the Goddess descended to the mortal realm to collect her daughter.”

“The daughter, who was now happily married and had borne her husband two children, refused. But the Dawn could not be denied, and so the girl was forced to return to the heavens.”

“Soon the Hunter returned to his home—and was shocked and worried to discover his wife was gone. He asked his children, who told him that she had been taken to heaven by a goddess and would never return. Distraught, the Hunter cried, and begged the ancestors for aid. Taking pity on him, the spirits sent him a golden ox, which spoke to him. ‘If you wish to see your wife again, you must carve a boat from the great oak tree in the forest and sail it up to the stars. There you will return to your wife.’”

“The Hunter did so, carving the boat and then sailing to the heavens with his children. Soon, in the distance he could see his wife again, and joy overcame both of their faces. However, the goddess of the Dawn was cruel, and would not let a mortal meet her daughter. So she tore a great gash through the sky, blocking the Hunter’s boat. You can even see it, from all the way down here,” Mai told them, pointing up into the sky.

There Sam could see the great gash the goddess had torn in the sky. Or, as he knew it as, the Milky Way Galaxy.

“But for all that, the Hunter was not deterred. The Goddess could not tear the whole sky, lest it fall apart. And so, on one day a year, the gash ceased to be, and he could visit his wife on the other side of the heavens. If one looks, even now, they can see the two stars in the sky which show the Princess and the Hunter meeting.”

“Thus ends the story of the Princess and the Hunter.” Having said her part, Mai took a long sip of her water jug, wetting her parched throat.

The rest of the people around the fire chatted for a bit more after that, catching up with friends and talking about the story. But soon it was late and they slowly dispersed, returning to their homes. Sam didn’t really feel like moving, so he stuck around, watching everyone leave. He saw Lia drag her exhausted brother away, and Bai whining to his mother about not needing to go to bed.

Eventually only Mai and Sam remained, sitting next to the cinders.

“Oh, you’re not leaving?” Mai asked curiously. He could barely see her face; the fire having burned too low to see much of anything.

Sam hummed thoughtfully. “Nah. I’m feeling a bit too lazy to move at the moment. I think I’ll stay here a bit longer.”

The old woman scoffed, but otherwise didn’t say anything.

They sat there silently for a long while, listening to the quiet crackling of the fire. Around them, Sam could hear the insects chirping away, only barely drowned out by the other people around them settling in for the night.

He leaned back, staring up at the stars, not for the first time marveling at their beauty. He’d never seen a sky so clear, with the millions upon millions of lights hanging up there. The Milky Way was brighter than he’d ever seen it outside of photographs, truly looking like someone had torn a gash in the sky. He could see why the ancients thought the gods lived up there. After all, what on earth could compare?

‘Actually, I guess I am one of the ancients now, huh?’

It was a sobering thought, a reminder of how different everything was now.

“Hey, Mai?” he called out suddenly. “That story you told. Was it true?”

He wasn’t sure what prompted the question. Maybe, if it was true, those other stories would be true as well. And if a story like that was true, then maybe magic was real?

‘Wouldn’t that be incredible.’

However, the old woman across from him was silent.

‘Did she fall asleep?’

“Oh-ho?” she spoke up suddenly, causing him to jump. “Well, what do you think?”

‘Ah,’ Sam thought, more disappointed than he expected, ‘that’s a non-answer. So, the story wasn’t true after all. Shame, it was actually kind of nice.’

He snorted, shaking his head. Since when did it bother him whether a story was true or not? Star Wars was still fun even if it was fake.

“I’m gonna turn in now,” he told her, shuffling to his feet.

“Yes yes, have a good night, don’t die in your sleep,” Mai muttered, sounding half asleep herself.

Sam snorted despite himself. “Yeah, and you’d better go to bed soon too. Don’t want to fall asleep out here after all—what would we do if you got eaten by a bear?”

“Ha! Ming would probably rejoice! Little brat never liked learning her songs—I can’t die until she’s competent, you see.”

Sam chuckled, waving the old woman off as he left.

Entering his hut, Sam pulled off his clothes. Normally he would put on pajamas, but there wasn’t that much clothing to go around in the village, and they had better things to deal with than just making him more comfortable. Besides, it was humid enough out here, and he had the hut all to himself, so really there wasn’t anything to complain about.

Shaking his head, he sighed and sat down on the bed, not quite ready to go to sleep yet. Unlike in stories, he didn’t get any nightmares when he slept—he still wasn’t sure if that made him a bad person for not caring about what had happened, or if it was just something people made up because it sounded cool. Sleep was… it came easy, almost too easy, but he also never felt tired. And he knew why, and that was why it bothered him.

He turned to the table next to the bed. On it, his… the glass ball glowed a faint green. He could swear he could almost hear it humming, but that was hopefully just his imagination.

He didn’t like looking at it either way. It made him uncomfortable, like he was seeing some part of himself he wasn’t supposed to, goosebumps travelling across his body whenever he was near it.

‘It just isn’t supposed to exist.’

He sighed, turning away from it. It was best not to think too hard about these things.

This new life was, if he was being completely honest, actually kind of peaceful. Just forage for food, knit some socks, and tell stories around the fire. Like this is what humans were supposed to be doing.

He snorted, rolling his eyes. Yeah, maybe he should write that down, become a famous philosopher or something. What was the name of that one French guy that said humans were shit? Thomas Paine? That sounded wrong, but hey, maybe he could be the next Thomas Paine, get himself a shiny spot in the history books, have some high schoolers curse his name during their essays.

‘Yeah, that’ll be the day.’

Chuckling to himself, he rolled on his side and went to sleep, feeling almost relaxed.

Still, as peaceful as his new life was, all good things ended eventually. And for Sam, it ended on the fifth night of his life in this world, when the number in the back of his head suddenly changed.

9,999 God-Kings Remain