A sticky situation

  Kato stood, he clenched and unclenched his hands, then rolled his shoulders back and a smug smile crossed his face. He felt strong, this wasn’t a minor enhancement like the fruit had given him. This was different; he could tell, and he wanted more. He needed more. Greed twisted his features, as a cold hunger settled within him.

  Kato tried to temper it, but this new power was intoxicating. He looked down at the rock jutting from the ground, a sneer marring his features. ‘How did I ever think this was the way forward?’ He shook his head and reached down towards it.

  Lacing his fingers around the rock, he squeezed. It would turn to dust for its false promises of salvation.

  Nothing happened. Kato stood back, blinking in shock. He had felt so strong.

  The sneer left him, and his face settled into a much more humble visage. What had he been thinking?

  He looked half-starved and in need of a long rest. Deep set shadows lingered under blood shot eyes and his arms, barely thicker than sticks, trembled as they dangled out of the tatters he was currently calling a shirt.

  He turned and looked over the land that had tried to defeat him. “Nice try” even his voice had strengthened, slightly deepening and its previous rasp, at least temporarily defeated. The eyes had apparently even nourished him, at least, he wasn’t thirsty anymore.

  “What just happened” Kato muttered. The eyes had come and saved him when everything seemed lost. His fate set in stone. He didn’t know why they chose to help; he didn’t even know if they could make that choice, all he knew was that they had.

  Uncertainty crept in; he had been faced with impossibility after impossibility. It was hard not to doubt his sanity. First the eyes of the dead had come to save him, and now the sounds that had haunted him, that he had brushed off as mere symptoms of his sickness had returned.

  Currrr, the grinding scrapes were still loud, but now they seemed much less threatening. As if the noises were more mechanical in nature and not from an eldritch horror roaming the land, hunting specifically for him.

  Kato could have stood there for years, pondering, trying to make sense of it all but that seemed foolish to him so he did not.

  He took a deep breath and was immediately startled; the air once acrid and poisonous, now seemed to go down a lot easier. Kato continued on towards the sound, his coughing subdued, but by no means gone.

  ‘It’s a lot easier to cover distance when you’re not on deaths’ door’ Kato thought mockingly. The lesson, obvious in hindsight, was one the gods had felt the need to teach Kato. He really wished they hadn’t, he had learnt it was easier to walk than crawl as a child.

  “Cogul’s blessing” Kato whispered under his breath tracing a circle over his chest. He wasn’t sure if the god had helped, but it never hurt to be safe.

  Kato wandered on, soon reaching a courtyard filled with training equipment. There were mannequins in an organised row stood waiting alongside a great wall. The wall must have been thirty foot high and another five thick. Made of stones that could only have been lifted by giants, each one larger than Kato was tall.

  It was an impressive feat of structural engineering; and yet, somehow, despite this, it paled in comparison to Redusk’s own.

  The mannequins were made of cloth, adorning bodies that had been stuffed with straw. Kato could see it poking out from several of the vaguely humanoid figures. Stitches had been ripped open and straw littered the floor, some had been luckier than others, but all had suffered to some extent.

  One had been exposed by deep long gashes that ran from its right shoulder to left hip, as if it had been clawed apart. Another’s’ head hung weakly to the side, mere threads were all that stood between it and the ground. The others had various puncture wounds, and weirdly one had a bite mark.

  “Who bites a training dummy” Kato said perplexed.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  Kato looked over to a small, weathered bench, where a long, thin, and knotted stick rested on a plump red cushion. It was around four foot long and looked as though it would snap on contact with a feather.

  He continued to examine the area, there were multiple other benches holding cushions, but they all held nothing. “Guess people didn’t want the stick.” He muttered, walking over to the only occupied bench, and gingerly lifting the wood. “Don’t worry little guy, people didn’t want me either.” He paused, taking a breath, unsure of how much he wanted to discuss. Afterall this was only a random bit of driftwood some guy had decided to stick on a bench.

  “People-” his voice caught “they aren’t nice, they’ll do stuff like give you bags and then try and kill you.” Kato said, somewhat maniacally towards the stick.

  It looked back impassively, not saying a word.

  “I know, I know, who would give someone a bag and then try and kill them just hours later?”

  The stick remained stationary.

  “Yes, just hours, I couldn’t believe it either.”

  The stick continued sticking.

  “You need a name” Kato paused. “Sticky” Kato declared triumphantly, he nodded, proud of himself. “What a wonderful name, truly I am a modern savant of wordsmithing.”

  Armed with his new adventuring companion, Kato continued onwards following the curved stone wall. The sound was getting louder and louder.

  The relentless metallic scraping filled the cavern: currrr…., currrr….., CURRRR, the noise once at a reasonable level was now deafening. Kato supposed this made sense. It would have to have been loud for it to have reached him as far away as it did.

  A giant metallic sign, battered, weathered, and coated in a thick layer of rust hung forlornly. Kato supposed it had once proudly displayed some type of symbolism or message, greeting or warning those who passed. But time had long since rendered its meaning illegible.

  Now though it stood unloved, abandoned, and forgotten by all but the artificial wind, that pushed it slightly up and to the side before letting it fall and produce a screeching metallic sound.

  Kato stared at it, mouth agape. ‘This, this, this’ his thoughts trailed off. How had this instilled terror in him? Convincing him of the existence of horrors, beyond even what his worst imagination could produce.

  He laughed. It was a relieved laugh, beginning softly, but soon turning into hysterics. A full bellowing laugh burst from his core, tears streaming down his face.

  After the laughing fit had subsided, he regarded the entrance that the sign stood above. The arching opening was twenty feet tall and ten wide and had been painstakingly hollowed out from a dark, unfamiliar stone.

  It looked ominous, there was no way around it. The opening was pitch black and beckoned him into a tunnel that for all he knew could lead to hell itself. But Kato pushed down his uneasiness, refusing to be made a fool of again and walked in with his head held high.

  Currr, that sound again. Kato couldn’t let it go. He turned around almost immediately after walking in, his gaze drawn back to the sign.

  It hung on the wall from a knotted rope, a dirty brown, flecked with the familiar ash that coated the hellscape he’d found himself in.

  He looked at the sign then to his blade that hung at his side. It had to go. Kato couldn’t just let it be, not after all the stress it had caused him.

  ‘But how to go about it?’ he thought. His blade seemed like the obvious answer, but the top of the sign was easily three Katos off the ground.

  Kato put the stick he had been carrying in his bag and launched himself at the wall, he would not let mere height best him! He made it up around halfway, before losing his footing and crashing back down to the ground.

  “This is really stupid. What am I still doing here” he said absently mindedly kicking the ground beneath his feet.

  He turned and made to walk back towards the entrance. CURRRR. It was mocking him he was certain. Kato spun on his heel, staring at the sign, rage filling his eyes.

  “You have not beaten me, you are just a sign, hanging there doing nothing but me I will leave this place and carve out my own future!” Kato stared at it, triumphant and lording his ability to move from place to place over the sign.

  He moved to return to the entrance, the sign sufficiently cowed, or so he thought. CURRRRRRRRRR. It did it again! This was way earlier than he would have expected the sound to come, it was mocking him!

  He returned to facing the sign, now he really couldn’t let it go, his pride wouldn’t allow it.

  Thunk. His blade sunk into the wall. Using it as extra support he scaled the wall again and after an immense struggle reached the top of the sign. He clung to the wall; his blade handle wedged in his mouth and maneuvered carefully to one of the knotted ropes holding it in place.

  Sawing through the fibres was surprisingly easy and after moments the rope snapped, and the sign swung violently to the side. He moved to work on the second and just watched immensely satisfied as the entire sign crashed to the ground moments later.

  Kato was already most of the way up and saw no reason to not continue. He reached the top of the wall sweating and out of breath, with a final push he clambered onto the mostly flat surface atop the wall.

  He looked over the land he’d just come from, “I'm on top of the world” he shouted, his voice full of joy, it was impossible to resist.

  Glancing around him he spotted a lone bright red plastic watering can lying down on the flat parapet before him.

  “Well, that’s nifty” Kato chuckled he hadn’t seen a plant since he got here. He picked it up and threw it off the side of the wall watching as it careened down and smashed upon the metal sign below.

  “Hope I didn’t need that for anything” Kato quipped and moved on without a second thought.