Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee-Chapter 34: Gods and Anthills

The giant stone head of the Leviathan looms over the plaza, its weathered gills carved deep into the rock. I stare at it as I close the distance between the tree line and Veric.

In the current age of Thirstfall, Leviathans are the absolute apex of the food chain. Some are considered untouchable gods, possessing ancient wisdom and terrifying intellect. Others are simply walking biological disasters, forces of nature that can swallow entire coastlines without a second thought.

Looking at this massive, troll-like idol, I can’t help but wonder: what were they to the people who built these ruins? 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Why exalt a monster that could wipe you out in a heartbeat?

Was it blind worship, or just desperate fear?

I know the answer, even if they didn’t.

In my past life, I saw a Leviathan surface near the Abyssal Shelf. It wasn’t attacking. It was just... breathing. The displacement wave alone swallowed two coastal settlements and drowned four hundred people in under a minute. The thing didn’t even notice. It was the equivalent of a man yawning near an anthill.

You don’t worship something like that because you love it. You worship it because acknowledging its existence is the only way to convince yourself it might acknowledge yours.

It never does.

Whatever it was, that civilization is dead. And if Veric doesn’t turn off his personal sun, we’ll be joining them.

"Nice lighthouse impression," I say as Lola and I step out of the dense foliage. "Are you trying to signal the heavens, or just begging every monster in a ten-mile radius to eat us?"

Veric glances at me, completely unfazed. He taps his pristine breastplate. "A polished Vanguard set catches the light. It draws aggro. That’s my job, rat. I’m the target so you don’t have to be."

I shrug. "Fair point. If we were fighting in a disco club."

Lola, standing beside me, offers a small, rare smile. She points a tiny finger at the gleaming armor. "It’s not a regular pot," she murmurs, looking up at me. "It’s a stainless steel pot."

Veric’s eye twitches. He takes a long, deep breath, his knuckles turning white as he grips his shield. "Do not," he grinds out, his voice vibrating with suppressed rage, "call me that."

I ignore his rising temper. We don’t have time for ego.

"Listen to me," I say, my voice dropping to a dead serious tone. "I have a plan to get the silent girl out, but I need you to follow it without questioning. If you play the proud Elite right now, you’ll ruin it, and we will all die."

Veric narrows his eyes. "What’s the plan?"

"First step: you lose the shine. Roll in the mud. Rub ashes over the metal. All of it."

Veric stiffens, staring at me as if I just asked him to cut off his own arm. "Are you insane? This is enchanted heavy plating. You want me to coat it in wet dirt?"

"I want you to not be a walking target."

"No. I can use the shadows. I’m not defiling my gear for a Rank-F’s paranoid—"

I don’t argue. I just reach to my belt, pull the glowing crystal flask from its pouch, and wrap my fingers tightly around it.

"If you don’t cooperate," I say coldly, applying pressure to the flask until it hums, "then there’s no reason for me to be here. I’ll crush my vial right now. You can try to fight the Reef Stalker and whatever else is hiding in these ruins by yourself."

Veric freezes. He looks at my hand, then at the dark, oppressive jungle surrounding us. He knows he can’t solo a Stalker. He knows he needs me.

He lets out a sound that is half-growl, half-sigh.

"Fine."

While Veric’s pride dies its slow, theatrical death, I sweep the plaza.

Three entry points: the tree line we came from, a collapsed archway to the northwest choked with vines, and a narrow gap between two fallen pillars on the eastern ridge. No high ground worth a damn—the Leviathan head is climbable but exposed. The stone ruins offer decent concealment, but the sightlines are short.

A close-quarters nightmare.

I look up, remembering the red beams. Three so far, and I hope it doesn’t include one of ours. That means at least half of the other teams have been pushed to signal. The Stalker is herding everyone toward the same kill box.

This plaza isn’t a meeting point. It’s a funnel.

Reluctantly, agonizingly slow, Veric crouches near a puddle of stagnant rainwater and thick jungle loam. He dips two fingers into the muck and begins to delicately smear it across his polished pauldron, grimacing with sheer disgust.

My survival instincts flare. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

"Veric, we are standing right next to the drop zone of dead bodies where three flares went off earlier," I hiss, looking at the canopy. "This isn’t a spa treatment. Stop being squeamish and roll. Things are about to get very ugly, very fast."

He glares at me with pure venom, but he drops to his knees. He lies down in the mud and rolls, the heavy metal squelching and sinking into the dirt and ash until his pristine armor is completely caked in filth.

Lola watches the massive, armored boy thrash in the mud. She tilts her head, looks at me, and points a finger at him.

"Oink?" she asks.

I bite the inside of my cheek hard, contorting my face to suppress a laugh.

Then I notice Lola isn’t laughing anymore.

She’s standing perfectly still, her small hand hovering near my wrist without touching it. Her eyes are fixed on the canopy above us—not scanning, not searching. Just... locked. Like she’s listening to a frequency I can’t hear.

A chill crawls up my spine that has nothing to do with the jungle air.

"Lola?"

She doesn’t answer. She just closes her fingers around my sleeve, gently, and pulls herself one step closer.

Whatever is coming, she felt it first.

Veric pushes himself up, now a foul-smelling, brown-and-gray monstrosity. He looks like a swamp creature. "I hope you are satisfied, Sands," he spits, wiping mud from his chin.

Before I can answer, the sky above us lights up.

FWOOSH.

Another red beam shoots into the oceanic sky, detonating with the deafening, haunting sound of a dying whale.

But this one isn’t in the distance.

It explodes right behind us, bathing the Leviathan plaza in a bloody crimson light.

I draw the hilt of Eventide.

I’m sure now... Almost all the remaining teams are here.