Chapter 11: 11. ECHOES OF DISCORD
As the night deepened, so did the chill, seeping into Vikram's bones despite the feeble protection of his makeshift shelter. Wrapped tightly in his threadbare blanket, he huddled against the biting cold, his thoughts turning inevitably to the mother and daughter he had saved earlier and the slave group.
Their faces haunted him, flickering in the dancing shadows cast by the dwindling fire. Vikram couldn't shake the image of their terrified eyes, their pleas for salvation echoing in his mind when he ran for his life with the old man and his daughter.
He knew, deep down, that they were likely lost to the merciless desert, consumed by the same monstrous creature he had narrowly escaped.
Vikram had heard their pleas and screams when he ran as far as his two legs could take him. His mind had filtered all that was not necessary for his survival, but now that he had time to breathe, all of that came back to haunt his mind.
Yet, as the desert wind howled outside his flimsy refuge, Vikram felt a strange mixture of guilt and detachment settle over him. He understood, with grim clarity, the harsh calculus of survival that governed his actions. In this unforgiving wilderness, compassion was a luxury he could ill afford.
With a heavy heart, Vikram acknowledged the moral compromises he had made, the lines blurred by the relentless pursuit of self-preservation. But in the end, he knew that in this brutal landscape, where every heartbeat was a battle against the elements, his own survival was the only currency that mattered.
And it seemed as though the desert would not give him any respite now either.
"W-We're under attack!!" The Steward shouted as Vikram scrambled off and took a look outside, only to roll sideways.
He stood up and scrambled to stand on two feet, and he saw again the horror of what this desert could offer.
As Vikram's eyes widened in horror, he felt his body nearly crumbling under the eldritch abhorrity. Its ten grotesquely elongated legs moved with an unsettling grace, each step sending shivers down his spine. But it was the creature's bloated abdomen that truly mesmerized him, pulsating with a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to dance and shift with a life of their own.
Despite the terror coursing through his veins, Vikram couldn't tear his gaze away from the mesmerizing spectacle before him. It was as though he was drawn into a trance, captivated by the otherworldly beauty that clashed so starkly with the creature's monstrous form.
But Vikram noticed something odd about the creature. Vikram had rolled away first when he saw that the creature was jumping towards his face, but when he got ready to move away from it another jump... Well, there was no next attempt.
The creature was barely alive. Its stomach was too large for its legs to sustain its weight. It was trying its best to stand straight, but all was for naught.
Vikram was puzzled. What type of evolutionary trait was this creature going that it couldn't carry its own weight? Unless...
Vikram's eyes widened as the Slave Head's scream came, "Stay away from the stomach!!"
Fortunately, Vikram had a good body. His instincts kicked in as he moved back with a push of his legs, and he saw the horror.
The bloated abdomen of the spider had detached from its body, revealing itself to be a grotesque, tentacle-like appendage that writhed and thrashed in the air with a sickening intensity. Vikram watched in morbid fascination as the appendage flailed wildly, its tendril-like tentacles lashing out with desperate ferocity.
But without a host to latch onto, the detached appendage was doomed to failure. Unable to find purchase on its intended target, it writhed and convulsed in a grotesque parody of life, its vibrant colors now faded and dull in the harsh desert light.
With a mixture of horror and relief, Vikram realized that he had narrowly escaped a fate worse than death. The creature's final, desperate gambit had been thwarted by his quick thinking and reflexes, leaving it to wither and shrivel like a dried-up husk in the unforgiving desert sands.
Vikram breathed a sharp inhale as he imagined what would happen to him if he...
Hmmm... Vikram looked at the dried-up creature with an intent that was unknown to anyone but himself. He stood up and looked at the Steward and the Slave Head and his daughter and joined them.
He saw that the warriors were fighting with minimal ease as it eliminated the spider-like creatures. Especially the Hulk-like man, Vikram knew that he was strong, but this guy was a beast hidden in human skin.
He wasn't even using any weapon like the other two warriors. He just slapped anything that came into his sight into oblivion. Even the tendrils couldn't penetrate his skin...
Vikram finally joined the Steward and the Slave Head who was using a bone-made spear as a cane. Vikram looked at his back and saw that there was a lone spider that was coming in his direction.
Vikram tried taking the spear as an excuse to slay the creature, but the Slave Head grew backbone within some time, as he refused to give the spear to him. So he followed what his trait had said he was.
A Tyrant.
He slapped the Slave Head right across the face and the old man fell down with a resounding thud, which made the whole environment silent... Well, not exactly silent, the critters moving around the sand were too audible for human ears.
The daughter who saw all this was too stunned, and her eyes became red with anger, she lunged at him like a rabid dog. But Vikram's body was far enhanced for even one of the grunts that the Hulk had to handle, but two of them could easily handle him...
Vikram easily grabbed her neck and squeezed. He applied strength to his arm and lifted her up. Her legs began to thrash as she struggled to breathe and the rags that hid her face came undone.
Vikram licked his lips. Well, he was lustful by nature...
Her face was too perfect, but all the girl saw was Vikram's lustful eyes, and remembered who he was.
A Tyrant.
Vikram smirked as he saw the disdain and the contempt her eyes held for him, but what she did next shocked everyone.
She spit on his face.
Vikram was shell-shocked by her action. Didn't she know that I had a spear in my hand? But something inside Vikram's heart stirred.
His arrogance had taken a hit really badly. Vikram was angry. But he tried his best to control him. It was the first time he had been spit on. The Slave Head came scrambling back and grabbed his leg.
He started begging for mercy miserably, but Vikram didn't loosen his hold on her. The girl was finding it hard to breathe, and her eyes were bulging out.
'Tsk,' Vikram threw the girl sideways, to where the warriors were, and looked at the Steward looking at him with a bewildered look. "What are you looking at?" He glared at the Steward and asked.
The Steward meekly bowed his head and looked straight at where the warriors were fighting. Vikram moved towards where the lone spider that was moving towards him. The Steward slowly turned toward where Vikram had gone, but only a spear greeted him.
"What did I just say to you? Do you think you're qualified to watch me fight?"
The steward slowly bowed his head, turned his head, and looked at the fight of the warrior trio.
After some time, the fight was getting near to its end. The spiders were getting scarce, and all of them had survived. Vikram came back victorious from his fight and patted the hunched back's back.
Vikram looked at the sad face of the Slave Head, and the hate-filled eyes of the daughter, the bewildered eyes of the Steward which had inadvertedly received harsh 'pats'. He looked at the stoic eyes of the Hulk and the grinning face of the two grunts.
Vikram took a deep breath and breathed out.
'It's starting,'
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone