Chapter 83: Prologue (1) (originally .1: Rodent of Unusual Size (bonus Chapter))

Chapter 83: Prologue (1) (originally .1: Rodent of Unusual Size (bonus Chapter))

Roscoe was aware. Perhaps it was intelligence that he had gained, or rather, been granted, but its manifestation had given him self-awareness. But, of course, he remembered his previous life as more of a fever dream. It was a haze of fear and confusion, with nothing outside the present and no concept of proper choice or thought. Indeed, he would argue that his "thoughts" barely counted as such. It was more like existing on rails than authentic living.

Yet now, he had been blessed with sentience. That endless darkness, that empty void he had floated in, had delivered this greatest of gifts to him. His very being was aflame with a sense of purpose that had previously been inconceivable. Not even the comparatively unenlightened minds of his 14 very disagreeable roommates could diminish his exultation. Roscoe had initially attempted to communicate with them, seeking some sort of companion to test his newfound intellect against, yet was disappointed. They were not as Roscoe was. This made their attempts to bring harm to Roscoe entertaining. They still needed to grasp that the beings within this space could not physically do anything to each other.

Once they had come to terms with this fact, they had feuded, all 14 again, against him - mentally. They had sent waves of anger at each other and him. They seemed to find purpose, if not satisfaction, in spreading their need to devour and kill.

The mental assault was a new sensation to him, though not nearly so ground-shaking as the intelligence was. It vaguely reminded him of the fear that colored so much of those earlier memories. Yet the sheer intention behind this, the desire to cause harm for the sake of harm, rather than in the way a predator hunts prey to feed itself, was worth meditating on. Roscoe supposed that this was one of the more unfortunate manifestations of intelligence, though perhaps such shortsighted and destructive aims also indicated lower intelligence. That is an exciting thought. The source of this content nov(el)bi((n))

As Roscoe continued to float in this space, ruminating on the nature of his existence and its meaning, he occasionally passed by collections of other materials that inhabited it. Ribbons of fine shimmering dust, miniature asteroids of debris, and shining clouds of prismatic crystals formed awe-inspiring imitations of galaxies. Passing near enough to these formations imbued him with some part of their energy. This mechanism likely led to his current state. It made him wonder whether this space was indeed the same as the space visible in the night sky. Yet that did not seem to be the case.

And then the void began to shake.

It had trembled, and the others had gone from anger, bloodlust, and absolute hatred for their captor to unmitigated terror. This transition happened in the blink of an eye. Roscoe only vaguely recalled having come to this place. Still, his memories suggested that he was indeed housed within a greater being somehow. The last moments of his previous life were somewhat hazy. However, he could now feel the deities' attention focus on him.

It was the 1v3 which he thought was a bit unfair. But it was not Roscoe's place to complain. So he did as his god had decreed. The brute with a giant sword advanced, taking swipe after swipe at him. Roscoe could feel it chip at his claws and teeth as he paired desperately.

Roscoe struggled valiantly but had lost too much momentum. Fighting multiple opponents was all about rhythm and timing, yet he had been rocked. An arrow stuck in his shoulder and deadened his arm, making it hard to use. The man in front of him raised his sword. Roscoe was able to get his paw up in time to catch it in his claws. The metal bit deeply into two of them and broke off a third. His injured arm was weak and unable to stop the blow entirely. The force powered through his paw, slamming into his head and knocking Roscoe over. He lay in the dirt. Completely helpless.

Seeing that he wasn't going to have a chance, Roscoe froze. He had failed his god; he had lost. However, he was too weak to stall his enemies any further. Roscoe hoped he had done enough and prayed that he would be forgiven for his weakness.

His vision began to blacken at the edges. His wounds throbbed, and the accumulated damage began to take its toll. Soon, Roscoe faded into unconsciousness. Everything went black.

***

Roscoe woke up alone. His deity and the other humans have disappeared. He still lay in the courtyard of his home castle, right where he had made his last stand. The ground was still soaked with his blood. Roscoe didn't remember the conclusion of the fight. He simply thought he had died. Perhaps he had just passed out? Groaning, his muscles were sore, and his head rang like a bell. His mouth felt like he'd been chewing on cotton for the past week. Stumbling to his feet, he found less damage than he had expected. Whatever the god had done to him while he floated in the void had done wonders for his constitution. Looking around, he saw bloody arrows everywhere. There were still holes and loose flaps in his skin from where the humans' attacks had landed. And yet, despite that, Roscoe was alive. It didn't seem possible. Truly my god had blessed me yet again, Roscoe thought. He had been rewarded.

Taking a deep breath, Roscoe attempted to smell where his god had gone. However, it seemed the deity left no scent. It made sense that a being such as that could mask its presence. Perhaps it was so perfectly efficient that it would not leave any byproducts as a mortal would. However, he could track the tiny human who also served their master. He could smell her, feel her life, and feel it pull at him.

He followed her trail back into the castle. Quickly he came across an overlapping track. She must have doubled back recently - more than once, it seemed. Taking a second to untangle the web of scents, he found what he was looking for. Following the newest trail, it led behind the stairs that presumably led to the grand hall.

Roscoe went through the banded wooden door, following the scent of his god's servant.