Chapter 82: Jet
He’d been here for a whole year, even going through his first evolution a few months back. His arrival had been very rough, and if not for his extreme luck to crash into marshy land, he would have died right on entry.
He knew because he had seen one happen live. He had been scavenging for food in this barren, abyssal-looking land, living like an animal for months, when one day, he spotted something falling from the sky. It took him a while to realize that it wasn’t something, but rather, someone—totally unconscious. Small mercies. That was the only saving grace. The person’s death was utterly gruesome.
First, the spatial distortion and entry point started from a very high altitude, much higher than Jet estimated his own entry point to have been.
The person’s fall started from so high up that even if they had been heading right for the marshes, the impact would have still resulted in instant death. And yet, this person’s trajectory was right towards dry, hard-caked ground.
Jet retched out the meager food he’d been able to scavenge throughout the day from little kills here and there. For that whole day, and even a few days after that, the image of the splat was burned in his mind. It took him several days before he mustered the courage to go take a look at the impact site, but there was nothing left to be seen there. Everything had been devoured by various creatures that roamed about. And even if the remains were still there, Jet doubted he’d be able to recognize anything at all.
The whole occurrence puzzled him because at that point, months had passed since he’d crashed into this world, and yet he was just witnessing someone else arrive. It made him wonder whether the journey through that light was enough to cause such a drastic difference in time.
But that was months ago. Now he was more accustomed to this world. He’d evolved and was now a Tier 2. A thirty-two node awakened. The difference was massive. He’d opted to just continue down his path of spell bombardment. And so far, it had worked well for him. If not for his extremely quick casting time and access to a barrage of fire spells, he would have been dead three times over. The creatures here were strong, but they were slow in casting magic, and less versatile—way less versatile. They cast magic with the sigils etched into their bodies at birth, which was very limited.
Even the demon-like sentient species that ruled these lands, which he had spotted a few times, were the same. Although they seemed to be able to etch more into their skin.
Speaking of this sentient species, Jet was on the run from one of them at the moment. He wiped the black, tar-like substance off his face, standing up alert. For a whole year, he had made sure not to wander into ’civilized’ territories, keeping his movement restricted within the relatively safe area of his crash.
The dislike for cooler regions was ingrained into most powerful creatures that roamed this land, as they had evolved to adapt to the heat—and even thrive within it. So the marshes and the other very few cooler areas of this world were dominated solely by the weaker creatures. This greatly benefited Jet, who outclassed them even though they still posed a significant threat, especially now that he was a Tier 2 awakened.
Maybe that was what brought about his current situation. For Jet, who was inherently rash by nature, living like a rat was not in his books. If not for the fact that for the first few months, he’d mostly been recuperating from the injuries he’d gotten upon his crash-entry—despite even landing in marshy land—he would have pushed out of this safe territory and explored further out. Which was what he was presently doing now that he had fully recovered.
"Shit." He shuddered in revulsion as he spat out the acrid-tasting black substance that had entered his mouth when he hid himself. "Vile!" He snapped in anger, shuddering subconsciously even more.
He was tired of this place. The extreme heat. The constant alertness. The terrible-tasting meat of creatures he’d been forced to eat for survival. His constant trouble rationing the little water he could get from squeezing the soil in the marshes. All without a single soul to speak to. Living like a beast. Day in, day out, for a whole year.