Mt. Ohm - God Slayer by K. van Marshall (top android ebook reader txt) 📕

perving. “Juuuuuuuds! Why you so slooooooooow?”, bellowed Knoah, waiting for a response that never came. “Is it the view?!”, he added.

 

Judor looked up, but still gave no response, it was a blatant provocation and he was more concerned with shadowing Els. The light from the tri-suns, bounced of his purple skin as his huge bulging muscles flexed. Still climbing the cliff bare handed, he ignored the vines lifeline. Stubbornly showing he did not need his rivals generosity. Wide nostrils flaring, he slams his metal hard, kirah enforced fists into the rock - he was more than capable enough of scampering up the cliff; rather then the slow crawl he was intent on.  

 

Judor is too busy acting like the personal bodyguard to Queen Els, as usual, scrutinized Knoah. “Your muscles are slowing you down gigi!”. Knoah’s cheeky comment roused a spluttering of chuckles from the group.

 

What truly annoyed Knoah in this situation; Els was doing fine on her own; her strength has always been on par with both Judor, himself and the strongest of their age group. When rating the strongest of his generation, Knoah has always placed the pair near the top, just below himself, but Judors willingness to be a slave to an insane infatuation drove Knoah to despair. Judor has a frame twice the size of Knoah's, and his muscles have muscles. When sparing, Knoah would always came out second best; until he gave up clashing head on. Strength against strength always resulted in his loss, but striking fluidly and swiftly was how he eventually found victory with regularity; annoyingly it was only against Judor he had to adopt such tactics.

 

“Shut it, dead path!”, replied Els, her sweet voice flowing upwards - grabbing Knoah’s attention and cutting the chuckles cold.

 

Her bronze locks flowed from side to side as she flitted up the cliff. What light that could catch her, shimmered off her brilliantly deep, dark purple skin. Unlike the tired lot below, she was a firecracker of boundless energy. Using her slim yet deceptively strong body, she effortlessly dances up the cliff side. Although obviously having fun, she made sure to keep an eye on the rest. Like Judor she could have been up at the summit with Knoah but instead she floats just before them. Like a true leader, Els knew her presence was filling them with the energy to keep moving.

 

Eventually everyone joined Knoah at the top and took a moment to regain their strength. With everyone well aware that the clock was ticking, they did not rest long.

 

After finishing retying the ends of his loose red trouser legs, they came loose during the climb, Knoah turns to the rest. “We ready - come ready up”. He demanded, eager to start the trek.

 

“Yeah, let's split into ni”, said Judor. His suggestion was instantly followed by a chorus of boos, everyone had grown sick of Judor’s sickening love tactics during Urha; the jaw on his perfectly rectangle head clenched and stone cold, black eyes narrowed.

 

“Cobracat”, hissed Knoah, he was backed up by a chorus of hisses.

 

“Yeah”, whispers someone quietly from behind the crowd of hisses, probably in fear of Judor’s temper. Like Knoah, the group are all dressed in loose fitting flexible suit sets, hoods included and in a variety of colours; only Knoah has ripped the dye-spider silk sleeves off.

 

“Shut it!”, boomed Judor, pushing out a very assertive tone, pulling his grey hood over his head.

 

“Look, let's do yon”, said Knoah.

 

“No, ni, it's the quickest and quietest. Judor is right - kinda. Line formation, 20 feet apart”, ordered Els, tying her dreads back, she hides them in her hood; jungle parasites are mostly poisonous.

 

Shocked, Knoah’s smile broke out reluctantly, he hated letting Judor or Els getting their way, but this was a good plan and for once he would not argue; the group does not have the time. Having learnt battle tactics and wild survival skills during childhood, most know enough to survive the surrounding deadly jungles and with Els plan each pair will be able to watch each others backs effectively.

 

The pair-up went smoothly, as the group consciously pair with others that complement their own skills. The 5 month jaunt was enough for the group to intimately learn the weaknesses and strengths of each other. The next pressing priority was finding an access tree - littered all around the jungle these tree top trails are used to avoid the nightmare inducing horrors of the jungle floor. Luckily the proactive Knoah used his time waiting well, finding a route while the others crawled their way to the summit. It did not take long to reach safety - climbing the massive jungle tree was a simple challenge compared to mile high climb of the white cliffs.

 

“Sorry”, whispers Saeko, as he stumbled down the narrow rope bridge ahead of Knoah.

 

“Huh?”, said Knoah, looking at the tiny, blue hooded back of his partner.

 

“Because of me, we’re at the back”, said Saeko.

 

“Khaaa, obvious, right”.

 

“Yeah”.

 

It didn’t take a genius to work out Els planned this - the rivalry that herself and Knoah share is peculiar one. While Knoah lived a carefree childhood, Els was thrust onto the path of leadership from a young age. The one thing they both share in common is their love of showing off and being the first one back came with the kind of adoration Els lived for. Still, Knoah did not argue against the line up - allowing Els to elect herself and Judor the point, apparently in order to clear a safe path to Lonston. Being stuck at the back with Saeko wasn’t so bad, he had grown fond of the scroll-bug. Also, Els decision to station Knoah at the back was smart, not one other person in the group is better suited to keeping everyone safe from behind. His great eyesight, reactions and knowledge of the wilds could save a few lives during the trek.

 

However Saeko was not built so efficiently for the tiresome journey. In truth Saeko and Knoah are like fire and ice, where Knoah is confident and streetwise, Saeko is introvert and studious. Although Saeko had grown during the Urha he was still very nervous. Even now, Saeko’s head was down, too busy concentrating on his balance on the wobbling vine bridge to even look up. The well crafted bridges have a springy looseness to them - swaying and bouncing with every step the pair took. The skywalk had Saeko’s nerves on edge, even with Knoah’s best efforts of trying to reassure him; movement is a good thing; a stiff bridge meant dead bridge, and those were much more brittle than lively youthful bridge the two were currently on.

 

“No worries, we’re going to show up, truss me”. Knoah placed his hand onto the tiny shoulder of Saeko. Flinging his head left, then right. Several clicks and cracks, snapped out from the core of his neck. “Don't worry, you are with the super me and my path is one of greatness! I will show you how to upset a Princess, khaaakhakhakhaaaa!”, laughed Knoah maniacally.

 

“That's a weird laugh”, replied Saeko.

 

“Khaakhaaa... You're doing alright, for a lil scroll bug khaaa!”, laughed Knoah. Imagine this mini genius barely into his 12th cycle was deemed worthy to be sent on Urha with us. Most, including us, labelled apart of the ‘future gene’ had to wait until we were 16, but I see why now. His brain is the future of Venzeca, for sure.

Chapter 5 - Sprigger life

 

Of all the places in the world to be sent - executing us would have been mercy compared to where we’re headed, if we even manage to leave this torture hole alive that is. Death or the frozen isles, would have been much better. Actually, I hate the cold. The only blessing is that this pit isn’t too cold. Are we even still in Youllo. Sat in the corner a dark cell, Zweek allowed his mind to roam where his body could not.

 

The most annoying thing for Zweek, was for all the questions his mind threw at him, to his frustration he did not know many answers to throw back. On the outside he would be able to find some, or more likely, not even care. However stuck in Sprigger prison, all he could do was stew. The most recent, and particularly jarring question; the origin of sprigger camps. It has been bothering Zweek for a while. If or when he somehow manages to escape, he has sworn to find out who invented them and curse them to infinity - maybe even find a descendant and remove an eye, or two, or three; depends how many he finds. Although unsure of who may have created the first Sprigger camp, everyone within the Drill agrees; they must have slept with a shclub for pleasure or been the offspring of one. Regardless if either is true, the common consensus states they were a greedy rent-faced concubine of a demon. Zweek has a good few targets on his list of righteous retribution; Youllons, demons and now, any and all descendants of the inventor of the first sprigger camp.

 

Greed has been responsible for many wicked things in the world, but exploitation has to be the worse. This pit, like all sprigger camps only exist to exploit the fearful, rich and weak. With the promise of the finest danger-sensing, trap-avoiding ‘slave on a leash’, that wealth can acquire - for a hefty fee - many wealthy nations and individuals purchase whole armies of spriggers. Almost every last one is used to charge Mt. Ohm, in hopes of claiming godhood for themselves. An attempt to conquer the legendary mountain comes with high risks, but also the greatest reward, immortality. Due to the existence of Mt. Ohm, sprigger camps were created, and while they may be the result of greed; hueman misery is down to huemankind.

 

The Drill or torture hole, as Zweek has lovingly named it, is filled with criminals, homeless and prisoners of war; all abandoned, sold or snatched into a life of servitude and inevitable death. Many individuals to enter the Drill do not leave alive and of those who manage to graduate, they do not last much longer. The chances were no different for Zweek and his cohorts, the daily gut kicking drills along with hellish runs through deadly beast mazes, have worn out and traumatized the sprigger apprentices. To clear traps and lead your master to victory is now their only purpose. Their life, no longer has no value, or so the guards have stated with an unceasing regularity; it has been the daily chant since day one of Zweek’s half year stay.

 

Zweek sat hunched over, weighed down with both good and bad memories. The most stressful one; his role in gift-wrapping the last members of Niisarm and then passing them straight to their enemy. It was that time of the day. The quiet of early mornings always released the beast’s from the backyard of his mind. The two hungriest of the monsters are formed of regret and bitter loss. They always dug up all sorts of unpleasant memories and this time, they carried his beloved family and broken dreams in their jaws.

 

With his