Kin of Jörmungandr

As I snap my fangs down on the neck of another beast, I question whether there is another way.

It is something I have spent many cycles contemplating. Following the promise of the Beyond to return Scia to the living, I have done nothing besides hunt, consume, and grow. That is what the Beyond wanted. That is what it will get.

Anything for Scia.

With every life I take, I can't help but wish it weren't the only path. They forfeit their own lives when they attack me, but by withholding my full size until the fight starts, I am clearly misleading them. Sure, that they would attack one smaller than themselves makes them fair game, but the slaughter of so many that might one day reach the intelligence of myself or Scia weighs on me.

But if I don't, I'll never reach the heights of the Titans. I'll never free Scia from the clutches of death.

Even now, I find such a feat impossible. Both growing to Titanic strength, and pulling Scia back to life. Yet the Beyond held pure confidence that the words it spoke could come into fruition.

Death has always been a concept unbudging in its authority. Not even Titans can surpass death; their bones littered across the vast churning landscape of the Other Side is proof of that. If the Beyond truly can bring Scia back, then it is a being beyond Titans.

And yet… I must inflict death to have the Beyond undo it.

The Titans could die a thousand times over for all I care — terrifying home destroyers that they are — but it's these other creatures that I consume by the dozen to fulfil the Beyond's task that make me hesitate. How many of them might be intelligent, but aren't given the time for that to blossom into sapience? How many are sapient, but are unable to express themselves as I once had been?

As always, the rule of the strong remains in effect, but I wish things didn't need to be this way. If only I could gather strength without stealing it from others.

My constricting body finally snaps the spine of the bird struggling in my grip. Avian creatures are typically fast, but if you can catch them, they are fragile. Despite this giant creature being about as large as the lynx had been, it dies with far less difficulty.

I waste no time swallowing the bird and moving on to my next hunt.

Despite my improved size and mass since eating the lynx, the Other Side remains a place where carelessness could quickly lead to my death. All beasts here are hostile. Even the creatures that prefer to sustain themselves entirely off the Titan bone moss are viciously defensive of their food.

Out here, only the most resilient survive.

Strength, and the ability to fight for your food is just as important as knowing when to flee for your life. Failing that, and a Titan might swallow you, along with a mountain of earth.

Swarms don't exist here. Neither the sapient ones, nor any other that are relatively common within the warped tunnels. Not only that; none of the beasts here have any young. Whether that is because they leave somewhere else to birth, and give those young a chance at life, or any that are born or hatched die before long, I don't know. Though, considering the infrequency of rends back to the warped tunnels, most creatures' inability to observe them, and the sheer endlessness of the Other Side, only the latter is likely true.

As I slide along the gravel, the surface collapses beneath me. I leave deep valleys in the land. It is not something I can avoid at this size, but it also doesn't impact my movement.

At the size I am, it's difficult to determine if the beasts I consume contribute to my weight immediately, or over time. I noticed it a while ago, but I can digest so much faster than I once used to. The things I swallow no longer distort my body.

I wouldn't go so far as to say they disappear; I can still feel the warmth and comforting fullness of prey. But now, it's as if that prey's presence in reality fades. They clearly lose mass once within me. Not to mention I can swallow creatures significantly larger than my own body, and shrink to smaller sizes while still digesting; something that was once impossible.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Consumption of the lynx seemed to have been a turning point of sorts. I absolutely hadn't been able to eat that creature in a single effort, but the next prey of its size I'd taken on, I'd swallowed easily.

And that was still while the beast was triple my size.

I assume its my personal spatial fabric interweaving deeply through my stomach. In fact, that's not the only thing that has seemed to change since overcoming the lynx. My scales now gleam to my eyes. Like space compressed in and through them in a way I've never seen.

When I'd moulted and discovered such enticing scales, I spent the full cycle simply watching them. It is really too bad there are no rivers on the Other Side not drowning in mud; I'd love to wash off this filth. Not that I'd remain clean long. Unlike the hard rocky caverns of the warped tunnels, or the open plains of the surface, the Other Side might as well be nothing but dirt.

Definitely not a place interesting to look at. Spend a few days here, and you've seen everything it has to show.

I slowly shrink myself until the earth no longer collapses beneath me. Considering how the churning earth will wipe away the valleys behind me, it's likely a pointless precaution, but I'd rather be sure that nothing is following me without my knowledge. The valleys are a very obvious trail, after all.

Despite my success at killing the lynx, and some of the weaker birds at a similar size, I have avoided taking on such risky fights again.

I can do it. I know I can. The way I tore a hole through the spatial fabric is probably the most destructive attack I have ever seen — even from the other beasts of the Other Side — but I am wary of doing so again.

The fabric is not a living thing; it should not scream with the agony it did.

The screech of the world ripping itself apart left a deep impression in me. I inflicted upon the fabric something that it should never experience. A core rule of the world; shattered. I don't know how I know that what I did was unnatural, I just do. The part of me that is as much a part of this world as the world itself screams never to do it again. To leave the fundamental weave that holds everything together intact.

It terrifies me.

But I also know that death, too, is a core rule of this world. Despite how much defying the way of the world horrifies me, I would do so in an instant to bring Scia back. If there ever comes a time where my survival depends on irrevocably breaking the fabric… I'm not sure what I would choose.

Now in a smaller form, I have to be careful not to be noticed. Something my size can't survive here long. Without all my weight and strength to back me up, I am easy pickings for anything else that might live in the area. Of course, I remain aware of my surroundings — extended far beyond my normal limited range with dozens of holes connecting points of the spatial fabric — and I'll have time to grow to full size for all but the fastest beasts.

I'm only willing to reduce my size this much because I have grown confident with my faster size transition.

My extended time hunting in this landscape hasn't come without growth. Beyond my spatially enhanced scales and stomach, my ability to push the influence of my personal fabric out on the world has exploded.

Where, before the Lynx fight, I could only create short distance bends as wide as my body, I can now create dozens of them. I can cross half the distance of my sight with a single hole that can support my largest size. But it's my time in my smaller size that I enjoy the most.

If I limit it to bends alone, I can fully replicate the depths of the warped tunnels around me. I can fly freely. Any creature that tries to attack me has to find me within a region of space that they struggle to perceive.

Well, unless they're big enough to eat the entire region in one gulp.

But the wide region of distorted space is a blessing I relish returning to. In my larger form, it is… difficult to remain in the air at all times. Not that I can't. The strain of creating such wide bends and holes simply makes swimming a less than enjoyable experience.

Also, the capability means that I can take the comfort of the warped tunnels anywhere I go. Living with the sapients without sacrificing my home is possible.

The thought of the sapients brings up a wave of disappointment through me. I'd just learned to talk. I would have loved to stay with them, and learn how they live their strange lives. There are still so many questions I need answers to about them.

How do they learn to speak? Is it the Beyond that teaches them too? Why are their strengths so vastly different between them? And why do they fight amongst each other?

I want to learn about the sapients… but I cannot turn away from Scia.

The possibility of the little one's revival is something I had never considered. But now that I know she can come back, the only option before me is to take every chance to gift her life again. It is something I have to do. It is the only thing I can do.

I am dedicated to taking on any impossible task to bring her back. Once she is back, we can live with the sapients then. Maybe one day, I can guide her to understanding words as I have. She's intelligent; even if she's not sapient in the true sense, I'm sure she's not far away. I can teach her.

Until then, I should practice my own speech so that I don't terrify the little bat with my presence when we reunite.

"Ssssseee-ah."

The ground around me flattens and stills with the wave of pressure.

I… have a lot to improve before I see her.