Post-Apocalyptic Survivor in Another World: New Beginning

Joseph’s grip on his poleaxe slackened as he stared at Prolo, who still had his sword at the ready, anticipating an attack that would never come, “I’m not gonna do anythin’.” Joe answered him, trying and failing to keep the shame from his tone, “Let’s just go.”

Prolo’s eyes widened, “Truly? You seemed dead-set on murdering these poor creatures a second ago. I know that you hold no fear of me, so what is your reasoning?” He asked, lowering his sword slightly.

Joe’s eyes shifted to Shaman, who groaned and wept on the ground, breathing ragged, “You put some things in perspective is all. Let’s just go-”

“Wait Joseph, let me do one thing first.” Prolo said, sheathing his blade as he approached Shaman, “Old one, we do not wish trouble for our journey back to Ugals, therefore, I, Prolo Pienturshuld, promise you that after I return my companions there, that I will return to aid you in the tasks you had previously mentioned, and then some.” Prolo continued, kneeling down next to the goblin.

“Emphafish on ‘then some’!” Shaman shouted despite his condition, “I’ll run ya ragged with work, and I want that chocolate!”

“Me too!” Nine yelled emphatically before his eyes landed on Joe, “Uh, if das okay…” He murmured, ears flattening.

Joe didn’t make a fuss about it as he brought out the chocolate, offering one square to Nine, who took it sheepishly in both hands before unceremoniously scarfing it down like a rabid animal. Joe then made to approach Shaman, but stopped as he flinched, yellow goat-eyes going wide with terror. Joe instead gave the square to Prolo, who in turn handed it to Shaman. The goblin then took the chocolate in a shaky hand, popping the square in his mouth before chewing it.

Shaman’s eyes widened, “Ooh that’s sweetly… very sweetly, I want more!”

Joe shook his head, “That was the last one.” He lied, turning back toward the tunnel, “We should get going, Nine, take us to Ugals.”

Nine frowned, “Eh?”

“You know the way, we need to get back as soon as possible.” Joe pointed out, “Ya said that right?”

“Dids I?” Nine asked, “Doesn’t sound like something I’d says.”

“You did.” Prolo said, “And I insist on this as well, we need you.”

Strangely, Nine’s ears perked back up, “You needs me?” He questioned, “You needs Nine?”

Prolo smiled, “We certainly do, we may not make it back in time without your guidance, and besides, to return to finish my tasks for your Shaman, I will need someone to bring me back. You would be perfect for this task.”

Nine’s lips tightened, his ears coming to a point over his head, “You gots it, won’t let ya downs I won’t!” He declared, “I met me rat coatah so I gots free time, less go!”

“Prolo are you sure about that?” Joe asked, “Coming back here without me?”

“I can handle myself.” Prolo replied curtly, “I am not a child and do not need supervision. You won’t be able to return with me anyhow, not in your condition.”

“Guess so.” Joe replied, unsure how to argue.

The Black Hand was essentially gone now, in truth, Prolo was no longer in danger… at least not from them. Yugo may be a problem but Sera seemed certain that she’d be able to convince him away from that. Prolo was his own man, if he wanted to come back here of his own accord, who was Joseph to stop him? With everything that had happened, Prolo may want a reason to distance himself from Joe as well… and if that was the case, Joe understood.

When he got back to Betty, he’d take some time and re-read the Good Book.

Nine then pointed to the tunnel they came here from and shouted, “I think that’s the way!”

Joseph and Prolo both shifted their gazes to the goblin, “What do you mean by ‘you think’?” Joe asked, “You said you knew the way, we already know we gotta take that tunnel to get out.”

“Is jussa joke!” Nine insisted quickly, raising his hands palm forward, “Honest!”

“Well, get goin’ then.” Joe ordered.

“On it, I’m super brain good.” Nine said with a nod, “Oh yeh, boys!” Nine shouted, drawing the other goblins' attention, “There’s a big meat-bag in Old-Orals, we gots to let da Big-Camp know, it's enough meat for at least ten gobs!”

The group of listeners took a step back, apparently stunned by this claim.

“Let me tell ya how it happened!” Nine started, “You see-”

“We need to go now, Nine.” Prolo said, putting a hand on his shoulder, “If you please.”

“Oh uh, yeh, less go.” Nine nodded, features firming.

Nine then began walking quickly, gesturing for them to follow. He hurried after Nine as Prolo once more began to drag Varig, who now let out only mild coughs as they went. The dwarf’s chances had improved, but Joe could tell that it had only delayed the inevitable. All Varig needed to do was last until they got to Ugals, and then hopefully someone there would be able to fix him up.

The trip was arduous, with them all needing to rest periodically as they went. Prolo’s breathing grew more and more labored as they pressed on through the tunnels, matching Varig’s own struggling breaths huff for puff. Joe’s feet grew to weigh a hundred pounds each, or at least that’s what it felt like, with each step taking a monumental effort to accomplish. Nine, for his part, seemed far too chipper. His babbling continued the entire trip, which ended up lasting the better part of two days. They couldn’t afford to slow down and sleep, and the rush seemed to have cut the travel time down by two days.

As they stared at the gates of Ugals, Joe nearly fell to his knees in relief. Instead, he leaned heavily on his poleaxe, staring with heavy eyes at the majestic gleaming steel of Ugals. He needed a multi-day nap after this, no, a self-induced coma. Every fiber of his being was sore, his headache had only grown worse, and now, on top of all that, his vision had almost completely tunneled. Even now he was nodding off… staying still was a bad idea. Miserably he moved forward, Prolo saying something to Nine before following after him.

This had to be at least the ninth worst day of his life, top ten for sure… at least when it came to his physical condition. The gates opened well before Joe reached them, a retinue of armored dwarves rushing out to greet them. Most rushed past him, crying out Varig’s name as they surrounded the Third Prince. A short stretcher carried by two dwarves rushed forth, quickly transferring Varig from Joe’s coat to the stretcher before promptly carrying him away, the dozens of dwarves that had come out quickly following after.

He spied Prolo swiping up the coat with a groan, knuckling his no-doubt aching back. Joe turned his attention away from Prolo, looking to the three dwarves that still stood before him, one of them being Bilmor.

“Joseph… what happened to the expedition!?” Bilmor questioned, “Has the Black Hand killed everyone but you three?”

Joe shook his head, “No… they’re gone, but it wasn’t them that screwed us up this much.”

Bilmor gasped, “Jilamaka!?” He questioned, the dwarves at his side tilting their helmets quickly to the tunnel, raising their shotguns to aim at it.

“Yeah but… well, you don’t gotta worry about it anymore.” Joe said, “We killed it, but it wasn’t easy.”

Bilmor froze for a moment before removing his helmet, revealing a head of graying hair and a mildly wrinkled face. His stony gray eyes were wide, jaw agape. When the dwarf gathered himself, he asked, “...Truly?”

Joe nodded, “Sure is… but again it wasn’t easy.” Joe continued, gesturing to himself before pointing to Prolo, “But us three were the only fellas left from the expedition, everyone else is dead.”

Bilmor’s head hung, and the dwarves at his side lowered their guns, repeating the motion, “I trust that Potor and the others went down like proper dwarves, then?” He asked.

“They did.” Joe smiled weakly, “But Jilamaka’s gone now, ya’ll can go check out Old Ugals now, ya don’t gotta be afraid.”

Bilmor smiled, “We certainly will, but first, we must attend to the Third Prince, tell us, what are the extent of his injuries? Our medical team must know as much as is possible.”

Joe then explained the severity of Varig’s condition, to which Bilmor paled, urging one of his companions to go quickly after Varig and the medical team. Bilmor then urged Joseph to follow him in through the gate, which he did with gusto, Prolo following just behind after tying on a blindfold. The remaining guard guided Prolo, letting him lean heavily on his stout shoulders as they went.

“Hopefully there’s still time left, it is amazing that he made it this long. I assume that you will wish to return to Betty post-haste, yes?” Bilmor asked, slowing his pace for the exhausted humans.

Joe nodded, “Sure do… I need a few days to recover, Jilamaka hit me pretty darnn hard.”

“It is unbelievable that you even survived such a thing.” Bilmor stated, “But with that armor, I suppose it is not so unbelievable. To withstand a blow from such a massive creature-”

“It got smaller after we killed it the first time.” Joe said with a sigh.

“...What?” Bilmor asked.

“Long story, I’ll tell it to ya later, but I wanna go home first.” Joe said, “Put me on that cart and send me up.”

“We have to reach the cart first, Joseph.” Bilmor pointed out, “After you recuperate, I have no doubt that our king would wish a few words for you.”

“I might pass.” Joe said honestly, “No offense but I’d wanna see Varig first.”

Bilmor didn’t respond, not until they reached the cart. Joe squinted as he stared at the thing, the metal a slightly different shade than it had been before. It was darker, but otherwise the same size.

“Did the other one get broke?” Joe asked, pointing to the cart.

“Ah yes…” Bilmor replied, “It de-railed when we sent up a few barrels of mushroom wine, so we had to make a few changes to ensure that it would never happen again.”

Joe nodded, “Fair enough, alright let’s get goin’.”

“Wait a moment, Joseph.” Prolo said, “I must keep my promise to Shaman, and I would rather get it done sooner, rather than later.”

Joe turned to him, “You’re exhausted, you can sleep a day or two in Betty before you get goin’.”

But Prolo shook his head, “I’d rather not.”

In an instant, Joe understood… he needed a break from Joe.

“Alright, but take my coat with ya at least.” He told him, “Ya can’t be too careful.”

“I will, thank you.” Prolo replied flatly, “Please return me to the gate, I have business I must attend to.”

“Very well, but I insist you rest a while before you leave.” Bilmor told him, “You may sleep, under guard, in our barracks. Take a few hours to recuperate, then you may leave the gate.”

Prolo considered for a moment, before nodding, “That sounds splendid, I appreciate your hospitality.”

With that, Prolo was turned around by his accompanying guard, moving back in the opposite direction. Hopefully the kid would be alright with them goblins, but only time would tell.

“Let’s get goin’ then Billy-boy.” Joe said, “I’m hankerin’ for some water.”

“I will send you up, I must go see the Third Prince as soon as possible.” He told him, “I will let you know any new developments for his condition.”

“Alrighty then.” Joe replied, climbing into the cart, noting that it didn’t wobble even slightly.

He leaned in the back corner of the cart, gripping the sides as he stared up the glistening tower that was the mountain, seeing the bridges, the Fumu and hearing the industry of the dwarves all around him. Leaning back like this, his eyes already began to shut… but the blackness that overcame him was not unconsciousness.

“I am sorry.” He heard Bilmor say, the sound of the lever flipping immediately after.

Joe then heard a mechanical hiss all around him, and before he knew it, he felt his arms and shoulders rising, and he quickly scrambled away toward the center of the cart. The rim of the cart had opened, thick sections of solid steel rising quickly over his head, twisting toward one another before coming to meet at the top. Joe stood there, stunned for a moment before his face twisted into a vicious snarl.

“You bastard!” Joe shouted, “I'll kill you!”

“Like I said Joseph…” Bilmor said, voice echoing through Joe’s steel cage, “I am sorry.”

“What the hell was all that crap about owing me!?” Joe screamed, swinging the hammer-head of his poleaxe into the metal.

“This is just a precaution, in case the worst happens.” Bilmor said, “We prepared this trap after you left, in case the Third Prince didn’t come back alive.”

Joe’s eyes widened. They’d thought that far ahead? He swung his weapon into the surface of the metal again, flicking on his flashlight to illuminate the dark interior, seeing that not even a scratch had been left on its surface. What the hell? This wasn’t just dwarven steel, this was different… more firm, unyielding. He swung again, the clanging reverberating in his ears.

“It’s useless, just relax, if the prince pulls through, you will be released and heavily compensated for this shameful betrayal.” Bilmor said.

“And if he don’t, what then!?” Joe asked, already knowing the answer.

Likewise, Bilmor didn’t answer the question, “It would be best if you would rest, you will know soon what will happen.”

“You’ll pay for this.” Joe threatened, punching the wall, his vision reddening, “I’ll tear you apart!”

“Remove the cart and bring it to the throne room.” He heard Bilmor order.

Joe’s teeth clenched as he desperately felt along the seams of the walls for any part that would give under pressure… but the whole thing felt solid. Leaving the walls, he began prodding at the minecart itself as he felt it lift from the ground, looking for any signs of structural weakness. After a few minutes of traveling and him searching, he found that the walls of the cart seemed ever so slightly bendy now, likely a result of the metal emerging to trap him. He then drew out his crowbar, and jabbed it hard into the corner, gritting his teeth as he tried and failed to force a breach.

He didn’t have long to get out of here, he had better think of something fast.