Odyssey Of Survival

The archer's body tensed, his breath hitching in his throat. Then, without a second thought, he turned around and ran.

His feet pounded against the ground as he bolted, his heart hammering against his ribs. The world around him blurred, his only focus on escaping the demon behind him.

But—

Nate sighed.

He tilted his foot slightly, using the tip of his boot to lift the spear lying on the ground. The weapon flipped into the air, spinning gracefully, before his fingers wrapped around its shaft.

Without hesitation, he reared his arm back and—

Fwip!

The spear sliced through the air like a thunderbolt.

Thwack!

"AHHHHHH!"

The archer let out a guttural scream as the spear impaled his thigh. His legs gave out beneath him, sending him crashing into the dirt. His hands instinctively clutched the wound, his entire body trembling in pain.

With a pained whimper, he started dragging himself backward, pushing away from Nate in sheer terror.

But Nate—he only strolled toward him, his expression calm, indifferent.

When he finally reached the wounded man, he tilted his head slightly, as if pondering something. Then, with an amused tone, he spoke.

"This could have been easily avoidable," he mused, his voice carrying no trace of sympathy. "All you had to do was listen."

The archer whimpered, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. His eyes darted between the spear lodged in his leg and the man standing over him.

Then, desperate, he cried out—

"Please! Please don't kill me! I have a family!"

Nate didn't react. His expression didn't change. Instead, he crouched down beside the man, his golden eyes studying him intently.

And then—

Twist.

"AAAAAHHHHHHHHH!"

The man's scream echoed through the air as Nate casually twisted the spear deeper into his flesh. His body convulsed, his hands clawing at the dirt, his face contorted in agony.

Yet Nate only smiled. It was soft, almost harmless—yet his actions betrayed the warmth in his expression.

"Did you ask if I had a family before you tried to kill me?" he asked, his voice unnervingly gentle.

The archer sobbed, his entire frame shaking uncontrollably.

Nate's fingers curled around the shaft of the spear once more. His grip tightened.

"Now," he said, his tone turning cold. "Who are you?"

The man's breathing was shallow, his face drenched in sweat. His lips trembled, words struggling to form.

Finally, he stammered out, "W-We… We are the Varenites…"

Nate's brows furrowed slightly.

"We?"

The man gave a frantic nod, his voice barely above a whisper.

"We… We come from a small settlement. There aren't many of us, but… we've survived by constantly moving, hunting… hiding…"

Nate narrowed his eyes. This wasn't the answer he was looking for.

His gaze darkened.

Then, in a chillingly quiet voice, he asked—

"Where are we?"

The archer's breath hitched. He stared at Nate, eyes wide, disbelief flickering across his face.

Who… doesn't know where this place is?

But before he could process the thought, Nate's voice came again.

"Are you going to tell me or what?"

The archer's breathing was shallow, his fingers still trembling as he clutched his bleeding thigh. His eyes darted between Nate and the spear still lodged in his leg, his lips quivering as he finally forced out an answer.

"W-We are in… Imentet…"

The name struck Nate like a bolt of lightning.

His eyes widened, his body going stiff as he processed what he just heard. Imentet?

For a moment, he simply stood there, unmoving, as his mind raced. Then, almost mechanically, he rose to his feet and took a slow, deliberate look around.

The land stretched endlessly before him, an untouched wilderness basked in golden sunlight. The air was fresh, crisp—untainted by pollution or the stench of modern civilization. The sky was impossibly clear, free from the scars of industrial progress.

The realization sank into him like a cold dagger.

It wasn't about where he was. It was about when.

Nate's breath hitched. His hands clenched into fists at his sides as his thoughts spiraled out of control.

He had always been fascinated by ancient history. Back on Earth, he had spent years obsessing over the pyramids, reading every book, every theory, every legend tied to their existence. And if there was one thing he knew for certain—

Imentet was another name for the Land of the Dead.

Or, as history later called it—

Giza.

The land where the pyramids would one day be built.

But during this time—3100 BCE, if he was correct—there were no pyramids. No grand structures. No powerful dynasties ruling over vast empires. At best, this era had small settlements of early farmers and herders, scattered along the banks of the Nile. Civilization was in its infancy, a mere whisper of what was to come.

And yet—

Nate exhaled sharply, bringing a hand to his forehead as his brows furrowed in frustration.

"How the fuck am I in the past?"

The words slipped from his lips, barely above a whisper, but the weight of them settled heavily in his chest.

Nothing about this made sense.

One minute, he was on the island, pushing his powers beyond their limits, chasing after something that felt just beyond his reach. Then, darkness. That strange tunnel. The black lightning. The unknown force that had hit him and thrown him out of it.

And now, somehow—he was here.

In a time where he didn't belong.

His gaze flickered downward, landing back on the archer, who was still sprawled on the ground, watching him with wary, confused eyes. Explore hidden tales at My Virtual Library Empire

Taking a slow breath, Nate steadied himself before asking, "You said your people survive by constantly moving." His voice was firm, cutting through the tension like a blade. "Why? What are you running from?"

The archer hesitated, his lips parting slightly before pressing into a thin line. He looked at Nate, his expression shifting between suspicion and bewilderment.

"You don't know?"

Nate's eyes narrowed. "Know what?"

The man's face contorted with something close to disbelief. "You really… don't know them?"

Nate didn't reply. He only held the archer's gaze, waiting.

After a brief silence, the man finally spoke.

"It started… some time ago," he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of old fear. "At first, it was small things. Strange things. Our animals—they changed. Our hunters noticed that some of the livestock, some of the wild beasts in the forests—they weren't the same anymore."

Nate listened intently, his heart pounding.

"They started evolving," the man continued, his tone hushed, almost as if speaking it aloud would summon the horrors he spoke of. "They turned into something… different. Stronger. Faster. More dangerous."

His grip tightened around his wound as his body tensed.

"They became monsters. Beasts. Things that were never meant to exist."

Nate felt his blood run cold.

His mind flashed back—to the vision the old man had shown him in the palace. The time before the creatures. Before the chaos.

This was it.

This was the exact moment he had been shown.

The moment the world first changed.

His presence here—this wasn't random.

It wasn't coincidence.

He was here for a reason.

****

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