Of Builders and Tools

The sound of crackling flames and crumbling stone was the first greeting that introduced me to the world. The sun was high, bearing down on my body with cruel abuse, the heat sapping the sleep from me quickly. I leaned up, my mind blank and confused, my vision graced by untold destruction and chaos all around. There were skyscrapers of grey stone, pillars of lava and water, and shiny black glossy splotches as far as I could see. It looked like a war zone, if I’m being honest.

“What the hell happened here?” I asked. I was perched on the tiny plateau of one of the many ‘skyscrapers’, no clear way down other than to climb. I scanned the area for anything that could serve as a path down. Jagged edges of stone jutted out beneath me, though they didn’t promise a safe descent. The nearest lava flow pulsed and popped a hissing growl, its glow bright against the overwhelming grey around me. I grimaced, clutching at the stone below me and finding a satchel strapped to my waist. The satchel at my side felt oddly light, despite the space it seemed to offer, and I wondered if there might be something useful inside.

For now though, getting down before I was blown off by a stray gust of wind took priority. I tested the stone beneath my feet, refusing to budge from pressure. “Seems sturdy enough to climb.” And so I began the long trek down, my fingers straining to hold my weight among the search for the next rock for my feet. Took way longer than I’d like to admit now, but turning my attention back up to my starting point, I’d cleared over fifty feet of sheer cliff. How I’d managed to not knock loose any of the footholds or handholds, I’ll never know.

There was enough room on my new platform that I could crouch and look down below, the ground still so close yet so far away, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to being afraid of falling. The crumbling ledge beneath my feet shifted, and I stumbled, my heart leaping in my chest as I moved to hug the wall to my rear. Caution would be the most important thing to me if I was to survive.

I eventually made it down without too much trial, shocked at my surroundings from ground level. From up above, I couldn’t see any details clearly, but from down here it was a different story. It was eerily quiet, not even the chirps of a cricket or buzzing of flies. There was not a single sign of animal life, plants, or people other than the stone and rotten dirt beneath me.

I adjusted the belt that held my satchel bag, the bag offering little comfort. “There has to be something around here, anything that could tell me what happened.”

I started walking, weaving around and vaulting over pitfalls that littered the ground, revealing the darkened cavernous beneath. Peering down one of the many holes, I saw there was nothing supporting any of the ground I stood upon, no pillars. There stood only the rough black stone at the base of the cavern, with thin waterfalls of magma or water flooding into the scar on this world. Whatever happened here was destruction on a magnitude I couldn’t fathom, stretching even to the bedrock.

“Maybe there’s some clue inside my bag?” I said audibly. I opened the flap’s fastener and found nothing but the bottom of the bag. “Well that was pointless.”

Everything was depressing and I found it hard to stay determined to continue my search. Right then the world seemed to shudder as the silence was shattered. There was a loud scream, blood curdling, that stopped as soon as it started. My blood turned cold as I looked in the direction it came from, pausing and hoping that whatever caused it didn’t find me. But nothing ever showed itself, sans the eerie silence of the wind and cobbles.

This… unnerving loneliness took over me, that I might never find anyone despite my searching and that this was all there is. I don’t know how long I searched honestly, but the sun had changed from high noon to early evening, so at least five hours. I was starting to get hungry and thirsty, but there weren't even blades of grass to sate my appetite around the destruction. I did manage to find what looked like a road made of the same black stone from before. It stretched off into the distance to god knows where, a sure sign of people or some really fucked up physics.

My first real sign of people was burnt ruins and ash, a crumpled in door and what obviously used to be someone’s bed. “So I’m not alone here. That scream must have been someone suffering a death I hope I never encounter. Rest in peace…” I scavenged about the ruin, but turned up nothing but a few sticks, which I placed in my bag I continue to search along the length of the stone path, stepping over the cracks and holes made from who knows how many years of erosion.

I came across another sign of people among the desolation, this one more complete with a patchy foundation and the frame for a single wall, but yet again, no people to be found. Certainly no clue as to what was going on, though there was a chest buried underneath the dirt of the floor. Inside was a single pristine apple, shockingly enough. I had never been so hungry before now and this sucker abated my hunger for now.

The path continued, cutting through the devastation like a forgotten relic from a time long since passed. Every step felt heavier now, as if the air itself grew thicker the deeper I went into this twisted place. It was impossible to shake the feeling that something was watching me, though whenever I glanced around, there was nothing—just stone and ruin. Just when I thought I’d be lost to this place, I encountered a fork in the road. To my left was a barely lit tunnel through the mountains of stone, a lone torch plugged somehow into the stone itself, and the same path as before. I heard something creaking and cracking from deep within the stone, anxiety wracking my nerves as it pulsed closer.

Deciding not to stick around and find out what lied beyond, the familiar path led me to an opening to the massive pit underneath, the path precariously treading over its maw. The same feeling of being watched returned for a second coming as I crossed, filling me with dread. I glanced around behind me, expecting to see someone or something— but nobody came.

Just as I was about to clear the death far below, something changed about the path. Before me stood a bloody, gallantly armor-clad man on a small green mount, a gnarly looking spike firmly placed on its forehead. They both stared at me, blocking the way forward. The armored rider shifted in his saddle, his green unicorn mount snorting and pawing at the ground as if ready to charge at any moment.

His face was hidden behind the rusted helmet, the eye slits giving no indication as to whether he be friend or foe. I instinctively stepped back, narrowly slipping over the edge of the obsidian floor. My heart pounded as I tried to make sense of it, but I didn’t have moments to spare. The rider charged towards me, drawing a chipped and gruesome blade from his side, narrowly missing my head as I ducked underneath his horse’s legs. I was nearly trampled as they went flying overhead, scrambling to my feet to run the way they came. The rider kicked his heels into his steed, the sickly, oily thing turned on a dime and made for round two. They were hot on my heels, barely meters away. I barely had time to duck again as the sword swung where I was once standing, both of them dashing past me again.

I picked myself up and ran straight towards the danger before he had a chance to turn his horse, while his back was still turned. As I reached the rotten thing, I made a kick at its back legs in futile hopes of tripping or breaking the thing, but I only succeeded in missing and being kicked by the horse. It snickered in delight, a laugh coming from its mouth as it turned to face me, a hoof planting firmly against my chest. The rider dismounted swiftly, dragging his longsword behind him as he walked in my general direction. The horse wouldn’t budge as I tried to pry it off me, but it pushed back, knocking the breath from my lungs. I was going to die here, I feared.

The rider continued to approach, standing over me in place of his mount, who stepped back to allow him the joy of killing me. I stared up, silently pleading that he not slay me, but he just laughed. As he raised his sword high above him, I instinctively reacted by kicking him in the groin, my foot planting hard on the chain and platemail. He didn’t respond to it like I hoped and he stabbed down into my shoulder, savoring the blow. I thrashed, desperate to be free. My vision blurred as the hot iron twisted sickeningly from my struggle, my free hand gripping at the blade to keep him from pulling it free. The edges sawed into my finger, stuck in my bones, making me gasp. I refused to let it go, even as he stepped on my wound to pry it free.

Pain erupted in my breast the more he pulled and twisted, but I still held on to the jagged blade. I screamed, my voice cracking through the wasteland like one I’d heard earlier. The sharp edges of his sword threatened to cut the remaining flesh off my fingers and his boot continued to press harder on my lungs, cracking a rib.

“Let go and die already,” the rider snarled, his voice filled with annoyance, “be a good little victim and give up!”

“Never!” I spat, bringing my knee up to his planted leg to try knocking him off balance. I succeeded in making him stumble over me and freeing his hands off the sword grip to catch himself. I flung myself off the ground, yanking the sword out of my chest with my undamaged arm, feeling the cold iron leave a hole behind. I couldn’t rotate my left arm, the damage was too severe to my shoulder. But I would be damned sure to hold on to the sword for life with my right.

I hefted the blade, my breath catching in my throat as I felt the blood pour down my chest from my gaping wound. The rider staggered to his feet, grunting in annoyance and anger. He lunged for me, pulling a short sword from his side and striking the sword clear away from my center, earning a power headbutt from me that I should have reconsidered. But I was desperate to survive. He brought his hands up to remove his dented helmet, providing me a large enough opening to close the gap between us. I made to stab the sword deep into the gap between his hip and breastplate armor, crippling him and knocking him to the ground with my body.

The planted sword cut into my back as we slid towards the edge of the bridge, and I straddled him. With his helmet removed, he gave me clear access to pounding him with my functioning hand. I beat and I beat like a chimpanzee, knocking his arms aside to keep on smashing.

I continued to beat my fist against his face, bone crushing against bone and flesh, desperately fighting for my life. My unnamed assailant weakly tried to fight, but I just threw his arms aside and continued. I couldn’t stop and risk him getting back up… My vision filled with tears and my emotions went empty.

Eventually he stopped moving entirely while I proceeded in beating until my hand felt like it was broken. His mount was gone, leaving me alone with the corpse. I sat there, straddling his lifeless body, my chest heaving as I struggled to catch my breath. My fist hung in the air for a moment before I realized he wasn’t fighting back anymore. His face, once angry and cruel, was not pummeled into a fine paste, his skull fractured and brain scattered behind him.

I looked at my hand, bloodied and broken, and I screamed. I screamed louder and longer than I had ever before, my eyes shutting as the dull pain finally hitting me as the realization of what I’d done set in. The body, broken and beaten beneath me, wasn’t some obstruction or hole I had to get over, it was a person. Somebody who was alive before he had met me— desperate to kill me for simply being alive. Now there was nothing left of him but the memory that was sure to haunt me.

“Why… did you make me do this?” I asked his lifeless body. “I didn’t do anything to you. I didn’t even know you… Why?”

I climbed off him, my body shaking as adrenaline began to fade, leaving behind a deep, bone-crushing exhaustion. I took a moment to look him over for anything that marked him, but I saw no insignia or colors other than the worn and rusted armor he wore, in addition to a similar bag that I wore at my side. I pulled my shirt up with my broken hand and tried to wipe the blood off my face, my mind blank. As I stared down upon his corpse, I came to terms with my actions of self defense and vomited up my stomach contents in the sickness of it all.

And then I made for his satchel bag. He wouldn’t have need of it of it any longer, anyway.