Chapter 17: The beginning of a changed world

Chapter 17: The beginning of a changed world

"Did someone just turn the 'weirdness' dial up a notch? Look at those critters! They're like a bizarre fusion of dogs and armored knights," Alice chirps, causing the rat-like creature to squawk and take off using what seemed like fur wings. John watches it zoom away, baffled by its unique escape mechanism, but he quickly turns his attention back to the dog-like creatures.

"Okay, is this what the guy meant by 'places overlapping with our world'? Or did the ones behind this just decide to throw in a twist to keep things spicy and avoid just human vs. human hunting?" John ponders, a grin creeping onto his face. Well, whether it's real or a virtual reality rollercoaster, I'm strapped in.

"You're talking as if you've been expecting this. Spill the beans, my mysteriously calm friend. Did you score some zen sleep, or did you raid the pantry? I can't help but notice the newfound serenity. Was it the full stomach that stuffed your worries away?" Alice teases, prodding John's belly playfully.

"Quit it. My seeming tranquillity is because I'd rather tangle with a beast than a human any day. Even zombies, as uncanny as they are, don't stir up as much emotional turmoil, like animals they do what they do from instinct, humans though tend to do things because they can without it needing to be for necessity and killing humans tend to be more emotionally taxing. Not that fighting and killing creatures is right or anything, but there's less of a heartstring tug there. It's probably some primordial survival instinct from the hunter-gatherer days. Anyway, these creatures don't catch me off guard. In literature, comics, and anime, all sorts of critters evolve. My theory is that they rapidly adapt or undergo total transformations to fit the new world mold. They become mightier or weirder. So yeah, I had my suspicions, honestly. Dragons need a snack, and so do the other big baddies. If anything, I'm expecting plant life to be next in line for a makeover if it hasn't already happened. We might end up with carnivorous petunias or something," John says, sidelong glancing at the dog-like entities while he cautiously approaches, his grip on the dagger tightening.

"Alice, be on guard. I'm going to try and get close to those hounds and try some fighting, I need to get some action under my belt and figure out how to properly use this dagger. Hold off on swooping in unless I'm in real trouble. I've got to learn to stand on my own two feet and learn to roll with this new world's punches," he tells Alice, edging closer and closer to the dog creatures. As he nears, he observes their furless bodies, their shell-like Armor on full display. Their legs rather muscular, and their paws have an oddly rounded shape. Strangely, they show no reaction as he got closer. Some turn their multiple eyes to him, revealing that they all have a different number of eyes. Some sport three pairs, others boast seven, all locked onto him now, yet none making a predatory move like a snarling wolf.

Finally in spitting distance of one, John gets ready to strike at it with his dagger, but before he can do anything he faltered. The one nearest him gazes back with tranquil eyes, showing zero intention to leap into attack mode.

"Watch out!" Alice's cry rings in his ears. Swivelling and raising his dagger, John spots a furball hurtling his way. He positions the dagger to meet the furry menace head-on, turning his back to the dog creature, and thrusts the blade with all his might. Teeth, a chaos of pearly blades, clamps onto the dagger as it stabs through the furball's mouth and bursts out the other end. Teeth graze John's arms as the force drives him into the shell dog thing, resulting in a harmonious symphony of a crash. John ends up sprawled on top of the shell dog, its groans echoing his own, a collision that has left both parties disoriented.

"Hey, could you lend a hand? I seem to have adopted this fluff monster, and its gnashers are really putting the squeeze on me. A little assistance, maybe? I just need those chompers off me. Upside, these shell pups don't seem to be bloodthirsty," John quips as Alice bounces over.

"Aw, but it's such a snazzy arm accessory. Arm guards from the land of fur and fangs! But fine, I'll help cut you free. Though I don't know why you'd want to lose your new fuzzy pals," Alice concedes, grabbing her scythe and deftly sliding it between John's arms and the fluffy intruder. One smooth motion later, and the arm-bound fluff ball detaches and hits the floor with a thud.

From his pack, John retrieves a clean knife, swapping it for the dagger he had wielded earlier. Slightly shaky and gritting his teeth against the stinging pain, he slices open the bite marks, then applies pressure to encourage a bit of bleeding. Finally, a small bottle of antiseptic makes an appearance, followed by the meticulous cleaning and bandaging of his arms.

"Why did you go all arts and crafts on yourself? That looked pretty painful," Alice chimes in, her expression a mix of curiosity, surprise, and concern.

"Eh, I'm cool. Felt like the right thing to do to get any tooth fragments out and let out any potential venom. Unlikely, but why gamble, right? No harm in having less poison in my system, just in case. And yeah, it did hurt, but it was more like an intense bee sting," John reassures her.

"And about being this thing's target, I think we should call them Shelbies, because of their shells, I know, not very original but it's better than just calling them shell doggies the whole time. Also I think it was the furball's target not me. Those dagger-teeth seem like they're made for piercing the shell by using that extreme speed. You've got to admire their strategy, as limited as it is," John says, focusing his attention on the newly named Shelbie he helped back on its feet. Opening its muzzle reveals rows of flat teeth, just as he expected.

"Yep, there are certified plant munchers. Maybe they're the future farmhands we never knew we needed but that's more food for thought for later." John says with a pat to the Shelbie, the fact it didn't even care about the touch reinforcing the notion.

His gaze then turns to the disassembled puffball on the ground, which he and Alice prod with their respective tools, John to try search for any hard objects in it similar to what he had seen in novels and manga, well aiming to minimize contact with the insides as best he could and Alice doing it for a mix of fun and her own attempt to copy John. He was rather amused to notice that Alice was practically entranced, her eyes glued to his actions like a kid mesmerized by cartoons. Much to his own surprise, John locates a curious hard object. Reaching in he pinches it between his fingers pulling out a peculiar rounded organ adorned with purple vein-like patterns and a faint glow. Using his dagger John peels off a layer of skin like film to reveal a small, smooth, black marble-like stone.

"So there are cores, or something like cores inside beasts. No idea about their use yet, but they're bound to be valuable in some shape or form. Now let's try to get all we can from this puffball," John proclaims, attempting a delicate operation to skin the puffball from the inside. Regrettably, his surgical inexperience leads to unintentional destruction.

"I get that it hurt you, but did you really have to do that to it? It was already dead!" Alice remarks playfully, gazing at the puffball's scattered fragments. John gives her a playful glare before shifting his focus to the puffball's teeth.

"Admittedly, I'm not a professional dismantler. More like a curious scavenger trying to eke out anything worthwhile. I skipped the meat, given our lack of taste-testers. The fur could have been handy for crafting, and the teeth seem sturdy and sharp so I'm sure I can find some kind of use for them. Huh, no bones, could be why the puffball was so fast. The strangest thing is, I don't spot eyes or a brain. Maybe the gem did double duty as a thinker and some kind of sensor to find prey," John ponders, diving deep into his musings.

"Considering you went all 'slice and dice,' how can you tell if it had eyes or a brain left? You turned that puffball into modern art! Well, grotesque modern art," Alice teases, innocence oozing from her wide grin and slight head tilt, each word a light-hearted jab but each word like an arrow going through John.

He tosses the marble-like stone to Alice and tells her to keep it safe while he goes to the house to wash up. There, John washes off his hands and scrubs away the creature residue, the bizarre episode something he feels he will need to get used to as part of the new world.

"So, what about the Shelbies? Wasn't the plan to round them up for some in-depth analysis and practice? Who knows, they might have their own sparkly gems inside!" Alice bombards him with queries as he emerges from the house, cleansed and ready for action. John glances at the Shelbies ahead, their indifference to their presence apparent.

He shakes his head. "No, I'm passing on that now. Food or self-defense would be one thing, or if we were truly cornered and they were trying to attack or kill us."

Alice pauses, then bounds forward to catch up with him. "Hold on a sec! Weren't you all for it just a while ago? Eager for some sparring and investigation? What changed? Aren't you letting the chance to get more of these stone things slip through your fingers?"

John, giving the Shelbiesa look and seeing yjere their nonchalant demeanor on full display shakes his head. "True, but I've learned what I needed to. There's no need to lay a finger on the Shelbies. And even if I do go postal on them what good would it do? The shells we could get would weigh us down, the smell of that amount of blood would no doubt attract predators, and if I were to face them it would have only been 1 of them not the entire pack since it would have been for answers which I got from the puffball. No, our plan shifts to getting back and staying sharp. Besides, I'm convinced with our luck we will have things happen along the way. That'll serve for some practice. And look, we're at the local wreckage emporium," he quips as they navigate down the road greeted by the scene of a mishmash of looted and burnt-out stores, shattered windows and wrecked cars, bodies strewn around, and a thick feeling of desolation in the air.