Part 1

My body feels better after the passing of a few days, and my senses too seem to have recovered, but strangely, not in my wildest recollections do I recognize the place that I’m in. Patches of woven straw cover the ceiling, and wooden planks of uneven proportions and varying shades of brown joined together make up the walls and the floor. And as far as I know, I haven’t seen a TV, radio, AC, fan, electronics, coffee maker, or any sort of electronic device. I bet the place doesn’t even have electricity. What a place to live in in the 21st century! And surely, not a right one to keep injured people in.

All the rants and complaints aside, I can’t help but be impressed. For a place located somewhere in the boonies, my hosts have a somewhat sophisticated method to nurse people in recovery. The means that they use to keep me alive is beyond my knowledge, but I have felt its effects with my very own skin. Creamy, warm, tasty, and nutritious fluids come out from this sponge-like material that the women use to feed me with. The elixir, soma juice perhaps? Technology nowadays, the ancients be damned to witness.

How did I end up here? Could it be the commies or an insurgent group? What a place to hide, a place far, far removed from civilization without any trace of electronics and modern innovations. With the thick shade of trees and vegetation in the area, I believe that not even the GPS nor cowabunga maps can locate the place, which makes it the perfect place to hide, especially from the government. Very typical of them, and probably they saved me not because they like me, but they must be thinking that an enemy to an enemy is a friend, but I am not a friend to their ideology either. Yet since I’m here, I can forgive their kind of thinking.

So far that’s what I can only piece together with what little information I have, but something really feels off. The more days pass by, the more I recover and the stranger things have become; and like what was once mentioned by a friend of mine, “Reality is stranger than fiction”. I can’t agree more to that now that I witness weirder things unfold before my naked senses.

Having regained vision, I shock myself further as I inspect my small round hands and the teeny little sausage fingers that pop out from them. They feel as if they are toys, balloons rather with their roundness and softness? I don’t remember them being this chubby, but if they really fed me soma juice, this transformation might just be possible. But to hell with that! That’s mythology, and this one just doesn’t make any sense! Why…

“” a woman speaks, again in a language unfamiliar to my linguistically inept ears. Strangely, the voice sounds easy and comforting to my ear, which could be the effect of being well accustomed to it due to the time I have spent listening to these people talk. I’ve been lying down here for several days without anything to do but observe.

Wooahh! Easy there, lady!

A fat gargantuan woman lifts me off the bed and spins me into the air, passing me to another woman.

Mad! The lady in question sports a long flowing wavy stream of jet-black hair, a strong, piercing, yet seductive pair of blue gray eyes, a small yet refined nose, and a squarish but elegant face – a true beauty she is, but ginormous! The stuff of mythology, titans these people must be!

Out of the blue, the titanic lady bares her chest in front of my face without any hesitation.

Wooahh! What in god’s name do you think you’re doing, lady? What am I supposed to do with these, stare?

“” with sparkly eyes, the bare chested lady utters a few words, smiling, trying to look nice perhaps as she offers the gigantic melons to me. But seduction, no!

“Waahhddyy, zshis hsnt weei shuu aackk.” in futility I respond, which doesn’t come out as I intend to due to my weakened jaws and damaged vocal cords. But English, she must speak it for it’s the world’s most spoken language. What I mean to this lady is that this isn’t the way she should act! Has she forgotten the word modesty?

“Waahhddyy, ffsuuhh miii llaawwnn!” in spite of the helplessness, I persevere, screaming to the top of my lungs what little meaningful sounds I can put together. She freezes and bites her lower lip – tears start to collect at the corner of her sad, sad eyes, sending a conflict of warm confusion within my chest for some odd reason that even my weak humanly comprehension cannot discern.

“” the woman says, sniffing, followed by a sudden flood of tears that flow heavily down her cheeks, soaking her strange cosplay-ish medieval outfit. One of them tear droplets makes it into her silvery pendant, wetting it and making it shine so bright that it reflects light right into my pupils, calling to my attention. It shows a reflection that I cannot possibly reconcile with mere logic. How could that be possible?

“Aaa meeerrraawwrr!” which is not exactly what I mean, but a mirror! Darn it, darling, I need to see one so I can see what’s happening to my face. I need to know the truth!

The breasty– no, the beauty stops sobbing, looking contemptuously at me with her salty eyes.

“Yam sshhoorree. Yyurrr eweew aawwwkaaayy?” I remark with my best attempt at English yet. I think this is the best opportunity. Yes, I hope to recover soon, so please, don’t cry anymore. I’m alright; moreover, you ought to be more concerned about yourself, darling.

“Waaahhhhh!” the woman cries a volcanic eruption, soaking her entire outfit with her salty tears of indignation. Could it be? No, wait, I didn’t harass you in any way, woman. Not my fault. You bared it, not me. It’s consensual, right? But why?

Blagghh! The door slams open, and a man in a medieval knight outfit storms the room, rushing towards me and the woman. The segmented shiny pieces of his tin costume clatter with each step that he makes.

“” Looking worried, he consoles the lady, rubbing her back, saying what probably must be soothing words? I don’t know really.

Then, he knits his eyebrows together and inspects me with such intense curiosity. His shiny breastplate gleams to the light that pours from the windows, reflecting a somewhat distorted mirror image. As he draws closer, the reflection grows bigger and bigger and more recognizable to me.

That couldn’t be right…

I run my chubby sausage fingers at his breastplate trying to reconcile with logic the image that is before me. The big head, small hands, feet, body… I still cannot believe, but, but… how is it possible? This must be a dream or a prank, the handiwork of the devil himself who implants inside my head his analogue filters, his strange mechanical buzzing noises, and his odd metallic and robotic voice. Arrgghh! Let me sleep, let me come back to reality you stupid computer robotic program who’s run by a spaghetti tentacle monster from the greater outer space whose hobbies are to divide all numbers by zeroes for eternity over black holes and cause mayhem and senseless crap in the cosmos and beyond. Darn you, give me back my life! WOOOAAAHH!

“” the man snatches me from the woman and cradles me on his arms. Cold segments of his cosplay-ish armor rub against my pale and delicate skin.

“Puussshh mii yyaawwwnn, bbllloooothh!” with what little strength I can muster in my arms, I bluntly pound my baloonish fist against the man’s solid steel chest plate, which he takes in amusement – he watches my futile struggle as he scratches his prickly chin. Smiling, he heartlessly throws me up in the air for a sickening and traumatic experience – the force of gravity pulls me down, while my innards, the stomach especially, are late to follow as they momentarily hang in space due to inertia. God! The deity of death amusedly watches me by the door, holding tight to his ginormous glimmering scythe, which is bathed in blood and rust. He’s inviting me to come. No, I don’t wanna die yet!

Following my fall, the lady screams… and everything goes blank.

It is hard, but I have to come in terms with this new reality. After fainting, waking up doesn’t change a thing. I’m stuck with these tiny hands and sausagey fingers for now, legitimately. But how come? Did I die? If I did, I can only conclude from conjectures that some oriental deities must have conspired together in the interstellar space to give me a reincarnation.

If those deities are kind enough to give me a second breathe of air, why have they chosen to forsake me to such a fate? I devoted my entire life to my duties in order to build a position of prestige for myself, so my karma should have not put me in such a state. As of the current, I’m impoverished! Gone are my aspirations to get back at Galapagus, and gone are my dreams to have a quiet life. Give me more soma juice! Such cursed deities they are for giving me such a fate; now, I have to start my career again from scratch. Rats!

On the brighter side, I have a good head start in this life for possessing much knowledge. Not that I desire to be treated like a wizkid, but I’d like to at least climb back to my previous life’s status, if not greater with such ease. Life’s good. I’ll get back at the paranormal when the opportunity presents itself.

Part 2

“Linus! Wake up. Time for breakfast!” Right, that’s my new name, Linus Daedalus. In five years that have passed, I have grown significantly. My sausagey fingers and balloonish hands have grown in length and proportion, which can also be said of my arms, legs, and body.

“Coming, mom!” rising from my bed, I throw my blanket and kick the wooden floorboard in a rush to meet my family at the breakfast table. The same madam that gave my heart a fright in my first few days of existence in this world happily awaits me in the kitchen as she chops by the knife some vegies for breakfast. Her name’s Lina, and she appears to be my mother, though I still find that perplexing even now due to her unadulterated beauty. Even the breeze agrees with my assessment as it blows and sweeps her hair, which smoothly caresses her smooth, silky, yet pale skin. Had she lived in the world of the 21st century, modeling agencies are sure to swarm her like hyenas do with their prey in the wild.

“Where’s the old man?” I ask the madam as I hop on my chair.

“Training as usual. Interested?” while serving food of plain bread, soup, and milk, she looks at me in the eye, smiling deviously.

Offhandedly, I reply flicking my wrist, no. “Nope! I’d rather stay home and read.”

“I’d like you to be a scholar, but never mind. Like what your dad says…”

I snatch a cup of milk, saying “I’ll grow up a wimp. The old man just doesn’t get it.”

While I sip my drink, she replies “He’s the kingdom’s most respected champion. Don’ you want to be one? You’ll make him proud.”

“Naahh… there are other things I have in mind. You said you wanted me to be a scholar. That’s great. Scholars do many important things for the kingdom. I’ll follow Mommy’s advice.” I munch down on the bread, carving off a big C on it. Meanwhile, Lina carefully observes me eat as she would to a feeding panda in a zoo, smiling creepily. I’d rather she looks away.

She pats my head and says “There, there… that makes you a momma’s boy. I’m proud!” Ma, it’s okay, but your eyes and mouth. Ugghh… Even with that pretty face, she looks awful with drool that runs down from her cheek to the chin. Wipe it!

She wipes it.

Conversations like that become the usual. At the breakfast table, we sit down and talk and sometimes argue about the most trivial of things. Sadly, the old man isn’t there to argue with me. I guess it’s good to take breaks sometimes. It’s becoming rather unhealthy for a five year old boy, as if, to argue with adults.

After breakfast, I usually sneak in my father’s study to learn more about the world. With the wealth of references, I am able to teach myself how to read. Even I myself am amazed by my capacity to learn in this new body. Sadly, I learned so far that this world is not as advanced as the one’s I previously lived in.

For example, my father's shelves are populated by thick and dusty handwritten books! God knows how many hours those scribes spent copying those books to the letter by hand. Books must be expensive. But an opportunity, I think one day I’ll mechanize the printing process by devising a printer. Well, I’ll park the agenda and leave it at that for now.

For today’s menu, let me browse.

Hmm… In the shelves I find Sir Dmitri’s Adventures, Fairy Tales by the Great Sage, My Precious Immortal, Hidden Garden of Secrets, a Knight’s Guide to Fencing and other Martial Arts, Introduction to Psychokinesis, and so on.

My! The dust and cobwebs that inhabit the shelves make a perfect spider habitat, which leads me to believe that my musclehead old man might not have even touched these treasures himself. Having the position of a champion, the big shot might be keeping these things for decorative purposes only. And if he doesn’t have any intentions of visiting this collection, this little boy will take delight in learning from these old manuscripts.

I sift through the collection and throw aside those books that I find useless or boring. After a while, the discarded books have assembled themselves to a pile that is high and sturdy enough for me to stand on. Looking up, I notice that the top shelf is covered thickly in dust and rotting cobwebs, a golden indication that I’m yet to explore the territory. Reaching to it, I find a book with a title that glimmers in gold. It says, ‘A Comprehensive History of the River Kingdom by Master Kong.’

Interesting.

Territory

The River Kingdom is an island state located in the northern part of the Three Great Islands. It consists of four administrative regions, namely the Northern Rocklands, the Central Plains, the Southern Mountains, and the Capital Region.

The Northern Rocklands, as the name implies, is rich with masonry rocks and metal ores. Its capital, Petro, is the kingdom’s stockpile of construction and metal crafting materials.

The Central Plains is the agricultural center of the River Kingdom. Its capital, Silo, supplies the kingdom with the much needed agricultural products; grain, produce, livestock, and poultry.

The Southern Mountains is the hunting capital of the River Kingdom. Its forests are filled with wildlife and beautiful sceneries. The environment in the region cultivates strong and versatile men, thus its capital, Solus, is known for producing many skilled and talented warriors.

The Capital Region is the economic hub of the country. Its capital, the port city of Nexus, is a destination for local and foreign trade. Merchants from the North, South, East, West, and Middle continents frequently meet in the capital to trade goods.

Solus, as far as I recall, my father’s title as a champion is ‘Julius of Solus’. Though I haven’t inquired from the old folks yet, I’m pretty sure this place must be Solus, otherwise, why give such a title. A wealth of ‘skilled and talented warriors’, this section clearly explains my father’s occupation as a resident of Solus.

The Rivers Bay

This body of water is located west of the port city of Nexus. It being a natural harbor protects sea vessels from incoming storms. This natural advantage lures traders coming from different foreign lands. In addition, this bay is connected to a natural network of easily navigable rivers and creeks, which aids in the distribution of goods and transportation of people throughout the kingdom.

Well, isn’t that good? That makes the navigation of this land relatively easy.

Economy

The River Kingdom derives its income in three ways.

First, it derives profit in trading goods it obtained from its foreign trade partners. Merchants from the northern and southern kingdoms visit the port city of Nexus, the River Kingdom’s capital, to trade goods.

Second, it gets an income by trading its natural resources. The kingdom is rich in metals such as iron, copper, and nickel, which also benefits its war potential.

And third, it earns from trafficking slaves. The River Kingdom is famous for its quality slaves.

Quality slaves? That sounds awfully horrific, but thinking more of it, slavery had been ubiquitous for the majority of human history. A change… freedom, capitalism… maybe there’s something that a free enterprise can offer to these people. If I could only develop machinery that could replace their manual labor, cheaply, slavery would eventually be abolished due to its cost. That will make me awfully rich, and benevolent, I think.

War with the Southern Islanders

In year 705 of the River Kingdom, a mix of tribal and economic interest ignited a conflict between the Rivers People and the Southern Islanders.

It started in 703 RK, when a crew of Southern Islanders, led by the pirate Prince Saarin, seized a number of Sparrowenian trade vessels for their goods.

The incident worried Sparrowenian dignitaries, requesting the River King Ignis to exterminate the pirates.

The River king, also worried about the kingdom’s diplomatic and trade ties with the northern Sparrow kingdom, heeded the request, sending an expedition of mercenaries to quell the piracy in his southern waters.

In 704 RK, the expedition, led by the mercenary group called the Red Rangers, successfully captured the pirates and their leader, Prince Saarin. The monetary reward aside, King Ignis granted the Red Rangers full control of the captive pirates. Thus, the mercenaries decided to enslave them.

Sold as a slave, the pirate Prince Saarin found a way to come back to his barbaric tribe. He conspired with the slave dealers who bought him to get revenge. He offered them commissions for each vessel his pirates would capture.

At large, the pirate Prince Saarin restarted his pirate operation. He recruited more people coming from different tribes of the southern kingdoms.

In 705 RK, the pirate Prince’s activities prompted King Ignis of the involvement the Red Rangers had in the incident. He ordered to have the mercenary leaders executed, which in turn led the group to join the pirates, worsening the situation.

The King led his royal navy in an expedition to destroy the pirates. In a six day skirmish called, the Battle of the Southern Sea, the River King’s navy prevailed against the combined force of pirates and mercenaries, thus routing them.

And afraid of making the same mistake the Red Rangers did, King Ignis ordered a pursuit to kill the pirate Prince Saarin. With the order, the royal navy invaded the pirate’s homeland, the Serpent Islands of the south, successfully crushing the pirate force, which resulted in the death of the pirate Prince.

This victory, however, was short lived as the tensions in the Southern Islands escalated into a full blown war for some of the casualties in the siege of the Serpent Islands were known Southern Islanders. The incident provoked the Southern Islanders to ambush the invading royal navy.

The navy was able to repel the ambush, but with heavy losses. Thus, the River King with his council decided to wage war against the Southern Islanders.

In year 706 RK, the Battle of the Southern Islands erupted. The River King’s royal navy fought against the United Southern navy, resulting in a stalemate. Both sides incurred heavy damage. An estimated 200,000 men died in the battle.

Tensions eased after the conflict, but up to date, the war was never formally resolved. Occasionally, the River Kingdom gets into skirmishes with the Southern Islanders. The captives in the skirmishes are usually sold as slaves by the soldiers.

What a complicated history! Apparently, we’re still at war with the Southern Islanders. And my side of the river seems to benefit from the slavery of the captured southern islanders. Lunatics! No wonder why the war never stops. While the grudges of the Southern Islanders deepen, the River Kingdom’s slave dealers get rich from the lucrative trafficking of the captives of war. What a disgusting practice, a cancer to society they are. I guess I have to watch out for these people. I should never ever do business with them shady folk.

And communication, it all stems from the lack of it. There really is a lot of work to be done here, but is that my concern? I’m not a superhero, but certainly I wouldn’t want to live in such an environment. Agenda, agenda, I do not have the power to change things, but I’ll keep these in mind should I gain the influence to change things for the better.

Shutting the book close, the book underneath my feet slips and flies away, causing me to lose my balance. The stack of books then collapses, giving to my weight, sending my bottom to hit the floor square on. OUCH! And BUCK! The thick, heavy, and dusty history textbook lands on my head spot on.

BANG! “Who’s there! Why, what do you know, if it isn’t my little runt? What the hell are you doing with my books?” Julius, my father, storms the room in fashion. His shoulder length hair flows smoothly with his movements. What a hateful guy.

I cross my fingers, “Nothing? Ha, ha, ha, ha, OUUUCCHH! YOU BRUTE, IT HURTS! LET GO!” He rubs heavily the newly formed lump on my head.

“I thought you’re smart, smart enough not to get hurt by anything other than the books you read. My, my, I’m impressed you read this much. Hmm.. what a mess we have here.”

“But, but…”

“But my books. Hmm… those cost a lot of money, you know.” Sternly, he looks me in the eye.

“No, it’s okay, look, look…” Smiling, in futility I present to him pages of the books I destroyed. Ticklish cold sweat runs down from my temple to my cheeks. DROP! The mountain of books behind me collapses, stirring an awful amount of dust.

“Little devil! Don’t think you’re cute! Hell, I’ll give you! In martial arts you’ll train from now on as punishment.”

BONK! “OUCH!” A meteor! No, a knuckle lands in my head. What a devil!

From there on, I train with my father martial arts, every single day, every single morning and evening.

Part 3

As fast as a motor vehicle, Julius runs wielding his killer bat, an unwieldy cast iron spiked club about twice his height and more than double his weight. Forget the obstacles, be they shrubs, trees, boulders, or monsters (yikes!), the monster tornado Julius mows them down pretty much the same. For two years we have trained, this odd behavior of his is responsible for carving down this practice path we run every single day.

I run with him in an effort to catch up, the goal of our training. To my benefit, the monstrous physical strength that I inherit from him allows me to run as fast as modern transportation marvels can. I don’t even need to worry about not having a car for appointments. I still loathe my old man Julius, but I’m grateful to his genes.

He whispers to me, “Tired? We’re just warming up.” The Spartan coach blitzes far ahead at a faster rate, leaving a trail of fire from the friction of his boots to the ground and the poor me lagging behind. Seeing him run so fast remind me of some superhero themed movies, but with an exception, my old man needs no mask, costume, radiation, insect bite, or anything close to those. He’s all natural, organic.

“Hey, Julius! How’s it going?” a man in a straw hat by the roadside greets Julius, interrupting his run.

“Fine!” BZZTT! Like a flash of lightning, he disappears after the greeting. And the stranger thing, nobody really minds it, as if it’s the most natural thing.

“If it ain’t Julius junior! Your father just passed by. Atta boy! Beat your old man!”

“I’m doing my best. Don’t expect much from me.” Like hell I could. No way!

I run a great distance in pursuit of my old man. I run through the woods and through the craggy mountain paths, and away I shoo monkeys, wild dogs, wild cats, and other small animals, yet away I run from bears, mountain lions, and wolves. With fear as encouragement, my legs increase their pace. Several leagues ahead, I lose the wild animals, and as a bonus, I catch up to my old man.

“Jeez! Huff, huff… Give me a break, will you?”

“Oh, we’re not done yet. Here, catch!” he nonchalantly tosses a thick stick-like object for me to catch, which is obscurely and securely wrapped in thick and heavy sackcloth. I almost lose my footing catching the thing.

“Woaaahhh! What the hell is this thing? It’s heavy!”

“A present. It’s for your birthday. Unwrap it!” Thumbs up, he smiles creepily. I smell weirdness in the air.

As expected, surprise, surprise, it’s the killer club junior, a smaller sized version of the unwieldy spiked club Julius uses; it’s forged in solid high carbon steel, good for hiking and camping, highly recommended for mowing down bears and even larger beasts, exclusively for brutes and barbarians alike. But I’m no barbarian, can’t he think of a better present?

“What’s with the look?”

“Can’t you give me a sword, an axe, a spear, or anything normal?”

“Boy, that won’t do. In our family, this is the only thing that works. Forged by the famous swordsmith, Richmond Bluth, this beauty will never break under any kind of abuse.”

“Abuse, what? You’re not talking about women, are you old man?” I let out a sly laugh.

A smoking meteor lands in my head, forming a lump. “Too early for that kind of humor, my boy. And I thought you’re smart. I mean, those normal weapons you mentioned. They’ll break with your strength.” Well yeah, I’m forgetting the abnormal strength I inherit through his genes. Definitely, even with weapons, the Daedalus clan defies conventions.

The man grips a basketball sized rock one handedly, saying “Let’s give her a test. Ready!”

One foot back, he gathers momentum, and twisting his body forward, he transfers the explosive energy to his hand and to the rock. It flies towards me like lightning, missing my face by the hair. BOOM! It lands on a cliff, collapsing it and felling the trees that grow by its edge, triggering a mini-avalanche. Momentarily, I see in black the god of death laughing, waving his bloodstained scythe at me. Chills creep from my spine up.

“Old goon! Are you trying to kill me?” My temper explodes like it never did before.

“Just teaching you a lesson. Champions always be prepared.” He claps, dusting his hands as trivial as he speaks.

“No way! I like the training but I can’t promise I’ll be like… Tock! OUCH!” a pebble bounces on my forehead.

“Shut it! Here’s the next one. Use your weapon. It’ll help you.” He grabs another rock to prepare for another round, thus I steel myself.

“Here we go!” In midair, Julius arm halts. At the horizon, he looks at a blurring silhouette of a galloping horseman in the setting sun. In no time, the mounted trooper reaches us, interrupting our afternoon practice.

"Sir Daedalus! Our scouts reported that a band of pirates is coming to raid our village!" in a shaky voice, the terrified trooper reports.

“Understood! Gather my men at the town square. We have a job to do.”

“As you wish, my dear Sir.” The mounted trooper gallops away at great speed, sparing me from the hellish Spartan drill.

“We’re not done yet. You have a job to do. Take your club and use it to protect your mother.” Just wait, what?