This Beast-Tamer is a Little Strange

Kain stared at the familiar statue for what felt like an eternity. He wasn’t a native to the city, but due to its fame he’d visited on more than one occasion.

“…New York?”

He turned in place, spinning slowly, as if the world might realign itself if he just stared long enough.

This wasn’t the Earth he’d known. Not the home he remembered. The Earth he’d often dreamed of returning to someday if he got strong enough.

This was a carcass.

Fresh air seemed to be a luxury on this earth, and it wasn’t due to the pollution of a big city. Rather, every gust of wind kicked up a massive cloud of dust and debris that would instantly clog up his lungs if he didn’t hold his breath until the mini dust storm passed.

Kain walked. Slowly. Careful not to accidentally step on and destroy anything else. After all, he didn’t know what might come in handy later.. He turned a corner past what looked like a melted billboard, the colours sun-bleached and distorted beyond recognition. Only fragments remained:

“TOGETHER WE—SURV—”

And below it, something flapped.

A newspaper. Or rather, what was left of one.

Kain crouched, fingers trembling slightly as he brushed away soot and unidentifiable black grime off of the paper. The print was faded, water-stained, but still legible in parts.

“MUTATION SURGE IN LONDON. PARIS IN LOCKDOWN. CDC REPORTS NEW STRAIN. UNKNOWN IMMUNE REACTION IN RECENTLY DECEASED.”

Another headline, torn diagonally.

“WHOLE HOSPITALS GO DARK. SURVIVORS—ATTACKED BY—FORMER PATIENTS.”

Kain’s mouth felt dry. He flipped the page.

“A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE? WORLD SPLIT AS INFECTED SHOW ‘SUPERNATURAL TRAITS.”

And then, stamped in red across the final visible page:

Kain sat down where he stood. Collapsing to the ground hard.

The air didn’t feel cold—but he was shivering.

“…It was real,” he whispered.

In the trial he’d partaken in back at Dark Moon College there had been a simulated reality —one that showed a dying Earth, twisted into an Abyssal nightmare—he’d written it off as a nightmare conjured up by his imagination and brought to life by the relic. An illusion crafted to test his will.

But perhaps, given its connection to this inheritance relic, it had already known the truth….

A truth that he could feel in his bones.

This wasn’t a simulation. Nor was it a parallel world, only similar to his original hometown.

This was his world. And it was gone.

He stood again and walked in a daze, finding more paper trails. Posters with faces marked “MISSING”. Scrawled graffiti that read “LIARS!” and “THE GOVERNMENT IS DECEIVING US!” And “WAKE UP FOOLS!”

Some signs still bore faded military and law enforcement emblems. One bulletin board had peeling maps with red zones hastily drawn over continents.

But what made his breath hitch… was the next page he found.

“DESERTERS? GOVERNMENT AGENCIES NO LONGER RESPONDING TO THE PRESS. THE PRESIDENT IS SUSPECTED TO HAVE FLED TO A PRIVATE ISLAND.”

And below it, a date.

Less than two months after he had died.

It hadn’t even taken a year for the world’s governing bodies to collapse.

He stared at the dim overcast sky.

His body felt like it was drowning in ice-cold water.

Indeed, he’d been an orphan in his past life as well, but that didn’t mean he was without any attachments. He had other distant relatives, childhood friends, great teachers and friendly colleagues that he was sad to find out had all met their end in what was probably an incredibly miserable way.

Even the thought of that old man who used to sit beside him on the bus, chatting about the news on the way to college, being dead… that made Kain unexpectedly upset.

Everyone was gone. Everyone.

Whatever strange disease he’d contracted—what killed him—had likely been just the beginning of the Abyss’ infiltration. Perhaps due to the weakness of the people in this ordinary, non-magical world, it had even taken a while for the Abyss to figure out how to turn Earthlings without immediately killing them all.

‘Speaking of ordinary…’

Kain examined himself and realized that he’d pretty much returned to his state on Earth—he detected not a hint of spiritual power, no connection to his contracts, his space ring was just a fancy piece of jewelry and even the System was unresponsive.

But…

Groan

The sound echoed louder than it should have.

Metal bending. A low, hollow groan.

It cut through the thick silence like a scream in a graveyard.

Kain straightened. The light pole bent grotesquely where his hand had rested, the metal caved inward like paper crushed by careless fingers. He stared at it—expression unreadable.

…It seemed like whatever physical changes had been made to his body in the last trial persisted.

It was a slight comfort.

A sudden flicker caught his eye.

He blinked.

Down the street, through a gap in the gutted skeletons of two collapsed buildings, light spilled out onto the road like a beacon. Unfortunately, Kain couldn’t see the source.

Drawn like a moth to flame, Kain walked down several blocks to find the light source. At the very least, it was unusual for the lights to be on anywhere in this city—the supply of electricity should have been long cut off.

He passed cracked pavement where weeds the color of ash had burst through old potholes. He passed a fire hydrant tipped on its side, still stained faintly red, and a row of storefronts stripped bare of signs or glass. One had a mannequin slumped in the window like a body that had never been retrieved.

But ahead… that building stood whole and seemingly untouched by the time and chaos of the surroundings.

Its stone facade was barely touched. Ivy curled along its base, but not violently. No burn marks. No Abyssal residue. No broken walls or shattered statues.

Familiarity flickered at the edge of his mind as he stared up at the name etched above the entrance:

The Metropolitan Museum of Art.

“…The Met?” Kain whispered aloud, voice lost in the wind.

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