Prologue: Enough Meat to build a Bicycle!
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Welcome to the Prologue of my new series "Legend of the Parasite King!" Now now, I know that you are thinking; "But Osa?! What happened to Rekindled?! Give me moar!" Writers Block! That's what! After about my 5th time trying to rewrite it into the direction I want to go, I'm putting it on hold (Basically, I wrote myself into a Corner I can't get out of without rewriting the whole thing, so I'm working on how to do that....orz....) . Its not scrapped by a long shot, but with what I want to do with it, it still needs work. That's were this story comes in. I'm hoping to use this as a springboard to try a bunch of different things and polish up my skills before moving back to the other story. /o/ lets take the journey together!

Edited by @In_awe. Thanks Bunny!

Jonah poked the small fire with a half dissolved sword he’d taken from the corpse of his latest “guest.” The poor “knight” looking man had come down with the rubble of the small concrete building they both now rested on, which floated in the lake of bubbling stomach acid. It had been the man’s screams that led Jonah to discover him. For as fancy as his armor looked, it had done little to protect him once he hit the acid. By the time Jonah got to him, the man was already too far gone and the light in his eyes was already fading. Jonah could only sigh before dragging the poor man out of the acid and onto the slowly dissolving platform.

A quick search of the man's body didn't turn up much. 

Some melted armor that wouldn't last much longer, the broken, twisted lump that used to be a sword. A few other unidentifiable scraps of fabric he assumed were the "knight's" clothes. 

The biggest harvest though, had to be the blood-red bag the man had carried tied to what was left of his waist. A bag identical to the one he had strapped to his own wrist. Between being crushed by muscle and rubble or dissolved in acid, not much survived down here — but these strange bags always did.

He didn’t know what they were called or what they were made of, however, as far as he could tell, they were indestructible. Which was a shame, because cloth was scarce in the (literal) belly of the beast, and he would really like a new pair of pants for his own had dissolved years ago. These bags were special in ways other than just their durability; just like the “storage bags” in the novels he used to enjoy, these blood-red bags were FAR bigger on the inside. Most of the bags he had found so far had been filled with supplies, from armors and weapons to parts of animals he couldn’t identify, with some even containing supplies like food and camping equipment. All presumably the former belongings of his gracious “host’s” victims.

For Jonah, these bags were a lifeline — the sole source of supplies and essentials in his meaty, oozing prison. At first, he'd been hesitant to scavenge from the dead like this. But in the end, his own life was worth more. Furthermore, if he didn't use them, it wasn't like anyone else would. After rummaging through the knight's storage bag, he'd found a few basic camping supplies and dry wood, finally.

Fire was a rare luxury in this place; even if you managed to find wood that wasn’t soaked in bile or half dissolved by acid, the buildup of gasses could be quite…. explosive. He’d lost his eyebrows more than once, learning THAT lesson. Even still, it was worth the risk for Jonah. It didn’t take very long to get sick of the half-digested, raw monster meat that found its way down here. Or in those more desperate times, the meat right off the walls of his prison. And he’d been here five years already if his count was right….

“…. Ha… five years… can you believe it?” Jonah asked the eternally silent knight beside him, stoking the flames once more with the sword.

“When I first got here, there was barely any room to move, ya know? I thought I was a goner. Or at least might end up as snake crap. But here I am! Still stuck in this place, talking to a dead man while butt naked in the belly of a giant snake monster. Good thing I’ve not gone insane yet? Right?! Or they might lock me up once I get out of here! HAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Jonah glanced over at his company with a grin, though it slowly slid from his face in the ensuing silence. He turned his eyes back towards the small fire, his cloudy grey eyes barely reflecting its dim light as he spoke up in a low voice.

"Bah… everyone's a critic…. You know, I wish I knew what was going on out there… I've been here so long, but I still barely have any idea what's happening. It's always bits and pieces from the stronger ones who manage to make it down here with a little bit of life left in them, but never the full story, never enough time. Sometimes, I wonder if I'm better off in here, away from all of that chaos and death. Other times I wish I could be out there doing my part… or something, ANYTHING other than just being in... HERE!"

The dim glow of the fire reflected off of the sword as Jonah stood and hurled it with all of his might towards the far “wall.” It cut through the air with a low hum… before bouncing harmlessly off the meaty surface and sinking into the bubbling acid below. Jonah stared for a moment, before rushing forward and into the acidic lake below.

“S***, S***, S*** Wait! I still need that.”

The pool bubbled and hissed as Johan came in contact, but otherwise, he appeared to be unscathed. He quickly made his way towards the last known location of the broken blade and began searching, eyes wide in panic with his scraggly hair soaked in bile. After a long moment, Jonah’s eyes lit up in victory as he raised the blade out of the boiling acid and over his head. Though his joy soon turned to dismay, as he realized the already warped and melting blade had been further reduced, not even half the length remained before his… outburst. He gave a heavy sigh before making his way back to the small floating debris island, careful not to let his prize suffer any further damage.

He arrived back at the “island.” With a few shakes of the crumbling sword, Johan stirred the flames once more before reaching into the knight’s storage bag and withdrew a few fresh vegetables. He cradled the veggies in his arms as if they were the most precious thing in the world (and in a prison made of meat, they were). Then one by one, he slipped them onto the now thin sword and slowly roasted them over the fire. An unknown time later, Jonah let out a satisfied grunt as he finished his first real meal in weeks, and laid down to warm himself next to the dying embers of the fire.

He sat there in silence, looking up at the pulsing, oozing ceiling that had been his “sky” for years now. After a while, he turned and spoke to the still very much dead knight beside him."

“I bet you’re wondering how I got here. Trapped like this… Funny story... Well, not so much ‘funny’ as it is horrifying and nightmare-inducing, but hey, a story is a story. It all began with ‘The Game,’ but I guess you don’t need me to tell you about THAT, do you?....”