Despite its large number of visitors each week, Lowlam was a rather small settlement. Fewer than fifty or so buildings were arranged in a circular pattern, each ring of them growing smaller in diameter as they neared the center. A barrier of stone had been erected around the perimeter, easily twenty feet high. It wasn’t the most concrete defense, but rarely anything happened out in the middle of a glass desert. Invaders could be seen from the horizon, so sneak attacks were nearly impossible. A pair of gates led from one side of the ring to the other, the town’s main road bridging the two entrances. This made it easy for caravans and travelers to freely pass through and leave in one fell swoop.
Wood was sparse in these parts, Lowlam being far from any forest or jungle. Not that those were all that common to begin with. Buildings were instead made from a mixture of stone, metal, and plastic. Structurally sound, yet easy to manufacture. When it became more of a town than a research base, homes and small businesses quickly cropped up in these styles.
The old research base still stood in the middle of the town, three stories tall. It was by far the most modern looking building, the white pillars of the entrance inviting visitors up the stairs to observe some of the old findings. The Institute hadn’t been particularly active in recent years, not since Lowlam slowly transformed from a place of knowledge to one where travelers and families called their homes. Few researchers remained from the town’s original purpose, mainly those deeply invested in discovering the secrets of the glass. Those like Rontu.
A few streets east of the Institute, between some of the residential buildings, sat a few merchant stalls. It was known as “Alley'', a local gathering of residents who sold their goods every day. There were few rules or regulations here. So long as you behaved yourself, didn’t steal, and didn’t scam, you were free to sell and buy at your own leisure.
At the very end of the Alley sat a small stall, set up with tent poles and a tarp. A small metal sign depicted a painting of a man holding a knife and fork, smiling happily with his tongue out. A large and burly man sat behind it, looking rather irritated at his current concierge.
Archie’s hairy brow furrowed, his patience being tested with each passing second. You would think that running a sandwich stand in a tourist heavy town would be the easiest money in the world, and for the most part the man would agree with you. However there were just some days, some days where you dealt with the stupidest people in the world. Archie had been selling food for close to ten years, and this customer definitely ranked in his top ten. Maybe even top five.
A younger man stood before him, a finger pressed to his lips as he looked back and forth between the day’s current specials. A wad of unfamiliar money was clutched in his other hand, the source of Archie’s frustration. He was dressed in a rather peculiar way, a manner that was rarely if ever seen in these parts, even in a place like Lowlam. An orange and silky half-robe was draped from his shoulders, one half slightly longer than the other. No doubt the heat of The Glassway was hell on him right now. His pants were a simple pair of tattered jeans, cut off from the knees down and frayed. He wore simple wooden sandals with socks, luckily for him most of the town was layered with sand or dirt to fend off the heat the glass absorbed. Archie thought he looked ridiculous.
Oh, and there was the fact that he was carrying a damn sword at his waist, scabbard and all.
“This one then?” he asked, pointing at a roasted vegetable melt and looking up at the stall owner, his eyes hopeful behind his rectangular spectacles. He couldn’t have been older than twenty.
Archie rubbed his temples, brow furrowing harder as he growled. “No. N-O!” he shouted. “I keep telling you that I can’t accept that money. I don’t know where it’s from, and I don’t know where you’re from. You can’t buy a Veggie Supreme. You can’t buy a Steak Munchie. You can’t buy ANYTHING!” the large man spat, gripping the edge of his wooden stall angrily. “You’ve been here for half an hour asking me the same three questions!”
The customer idly fidgeted with his hair, which was slung in a short ponytail over his shoulder. His fingers twirled through the sand-colored mane in thought for a second. He looked honestly saddened, a slight frown on his face. If it weren’t for the fact that he was armed, Archie would have slapped that pitiful look off of his face.
“Look son,” Archie started, rolling his shoulders in a way that made his shirt rise ever so slightly, revealing his pot belly. Good food did that to a man. “See if you can exchange it somewhere, or work for something. Folks always need something done around here. I’m here every day of the week, I ain’t going nowhere.” He smiled for the first time since the kid had arrived.
The young man seemed to understand, giving a sullen nod and slipping the crumpled money back into a small coin purse. Archie could definitely tell that he was from far out, possibly from the coast. There were all sorts of nomadic types from that area. The problem was that Lowlam was at least several hundred miles from any shoreline, and people didn’t show up there by accident very often.
“What’s your name son?”
The customer put away his coin purse, eyes flicking up at the burly man, noting the scruffy beard and curly black hair pulled into a tight bun.
“Shen,” he answered quickly. “And yours?”
“Call me Archie,” he replied, extending a gnarled hand.
Shen gently grasped the man by the tips of his fingers, giving one short shake and granting an eye roll from the stall owner.
“I’ll be happy to cook you something up the moment you come back with some cash. Real cash,” he emphasized, rubbing the tips of his fingers together.
Shen seemed to understand, straightening his back and turning on his heel before a loud shriek caused the two men to flinch. It was shrill, full of panic and fear in a way that caused their spines to shudder in response. Shen’s head whipped in the direction it came from, ears alert.
“Was that a woman?” Archie muttered lowly to himself while walking out from around his stall, placing his hands on his hips.
A crash broke the awkward silence between the two, the sound of splintering plastic and metal to their right setting them on the defensive. A woman was hanging halfway out of her second story window, struggling to jump out it seemed. One leg was slung over the window sill, an arm clutching the top of the frame as she paused for a second to size up the fall.
“Please! You have to help me!” she screamed in desperation. “In my house!” H-”
A gnarled hand extended from the window, the flesh discolored and riddled with small pustules that seemed to leak and bleed endlessly. Talons the size of human fingers sunk into the woman’s collarbone, a hand gripping with enough force to create an audible snap in the air as it drug her back inside.
“H-Honno?” Archie mumbled, finishing the woman’s last words for her. He trembled, eyes flicking back and forth before he turned to look over his shoulder. More screams and shrieks could be heard echoing throughout Lowlam now, the sound of monsters now gaining a foothold of the small town and wreaking havoc.
“Shen, we gotta get out of here!” Archie cried out, grabbing the unresponsive boy by his shoulder and shaking him. Fear caused his voice to strain, and for good reason. If Honno were already in town, there wasn’t much they could do besides run. Run and hope that the creatures would be too distracted by feasting on the population to give chase.
The sound of stone crumbling could be heard from the same building the woman had died in, the wall easily giving way and creating a cloud of dust that saturated the enclosed area and lowered visibility. Archie covered his face, coughing hard as the sand and stone pebbles peppered him. He lowered his hands after a moment, frantically looking around. He could no longer see Shen anywhere. Had something happened to the kid?
His focus on someone else’s well being was quickly wrenched away from him though, as Archie could see a hulking mass emerging from the dust cloud, easily eight or nine feet tall. The inhuman shape and strange gait in its step caused his stomach to twist into a tight knot.
Cream-colored flesh stretched across its unholy frame, covered in head to toe. Or heads, for this one. Two featureless orbs jutted out from the chest area, each complete with a mouth of its own. One was gnashing teeth in search of a meal, while another seemed to grind and gnaw at what appeared to be a bloody limb. No doubt from the woman from before.
That’s all Honno did. Eat. Eat and consume anything alive. Plants. Animals. People.
It slowly trudged towards Archie, a pair of long arms dragging behind it as the fingers curled and uncurled in anticipation of a new victim. Each step caused the man to back further and further towards the wall. With a reach like that, he didn’t think he would make it if he ran to the left or right. He was boxed in, and the narrow alley he had done so much business in was going to be his grave. His hand brushed the coarse wall behind him, fenced in quicker than he expected. Archie’s breath was ragged as he tried his best to remember the good times in life before he was gutted and ripped apart by the abomination, his hand clutching his heart.
The Honno slowly raised one of its spindly arms, a miracle it could even lift them with how little muscle mass they seemed to have. Honno physiology didn’t make any sense, but people didn’t survive encounters with them often enough to discuss it in length.
A metallic glint shone through the air for half a second, and a spray of red goop erupted from the Honno’s elbow. Its forearm fell to the ground and twitched for a moment before the creature let out a howl of anguish and anger, both heads swirling tongues around their lips as the entire frame rotated to look at the assailant.
A figure stood a few feet away, brandishing what appeared to be a sword in two hands. Layered plates cascaded down their shoulders, waist and knees, alternating between red and white colorings. A crested helmet with a simple golden ring adorned the rounded helmet, forming almost an eyebrow shape for the pair of glowing yellow slits on the masked face. It reminded Archie of something he had seen in the institute’s public data, only covered through drawings and descriptions. A ‘Sammer-eye?’ Was that what they were called? The two scabbards that hung on either side of the waist helped denote it.
The figure looked over its shoulder at the husky man, silently peering at him with a glowing gaze. They nodded, quick and curt before lunging at the Honno with their sword, shoving it into the creature’s torso and swinging it outwards to create a large gash at the hip.
The Honno let out a guttural screech, swinging its arm wide and using the momentum to carry its over-sized hand to swat the warrior aside. The warrior was far too nimble to be hit by such a telegraphed attack though, ducking and weaving under the arm as it harmlessly crashed into the side of a building. Bits of rubble erupted outwards, and the Honno struggled for a moment to dislodge its stuck hand.
A moment too long.
The armored individual dashed forward, using the brief respite to slash at the exposed legs of the creature. Precision cuts below the thigh easily severed the bones and tendons in single strokes, the Honno falling forward as it freed its arm much too late. The warrior flipped forward, bouncing off of the flailing arm like a springboard before landing on the back of the face-down creature. One final slash traced where the spine was located, the blade of their sword sinking halfway inside the creature and splitting it from neck to groin. Congealed blood splattered onto the wall to Archie’s left, the man in disbelief at the sight. One word constantly echoed in his mind as he watched the hero flick blood from their sword, cleaning it with an expert fling of the wrist.
Shutok.
Divine warriors. Science experiments. Super soldiers. Just like the Honno, people couldn’t agree on just where they came from. Archie didn’t care about the mystery right now though. He was just grateful one was here to save him.
The Shutok turned to face Archie, double checking for any errant Honno blood on the sword before sheathing it on the right hip. They slowly stepped down with grace, casually walking across the shredded torso of the Honno before stepping off a few feet in front of the merchant.
“Two. Two sandwiches,” he said, pointing at the stall with a gauntleted finger.
