The house smelled of mold and abandonment. Cassian ran her fingers over a table covered in a thick layer of dust, leaving a clean trail in the accumulated grime. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling beams like ghostly draperies, and the wooden floor creaked with every step.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
She'd just searched the third cupboard—a rickety piece of furniture that had nearly collapsed when she opened it. Empty. Like the two before it. Like the rudimentary kitchen with its cold stone hearth. Like the upstairs bedroom with its rotten bed and moth-eaten sheets.
Fuck, not even a dusty can of food.
Cassian sat on a wobbly chair near the window, her legs still trembling from the frantic run that had brought her here. How long had she been running? Three hours? Four? The landscape had gradually changed around her—the dense forest thinning into sparse woods, then into plains dotted with solitary trees. And finally, this house. Alone in the middle of nowhere, like a beacon of hope that had turned out to be a mirage.
She looked around with a mix of despair and morbid fascination. Medieval. Everything here screamed "medieval." The stone and wattle walls. The exposed wooden beams. The crude fireplace. Even the furniture—what remained of it—had that handmade, rough look.
"No electricity. No Wi-Fi. No fucking McDonald's." She laughed, a bitter sound that echoed strangely in her new voice.
And it's not like I could rebuild modern civilization, she thought bitterly. Yeah, I know how to use a phone. I can even code a bit. But build a smartphone from scratch? Generate electricity? I wouldn't even know where to start.
She'd been rich. Privileged. Everything handed to her on a silver platter. And now? Now she didn't even know how to start a fire without a lighter.
And food... Her stomach growled as if to emphasize the point. Even if I managed to kill a rabbit or something, how do I prepare it? How do I gut it? How do I clean it without fucking everything up?
She realized with ice-cold clarity that she had zero survival skills. None. Nada. She was as useful in this world as a fish out of water.
---
The sun shone high in the sky. Noon, or whatever passed for it in this world. The heat was oppressive, making her blonde hair stick to her neck and forehead.
Cassian stepped out of the house, squinting against the harsh light. A few meters away stood a stone well, its rim cracked but still solid.
Water. Please let there be water.
She approached, leaning cautiously over the edge. The well's darkness made it hard to see the bottom, but she could hear...
A sound. Faint. A splash.
"Yes!" she hissed, leaning further to see better.
Her feet slipped.
"SHIT!"
She flailed her arms, her center of gravity shifting dangerously forward. Her chest—that fucking chest—threw her off balance, pulling her toward the dark void of the well. Her fingers clawed at the stone, finding purchase at the last moment.
She threw herself backward, landing hard on her ass. Her heart pounded like a jackhammer.
"Fuck... fuck this..." She took a deep breath, trembling. "Note to self: the physics of this body are a nightmare."
I almost drowned in a well. After surviving a giant centipede. What a pathetic way to go that would've been.
A cry echoed in the distance.
Cassian froze, every sense on high alert. It wasn't a human cry. It was something else—primal, savage, charged with bestial rage.
She dropped into a crouch, moving silently toward a collapsed stone wall near the house. Her body naturally found the stealthiest posture.
Slowly, she peered over the wall.
The horizon. Something was moving.
A centaur.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Easily eight feet tall, its human half muscled like a steroid-pumped bodybuilder. Its horse half was deep brown, hooves pounding the ground with force that vibrated the air. And in each hand—axes. Not little camping hatchets. Battle axes, blades as wide as shovels, gleaming with a menacing metallic edge.
But it wasn't the centaur that froze Cassian's blood.
It was what it was doing.
It held something—a creature. Quadrupedal, about the size of a large dog, except... except its four limbs were human arms. Long, pale, ending in clawed hands. The thing thrashed, emitting shrill screams.
The centaur swung it overhead like a toy, then hurled it into the air.
High. Too high.
Before the creature could fall, the centaur pivoted, reared up on its forelegs, and struck with its hind legs.
CRACK.
The sound of the impact carried to Cassian, sharp and horrible. The creature flew several meters, tumbling in a cloud of dust. It tried to stand, its arm-legs trembling, but the centaur was already on it.
Its hooves came down. Again. Again. Again.
Cassian looked away.
What the hell is this place? Why couldn't I have landed in a quiet village? A cozy little inn with a busty barmaid who'd explain the basics of the world to me?
No. I had to end up in a fucking prehistoric nightmare zoo.
She risked another glance. The centaur had stopped stomping. Black particles rose from its body like smoke, dissipating into the air. It regarded the corpse at its feet with visible satisfaction, then...
It turned its head. Toward the house.
Toward her.
"No." The whisper escaped Cassian's lips. "No no no, you don't see me. You didn't see me."
But the centaur started walking. Straight toward the house.
Shit. SHIT.
Cassian crawled backward, diving through the open door. She scanned the room desperately for a hiding spot. The cupboard? Too small. Under the table? Too obvious. The stairs to the upper floor? No time.
A large wooden chest in the corner. Old, massive, probably empty like everything else.
She ran to it, opened it—empty, as expected—and slipped inside, closing the lid just enough to see through a crack.
Breathe. Breathe softly. No noise. You don't exist.
The sound of hooves grew closer. Louder. Louder. Louder.
The centaur entered the house.
Cassian stopped breathing.
It was huge. The ceiling was just high enough for it to stand, but barely. Its shoulders nearly touched the walls. The axes in its hands looked like medieval torture instruments, stained with fresh black blood.
It scanned the room, its eyes—sickly yellow with slitted pupils like a cat's—searching every corner. Its expression was... disinterested. Almost bored.
It circled the room, hooves creaking the floorboards. It passed right by the chest.
Cassian closed her eyes. Don't see me. Don't see me. Don't see me.
The centaur headed for the door.
Yes. Go. Leave. Nothing interesting here.
It paused at the threshold. Its back was to her.
Then it turned, casting one last glance inside.
Shit, did it sense something?
It stepped out.
Cassian exhaled silently, her shoulders relaxing slightly.
Then it came back in.
What?!
The centaur scanned the interior again, eyes lingering on each piece of furniture. It paced in a circle, sniffed the air, then went out.
Five seconds passed.
It came back in.
What the fuck is it doing?! Cassian felt panic rising. It knows. It KNOWS something's off.
The centaur made another slow circle. It stopped at the hearth. At the table. At the cupboard.
Then it went out.
Cassian counted in her head. One. Two. Three. Four. Five...
Silence stretched. Ten seconds. Fifteen. Twenty.
It's gone. It's really gone this time.
She started lifting the chest lid.
The wall exploded.
Chunks of stone and wood flew like shrapnel. An axe cleaved the air, aimed straight at the chest.
Cassian rolled out a fraction of a second before the blade struck, splintering the wood into fragments. She scrambled up, eyes wide, staring at the centaur standing in the rubble of the wall, a savage look of satisfaction on its face.
"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!" she yelled.
No time to think. MOVE.
She sprinted toward the opposite window, diving through in a shower of broken glass. She rolled on the outside grass, springing back to her feet.
The centaur didn't go through the window. It smashed straight through the adjacent wall, galloping at full speed.
This isn't possible. It's NOT POSSIBLE for it to be that fast!
But it was. In three strides, it was on her.
An axe swung in a horizontal arc.
Cassian ducked, feeling the whoosh of air over her head. If that blade had connected, it would've decapitated her.
A second axe—vertical this time—cleaved down toward her.
She rolled aside, the blade embedding in the earth with a violent THUNK exactly where she'd been a second earlier.
Dodge. Keep dodging. That's all you can do.
A horizontal swipe at her legs.
Cassian jumped, her new elven reflexes carrying her higher than she thought possible. Her feet barely touched the ground before she had to dodge again.
Every attack... every fucking attack is meant to KILL. Not wound. Not intimidate. KILL.
The intent was palpable, almost physical. Cassian could feel it—this pure, brutal will to erase her existence.
Back on Earth, I knew how to fight. I was the best in school. But against THIS?
She had no chance in a direct fight.
A desperate idea sparked. The centaur raised both axes for a double strike.
Cassian leaped forward instead of back, jumping onto the centaur. Her hands gripped its muscled torso, legs wrapping around its waist.
"GET OFF!"
She punched toward its face.
Her hand exploded in pain.
Fucking SHIT! It was like punching a concrete wall. Her knuckles screamed in protest.
No matter. She grabbed one of the axes, trying to wrench it from its hand.
It didn't budge. Not even a millimeter.
Cassian pulled with all her strength. MOVE, goddamn MOVE!
Nothing. The centaur's fingers were like steel vices. She'd have better luck bending an iron bar with her bare hands.
I can't even make it move ONE FINGER.
The centaur's hands closed on her.
"Oh no..."
It seized her, ripping her off its body like removing a tick. Then its massive arms contracted and it threw her.
The world spun. Sky. Ground. Sky. Ground.
Cassian crashed into the hard earth with force that emptied her lungs completely.
CRACK.
Something broke. Ribs. Maybe several.
Pain exploded in her chest like fireworks. She couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Her whole body screamed in agony.
Through blurred vision, she saw the centaur rear up on its hind legs.
Both axes raised overhead, ready to come down.
It's over. It was... over.
Time seemed to slow.
And something changed.
The air around Cassian grew... heavy. Thick. As if the atmosphere itself was condensing. Threads of light—invisible until now—converged on her from all directions.
Rivers of pure energy pouring into her body at impossible speed. Her body absorbed it, gulping it down greedily, thirsting.
The temperature dropped instantly. The ground around her frosted over. Grass froze, crackling under a layer of ice.
The centaur sensed the shift. Its eyes widened. But it was already committed, axes swinging down.
An invisible barrier intercepted the blades.
CLANG.
The axes bounced off as if striking a steel shield. The centaur was hurled backward, skidding several meters.
Cassian stood up.
No. Her body stood up. She was a spectator in her own skull, like watching a dream.
Broken ribs knit back together with a sharp crack. Pain vanished. Every cell in her body gorged on mana, saturating to the breaking point. The excess overflowed, forming a visible aura around her—particles of blue and white light crackling like static electricity.
Without warning, she leaped.
The ground exploded under her feet. In a fraction of a second, she closed the distance to the centaur.
Her fist slammed into its flank.
BOOM.
The impact sounded like thunder. The centaur was lifted off the ground, all four hooves leaving the earth. Before it could react, Cassian pivoted, her heel describing a perfect arc that crashed into its skull.
The centaur collapsed headfirst into the ground, carving a shallow crater.
