Chapter Text
I feel like I'm going to die.
This was the last thought that crossed the mind of the knight in bloody armour before he lost his consciousness.
Forever or not? The sensations were so intense that it seemed like these were truly his last moments.
The last few days had been cloudy. But today the sun was so bright that its rays pierced his barely open eyes. It had almost set behind the horizon.
A fresh, clean wind was blowing, slightly cool, stirring the grass and flowers in this beautiful, flowery field.
Such a beautiful, bright sunset. Such soft, cool grass. Such a gentle wind.
It seemed that this was it, peace.
But no, it was still too early.
Bleeding profusely after numerous battles in the cave, with a broken arm, having broken through a stone wall, and with both mental and physical trauma to his head, DerLord passed out.
After receiving infinite knowledge and seeing the King, people usually died.
The human brain is not capable of withstanding all knowledge.
Derlord was no exception: he too went mad.
And even at that moment, when he was bleeding to death on the field and should have seen his whole life before his eyes, or rather the kingdom where he was an honoured knight and which awaited his return and protection, his parents, perhaps his former friends, he saw and heard nothing but the wind and the relaxing breeze.
Instead, endless knowledge rushed through his head.
Painful, tormenting, disgusting knowledge that made his head spin. It was absolutely unbearable.
He vaguely remembered leaving that book in the chest, knowing that a guy named Avery would come and find it. It was the only thought and knowledge he had about the future: and even though he was reluctant to admit it, the knight understood that he regretted that he might die and would not be able to completely protect him from the same curse and end.
But he no longer had the strength to do anything, so in agony and suffering, having practically resigned himself to his fate, Derlord fell asleep.
____
The sun had almost set below the horizon, but there was still about an hour left before nightfall, and the lad, or rather, half-human, half-slime creature named Avery decided to go for a short walk.
He was a short, thin, young man with greenish, sticky-slimy skin and short, tousled hair with bangs, braided into a short ponytail at the back.
As an accessory, he wore a flower that perfectly matched his outfit: long, loose-fitting trousers, fairly heavy boots, a white satin shirt that was partially tucked into his belt, and a sleeveless vest with the same flower pattern as the one in his hair.
Previously, he had worn a regular T-shirt, shorts, and a Hawaiian shirt, but it was August and it had gotten a little colder, so he changed his look.
Besides, he had to visit the nearest village or even the city too often to earn some money and make a living.
Walking along a path he had never taken before, humming a song he had probably heard from street musicians in the city, he had already walked quite a distance from his home.
And then, after pausing for a moment and calmly looking at the sun setting on the horizon, Avery was about to turn back, but then he smelled something unpleasant...
The smell of blood.
He turned around instantly, first feeling for a small knife in his pocket, just in case it was a zombie.
But he saw no one in front of him.
More precisely, he did see someone, but 10 metres away from him.
A human figure in golden armour, covered in blood, lying motionless and silent.
Avery froze instantly, his face showing fear and even shock, anxiety and incomprehension at what was happening.
He ran up to the human figure, pushed his helmet slightly upwards and felt for a pulse on his neck.
"Hey, mate, um, I don't know who you are, but I'll be sad if you leave me! Come on, let's go..."
There was a pulse. Slow, but there.
Avery grabbed a regeneration potion from his leather bag, which he had prepared a few days ago, and gave it to the stranger he had just met.
"Thank God you're alive! But I still can't leave you in this condition..."
He said with a slight smile on his lips.
His gentle and rather high-pitched, sweet voice trembled slightly, as did his hands, realising that the life of this knight, or simply a traveller in armour, might depend on him, even if only temporarily or partially.
Looking around and realising that it was getting very dark and monsters would soon appear, Avery acted quickly: he crouched down, put the knight on his back and, holding him tightly, carried him to his house.
"Wow, you're heavy! And tall... But it's okay, we'll be there soon... It's only, um... 400 metres..."
Avery muttered intermittently and with pauses, knowing that his "find" couldn't hear him anyway.
____
Derlord woke up five days later.
He was in a warm house, under a blanket in a warm bed.
But he had absolutely no idea where he was or who he was.
As soon as Derlord opened his eyes, everything was blurry, and only after a couple of minutes was he able to get up with severe pain in his back and assess his surroundings.
The walls were made of planks, and the ceiling beams were oak. The floor was unclear, either oak or spruce. However, it did not matter.
There was no hallway, just the front door and the bedroom. There was access to a small kitchen lit by lanterns. Behind it was another door, probably to the living room or bathroom.
There were few things: a couple of chests, a workbench, two stoves. A kitchen table, wooden chairs, a white carpet, cosy lanterns.
Very simple, but atmospheric.
Suddenly, unexpectedly, and with terrible pain, his head began to spin. Everything around him blurred. Derlord sat down and clutched his head, clutching his ash-black, unkempt, long hair.
His hands were tightly bandaged, which definitely hadn't been there before, so he couldn't pull his hair out in pain or harm himself in any way.
Endless knowledge rushed through his head: useless but very detailed thoughts began to envelop Derlord's mind. He didn't need to know 90% of it all.
He didn't need to see what happened ten years ago, twenty years ago, thirty years ago, knowing every day, every hour, and every minute of this planet.
He didn't need to remember and know everything: all people, all dreams, all goals, all desires, all losses, all lives, and even all deaths.
It was driving him mad.
Slowly, painfully, and very effectively. Eerie whispers and frightening voices echoed in his head.
His lips parted, and a sharp, rough, desperate roar came from his throat, after which the front door burst open and Avery appeared: the guy who had saved him and was in complete shock at what had happened.
He immediately threw down the basket of apples and his woven panama hat and rushed to the knight, whose name he did not yet know.
"Hey, are you okay? Ehh...well...umm... Here, drink this, quickly!"
Avery shouted, frantically gesturing between the table and the bed where his sick guest was sitting. He quickly took a flask of some kind of potion from the bedside table, possibly with a calming and pain-relieving effect, and just as quickly, in one movement, tilted the knight's head back and poured it down his throat until the last drop was gone.
After that, Avery heavily, placed the empty flask on the table, and sat down on a stool a short distance from the bed.
It was getting dark outside, and inside the house too, because the owner of the house, Avery, had not yet lit the torches or turned on the lanterns.
Instead, Avery stared at the knight.
He didn't know what to do, whether to ask him how he was or wait a little longer.
Should he give him some other medicine that might also help? It worked effectively and instantly. But would something else work as well?
Without even realising it, Avery looked the knight up and down: long ash-coloured hair, dark grey skin. Why dark grey? Okay, that was a stupid question, he himself is half slime, half human, what nonsense!
Strong build, strong arms, well-toned and muscular torso.
White scars and burns on his face and neck: many scars on his arms.
Slightly worn dark trousers and light grey socks.
Tense posture, head bowed, elbows folded on his knees.
Avery didn't know what to do with himself or what to say.
"Um, mate, sorry for taking off your helmet and giving you potions without your permission, but honestly, it was for your own good..."
Avery said, looking away and nervously scratching the back of his head. The flower in his hair suddenly fell out and dropped to the floor.
Derlord picked it up as if programmed to do so. His hand reached out on its own, and before the knight even realised it, he was already handing the flower to his saviour.
Avery froze: it was too unexpected. But the knight remained silent and sat tensely, his head bowed towards the floor.
"Oh, oops, thank you! However, if I hadn't given you the regeneration potion, in your condition you probably wouldn't have woken up in five days, but in a month."
The green slime got up from the stool and began to pace around the room in large circles, keeping his hands behind his back. Another awkward pause.
But DeLord was a polite knight, so he tried to find the strength to respond.
"Thank you."
Avery stayed still. He smiled at him, still keeping his hands behind his back, but decided to leave him alone for now, picking up the apples that had fallen out of the basket and going into the next room, closing the door behind him.
Derlord's mind became a little clearer, his thoughts slowed down, and his nervous system seemed to relax a little. Wow, he could even move his arms and legs!
At the moment when he felt panic and Avery quickly gave him the potion, he felt completely paralysed or something like that.
It turned out that this was not the case.
But gradually, slowly, he began to see what had happened during the five days he had been unconscious.
It still seemed impossible, how could a person see what was happening in the world while he was literally asleep?
But Derlord was no longer an ordinary person: you couldn't even say that the definition of "human" applied to him now.
And he knew it.
The knight was still sitting in the same position, while various moments flashed through his mind: for example, how Avery had carefully carried him and laid him on the bed, and then went to shoot monsters from the roof of the house because he couldn't sleep because of the noise.
He saw Avery carefully removing his armour and shirt so he could bandage his torso and arms afterwards.
He saw Avery's surprise when he took off his helmet, the shock that flashed across his face.
He even saw what Avery was thinking, but that wasn't so interesting anymore.
He saw Avery carefully wash his bloodstained shirt and armour, placing them in a separate chest, with the intention of returning them when the knight awoke.
He even saw how this green slime tried to dig a couple of ridiculous and sloppy furrows to plant seeds, thinking that when his guest woke up, he would need to cook pumpkin soup.
What did pumpkin soup have to do with anything, and why?
That remained a mystery.
But in any case, it was strange.
That was exactly what DeLord thought.
More precisely, not strange, but rather... surprising and unusual.
Why did this green slime care so much about a person he had just found and didn't even know?
It was also strange that his infinite knowledge no longer tormented him as much as it had before, like, it did, but the headache stopped.
Really strange. Unusual.
After a while, Avery returned to the room, already changed into his pyjamas, which consisted of a short-sleeved shirt and loose, soft, light-coloured knee-length shorts.
He awkwardly approached the knight with slow steps, who, thank God, was no longer sitting in the same position, but was lying on the bed with his arms crossed over his stomach.
His gaze wandered over the floor, then over the knight's bandaged torso, then over his face and scars.
Finally, the green slime decided to strike up a little conversation.
"Hey, are you okay? Does your head hurt less now?"
Derlord did not answer the question. He asked a counter question, opening his dark, deep eyes and meeting the boy's gaze.
"Did you read the book?"
You should have seen the look of surprise on Avery's face! *What the fuck does some book have to do with anything!? Doesn't this man know how to talk and think straight? I already gave him a bunch of stuff, didn't the potions help!?*
Avery thought, crossing his arms over his chest, before sighing wearily and putting his hands on his belt to ask:
"What book, sorry?"
"The book in the cave. Oh, right, I remember. You didn't go there."
Thoughts out loud. It just slipped out.
"Listen, mate, I don't know who you are or where you're from, but in theory, I can try to brew you a potion for delirium."
"I'm not delirious."
Avery looked at him with an even more tense and suspicious, even irritated gaze. His eye began to twitch incessantly.
Derlord got up from the bed and looked him in the eyes. The moonlight from the back window reflected off his ashen, scarred skin. He was tall and strong, and Avery even swallowed hard as he looked up at him.
"Never, ever go into that cave. No matter what you do at the crossroads, never turn left."
Derlord spoke almost incoherently, grabbing him sharply and rather roughly by the shoulders. Avery jerked, beginning to shake slightly as his gaze darted from the knight's face to the rest of the room, his hands tightly at his sides.
"Never turn left at crossroads, do you hear me? That's what was written in that book you didn't take."
"Hey, hey, hey, take it easy! I don't know what you're talking about, but okay, okay, just calm down!"
The green slime shouted, breaking away from his new, rabid roommate and shaking his arm, taking a long step back.
"Dude, you really should get some sleep, don't worry, I can give you a sleeping potion if you have trouble sleeping."
*And troubles with your mental health also...*
Avery thought, sighing and rummaging for the potion in the chest closest to the kitchen.
Derlord had already sat down on the bed and assumed that same tense and static posture again.
Finding the potion, Avery handed it to Derlord, who already looked quite tired and exhausted.
"Thank you."
Avery yawned as he headed to another room to sleep.
"You may be delirious, but at least you're polite."
"I'm not delirious."
"Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time. Good night."
The door slammed shut.
Derlord looked first at the door, then at the flask of potion that Avery, the owner of the house, had given him.
He caught himself thinking that Avery would be sleeping on the floor or on a wooden bench that night.
Looking at the bottle again, its glass beautifully reflecting the moonlight, the knight drank it all.
____