Strongest Grimoire Of The Gods

Hanzo and Malon rode the Hoverski, and Noa and Tyr rode atop Rudra in front, continuing along the path.

"It's right on the trail, about half a mile in front of us." Hanzo said, everyone unable to contain their eagerness.

They would finally be able to eat food after so long and rest... it was going to be like a small piece of heaven.

After a while, they indeed came across another wall to civilization.

These walls were different, only about 50 feet in height and made out of giant wooden spikes tied together with some sort of hide and vines.

The place looked ferocious from the very entrance.

A single guard looked to be holding post at the entrance.

Tyr hopped off of Rudra, making his way toward the guard.

The man holding post didn't look like any average guard. Instead of armor, he wore animal hide over his crotch and had a leather strap running over his shoulder.

His muscular body was covered in tribal paint and wielded a large wooden spear.

He had a caveman-like face, which was chiseled and blocky. His stature was also tall, around 6'3 ft in total.

As Tyr approached, the guard stomped one foot on the ground and straightened his posture.

"Welcome lrax!" The man exclaimed with his chin held high.

"Lrax? What's that?" Tyr exclaimed.

"Oh... this lrax has a young voice? Which city do you come from?" The guard asked again.

"Again... I don't know what that is." Tyr said, finally stopping about 6 feet away from the guard.

The guard then furrowed his brows and squinted his eyes, "Wait a minute... you are no lrax."

Tyr had an unimpressed expression on his face, "Yeah no shit... that's what I've been saying. What is a lrax?"

As Tyr continued his conversation with the guard, the other members of his hunter group looked at him from afar with confusion.

They whispered amongst each other:

"He knows how to speak Zasean?" Hanzo questioned.

"What the hell..." Noa said.

"Since when did?" Malon paused, confused.

"Well actually," Noa continued, "It checks out. I mean, look at him. He's no shorter than a Zasea native, and his body and hair look no different either. Maybe he was born here..."

Hanzo and Malon paused...

"That would actually make a lot of sense you know..." Hanzo said, thinking to himself.

Tyr on the other hand hadn't heard a lick of what his team was saying.

"I see!" The guard exclaimed, "So you are no lrax... or lord, as you probably call that title. But you are of Zasean heritage, no? Look at your body! It's no different from mine when I was your age!" He grabbed Tyr's shoulder, laughing loudly.

"Uh... right." Tyr replied, "Well, look... I am no Zasean."

"Thats a language."

"Whatever! The point is, im not from here, and im no lrax or whatever you call it. I, and my group, are travelers. We have been stranded and starving for weeks... give us some food!" Tyr was direct.

The guard looked puzzled for a second, "You talk Zasean as if you are born with it though... anyways, follow me. We welcome visitors." He turned, walking into the city.

'Oh... thats right. My speech is autotranslated isn't it...' Tyr remembered, 'Thats a bit weird to explain.' He turned to face his team.

'They are probably confused,' He mused as he saw their faces. He gestured for them to follow, and that was what they did.

The guard led them a few feet into the city before turning to say his goodbyes, leaving Tyr and the others to navigate the streets alone.

With Rudra trotting ahead and the Hoverski following close behind, the group moved cautiously through the eerily quiet streets.

People wandered about, but the usual hum of conversation was conspicuously absent.

It struck Tyr as strange—every other city he'd visited buzzed with life.

But here, the silence was unsettling. As he rode atop Rudra, he scanned the crowd and noticed dozens of people who reminded him of the addicts he'd seen back on Earth, particularly in places like Skid Row.

Their faces were gaunt and pale, eyes bloodshot, and their bodies painfully thin.

They shuffled through the streets like the living dead.

Yet, not everyone looked this way. There were others who seemed more normal, though their attire was primitive, like something out of a prehistoric tribe.

Fur and leather garments seemed to be the height of fashion in this place.

Tyr had seen enough. Without warning, he leaped off Rudra and sprinted forward, his voice echoing through the narrow streets:

"I need to find food before I die!" he shouted, vanishing into the crowd ahead.

'"M-Master!' Rudra cried out, bolting after him. In his haste, he crashed through carts and sent people tumbling, while Noa clung on for dear life.

"W-what the—!? Tsk! You idiots!" Hanzo snarled, revving up his Hoverski to chase after them.

The city itself was clearly underdeveloped, with few stone buildings in sight.

Instead, the streets were lined with shacks and cabins made of rough-hewn wood. Tyr ran until he stumbled upon a large pub constructed entirely of logs.

Without hesitation, he rushed inside, weaving through the crowd seated on the floor, each person perched on their own mat, being served steaming hot meals.

Ignoring the strange setup, he made a beeline for the counter at the back, driven by a single-minded hunger.

"Oi!" The chef behind the counter shouted as he saw the young man sprinting toward him: "What are you doing!?"

Tyr raised his hand into the air, clenching it to form a fist. He then swung it down from above as he ran right toward the counter.

"Hey! STOP!" The chef yelled as he saw this, clenching his buttcheeks in fear and anticipation.

Tyr's palm slammed flat onto the table.

*BOOM*

The noise resounded through the walls, capturing the attention of everyone.

The chef had closed his eyes for a second, but when he opened them again, Tyr retracted his hand from the table--revealing a single gold coin inside.

"Give me some food." Tyr said with a smirk.

The man looked down at the coin, and then back at Tyr.

"You need 10 more of those to get a single bite in this place."

"W-what!? Why?"

"Because... you broke my damn table, you mother fucker!"

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