Return of the Woodcutter

Jack awoke the next morning, bathing in dried feces. The stench of it was so strong it numbed his acute sense of smell.

He glanced to his left to see a tired but awakened man-thing. Dark cycles under its eyes. Did it have yet another awful night?

"Ah, look at who's awake and kicking," Aito said, cracking a small smile before standing to empty the small basket of water in its hand.

Jack stared at the basket, then at what it contained; a small piece of cloth and dirty water. He then touched his head, remembering his own painful sleep. Something had gnawed at him from inside.

Fever added to aching muscles had constantly prevented him from sleeping properly, barely allowing the monkey to graze the boundaries between reality and dream.

However, something had kept the fever's burning feeling from entirely submerging Jack, providing him with a well-needed support.

Was it the man-thing's doing? He couldn't recall properly, but as far as he knew, the only other living being willing to help him—apart from his perfect self—was Aito.

Did it mean it has remained by his side until now? Somehow, he was touched. Too prideful to admit it or accept it, he felt the need to pay him back. He didn't like the idea of owing something. Even if Jack did not understand what a "debt" was, it instinctively felt wrong to leave it at that.

Having made up his mind, Jack got out of his bed and, in need of a bath, went to the river.

He then dried himself using grasses and leaves before returning to his bed, where Aito was cleaning the feces with a piece of cloth covering his face. Weird. Was the smell that unbearable?

"Kyaak!" Jack said, point towards Aito's bed.

The man-thing gave him a quizzical gaze.

"Kyaak!"

"Are you giving me orders now?" Aito said.

"Kyaak!"

"Okay, okay. I'm coming."

Sitting on its bamboo bed, the man-thing stared at Jack. Then as if it had forgotten something, it said, "Oh wait! I got something for you."

Jack jumped on the bed while Aito took something out of thin air. By now, the monkey was already used to the strange phenomenon. It had stopped caring about "the hows and whats" of things appearing out of nowhere days ago.

"Here," Aito said, presenting a small leather bag. "I noticed your predicament with the daggers you're carrying around. And since I had some spare time last night, I made this. Try it."

The monkey grabbed his present, stored his weapons inside, tossed the bag on his back, and kept it there, using a small rope that traveled from his right shoulder to his left pelvis.

"Hum, it looks a bit too big. It needs readjustment, or…" the man-thing said, its eyes squinting. "Did you get smaller again? And your fur… it's entirely black now. The heck? How d'you do that?"

Jack shrugged, not entirely sure what Aito meant.

"Whatever, we better get back to…" the man-thing said, yawning. "… wwwwork, before bigfoots start attacking."

"Kyaak!" Jack said, pointing at its bed, implying that it should sleep.

"Hum? But…. Alright." It said, lying down. "Just a shut-eye, then…. Zzz. Zzz."

The monkey poked Aito's arm, but no response came. Certain that it was sleeping, he headed for the front gate in order to take care of anything that would disturb his partner's sleep.

***

An hour later.

Jack stood amidst a tree's leaves, scanning the surrounding when he finally smelled two unfamiliar scents slowly heading his way. Two enemies.

How should he handle them? Until now, he had only taken advantage of Aito's rampage to strike from the shadows. Even then, it was only one opponent.

He could certainly take one bigfat down, but the problem was the other bigfat. Jack didn't feel confident confronting one of them on open ground. If he could find a way to disappear from the bigfat's vision for just the span of a moment, but how could that be achieved?

Suddenly, a brilliant idea sparked in his head. That could certainly work, no, it could ONLY work since he was the one who thought about it.

He took out two iron daggers from his bag and blended into the shadows to await the most opportune moment to strike.

During his "camping," he thought back to how much easier it was to scale trees with that new thing, the gift from Aito. It was really useful since Jack used to have a bit of trouble climbing daggers in hands.

He realized that yet another debt just added to his current one, or maybe there was already more than one, to begin with. Jack recalled the night his consciousness had hovered over his body. It didn't feel like he was in control.

That night, Aito had walked out of some kind of watery, bubbly liquid, black round circle. Only then did he regain control over what's rightfully his.

Meaning, he had now three debts to repay. But there was something he did not understand. Why did the man-thing go to such length for him? Was this what a "friend" was supposed to do?

Before he could come up with an actual answer, Jack spotted two huge monkeys walking towards him while carefully eyeing their surroundings; probably looking out for traps.

Their loud steps on the rocky ground made it even easier to spot them. That's why being a fatty piece of moving meat was a drawback.

A few more steps and they would be in the perfect range for an aerial attack. Jack would first kill the one carrying a hammer, then the ax bigfat. No particular thinking backed this train of thought. He just felt like doing so.

Three steps until the opportune moment.

Jack tightened his grip on his daggers, ready to kill in one hit.

Two steps.

He relaxed, dilating his large intestine to prepare his trial weapon.

One step.

He let himself fall on his target and, like Death itself, brought judgment upon those whose time had come to an end.

BAM!

His daggers dug deep on both sides of a bigfat's neck. Certain of his enemy's death, Jack turned his attention toward his next prey. He then pulled out his weapons coated with blood while, in a fluid motion, grabbing freshly made feces using his tail and launched the dirty projectile on the ax-bigfat's face.

SPLASH!

Caught unguarded, the white semi-solid substance sprinkled across its entire face as holy water does during baptism. The bigfat let go of its weapon and grabbed its face as if it was burning.

"Wouaaah!"

Jack paused at the unexpected result. Did white paint hurt that much? It seemed to be in a lot of pain, after all.

The bigfat was rampaging; hitting, punching, and hurling anything within its range. It seemed too dangerous to approach, but for Jack, that was the perfect opportunity.

He zigzagged his way to it, avoiding flying branches, rocks, and punches. Once underneath the towering being, he dodged yet another strike, sprung on its back, and reached its throat for the kill before nimbly jumping on a nearby tree to admire his glorious victory from above.

Perched on his branch, he felt empowered by such a sight. Even the man-thing had trouble dealing with two of them when it was not enraged, that is. However, he, Jack, did all that in but a moment without going crazy!

All of that, thanks to his newfound weapon. And since he could produce such a powerful weapon at least six times a day, he dared not imagine what kind of power he was holding right now.

Dozens will fall under his blades! Hundreds will die at his feet from his infinite wisdom and wit! And thousands will be repainted!

The world will come to dread his new power! The power of the white paint!

***

Gods' council room.

The Four were having a meeting. The topic?

War.

"Filona, any news from Englad's Pass?" Zalon asked, his chin leaning against his two forearms.

"Yes, bad ones." She said, her beautiful facial features darkening. "Phobos has sent 10000 more fearmongers to reinforce the 20000 already wreaking havoc on Englad's walls."

Brutalina, crossed armed, scoffed. "What does it matter? Let's send 10000 more men, and voilà! Problem no more."

Zalon pushed up his glasses, his glare reflecting disagreement. "We have to fight on three fronts. Englad is months away from the eastern and western borders. Sending reinforcements will simply weaken our other lines of defense. We simply lack the manpower. At best we could send 1000 soldiers from reserve forces. But we cannot send more than that. If Equilibrium or Tartarus were to need help—"

Brutalina gestured for him to stop. "Ok, ok, ok. Understood, oh magnificent and illustrious strategist. What's your genius brain proposing then?"

"Wait, I haven't finished my report." Filona interrupted, "Leading the enemy reinforcements is one of the five, Golgoth."

Click!

Belmand's bed cricked and reclined, revealing a god of sloth fully awakened. "Impossible. While the Veil is still intact, no gods can trespass. Valinar herself used her divinity for that purpose."

The Four simultaneously lowered their heads in honor of Valinar's sacrifice and remembering that once they were Five.

After a minute, Zalon reopened the topic. "Filona, send your scouts to Icehel's frozen planes and find out what's going on before Golgoth reaches Englad's Pass. Meanwhile, we'll use our reserves and send half of them to reinforce Englen's troops. Let's proceed to the vote."

Belmand yawned and raised his hand. Brutalina rolled her eyes but still raised her hand. Of course, Zalon voted for his own plan, leaving only Filona against.

"You are asking me to send them to certain death! If there was a modicum of hope for success I would agree, but this… this is just a waste of human lives. You are simply asking my children to commit suicide! Considering your past as a human, you should know better."

Normally, Filona wouldn't care so much about human lives. However, if those were her children, she would fight tooth and nail to protect them. Even if her enemy was another god. Of course, she could differentiate military decisions and personal affairs. But what Zalon was asking was simply too unreasonable for her.

Zalon released his divine powers, shrinking the other gods' domain. His eyes shone with an intimidating frozen blue as his robe fluttered vigorously.

"Don't you dare talk about my past. I am human no more!"

Belmand vanished from his bed and appeared next to Zalon. "Calm down, brother. Filona didn't mean any ill. Filona, sister, apologize, would you?"

The god of sloth eyed her intently, his message clear.

She forced out a heavy sigh. "Sorry, brother. I didn't think things through before talking."

Belmand placed his bony hand on Zalon's shoulder, who retracted his divinity. The four colors in the room returned to their previous harmonious equilibrium and Belmand to his bed.

Zalon sighed before speaking. "Filona, we desperately need that information. Even if the mission is hopeless, we have to try. Countless lives depend on it. If the Englad's Pass falls the entire northern region will follow and after that… the world will crumble. Is that what you want, sister?"

The council room was plunged into a deafening silence. When finally Filona closed her eyes and, with tears flowing down her cheeks, raised her hand.