Ruin and Suffering

"Ah—open your mouth wider, Robb!" Rogg shouted, laughing.

Robb stretched his mouth open as wide as he could. "Hurry! Before I shut it again!"

Rogg dropped a fat earth-moth larva into it. "Ha! One more for your greedy belly!"

Their laughter echoed through the brush. Robb chewed enthusiastically, raising two fingers in the air. "Two more! Two more!"

The two boys—ten-year-old Robb and his younger brother Rogg, eight—kept digging through the soft soil beneath the bushes, searching for plump larvae that nestled among the roots. Every time they found one, Rogg carefully stored it in his mogi-hide pouch—mogi being a small squirrel-like creature they'd once hunted. But Robb? He ate two out of every three they found.

"My stomach... I think it's full," Robb groaned, rubbing his slightly swollen belly.

"You're such a glutton," Rogg muttered, then paused. His ears perked up. "You hear that?"

The ground began to tremble.

Robb's face stiffened. "Rogg... is that—"

"Lagosh," Rogg hissed. "Down! Now!"

They dropped flat to the ground, curling up beneath the thick brush. Covering their mouths and noses with leaves, they held their breath, trying not to make a single sound.

The footsteps grew heavier. And then—they came.

Towering creatures, as tall as trees, with thick, coarse skin and faces resembling humans... but their bodies were like gorillas grown far beyond natural size. One... two... three... eight Lagosh passed by. Some carried massive snakes, one dragged a crocodile's carcass behind him.

Rogg gripped Robb's hand tightly. They didn't move an inch—for nearly fifteen minutes.

Once the final footfall faded into the distance, they slowly rose. Their faces were pale.

"I thought we were gonna die," Robb whispered.

"Not today," Rogg murmured, eyes still locked in the direction the Lagosh had gone.

They fell silent, minds drifting back to a week ago—when the Lagosh had attacked their village.

"Robb! Rogg!" their father Brovos had shouted that night.

Fire had devoured rooftops. Screams came from every direction. The Lagosh slaughtered humans like they were nothing but prey. Small bodies flung like toys, crushed beneath massive feet.

They saw their father pulled into the fog. Robb had wanted to run after him, but Rogg had yanked him back. "Don't look! Stay quiet!"

Now, they were all that was left.

"We have to keep heading south," Rogg said. "Father said... our uncle lives on the southern edge of the continent."

Robb nodded, his eyes wet but holding back tears. "We... we'll make it there, right?"

"If we stay alive—we will."

The days that followed were brutal. They crossed valleys, climbed hills, and forded raging rivers. Sometimes they ate bitter roots and bugs. Sometimes... nothing at all.

The continent of Megido was savage. In those times, mankind wasn't ruler—but just another thread in the food chain. And at the top were the Lagosh—monstrous beasts who hunted not just for food, but for sport. They preferred humans: no fur, no fangs, easy to catch. "Clean meat."

Human clans survived by hiding in the swamps—usually in groups of sixty to a hundred. If a group grew too large, it would split. Safety came from staying small... and hidden.

"Why the swamps?" Robb asked as they slogged through a muddy area.

"Lagosh hate mud. They get stuck in it," Rogg replied, recalling their father's words.

"But the creatures here are like monsters—even the mosquitoes are huge," Robb complained, slapping at his neck.

"Better bitten by bugs than crushed by a Lagosh."

"Good point..."

As they passed a large boulder, Robb glanced back. "Do you think... they'll chase us this far?"

"Lagosh?" Rogg shook his head. "No. They've got enough meat already..."

He didn't finish the thought.

Robb hugged his knees. "I miss Mom."

Rogg said nothing. He stared at the dark sky above, slowly filling with stars. Then he whispered, "Tomorrow, we need to find higher ground. I think this swamp's too shallow."

In their world, people didn't live—they survived. But these two boys, Robb and Rogg, kept walking. Because they had no choice.

They had to keep going.

A Week Ago…

"Hurry! Everyone, follow me!" Brovos shouted, raising his spear to the sky.

The morning air was cold and damp as he led a small group out of Rhazab Gush Village toward the hunting grounds. Behind him, a dozen armed men marched in tense silence, their footsteps steady but heavy with dread.

But they never reached their destination.

"Brovos!" a hunter screamed from the distance. "It's... it's Lagosh!"

Brovos looked up. His face stiffened instantly. Through the lifting swamp mist, massive silhouettes began to move. Not one. Not two. But eight. One Lagosh lifted a full-grown deer with one hand and slammed it to the ground like a toy.

"Don't panic! Don't run to the village!" Brovos raised his hand, trying to stop his men.

Too late.

Three hunters turned and bolted toward Rhazab Gush.

"Stop! Don't go back there!" Brovos shouted, breath catching in his throat.

But they didn't hear him. Their pounding footsteps drew the attention of the Lagosh. Like bloodhounds, the massive beasts sniffed the air and began to follow—straight toward the village.

Brovos cursed under his breath. "By the gods..."

He knew what was coming.

Without another thought, Brovos turned and sprinted back toward the village, racing to get there before the beasts. He didn't bring the rest of his fighters—most had scattered or were frozen in fear.

"Everyone, get out of the village!" he shouted as he ran through the outer paths.

Lagosh had already begun to emerge from the swamp surrounding the village.

"Robb, Rogg!" Brovos burst into the chicken coop, panting heavily. "Quick—get in here!"

"My feet are dirty, Father…" Rogg muttered.

"It doesn't matter! Get in!" Brovos barked, pulling them inside.

He scooped up mud from the ground and smeared it across their bodies.

"What is this for?" Robb whimpered through tears.

"To mask your scent. Lagosh hunt by smell."

Brovos removed two necklaces from his neck and slipped them onto his sons.

"One has the rising sun, the other the setting. Never take them off. And Rogg—this is for you." He handed him a small knife.

Rogg stared at the weapon. "Father…"

"If I don't come back… wait until it's truly quiet. Then head south. To Guava Valley. Find your uncle… he's our only hope."

Brovos looked at them one last time. His gaze was firm… but a deep pain hid behind his eyes.

"Protect your brother. Survive. No matter what happens."

"I'm going to find your mother."

Screams rang out beyond the walls.

Brovos drew his spear and stepped outside. He stood in the middle of the village path, now thick with blood-red mist.

A Lagosh emerged from behind a house. Its skin was pitch black, its eyes glowing red. Brovos stepped forward.

"I'M RIGHT HERE, MONSTER!" he roared.

He drove his spear straight into the creature's chest—it stuck! But only enraged the beast. The fight began. One by one, more Lagosh arrived, pouring in through the shallow parts of the swamp. The mud could no longer hold them back.

Rhazab Gush became a slaughterhouse.

Brovos fought until he could no longer move. His body torn apart, he fell last. Only his head remained, lying in a pool of blood.

Dawn. Silence.

Rogg kicked open the coop door. "Come on, Robb… hurry."

They stepped into what was left of their village—nothing but ruins. No homes. No voices. Only smoke… and their father's head lying in the middle of the road.

His spear still lodged in the ground.

"FATHERRRR!!" Robb screamed, his voice slicing through the cold morning air.

Rogg held him tightly. "Don't look… don't look."

But Robb had already seen. He cried uncontrollably, sobbing until his legs gave out. Rogg lifted him, his own body trembling, heart shattered. Together, they dug a shallow grave, burying their father's head and marking the spot with Brovos' tattered cloak.

"Goodbye… Father…" Rogg whispered.

A Week Later…

The journey to Rhazab Kash village took nearly a week.

Their bodies were thin, clothes torn, faces covered in insect bites. When they arrived, no one welcomed them.

"That's Brovos' kid!" someone shouted.

"The harbinger of ruin!" another cried out.

Five survivors from Rhazab Gush were there. Their faces burned with hatred.

"They led the Lagosh to our village! Demon children!"

"Wait! We only wanted—" Rogg tried to explain.

The village elder raised his hand. "You bring misfortune with you. Our food is scarce. We can't even feed our own children."

Someone yelled, "OFFER THEM TO THE GOD DA'!"

"WHAT?!" Robb shouted in fear.

Rogg gripped his brother's hand. "We're not staying here. We only came to warn you: the Lagosh are migrating south. This village might be next. We only ask for a little food. Then we'll leave."

The crowd jeered, but from the back, a man stepped forward.

Yaghal.

The village's most respected hunter—tall, with an old scar across his face.

"That's enough," his deep voice boomed. "You want to offer these children? That's not faith... that's murder."

He scanned the crowd.

"If we kill them, they die. Their blood is on our hands. If we let them go and they die, it's fate. But our hands remain clean."

Silence followed.

Then one elder nodded. "Give them a bit of food. And send them away before nightfall."

They were handed a chunk of hard bread and a small pouch of water.

Robb lowered his head. "Thank you…"