Man of Hollows

Hill nodded reverently, stepping forward and extending his own hand as he engaged in a firm handshake with the old man. "My name is Hillel Tehom, but everyone calls me Hill."

From up close, Hill could see that Krugen was quite ordinary in appearance. With a slightly wrinkled face and graying hair, he appeared to be someone in his late forties. His grip was firm and his skin was rough with calluses. His amber eyes were soft and friendly, matching well with the smile on his face, unlike the woman outside.

"That's a fine name. I take it you're from Gargath?" Krugen asked, breaking the handshake as he moved to stand up. "Hillel is unusual for a Gargathian, but not unheard of. I should know."

"Yes, I am."

"How tragic," Krugen said quietly, his expression darkening. "To think the plague consumed so much in just three weeks."

Indeed, the concept of a sudden and mysterious phenomenon destroying half of the known world within three weeks was difficult to grasp. The loss of life was probably numbering in the billions, which was quite sad to think about.

"Where are you from?" Hill asked, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. He flinched backward, expecting a sharp rebuke. His father used to punish him for speaking out of turn, and old habits died hard.

"Scared of your own question?" Krugen chuckled, stepping around the makeshift table. The old man towered over him, a full foot taller. "I'll answer... after you guess, of course."

"Ah... okay." Hill scratched his chin, thinking. Edev sounded northeastern. Krugen was harder to place, but it had that deep northern feel to it—maybe somewhere near the pole.

He took a breath. "Gilgath?"

Krugen's eyes widened, and he burst into delighted laughter. "Right on the first try! Incredible!"

"Really?"

"Absolutely!" Krugen clapped him on the shoulder hard enough to make Hill wince. "You're the first out of four hundred seventy-eight people to guess correctly right away."

Hill rubbed his shoulder to ease the pain. Despite the slap being playful in intent, his frail body nearly crumpled under the blow. Thankfully, he successfully played it off as some meek gesture and stood up straight, smiling awkwardly.

But then he realized something. Gilgath, unlike Gargath, was much farther from Peridia. In fact, it was on the opposite side of the world! Had the devouring cloud of the plague reached that far? If so, why did it seem as if Krugen had arrived in this world before he did?

Something wasn't adding up.

"Casual conversation is nice," Krugen said, "but we need to address reality. Let me explain briefly."

He looked up, gathering his thoughts. "I was Gilgath's Ambassador to Peridia when the plague hit their capital, Laodesia. I died there and faced the soul trial. After defeating the creature, I received a blessing and was brought here."

He gestured around them. "I was the first to arrive. At first, I thought I'd be alone, but within hours, other earthlings began appearing. We built this camp together, trying to make sense of this place."

Hill nodded, processing the information.

"Every human here shares three things," Krugen continued, pointing at Hill. "We all died to plague beasts on Earth. We all survived the soul trial. And we all received blessings. You must have too, or you wouldn't be here."

As Krugen continued to ramble on about how the camp was established, Hill found himself lost in thought.

Granted a blessing? Why don't I remember anything about it?

He only remembered being impaled by the plague beast once more within the soul trial. Based on what Krugen was saying, he somehow won the trial and ended up here... right?

That doesn't explain the memory loss, though...

Wait, I was literally stabbed through the chest. That's a fatal wound! There's no way I could have won that fight!

Argh, if only I could remem—

"Hey, Hillel!"

Hill's head snapped up. "Yes, sir!"

Krugen raised an eyebrow. "Lost in thought?"

"Yeah..."

"Don't worry too much, son. Everyone here struggled at first. Some were heartbroken, others angry, many completely lost. It took time for the early arrivals to accept this change. Just stay calm and keep your head, all right?"

"All right," Hill said, trying to quiet the storm in his mind.

Krugen squeezed his shoulder. "For now, let's get you settled. To survive here, everyone contributes. We've organized into specialized units called 'companies.' Your blessing determines where you'll be most useful."

"What's a blessing? Is it some kind of gift?" 

A bright smile appeared on Krugen's face. "Think of it as a superpower."

Hill's eyes widened. 

No way... I have to be dreaming...

Krugen turned toward the tent flap, his voice booming. "Time for my second-in-command to help you out. He handles personnel and assignments. ZEKE!"

There was some muffled yells from outside, followed by muted cursing. Hill could tell that someone was approaching.

The tent flap was pushed aside, revealing a tall, blond man with piercing blue eyes.

He stepped inside, his posture as rigid as a soldier's. He was dressed in an all-black set of business casual clothing that looked well-maintained. Clinging to his free hand was a small girl of about seven, her own blond hair tied back in a neat ponytail. She peered out from behind what Hill assumed was her father's leg, her curious eyes—the same brilliant blue—fixed on Hill.

"Krugen. You called," Zeke said, his voice flat and cold—nothing like the old man's warmth. He glanced at Hill but didn't acknowledge him otherwise.

"This is Hillel Tehom. Fresh arrival," Krugen said, gesturing. "He needs processing and company assignment."

Zeke's icy stare fixed on Hill, studying him like a piece of equipment being evaluated for flaws. "State your name and blessing."

"Hillel Tehom," Hill repeated. "As for my blessing... I'm not sure."

Annoyance flickered across Zeke's face. "Unacceptable. We have no room for uncertainty here. Every person is a resource requiring proper allocation based on capabilities. Your blessing is the primary determining factor."

Hill understood the formal words, even if the delivery was harsh.

"Everything must be arranged for maximum efficiency," Zeke continued. "Otherwise, we cannot survive within this chaotic environment."

He raised his arm toward a stack of boxes in the corner. "For example."

Energy crackled through the tent. Zeke's palm blazed white, filling the space with blinding light. With a sharp thump, an orb shot across the tent and punched a hand-sized hole through a wooden crate, leaving charred edges.

The little girl didn't even blink—clearly used to this display.

Hill stared in shock. That's a superpower! Does everyone here have abilities like that? Do I?

Zeke lowered his hand and turned back to Hill, blue eyes growing colder.

"My capability is clear. Now show me yours."