Kinverse: Volume One

PATH OF THE EMERALD MAIDEN

A naive young monster's tale by Moros, aka KinverseWriter

Legal Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise herein mentioned. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters and events in this story are entirely fictional. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events, is purely coincidental. This work of fiction contains disturbing content.

Reader discretion is advised.

Description:

A young woman from a pre-neolithic society is accidentally whisked away to another world entirely during a raid on a research lab run by alien invaders. Stranded with no friends, badly injured, and no idea where home even is, she's forced to live off the land and learn how to survive in this strange and hostile world.

There's only one slight problem, though.

She's not trapped in this world with them. They're trapped in this world with her.

Categories:

Adventure, Coming-of-Age, Isekai, Erotica.

Disclaimers:

This story contains sexual elements and disturbing themes. The contents aren't purely intended to be pornographic, but some scenes objectively are. This is about a giant monster that eats people, so reader discretion is advised. This story contains vorarephilic themes.

This story will have a very slow and intermittent pace to begin with. True stakes don't really show up until halfway through, though the build-up is always there in the background. This is ultimately not a story of grand adventure and defeating one's enemies to rise to the top, it is the tale of a lost and naive young woman growing as a person and learning new things. It is a personal one concerning her, and thus this story will be told in present-tense first-person.

Chapter 52: Death

---

A/N:

Post-CW plot context:

A reporter interviews Inspector Harper with evidence she has collected indicating that some creature is around Gold River and may be connected to the recent deaths and disappearances. Harper denies everything, and the reporter's resolve is strengthened. She goes on to try and interview Carey at her home only to discover that it is the site of an unrelated video involved with a separate mystery concerning some sort of 'goat child.' This leads to her wanting to interview Sam as well, because she intuits that Sam was the one who uploaded the video.

Carey answers the door and, after establishing what the reporter is there for, gives her a cold refusal. Disappointed, the reporter begins the leave... only to notice more of the strange footsteps central to the creature sightings. She follows them and finds Emeral out in the forest behind the house.

The reporter is more curious than fearful of the alien woman, which leads to her trying to interview Emeral along with taking a picture of her. This does not go well as Emeral, looking for a bit of fun to take her mind off of her thoughts, swallows her alive.

The reporter is certain that she is going to die, and the perspective shifts to Emeral who is contemplating and considering her situation. She weighs her options on what to do with the woman, wanting to use and kill her, but ultimately she decides to spare her as the correct action. She regurgitates the reporter, who is very confused and sore from the ordeal, and promptly sexually propositions the woman.

The reporter is defiant and turns Emeral down. To her surprise, the alien is completely fine with this and tells her to leave, this being because Emeral sees her curiosity of her being a good thing she wants to keep in the world because she wants more of it. The reporter leaves but not before gathering her things and remembering that she has a picture of the creature.

However, Emeral is left to question her past actions in a new light.

---

I killed them for fun. For my own enjoyment and nothing more.

Why does this disturb me?

Yes, I... I did it for fun. I killed them. That's it. They're dead, and I did it because I was bored. I needed to learn more about these humans, and so I did by taking them apart in every way possible. I observed their things, picked their bones, and discovered the heights of their decadence. The sheer variety of foods in that food-house still astounds me.

I did not do this for food.

I did not do this because I needed to.

I did it because I wanted to.

Humans... they would hate me for what I've done.

For a moment, an errant thought comes to mind and I try to envision how they would feel; to be weak and powerless in the face of some great creature come to toy with them for its own amusement.

I would be... absolutely terrified. The only time I've ever truly felt vulnerable was when I first arrived here, but even then... I was too focused on the hunt to really stop and brood over it. Even at my lowest against the bears--Shaggy and Laggy--I still had something in my power to protect myself and survive.

But a human... wouldn't. The hunter clearly had a weapon, but that was through my own negligence. My Carey had a knife, and while she did wound me, I tossed her around so effortlessly that I hurt her without truly intending to. Even now, when this questioning human has given me a still very painful wound with just her hands and nothing more, it was through her bravery alone. She had no true claws and her teeth were unsuited for battle, and yet even in her weak form she wounded me--but only because I was foolish and practically allowed her to.

The others I had ambushed and rendered impotent. I drank deep of their unbridled terror and ate of their supple flesh. There is no true glory in hunts such as these as while they certainly could have been prepared for me, they knew not of me.

I thought it fun because they could be stronger than me with their creations, but without, were just toys for my claws and gullet.

I find that I simply can't conceive of it. The snaptrap plants of my home are truly terrifying with their sudden traps and their rock-hard shells, both together guaranteeing a slow death by digestion if one doesn't asphyxiate first. But they're easy to spot and only fools out on their own ever fall prey to them, and while they're difficult to escape from they're easy to be helped out of.

But take my claws... and take my teeth... and take my scythes...

And I would be alone against death.

...I now understand why humans play with the idea of death through the stories they tell themselves with horror movies: because in such a safe world, they too have lost the conceptions of horror and terror. I have given it back to them, and in doing so, stolen more than just five lives.

I have harmed three more by omission of a man. I have put fear into the hearts of this town. I nearly killed my Carey twice and she is habitually terrified of me.

This is why it disturbs me...

...because I have done the worst thing a predator can ever do.

I have come to empathize with my prey.

Scratch... scratch... scratch...

I feel ill, and ache all over from itches I cannot scratch.

Scratch scratch scratch!

Damned plates... were I weak in form like them, I wouldn't have this issue. Their short nails would be perfect for scratching itches if not enemies.

A rush of nausea comes to mind as I recall the sights of my meals. A lone torso torn open and left for the carrion feeders, two shallow pits for once-people, a mangled body missing head and heart, a pit of offal and bones from my experiments, and an ill-digested skull in a pit nowhere deep enough to match that hunt's later regret.

I did not need to kill any of them. I have only inconvenienced myself. I have only harmed a new brood-could-be.

I spent so much time all alone with nothing but my thoughts. I used for fun the first intelligent beings I found. I may not be able to conceive a fear of helplessness, but...

...I can certainly conceive one of loneliness.

All five rest in pits of my own making, but I too have dug my own.

Worse, back at home, the Skywar rages. Kin and alien both die burning, one from fire and the other from acids, having been taken prisoner and kept in bone-laden refuse pits to prevent escape, if not devoured outright on the spot. I used to idolize and crave this, but now I can only feel disgusted.

I must get home to right this but I can't! Clearly I was brought here by some strange machine but who knows where the man I nearly murdered has disappeared to?

The machine...

It brought us here. The only implication can be that they were trying to escape from us. They didn't want to kill us, they just wanted to live!

And now I've brought that here.

Carey and Sam played with me a game. The 'Game of Life.' It depicted a tiny and fast reflection of a human's life, and in it, you got your job, got your husband--or wife--and made your children. From there, a home, and eventually, 'retirement;' a reward for your hard works.

I stole all of that.

The nausea mounts... why do I feel this way? I shouldn't! My head aches and not just from the gaping gouge in it, and it takes all my will to try and fail to cease my muscles from trying to empty my already twice-empty belly. Bile robbed of its meal enters my throat and I vacate it into the ferns aside the trail, falling down in a heap next to it after.

Tears dot my eyes, wetting the caked blood.

I am alone out here. Ever since arriving, all I have done is harm all those who do or could care about me!

An involuntarily snort reveals itself a sob, and I curl up to sleep in the middle of the trail where I've rolled, uncaring of discovery.

Not helped by the pain of my wound it takes me slowly... and leaves me alone with my worries.

---

The sun is setting and my belly growls angrily, the latter waking me. It has also gotten noticeably colder and a shiver runs through me.

For a moment I feel a shot of panic over one eye remaining sealed, but the pain pulls me back to reality and too many memories of guilt and cruel pleasure rush back.

I need to do something about this.

---

From the elk I took only what I needed to sate myself for now. The legs I crunched, the head I chewed, and the neck I devoured.

I have hauled it here, back to the site of my crime. Before the humans cleaned it a similar scene to what I am about to do rested within the dark and rugged forest behind me where I now sit on unnaturally flat grass, looming over the carcass just outside the reach of the house's lights.

First, I carefully skin the creature as I had seen the hunter do. It comes off in ragged patches but it will have to do; I'll have a lifetime to improve.

Next, I begin to part the beast into manageable chunks laid out over their former covering. The cuts are imprecise and more akin to tears.

Finally, I sift through and pull free the refuse; the stomach, the intestines, the bones. The first two would contaminate the meat, but the bones I set aside. My Sam has made me 'stews' with them--pots of water made tasty used to bathe diced meat and vegetables.

All of this, as best as I have been able to, to ease the life of my remaining victims.

I have greatly misunderstood these humans. They do not come together like a herd or brood would; those who fall, fall. Without a father, the family would survive, but they would not thrive. I would be stealing their mother as well for all she would have to do twice as many of their strange human 'jobs' just to sustain them.

With my work done I first check to ensure none observe from the light, then round it and drag the bloody pelt and its grisly offerings into the light.

All that is to be done now is once again tap tap tap on a window, and wait.

It takes a few minutes of tapping and retreating, but finally a face appears. Her gaze lingers briefly over my shape as her brow and tired eyes squint in confusion among unkempt hair, but they finally do notice my offering.

It shifts to one of... not joy. Her mouth opens before she covers it, her eyes go wide before she averts them, and she runs from view.

Yelling erupts from within and despite her attempts, the faces of two human youth appear in the window. Their features are similar to an adult human's, but they seem 'fresher' in some ways. They lack wrinkles, and while the male's skin is dotted with blemishes, these are not from age. Their eyes lock on my gift and they too turn, snarling in utter disgust.

The pit in my heart deepens. They do not like my offering. Have I done something wrong? Humans are silly about blood and gore, but... I am giving them food! Why would they...?

Oh.

Oh.

Oh no.

Perhaps they... know what I did to their father. And this... reminds them of it.

What have I done?

I step back, worried that they might actually see me and come with their guns, forcing me to end them too.

My worries are vindicated promptly as the back door opens and, without me laying in ambush like before, the mother comes out with a small gun in one hand and a rod-shaped object in the other.

What is it? I squint to try and identify it but-

ACK!

-it turns on and illuminates me completely.

She stops. She stares.

I stop. I blink stars away.

She raises her weapon.

I close my eyes in acceptance.

Let this one have her chance to fight back. Let her die fighting. Let her prove herself worthy.

Her steps crush the damp grass slowly. I open my eyes again to observe, and find her slowly backpedaling to the door. Her eyes are wide and her chest rises and falls rapidly. She is retreating.

I dare not move and provoke her.

But then... the adolescents appear from the door.

I don't want to have to kill them. Please, just stay inside...

Step.

Step.

Step.

Step.

We stare unblinking in silence, my three eyes to their wide six.

Step.

Step.

She stops.

“...Go upstairs. Call the police," she quietly murmurs. Her gun and flashlight remain stoically pointed at me despite the sheer terror wafting from her in the frigid night breeze.

They withdraw, and I hear thundering footsteps through the still-torn up hall beyond.

We remain staring in silence. Why does she remain? To delay me? To give her offspring time and warning? She must know that the door would do nothing to stop me if I wanted inside, which isn't even considering the many fragile windows. With as tall as I am, I could probably clamber through one of the larger windows on the upper floor.

'Police,' she said to call. They would break this deadlock, and I would need to fight.

I risk her wrath and take a careful step back. She jolts in fright and her finger twitches, but she does not fire.

“I'm sorry," I admit to her.

Somehow, her eyes go even wider.

“For you. I'm sorry."

I continue my own back-steps, all the way to the fence, and beyond.

When I reach the treeline she releases a large breath, turns off her light, lowers her weapon, and retreats inside to seal the door shut.

Flashing red and blue lights approach in the distance.

A single white speck falls on my failed offering. More follow soon after.

---

Confusing me greatly, cold-ash has begun to fall and before long I'm soaked in melting water, revealing it to be sand-ice. Snow, I recognize it as from a movie. Cold.

My eye continues stinging and every twitch of my eyelid disturbs the nascent scab. The pain is a reminder of my crimes.

“Emeral!" Carey calls. “Where are you?"

I pick up the pace and reach the back fence, propping myself up with it to show her I have heard. She is stood just outside the back door, bundled up in coverings.

She notices my movement, turns on a flashlight to shine it on me, and smiles.

“Em! Come inside or you'll freeze to death!"

Her care for me... rekindles a smile. I drop back down and round the fence to greet her.

She remains smiling... until she sees my face.

“Hey! It's okay if you need time to yourself, but- oh my god! Emeral, what happened to your face?!"

“Mnh," I grunt without answer.

She approaches and fusses over it, shining the light right in my eyes rather annoyingly, made worse by her poking and prodding.

“It's scabbing over already... I'm so sorry, I should have kept a better eye on you. How did this happen?"

I force the lid open, bursting the scab to dismay her and perhaps earn myself space.

“Urgh!" she gags. “Don't do that! You're already going to lose the eye, you don't need to make it worse!"

“I will get better," I inform her. “Just pain."

She clicks her lips. “We'll see about that. Now come inside; I'll clean it as best I can. And please, let us know if you're going to disappear for a while again--I forgot to tell you about the predicted snowfall, and we were getting worried."

It is quite chilly. I acquiesce and pull open my hatch before making my way inside trailing snow. Carey seals it behind me and returns through the back door.

---

“You don't need to tell me what happened if you don't want to. I'll understand if it was embarrassing..."

Sat on the edge of the bathtub with my head in her lap, she pours more boiled water atop my eye and continues to scrub the surrounding area clean.

“It's looking better already. You do seem to scab over pretty quickly... but I'm still getting you an eyepatch so that Sam doesn't need to see. You've already shown her one gash too many."

She chuckles to herself at some unknown human wordplay.

“...There. That should do it. Let me just dry you off..."

She takes a clean towel and to my continued annoyance starts wiping it all over my face, stealing away the water and remaining blood.

“Urngh," I grunt. “Tired."

She sets it aside and gives me a pat on my scalp.

“I'm done. Go lie down while I clean up."

Finally. By her leave I back myself out of the basement bathroom and back to my room where I flop down upon my mattress. The springs scream but nothing there is new.

She follows minutes later and stands over me, worry on her face. I still itch all over.

“Itch," I inform her. “Scratch."

Her gaze narrows and looks me up and down.

“You really are more of a housecat than a housemate, aren't you?" she inquires.

“Egh. Food?"

She sighs and grabs my near-empty bowl of assorted fruits to snack on. She offers it up to me and takes a seat against my back.

“Alright, where are the itches, princess? Damned giant housecat."

Too lazy to get up I slip my tongue out and wrap it around an entire banana, pulling it inside to chew. I daintily poke the most annoying place I can think of, between my scalp plate and first neck plate.

“There."

Relatively soft but still calloused fingers work themselves beneath, instantly relieving the pain.

I sigh in contentment and feel myself calming. She works from one divot and crevice to another, and even though it would take her hours to properly relieve me, even just this is enough. To know that not everything I have done here has been... evil.

To know that I have someone I can trust. Someone who trusts me. Someone who will help me, and who I can rely on.

I have a friend. I have a Carey. And I have a home.

But what has it cost the humans?

---

Thankfully for once, we actually have a victim to interview this time.

...And probably have to talk into keeping quiet, but that's besides the point.

“It spoke to you?" I ask.

“...Yes," the disturbed woman clarifies. “That thing did. It... I think it was... trying to apologize."

I give her a flat look. It's clear that the entity is smarter than your average bear, but never before have we gotten any indication it was smart enough to communicate.

“You're absolutely certain?" I press.

She nods. “Yes, Mr. Harper. I had my gun on it and I thought I was going to die. That it had come back to kill me too."

She takes a deep, steadying breath.

“...But... it didn't attack me. I nearly shot it when it did start moving, but instead it just... backed off. And told me that it was sorry."

This... complicates the ever-loving fuck out of the entire situation.

“Mrs. Hart, thank you for your bravery. I can promise that we're doing everything we can to find this creature and stop its murders."

How could it do that to a person, and then somehow feel remorse for it later?

“...But," I continue, “I need you and your family to keep quiet about what you've seen tonight. Please don't tell anyone; not a single person."

She gives me a simple questioning stare.

“Why?" she asks. “People need to know that it's out there. For all I know the only reason it didn't try and kill me too was because I was armed and ready, even if I doubt I would have done anything to it. It looked like one of its eyes was missing, but it was absolutely covered in some sort of armor."

Interesting. A missing eye? That wasn't in the CCTV footage.

“Because it would at best panic people, and at worst cause all of those 'alien hunter' tourists to go looking for it out in the forest," I explain. “The last thing anyone needs is this very dangerous and extremely unpredictable animal to get disturbed and start hurting more people."

She sighs and nods.

“You're right," she admits. “Billy and Cindy saw it too. Billy swears he saw it in our house, but... neither of us believed him. I'll do what I can to help them understand that this needs to stay between us."

“Thank you, Mrs. Hart. If there's anything at all we can do to try and help you and your family..."

She shakes her head. “No, we're fine. Losing Sam... it's been hard." I cringe at her mournful expression, but he continues. “But, we'll get through this. We have to."

She glances towards the closed back door.

“But... I just remembered something."

She looks me dead in the eyes.

“...I don't think that dead elk was a threat. I think it was a gift. Like it really was trying to say sorry."

---

A/N:

I can only hope that I've done this chapter the justice it needs, because ho boy was it a hard one.

It's an extremely emotional chapter. Emeral continues suffering her mental breakdown and I had to try and convey this properly in both her thoughts and actions. This is the pivotal chapter even more than the previous was, and the counterpart to Chapter 37: Life, as Emeral has now come to begin to understand the value of life and death in human society.

I find it interesting that the processes and methods for both radicalization and deradicalization are identical. The individual is isolated from those who may reinforce their original beliefs and is then surrounded by new peers and authority figures. The authority figures inform and the peers reinforce; this isn't limited to radical beliefs and is actually part of foundational cultural formation theory.

In other words: every culture has its influencers and influenced. The former dictate and the latter receive and reinforce upon the group. Emeral has been brought away from her family and people, and has been forced to make her own evaluations without relying on the decisions of her 'betters' (the elders like her mother) or peer consensus (the rest of her family; her sisters and their mates). She has seen herself above Carey and Sam but gradually came down to view them as peers. However, due to needing to learn from them they have also fulfilled that influencer role.

Two months ago she was absolutely desperate to get her claws on that poor little alien. Now? She seeks only penance in regret. Was the so-named Skywar really one of annihilation by a foreign force? Or simply self defense against a marauding horde of alien creatures? All Emeral knows from her mother is that it was the Kin who began raiding the tall intruders and that her would-be chew toy was building a machine to escape.

How much do you remember of Chapter 37? Do you recall when I explained how Emeral did not see humans as people? Well... now she does, and it hurts.