The Plains That Wouldn't Let Go
The Great Plains came to a standstill. To be precise, we did.
It was as if we'd been nailed to the spot—no matter how hard we tried to press forward, we couldn't budge an inch. In the end, an emergency council was called.
This was different from the mirage earlier. Panic was plain on everyone's faces. The two elders conferred, then summoned an elderly snake beastkin. Smoke-Eating Scales. She was the oldest among the tribe and the second-most senior shaman after the snake elder.
"Come in, Smoke-Eating Scales. We need your help. Things are moving faster than expected."
"Shaa... Indeed. I've seen it too. For the plains to react this violently... It's nothing like before."
"By our calculations, this shouldn't have happened until we neared the edge. But right after the mirage ended, it froze our feet in place. Now we have to recalculate when the plains might release us."
They'd anticipated something like this, it seemed. It was just the timing that had thrown them into crisis mode.
"As Rippling Earth says. Can you read the plains?"
"Shaa... No one can read the plains. Not even Snake Elder could. So we must guess from what we see."
"... "
The elders' faces were etched with worry. After a long discussion among the three beastkin, they finally reached a decision.
"No one knows how long the plains will hold us. It might never let go."
"But we must leave the plains."
"Shaa... Then... we'll have to drive in the stake."
"...A ritual, then."
"...Stakes. How long will it take?"
"I'm old now, my hands are slow. The young shedders have never made them, so I can't go fast. And this is a ritual against the plains themselves. Give me four days."
"Hm... Fine. Four days is within range."
"Any materials needed?"
"It's pure handiwork, nothing fancy. Materials are simple. Pick participants in advance. One from each tribe will do."
"We'll do that. Thank you for your efforts."
"Sorry, Smoke-Eating Scales. I'm clueless about this stuff."
"Don't mind it. Rippling Earth. The plains are a druid's natural foe, after all."
Once Smoke-Eating Scales left, the elders gathered the tribe. I edged closer to eavesdrop—
"Ursa."
She called me back.
"Perfect timing. Help this old lady out?"
...
Just like that, I ended up assisting Smoke-Eating Scales. I was dying to know what was going on anyway, so I accepted gladly. Why turn down intel straight from the shaman who'd proposed the solution?
I hauled the requested items from the supply cart. Wooden chunks as thick as Bear Elder's leg, a hand axe, and a pouch of dyes. Hugging them all to my chest, I dashed off.
She'd arrived and was directing the tribe's other shamans.
"Got 'em! Set 'em down here?"
"Good work. Wood over there, hand me the rest."
I passed over the axe and pouch. The shamans mixed paints, then dipped their fingers to draw unfamiliar runes on the axe faces.
"Shaa... Here."
I took the completed axe.
"Why me...? Isn't this for the ritual later?"
"No. You'll use this to make what the ritual needs. Carve the wood into stakes."
Stakes? Oh, right—they'd said something about "driving in a nail" earlier. Were these the nails?
"So this makes the nails you mentioned?"
"Eh? When did you overhear that? Sharp ears on you. Yes, these will be the nails. Curious what they are?"
I nodded vigorously. She chuckled "shahaha."
"Then I'll tell you. Listen while you work."
I sat on a flat rock nearby and started carving. As the axe bit into the wood, the dye from its face transferred over.
"Ursa, words hold power. A single phrase can repay a millennium of debt."
There was something similar in my past life. We said "pay back a debt," but same idea. Guess human nature's universal across eras and worlds.
"Even more so in shamanism. Spoken spells transcend metaphor—they take form. We said we'd drive in nails? What does that mean?"
Take form? Shamanic talk, huh? But more than that—what else could "driving nails" imply?
"Literal nails...?"
"Besides that?"
"Uh... ah! Nailing down what we've already said? Like making it firm...?"
Clap clap clap. Smoke-Eating Scales smacked her hands loudly. I nearly botched the cut in surprise.
"Right! Right! How are you so clever... You're something else."
"Ah, haha..."
She patted my head like a proud grandma. Embarrassing, getting praised like this when my mind was still an adult's.
"Shahahaha. Yes. Words can be nailed down. They're expressions of will—once spoken, irreversible. Once out, they solidify."
Getting into it, her voice grew louder. Her wide snake eyes were intimidating, so I kept my head down and carved silently.
"But even so! We can drive nails to make that declared will even firmer."
"... "
"I don't know why the plains is so stubborn, but the most likely reason is lingering attachment."
"Lingering..."
"Maybe it thinks we'll change our minds if it holds on long enough. If it's just a fleeting impulse to leave, time might resolve it."
Smoke-Eating Scales looked at me.
"...If that's why the plains is holding us—if it's attachment—shouldn't we nail down our will clearly for it?"
"Nail down... how?"
"Our resolve to leave the plains!"
...
On the fourth day, as promised. We were still pinned by the plains. We'd halted in place, no movement. Someone suggested settling in briefly since we couldn't go anywhere, but it was shot down—no giving the plains even a hint of permanence.
"Alright. Let's begin."
The shamans' aura had shifted after four days of prep. They sat in lotus position before strangely shaped incense burners.
Bear Elder drove the finished stake into the ground. It reeked of shamanic power now—a proper jugutool.
"Vast Great Plains. Ancient mystery of the western dusk—"
The shamans began their incantation. One by one, the tribe's representatives stepped up with hammers.
Bear first. Thud!Boom—
Snake next. Crack!Boom—
Wolf, horse, hawk, tiger—each strike made the earth rumble in response.
Deer last. Snap!Roooar—
All had driven their stakes, but the chants continued.
"As expected... Not enough."
"Smoke-Eating Scales, what's wrong? Did it fail?"
Rippling Earth's face hardened at the shaman's calm, anticipated words.
"Calm yourself, Rippling Earth. I said insufficient, not failed."
"More to do?"
"...Ursa. Come here."
Suddenly calling me. All eyes turned. Pressure hit like a wave.
Tap tap. Someone patted my back. Sonya, grinning. The tribe's gazes weren't burdensome—they brimmed with expectation and curiosity.
Tension melted. I stepped forward; Smoke-Eating Scales pressed a hammer into my hands.
"Not too heavy?"
I shook my head. I was way stronger than I looked. The sledgehammer felt just hefty.
"Then strike! Nail your will to the plains!"
Why me? Would my hit fill the gap? Questions swirled, then faded. I didn't know why, but it felt... right.
"......Hoo."
Deep breath. Full power, one swing.
BOOM!
...And wooooooo—
Different reaction. Deeper, longer—like a mournful wail echoing across the land.
Zing— My chest ached for no reason, then cleared.
"This is our choice, gentle will. Send us off with a smile."
Smoke-Eating Scales inhaled deeply from her incense, ending the rite.
Right then—grooooooo—
"Wh-what? It failed after all?"
"No! Look around!"
The scenery accelerated in a blur. Like the world rushed past us standing still. Felt like ghosts unbound from a grid.
"Big sis Ursa. Another mirage?"
"No!"
...Basha, you sneaky afterthought king.
...
About five minutes subjective time later, things slowed, then halted—like we'd arrived.
I looked around.
"Holy crap. Those mountains?"
Since isekai-ing, it'd been plains nonstop. Never seen a hill, let alone peaks. But those faint triangles in the distance? Definitely a range.
"Rippling Earth. Where are we?"
"Plains' outskirts. In the direction of our goal."
No way, for real? Even without knowing the exact spot, that's gotta save a week, right?
The plains was clingy, but once resolved, it let go clean. Others seemed to think so too—faces lit up.
"No. Too soon to celebrate."
Sharp Wind Lark, scouting ahead, spoke up.
"What is it, Sharp Wind?"
"Something... no, someone. Far off. Lots of 'em."
Someone. Bear Elder peered where he pointed, squinting—too distant.
Could I see? Not hawk-level, but my eyes were sharp. Worth a shot.
Focusing... yeah, something in numbers... Huh?
"Elder."
"Listening."
"Wh-what's going on?"
"Looks like things have gone seriously south."
"Uh, huh...?"
"...What the hell are those things over there?"
Sharp Wind and I saw the same. My vision filled with... puppets? Not beastkin, not human.
Some green-skinned. Some red. Some upright giant lizards.
From my past life's memories—in fiction, not reality. Goblin. Kobold. Lizardman.
As realization hit me, Sharp Wind spoke.
"Those things."
Monsters.
"Demon army."