The creature eyed the mass of black and dark blue splotches that undulated around the half-eaten carcass from its perch atop a nearby tree. Before long, a dark shape was ousted from the pile.

The coiled-up muscles along its throat and mouth extended, shooting its jagged, spear-tipped tongue to impale the unfortunate critter. With a twitch of a muscle, it pulled its prize back into its open maw.

Chomp.

Its sixth successful hunt of the day. The flesh of the toad progeny was more tender than its parent. A little bland, but it didn’t taste bad. Disgruntled that they forced it to flee, it consoled itself by picking them off one at a time after its wounds mended. Six mouthfuls later, and it was gone.

To stay out of sight and hunt its prey was a rather relaxing and effective method of hunting, it thought. Its recent brush with death served as a testament to its effectiveness, but it couldn’t picture itself doing this for long unless there was an abundance of prey in the area. Even now, restlessness gnawed at it despite the food available. It longed to sprint and feel the wind on its skin, to sneak up on its mark when they least expected it, and to embrace the thrill of the hunt.

Its feelings aside, the technique is useful, and it can now capitalize on that approach when it needs to. The benefits it gained from the amphibian made up for all the pain the accursed thing put it through—an extendable tongue, increased rear limb musculature and body mass, and corrosive mucus and saliva.

Some experimentation was required with the latter. It surmised that the more monsters it devoured, the changes it could receive wouldn’t be the same as the original, like its improved tongue. While it didn’t know how far the toad’s tongue could extend or contract, it didn’t have a spear-tipped end nor jagged edges around it.

Based on what it had gleaned from the amphibian, the bluish-hued mucus it could now secrete from its skin would help it blend into the environment beneath the water, but testing its supposed camouflage could wait until it was safer. A glance at the river made it shudder against its will. It kept seeing those damnable eyes that it failed to differentiate from normal rock staring back at it from the abyss.

It shook its head to brush the image aside. Filling its belly came first. Who knew when it would get the chance to feast like this? It caught another offspring and resumed its scrutiny of their behavior while it ate. Their interactions caught its interest.

They fought and bit at each other for the chance to consume their own parent. The larger ones even swallowed their siblings whole for getting in the way.

Despite its brief observation of them, it concluded that these things know no fear. Either that, or they were too unintelligent to comprehend the emotion. It hoped it was the latter. They would be much easier to hunt if they were that foolish.

An interesting term crossed the creature’s mind—cannibals. A term the human monsters used to describe organisms who ate their kin. Its mouth curled upwards. They seem to have a word for everything.

Perhaps the greatest benefit it gained was the snippets of what the amphibian had seen before it fell by its claws. Bipedal monsters with skin of different shades and fur on their heads. The pale background blurred their forms, yet the similarities were apparent. There was no mistaking what they were.

From its viewpoint in the water, a subtle haze enveloped the area as the group of humans marched along a beaten path surrounded by cloudy green water. An occasional bubble formed on the surface, releasing a light green vapor that distorted the air. Green tendrils with thick leaves hung from the verdant trees around them, obscuring the surroundings even further.

Certain members of the group were bloodied and restrained by a shimmering, mystical tether. Others who were unharmed and carrying strange objects trailed behind, urging them forward. Their destination was unknown. The scene ended there as the toad dove back beneath the murky water.

Green water and tendrils. Two peculiarities it would have to look out for. Since it was an area filled with water, it would stand a higher chance of finding them if it trekked along the river.

After it ate its fill, of course.

…

And night fell.

It frowned. That wasn’t right. Darkness wouldn’t engulf the area with such suddenness with the radiant orb still above.

Looking up, it froze. Its throat constricted, leaving the creature breathless as it struggled to comprehend the sight before it.

A four-winged beast of absurd proportions descended upon the area. Each of its wings, ending with two serrated claws, was large enough to cast a shade over half the region the creature was in.

A single flap of its wings created a severe gale that swept through the entire expanse. The deafening winds threw up clouds of dust, blew away what remained of the toad carcass and its offspring, and uprooted the smaller trees. The intense wind pressure and flying debris forced the creature’s eyes shut as it clung onto the thick tree branch it rested on for dear life, claws etching deep grooves into the bark.

Little by little, the roaring tempest subsided until it ceased. With a breath, it gathered its wits and pried an eye open.

Fear and awe gripped it as it beheld the majestic, titanic avian towering over the landscape. Two massive feet adorned with razor-sharp talons supported its bulk. Draped in azure feathers, the white swirling patterns along its length seemed to emit a purplish-blue aura. Its four wings unfolded and caressed the ground, its twin claws drawing massive furrows in the earth. Its gold-slitted eyes swept about, containing a palpable level of intelligence that made the creature’s blood run cold.

No, it wasn’t just the intellect reflected in its gaze. An invisible force weighed down upon it as if to force it into the ground in submission.

No words needed to be said. No actions needed to be shown. Deep within, it understood that this beast is a predator in the truest sense of the word.

The avian turned its head, and their gazes locked. The creature’s eyes widened in abject terror. Its limbs refused to budge, and its heart rate spiked.

Silence ensued as they just stared at each other. No living entity in the area dared to make a sound, and time seemed to slow to a crawl.

Eventually, the avian broke its gaze, lowered its tri-beak into the river, and drank.

Once it drank its fill, as if in consideration for the creature, it trudged away on foot into the distance, the ground trembling with each step.

Only after it disappeared behind the distant mountains did the creature release a breath it didn’t know it held.

It forced itself to quell its rising panic. The encounter was… eye-opening. Knowing there are stronger creatures than itself out there is one thing, but seeing them firsthand is another.

It tried to stand, but its limbs remained locked in place, still tense from the encounter with claws dug deep into the thick branch. It closed its eyes and drew deep breaths to calm itself.

After some time passed, its tense limbs responded to its commands, and it wobbled to its feet. It turned to check on its surroundings, only to realize the extent of the devastation it had glossed over in its shock.

The tree it perched on was bent at an angle and with most of its leaves blown off, much like every other tree its eye could see. The smaller trees and undergrowth were displaced in their entirety, scattered about every which way. Massive furrows, deep enough that its head would be below the surface even if it stood on its hind legs, decorated the riverbank and into the distance where the bird of prey tread.

Wherever it went, the creature wasn’t keen on following it. Instead, its eyes trailed the length of the river to a distant body of water. It already has a destination in mind. One that it hoped would lead it closer to its goal.

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It took in the surrounding destruction for the last time and glanced in the direction the feathered beast had gone.

One day...

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“Move it! We don’t have all day!” One of the armed men beside him shoved the young girl in front of them when she fell behind the rest. It was clear that both she and everyone in the group ahead of him were exhausted. Beaten, bloodied, and restrained, they were forced to march for hours without reprieve in these godforsaken outlands, but the group he allied himself to didn’t care. After all, why should anyone show sympathy to the Ungifted? Doing that would be a waste of everyone’s time, or so he was told.

Franz tightened the grip on the primitive gunpowder rifle in his hands and bit his tongue until blood flowed. Guilt ate away at his core, and the sound of her weeping felt like a dagger twisting in his chest. He pulled his cap further down to hide himself from their wandering gazes, futile though it may be. How did they look at him, he wondered. Did they look at him with fear? Anger? Anguish?

He closed his eyes.

He didn’t dare to find out.

As they marched through the swamp, a person walked up to him and gave him a nudge. He turned to look at the offender.

A middle-aged man, a full head taller than he was, with a scar that trailed from his left forehead to his right chin, looked him dead in the eyes. He smirked, revealing more than a few missing teeth. “Don’t get any funny ideas, newbie. I’m watchin’ ya. Ya won’t be the first or the last who tried to be a hero.”

The man placed his hand on his shoulder and stopped him with an iron grip. He leaned in and whispered, “Ya’ve been doing a mighty fine job, and we are just startin’ to cozy up to ya. What we’re doin’ is great for the village. Savin’ everyone’s lives and all. Don’t let ya silly thoughts get in the way of duty, ey? I’m sure ya wouldn’t want anyone findin’ out about who ya are.” He spat to the side, patted him on the shoulder, and left.

Raising a hand to his face to make sure his cloth mask was still in place, Franz ground his teeth in frustration. He resented the fact that he could never display his discontent in front of these people. A mix of rage and helplessness overtook him at his inability to help the poor girl and the others from their predicament. The heartless gang members around him exacerbated his emotions. They cautioned him, in no uncertain terms, that he should never use the word ‘gang,’ but that is precisely what they are. However, what grated his nerves and ate away at him the most was his own cowardice.

Unlike these civilians, he wasn’t weak. To compare him to them was akin to comparing a Bloodmane to a Rumtail. He was a student of the illustrious Skyreach Institute, owned and run by the royal family. Unmatched in their excellence, every member of the institute is recognized as an elite among elites. Each of them swore to protect the kingdom’s citizens and uphold justice before the masses. Before the royal family.

His current inaction is no different from a blatant betrayal of the entire kingdom and all of its people. A crime, if discovered, would spell the end of everything he achieved. His arcanist core and mastery of the arcane arts would be taken from him in the most painful method imaginable at the kingdom’s disposal.

How could someone of his repute just stand by and watch this barbarism unfold? Why was he, the protector of these people, doing nothing to put a stop to the horrendous fate that awaited them?

Not a single day passed without him asking himself these questions. Even now, as he marched, he repeated them.

He looked at his own hands; the blood was still visible through the gloves. Despite the thorough rinses he did a multitude of times a day, no matter the type of soap or magic he used to remove the stains, they remained.

He chuckled.

Faster than his mind could comprehend, his hand rose to slam shut over his mouth, but he couldn’t stop. Laughter threatened to leave his mouth as tears rolled down his eyes.

Pathetic. He was so pathetic.

Forgive me, Andy… Forgive me.

He felt a pat on his back and a beefy arm draped around him. A rough voice said, “Don’t be too hard on yourself, kid.”

Franz looked up. A giant of a man, much taller and more rugged than even Scarface, loomed almost two heads above him. His thick, unkept mane of black hair hung down his shoulders. The man’s eyes met his own, and a tingle ran down his spine. From the first day they met five months ago until the present, his purplish irises—a side effect from his prolonged consumption of potent dream narcotics—always unsettled Franz. They felt inhuman, but today, even more so. Kailath, the leader of their barbarous village gang.

“Everyone wants to live. If we don’t do what we do, no one in the village will survive. You, of all people, should know that.” Kailath smirked at him, and Franz’s agitation spiked.

He knew…

“I allowed you to report our actions to the kingdom and seek reinforcements because I knew they would sweep your request under a rug. They have too many complaints and requests for support that they can’t spare any for a village on the outskirts like ours. Even if they sent someone to investigate, it wouldn’t be the aid we so badly need. They won’t help us unless the danger poses a direct threat to them.”

Kailath slapped his back. “Cheer up. Today will be the usual with a little something extra. In fact, it is going to be a very special day for all of us. I’m sure you will like it.”

Franz’s gaze remained glued to Kailath’s back as he walked on ahead. Panic set in, causing his heart to race and his breath to come in quick, shallow gasps. He looked down at himself. His hands were shaking against his will. Something was off about the boss, but he couldn’t quite place a finger on it.

What’s going on?

He had spoken to Kailath dozens of times, and never had his reaction been this intense. He knocked his forehead with the butt of his rifle a few times; the dull pain helped him to calm down.

Get it together! He said he allowed it, and we’re just doing the usual. We finish this and go home.

He fished out a locket in his right breast pocket and opened it.

After staring at its contents for several seconds, he closed it, clenched it in his hand, and looked ahead.

Wait for me…

The sunset always takes his breath away no matter where he views it from. The sky, painted with nature’s tapestry of red, orange, purple, and yellow, was a sight to behold. He stood still as he savored the gentle glow and warmth on his skin.

“Kid, get your ass down from up there. The boss said it should be here any minute now.”

He turned to face the masked person who called out to him and nodded in affirmation, a little taken aback by who it was. Anglerfish, their third in command. Identifiable only by the white dot on the center of their jet-black mask’s forehead. Their muffled voice and thick clothes made it difficult to discern their gender.

Kailath was probably the only person who knew this information, but Franz wasn’t interested enough to pry. Anglerfish disemboweled and hung the last person who tried from a tree for the carrion birds to feast upon. His screams gave Franz many sleepless nights, and they spoke volumes about the agony he had to endure before his passing. Franz cherished his life more than to indulge his trifling curiosity.

With a swift incantation, he cast a shock reduction spell on himself and leaped off the boulder to land next to them in a smooth motion, earning him a whistle of appreciation.

“Good to know that you haven’t been going to the academy just for show. Let’s go.”

Without waiting for him, Anglerfish turned on their heel and took off. Franz ignored the remark and sprinted after them.

They reduced their pace as they reached an opening to a massive river and trudged over to Kailath. They corralled the Ungifted on a small islet in the center, still restrained to prevent any of them from trying to slip away. Given the strength of the river’s current and monster-infested waters, they weren’t likely to succeed, but their leader wasn’t taking any chances. Their failure would come at the cost of everyone’s lives in the village.

A fluctuation in the ambient arcane energies drew Franz’s gaze, as well as anyone skillful enough to detect it. He reacted by clutching the grip on his rifle.

A Tier 3.

Gunpowder weapons were as effective against Tier 2’s as a child trying to fight an adult with a peanut, let alone a monster of this level. Franz thanked his lucky stars that they wouldn’t have to engage it. If they did, their end was a forgone conclusion.

The water parted to reveal a massive crocodile with glowing squares of various sizes along its body. Each of its teeth, visible from where he stood, was larger and thicker than his arm. With each breath, it discharged a green vapor from its nostrils that spread through the space it passed, lingering in place instead of dissipating like normal gas would.

Screams from the Ungifted pierced through the air when they noticed it. Their struggle to free themselves intensified, but it was in vain. Unless they were Apprentice Arcanists like Franz, they wouldn’t be able to break their binds.

He closed his eyes and shut his ears to the outside world, but he could still hear their screams of despair and injustice. Their wails shook him as tears ran down his face. He prayed to the Almighty to bless their souls and for their deaths to be painless. Their sacrifices are necessary for the village’s survival, he kept repeating to himself.

If Kailath hadn’t struck a deal with this massive beast somehow, their entire village would have ended up as a casualty on paper, forever forgotten. No one would have batted an eye at their demise.

The screams eventually stopped.

Franz hesitated as he opened his eyes to survey the aftermath. Not a single person remained on the islet. Not even a splotch of blood. They disappeared as if they had never existed.

A tap on his shoulder made him jump and whirl around.

Kailath was smiling at him. Why?

A couple of seconds of careful observation passed, and the realization hit. Hidden within that gaze was another emotion.

Schadenfreude.

He clenched his fists and schooled his expression. If his misery delighted him, he wouldn’t give him any.

“Why don’t you take a look at your precious little locket, Franz?” Kailath asked as he sat on a rock.

His pulse sped up. Of course, Kailath would know about his locket, but the contents? He had been careful not to reveal it to anyone. He scrambled to take it out, opened it, and the color drained from his face.

The life gem within… it stopped glowing. That could only happen if Andy…

He looked at the person smiling at him. And he saw red.

“You…!”

“BOSS!”

Before he could dash forward and attack him, another person rushed in and cut him off.

The interrupter withered under Kailath’s glare.

“You better have a good reason for interrupting me when I am educating one of our members, Jua. Speak.”

He stood straight with his hands by his side. “Tw-tw-two men have g-gone missing, boss!”

“What do you mean ‘missing’? Explain, and don’t waste my time before I get Angler to make an example out of you.”

“I-I don’t know, they just di-disappeared! We’ve looked everywhere! I swear!”

Kailath frowned and stood up. “Scar! What’s going on?”

A few seconds passed, but no response came.

“Scar!”

“B-Boss!”

Another man ran up with a panicked look on his face.

“Scar is missing!”