Everything. Hurt.

It was the way my insides were torn to shreds. It was the ripping of my berry skin and the dismemberment of my stem limbs. Sick, hot pain that rampaged throughout my body without cause, without concern. I felt myself change and grow, felt madness take hold for a brief moment when the agony was far too great. There were times in that split-second that felt like I had prayed for death for one-hundred years. I felt everything I could have felt all in that single instance.

When my mind settled all I could do was pick up my damaged blade and run to Fogwarth.

I ran in leaps and bounds. No waddling stem legs, no puny orb body. I felt… strong. Powerful even. The wind washed over my skin, tickling the fine hairs that my body seemed coated in. I moved by some bees, who were nearly a full foot shorter than me now, and they parted from my path, screaming as they did so. Strange.

[Your mutagen is complete]

[Mutagen: Pantherathropy, Tigris-strain. -25% Health Regen. -25% Mana Regen. +50% Melee Damage. Abilities locked. Duration: 300 seconds]

Well, shit. The regen loss wasn’t great to go into battle with, but the damage would be a welcome addition. With my new enhanced speed I would be on Foghurdt in a mere few seconds, and all of the commotion I caused already pulled his attention to me before he could land the final blow. Good. Come at me then, gladiator bitch.

I briefly brought up my interface to check-HOLY SHIT I'M A WERETIGER.

Enormous boulder shoulders, thick arms, claw-tipped hands, ripped torso and two trunk-wide legs with claw-tipped feet. My body was covered in orange fur that faded to a beige at my belly and carried a wealth of long black stripes. I even had a tail! My equipment level even shot up to 302, most likely due to the natural weapons of claws added. Pretty badass right?

Wrong.

I still have my blueberry head. There it was. Bulbous and blue, sitting between my herculean shoulders without the stem limbs. Don’t know where they went, but I was back to being just a berry for now. Interestingly my normal human-style teeth were replaced with rows of yellowing fangs. So, just to recap, I was a weretiger, muscular as shit, looking straight up like Tony over here, but with a dumb, round, blueberry head. I was only happy that this world didn’t seem to have cameras.

“Face me, Ba-”

Foghurdt’s voice cut out as I leapt forward with cat-like precision. My newly strengthened back legs launched me, kicking up dirt and dust, as I struck down with my battered obsidian sword. Foggy’s brother barely had enough time to raise his own blade to block the strike, and we collided with the reverberating sounds of black stone on gleaming steel. I pressed my advance, pushing my weight behind the blade even though Foghurdt’s own strength overwhelmed my own. As I leaned back from his massive force, I swept my left arm out with claws extended, catching his unarmored forearm and ripping four bleeding lines into his flesh. Foghurdt screamed, more in anger than pain, and backstepped to disengage before shooting forward himself.

I was fast now, but God damn this man was faster.

His four legs proved their value as he tore through the space between us in a blink, landing a strike on my sword that I had only barely managed to raise in time. I attempted to move away from the other, but even with my enhancements I was not fast enough and the curved blade chewed into my shoulder, radiating fiery pain on impact. I roared, literally, trying to land a clawed kick to his exposed midsection but coming up just a bit short. The sword slid out from my tiger meat, the open wound leaking red tears down my torso. The pain was incredible, so much so that I wondered if his weapon had magical properties like my own.

Foghurdt cackled as trickles of blood dropped from his arm to the dirt below. “You are outmatched, Devil fruit. If not for the wandering eyes of my brethren I would have slain you the moment we met.”

“Yeah?” I answered, really feeling the effects of lowered health regeneration. “Seeing how you operate I’m not surprised you took the coward's way out, gladiator bitch.”

I wasn’t too keen on using that word and could almost hear my mother barking in my head about having some respect. But, to be totally fair, this guy was an absolute bitch.

“Coward? You are a fool, blueberry,” Foghurdt said, readying himself for another attack. “You speak of cowardice as you wore spiked armor and allowed others to protect you. Allowed my own people to aid you! You are a mere burden, Barry. Now die!”

He lashed out again, a spinning slash that was clearly some kind of ability being prompted. The wind itself seemed cut by his blades, and all I could do to avoid being severed in two was to step back again and again, only dodging the whirlwind strikes by a hair each time. I misstepped on the last one and took a grazing blow at the midsection that I quickly shrugged off. I fired back, answering his attack with another downward slash just as he regained balance. Foghurdt, showing his experience over me when it came to swords, parried the move and stomped forward, sending my weapon wide and landing the kick to my chest. I sprawled backwards, rolling and regaining my footing as he approached.

“You fight better than I would have assumed,” He said, moving ever-closer. “Yet you could never be my equal. Not now, not decades from now, not in this world or your own. You-”

Foghurdt bellowed out, mouth agape and eyes wide in horror. He stumbled forward and rotated, revealing a deep, bleeding wound across his back. Standing tall to face him was Foggy, shield in one hand and a pearl sword slick with crimson blood in another. The bastard was bleeding from his chest, barely standing, and panting like an old German Shepherd, but he was alive.

And he was pissed.

I wasted no time, leaping again and thrusting my sword out to impale the fucker. The blade bit in, not much but enough to warrant further distraction. I didn’t care, I knew I wasn’t powerful enough to do real damage against him, but it would at least be enough to teach this Jersey Shore asshole to put some damn armor on when you’re in the heat of battle! Foghurdt showed his experience again as he flicked a sword at me, spinning as he did so and knocking away my blade before it could go any further. At the same time he blocked another strike from Foggy, then activated another ability. This one started with him bellowing an angered groan, and suddenly the air itself felt as heavy as cinder blocks weighing down on us.

My legs buckled from the strain, dropping me to a knee as I fought against the incredible, invisible source of pressure. Foggy wasn’t doing much better but at least managed to stay standing; which was even more impressive considering he could barely stand as it was. Foghurdt wasted no time, pulling his weapons back and letting ours fall to the ground as if they were suddenly ten times the weight they were, and I strained myself to keep my claws wrapped around the hilt. The brother chuckled, raising his own weapons and preparing to swing downward just as Fogwarth managed to lift his leg and stomp down, activating the ground spikes to momentarily set his brother off course.

This action gave us just the slip we needed to break whatever gravitational move he had used, and we both shot forward to take him on either side. It was a clash of blades that chimed and echoed in orchestral patterns. The hollow sound of pearl on steel, the shattering cracks of obsidian stone against metal. I lashed out wildly, every ounce of newly found tiger strength pushed behind each blow, and I shot forward with claw slashes when the opening would arise. Fogwarth did the same, catching hits on his shield and countering with a flash of razor-sharp ivory. His brother was a monster, unphased by each hit landed while simultaneously countering most of our offensive moves. Foggy burst up an earthen wall, forcing Foghurdt back and allowing me to land a quick kick with my clawed foot. The damage output wasn’t much, with the occasional claw strike netting a -11 to a -13, but it wasn’t the quality of the hits which countered here; it was all about the quantity, baby.

And it was working.

Foghurdt lost a bit of speed and precision with each passing second. He sloppily missed a parry from Foggy and caught a full sword slash to his lower arm. He was too slow with sweeping my own blade away and I was able to rend my claws over his ribs. The three of us were locked in a blood feud, crimson splattering our bodies and painting the earth below us like a muddy Van Gogh. Foghurdt managed to land a kick with one of his four legs, sending me back momentarily as he pushed Foggy back. I bolted back in, diving in for another thrust and managing a glancing blow on his thigh. The edge tore through the leather and sliced the flesh below. It was a stalemate, and all I could hope for was to outlast the huge combatant. Then, he grunted and stumbled back.

-0.

-0.

-1.

“Scrappy?!” I growled in shock seeing the small orchid leap off of Foggy’s shoulder out of nowhere, smash into Foghurdt’s face, hold on to his ear in one leafy hand while bashing him in the eye with another.

The [Battle Orchid] went to town, balling his little fist and landing blow after blow to his eyes and face. The damage output was incredibly low, barely ever getting a real number out of it, but it was just the distraction we needed. Our opponent was wide open as he dropped one sword to remove the fighting flower from his face, leaving his bare torso exposed. Together, side by side, Fogwarth and I shot forward. My powerful tiger legs launched me like a missile as Fogwarth activated his charge, and both of our swords ripped through his brother’s stomach with twin piercing thrusts. He huffed and gurgled, blood trailing down from his wounds and running over our hands and down the pommels. My own blade barely managed to make it half-way, but Fogwarth had buried his own sword all the way to the hilt.

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I stumbled back, collapsing into a heap and finally feeling the effects of my wounds and fatigue. Scrappy fell from Foghurdt and made his way over to me, holding up his dukes in a triumphant pose. I gave him a nod of approval.

“You… You did this…” Foghurdt said, dropping his other blade and gasping for air. “You… took it all from me… My… opportunities… All because you were father’s bastard son…”

“Bastard or not, brother,” Foggy said, pulling his blade free and letting Foghurdt fall into a pile at his feet. “I merely accepted what was given. It was my birthright. If only…” Fogwarth fell to a knee at his brother's side, planting his pearl blade into the ground and dropping his shield. “If only you would have come to me, brother. If only I had known of your pain and resentment. We… we could have found the seventh lord together. The Briar Lord’s blade would have been ours. But now…”

Fogwarth looked around at the devastation his brother had brought down on the kingdom. I looked too, seeing what my friend was taking in. The piled dead of Mothric, their homes scorched and their farmlands ravaged. Corpses of Icaraz soldiers and Mothric guards littering the ground like New York City garbage in a gutter. His father engaged in world-shattering combat with the queen in the skies above, their explosive party shoving away the clouds and blocking out the sun itself. The apparent death of one of his sisters.

Fogwarth looked back to his brother and continued, taking his limp hand in his own. “Now, dear Foghurdt, it is over. Nothing can be forgiven, and no quarter can be offered. As one noble warrior to another… I can only hope I have brought you an honorable death, Heir 4th. May you find peace beyond the stars…”

A wave of nausea and heat washed over me all at once. I felt weak, as if my entire body had grown numb and was melting away. I glanced down and nothing seemed different at all. My body was still a furry tiger, my body still ripped with layers of muscle covered in my tiger stripes. But my head… God, my head! It pounded and throbbed, and I was almost positive I would pass out yet again. No, I couldn’t afford to. Not this time. I fought it, desperately clinging on as I slumped down to the ground face first. With a thump I landed in the bloodied mud, and I could barely even feel it on my body.

Then, my fucking blueberry head rolled away.

I closed my eyes and yelled as I rolled, feeling every pebble and clump under me until I eventually stopped. Unceremoniously my stem arms and legs shot out from my berry body again, indicating my tiger timer was up. And wow, that sucked ass. Not an experience I wanted to relive any time soon; though I had to admit that being a huge muscle tiger thing like that guy from Tekken was pretty sweet.

Wiping off the mud and grime, I stood up and regained my composure. Most of the battle was taking place in the sky, with few of the soldiers and guards left standing on the field around us. Fogwen and Ak had defeated their own foes and were helping drive back the remaining Icaraz bees left. I watched the soldiers dwindle down until only a dozen or so remained, then they dropped their spears and fell to their knees. Their will to fight was gone the moment Fogwen put down the last of the bee mages and scorpion fighters.

I wandered over to Foggy, with Scrappy climbing up my peel and sitting in a meditative pose at the center of my blueberry crown thing. I placed my hand on his shoulder, and he turned to meet me with a hollow gaze.

“It’s over, Foggy,” I said, falling beside him and sighing. “It’s done.”

Fogwarth nodded, lowering his brother’s lifeless hand down to the earth and falling onto his ass to sit down. He shook his head, inhaling huge breaths in a clear attempt to calm his nerves.

“Yes, sir berry,” Fogwarth said, all of his normal enthusiasm sucked away. “I supposed, in some ways, it is. I…” He paused, taking a long beat to process what he would say next. He turned to me again with something new in his eyes. “Was this all because of me, sir berry?”

“You?” I answered, taken back by the statement. “Woah, easy now. You? Foggy, this was because of him,” I said, looking at Foghurdt. “And, if anything it was your dad that was really at fault. According to the bee people anyway. You had no part in this. You were given these heirloom things because you deserved them more. You are brave where he was cowardly. You are caring where he was selfish. You want to better everyone around you, and he only wanted to better himself! No, this wasn’t on you. Not by a long shot.”

He pulled off his helm, placing it in his lap and giving me a full, squishy smile.

“Yes, I… I suppose you are correct. Thank you, my friend.”

Another thundering boom blasted overhead as more crimson energy met emerald light in a fireworks display of incredible power. The queen appeared to be slowing, her drooping, gross body now littered in burns and scars. The king himself was no better off, flapping wildly in an attempt to stay airborne. The two were trading abilities on a whole new level from what I had seen. Explosive combustions seemed to detonate the sky itself, ripping it in half at times while sending shock waves of force that hit us like a gale force wind. It was an incredible sight.

And I wanted it. The king was right. He was right in so many ways. Maybe the Resurfaced were selfish, maybe we did only care about conquest. I wanted power like what they had; I wanted to be strong. But, would I kill to obtain it? Could I ever sacrifice others just to benefit myself and those around me? I watched the king conjure an ethereal sword of scarlet energy, only to be met by the hue of green power in the shape of a staff by the queen, and I thought of all I had done here.

I had killed a lot of tigers, but technically they had it coming for trying to eat us. The things in the mist were already pretty much dead mushroom zombies. There was Ix… I quickly withdrew the memory and buried it deep. No, that wasn’t the same at all. But what about the Icaraz mage we came across? I dealt a fatal blow in that fight. Then I almost killed the captive we took just because of the blind tiger-blood rage inside of me. And now Foghurdt…

It was survival, and I knew that. It was me or them, and I knew they probably thought the same thing about us. Did that make me better than someone like the king?

My thoughts were interrupted as something huge fell like a meteor to the ground near Goomba, exploded into the dirt and left a small crater in its wake. Goomba screamed, dramatic and over-acted, but was ultimately out of the blast radius and completely unharmed. Whatever it was had buried itself deep into the flesh of the ground, not even visible from our vantage as if they had blown through the world itself. Above us I heard the haphazard flap of wings and the sparking sound of conjured energy. The king still remained, sun at his back and clouds fleeing from his gathered power. A moment later there came a rumble followed by the insect appendages of the queen pulling herself from the hole, her flesh smoldering and cracking from whatever damage she had taken to bring her here. She looked up, facing the sky and her opponent.

But it was far too late.

A ripple of force followed the beam of pure crimson as it shredded into the queen, removing her from sight entirely and erupting the earth below into a volcanic geyser of red power and gore. She wailed a haunting, silken scream that sent tremors throughout my body. I shut my eyes, I couldn’t stand to watch. I didn’t open them again until the screaming was gone, and even then I was hesitant to see what would be left. But, when I did reopen them and take in the scene all I could see was the collapsing form of the king spiraling down to us from high above.

He crashed down right before Goomba, wings broken and mangled while several eyes had been burst or melted. Even after the king fell, even after the hollow thud of his body smashing the heart, I could still hear him groaning and breathing. He had survived. After all of that he had still survived. When his remaining eyes opened they didn’t look to me, or to Fogwarth, or Fogwen. They did not even search to find Aspenoc or view the captured Icaraz soldiers.

He looked right at Goomba.

“You…” Goomba said, his deep voice shaking the earth like riptide waves. “It is you… I cannot believe it…”

“Hello… Old friend,” the king answered, eyes softening as they stared out into the abyss. “I can hardly believe it is you as well…”

“Fogrick, may I ask you something? Before you go?” Goomba said, and his bellowing voice commanded the attention of all around the battlefield.

The king laughed. “Fogrick. This world never changes,” he answered, his voice fading into nearly a whisper. “It is Fredrick, you stupid mushroom. But, I suppose it is nearly a century too late to correct that now. Go on, my old friend. Speak your peace. My time… is short.”

“Is it true? Is what these people say about you true?” Goomba asked, no hesitation. He peered down at the king, mushroom eyes looking him over without hatred or sadness. It was a look of pure resignation. “Did you… Did you aid in the death of my master and the Lords? Did you betray our dear Vacel?”

Everyone, Mothric and Icaraz alike, were dead silent. In that moment we could only hear the whistle of a midday wind pass between us, the sounds of breathing, the rustle of the surrounding underbrush. The two only stared at one another for a time, their eyes telling stories of days long behind them and a life long gone. Foggy watched in tense anticipation, and I placed my hand on his shoulder again for support.

“Yes…” The king answered. “We did… I did. I am sorry, friend… For Mothric to survive… For the dreams we all once shared to come into reality… sacrifices were made…”

“Y-you,” Goomba said, voice catching in his throat. “We trusted you. We of Palea band together with you! My dear, sweet Vacel trusted you!” Goomba raised his voice, quaking all around him in uncomfortable rage and anguish. Pain could be felt in every lilt and vibrato of his scream. The king only lay on the ground, eyes faded to a ghastly gray and the last remnants of life leaving his body. “No! You do not deserve death! Speak to me, you foul bastard! We gave you everything! Come back to me! Come back, liar!”

Goomba’s screams and cries faded into a raspy wheezing. Gelatinous tears rolled from his eyes and down his stalk. His cap trembled with each rattling breath, and he wept into the silence around us as we all just sat in the void of it all. It was over. The battle had ended, but no one had won.

[Quest Complete: Prelude of War - Southern Border Scout. Reward: 1,200 experience. Currency - See Aspenoc for reward. Item - See Aspenoc for reward]