Jerome woke up with a start. His blood was rushing through his veins in an eerie manner and he could almost hear the living steel sing a painful song in his ears. He wondered what must have caused such a reaction. He got out of bed and walked toward the floor to ceiling window. The sun was not yet out and he wondered where he was.

Then the memories flooded in after a moment. He was in Nandene, and he had a prisoner to get to Farryn. As a disciple of the Royal Family it was a duty he was obligated to perform, even if there was no issued instructions for such.

He felt the living steel coil in his bloodstream again, not painfully but almost like it was a warning. His ears rang with tinnitus for a long while before the humming sound grew faint and he could hear the world around him again.

“Something must be very wrong,” he muttered to himself. Suzie had never behaved in such a strange manner before.

He opened the window and flew out into the cold air of predawn. The fog in the air was thick and made it harder to see more than a few yards in front of him. Jerome flew to the top of the manor and hovered ten feet above the roof. The coiling in his veins grew stronger and he felt a sense of dread begin to spread in his gut. Something was headed this way. And it was coming from the south. And fast.

“Fuck!”

Jerome had no idea how he knew this but he knew it to be true deep down in his gut. He’d seen weirder things. He quickly dived back down to his room and got dressed. He chucked the map he was given into Lokta’s storage bag and tied it to his robe as he made his way to the dungeon to get his prisoner and get out of dodge.

The warden to the dungeon was still fast asleep when he got to the lower regions of the manor. He could smell the rank smell of booze pouring of the man, it was overpowering. Without delay, Jerome shook him awake with a slap to the face, not caring if he hurt the man. As a mere mortal, that slap would hurt like nothing else.

“M-m-milord,” the man stammered.

“I need to get my prisoner and be on my way. Open the doors.”

“Y-yes, milord!”

There was a scramble for the bunch of keys at his waist. His protruding belly made it difficult to get to the keys. Jerome yanked it off his belt and thrust it into his shaking hands.

“Faster! He has powerful accomplices and I want to lead them away from your little town.” The coiling in his veins was increasing. He couldn’t tell how long he had and he didn’t want to wait to find out. He just hoped whoever was coming was not a Spirit Realm expert.

The man opened the heavy wooden doors and they stepped into the dungeon, descending a flight of stairs down. Jerome had to hold his breath to prevent form being overwhelmed by the stench of death and excrement. At long last they got to Lokta’s cell.

Lokta laughed, a vile laugh.

“What d’ fuck you laughin’ at?” the warden growled.

Lokta laughed again. “I’m laughing because the one behind you has realized what a huge mistake he made taking me prisoner.”

The warden looked back at Jerome for confirmation but was unwilling to look him in the eyes.

“Get him out of there quickly,” Jerome answered. There was no need to spread fear around.

Lokta chuckled. “My father would destroy everything in his path. Your little town wouldn’t be an exception.”

Jerome grabbed him as the gates opened and was about to rush out when the warden stopped him.

“Wait a moment, milord. I have to take off the null lock on him.”

Jerome looked at the man. “What?” That was something he’d never heard of before.

“The null lock,” the warden said, pointing at the Lokta’s upper right arm.

Jerome glanced there and saw a band of metal around Lokta’s bicep. He watched as the warden reached out with a crystal attached to a chain around his neck. The crystal lit up as it touched the surface of the band for a split second and the metal band melted and fell off.

“Can I get two of those?”

“Er, er, well, the mayor’s the one you can ask for ‘em, milord. He’s the mayor!” the man said, splaying his arms to express his lack of authority in the matter.

Jerome didn’t want to spend any more time in the town and the mayor wouldn’t attend to him quickly.

“By my authority as a royal disciple, I’ll be taking your null lock,” he declared. “Hand it over.”

The warden was already beginning to shake where he stood. He quickly dropped the shackle and its key in Jerome’s hand. Jerome observed the circular metal band for a moment. He could sense that it was made from living steel. The way it melted off Lokta when it fell off also helped to confirm it.

The metal was still in its circular shape so maybe just touching it to skin would make it work. He sensed Lokta trying to do something. His blood stirred and Suzie sang in his veins resisting whatever it was.

With quick reflexes Jerome smashed the Sprout’s face into the dungeon wall. Lokta coughed and groaned in pain.

“Try that again and I’ll do more than just hurt you.”

Jerome touched the null lock to his skin and just as he surmised, it melted and reformed around Lokta’s bicep. He scanned the Sprout’s core and found something strange happening there but he didn’t have the time to study it. Lokta’s core was a blood red, tiny ball in his mind’s eye. He sensed it was struggling against something, which could only be the suppressing effect of the null lock.

“Shweet,” he said with a smile. He chucked the key into the storage bag. “Do you have any more of that? Don’t lie to me.”

The man shook his head in fear and went down on his knees. “I don’t have another. I swear, milord. Please, don’t hit me!”

Guess it wouldn’t have been that easy. He hefted Lokta and rushed out of the dungeon. Jerome ran as fast as he could. He reached an open terrace on the ground floor facing the beautiful courtyard and took to the air.

He breathed in deeply and the tension in his muscles relaxed a little as the cold air of predawn filled his lungs. But he couldn’t relax. Not when there was a psycho after him. He had to find out all he could about Lokta’s father before the man got to him.

“Your father will not save you in time, Lokta. I’m the fastest person I know.”

Lokta chuckled. “You mean you’re faster than someone who’s almost a Spirit Realm artist?” he said, chuckling menacingly again. “Good luck with that.”

“So, he’s still a Sprout then.” Jerome smirked. This would be easier than he thought. But then Suzie coiled in his veins again. This time, it seemed to want to pull him in another direction. Like it was afraid of facing this incoming threat.

Jerome did as his living steel bid. It was better to err on the side of caution. He flew in the opposite direction of the incoming threat as fast as possible. He hadn’t gotten very far when he heard a booming voice reach him from behind.

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“Release my son, or I destroy this town beneath us!”

Jerome adjusted himself midair so he was facing the sky, yet still flying forward. He looked back to see a tiny figure in the distance heading toward him.

“How the fuck did he do that?!” The man’s voice should never have been able to reach him from such a distance.

Lokta laughed wickedly, enjoying Jerome’s plight. Jerome saw the figure dive down, heading for the town. He did a dive too but swiftly flew upward.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you going to save the little town’s people?” Lokta mocked. “Ah! Didn’t know you were such a coward!”

Jerome didn’t answer him. He rose in altitude as far as he could bear until the wind was too strong to hear anything, even Lokta’s taunting. The air was also thinning so he had to stop.

Then he dived.

~~~

Lokta

“By all that is damned in the sea!” he cried out. “You’re going to kill us!” And it was going to be a terrifying death! He wondered if this cunt thought this through before doing it. Diving toward the earth from such a high altitude was preparing oneself to enter Orka’s embrace!

“Stop! Stop, you fool! You’re going to get us killed!” Lokta watched as the ground rose to meet them. He saw his father. He was almost at the town now and he had his blood chains extended. Lokta would have glowed with pride as he saw his father’s blood chains — long giant strands of blood congealed into solid form, the form of a chain with numerous spikes protruding out of them — but the fear he was feeling right now quelled every other emotion in him.

Then he heard his captor suck in a huge amount of air and the strangest thing happened — he spat a huge ball of blue fire!

“What the fuck!” Lokta roared. His father’s blood chains were too slow as they whipped through the air. His father had been aiming to draw out the people’s fear as he always did, not attacking immediately. But the blue fire his captor spat was fast — too fast. And with the intent to kill!

He watched as his father tried to dodge but the blue fire hit him in the side and exploded like a terrifying nova. He didn’t even have the chance to scream, he was jerked upward again and his innards protested, feeling like they would escape his body to the earth.

Lokta took some time to study his captor now. He had written him off as dead before. But now he wasn’t so sure. What had he said was his name? He couldn’t remember.

His captor came around for another shot but his father was ready this time around. The Sprout kept out of range, but Lokta knew how far his father could stretch those chains. The cunt was in for a surprise.

“What is your name?” he asked, hoping to distract the boy. The town’s bells were ringing faintly in his ears now. No matter. There was nothing a bunch of Drudges could do against a Sprout.

“None of your concern,” his captor answered at last before spitting another gout of flame, this one much smaller. Lokta smirked. The bastard must have used up a lot of essence to produce that first one. Now he was running on fumes. How long before he wouldn’t be able to use this strange artifact of his to fly anymore.

Lokta couldn’t withhold his laugh. He laughed and laughed. But the boy didn’t respond. It didn’t matter, it would be over soon.

His father shot upward toward them. The boy retreated, diving down and evading with ease. But at the last moment before they could lose him, his father released his blood chains.

“Be careful, father!” Lokta yelled over the screaming wind. “His artifact can devour blood!” He couldn’t tell if his father heard but there was little he could do.

“Nothing you say would keep your father from my claws,” the cunt said as he wove in and out of the attacking blood chains.

“You’re strong. Far stronger than any young Sprout I’ve ever seen. But you’re no match for an older Sprout,” Lokta replied.

“We’ll see.”

The blood chains were beginning to corner him. But he sounded optimistic, like he still had more tricks up his sleeves. He dodged between two blood chains but a third intercepted him. Then a fourth and a fifth. The cunt beat his wings faster and flew upwards. But he was slow. He didn’t build enough momentum since Lokta’s father didn’t allow him.

“You’re dead now,” Lokta said.

A spear appeared in his hand and he used it to skewer the blood chains surrounding him. The ends of the remaining chains shriveled up.

“Let my son go.” Lokta heard his father’s deep, guttural voice speak for the first time in many tendays. It brought him relief but he refused to show it.

“He’s a prisoner of Vorthe and soon, so will you be,” the Sprout had the audacity to speak.

Lokta saw his father frown, a growl coming from his throat like that of a wild beast. But he also sensed that his father was stalling, waiting… what for? He couldn’t tell.

His captor attacked. Fast. Lokta felt himself fall a foot before he was pulled taut by a string attached to his captor. He moved very fast. Even in the air where Sprouts had a clear weakness because of the lack of purchase.

His captor tore through his father’s blood chains again and again but more kept coming. His father pushed him hard but was unable to score a clear hit. By now the cunt should have keeled over from the drain and overuse of his essence but no. He was still going strong.

His captor fled, dodging blood chains that reached for him. He could see his father behind, rushing to catch up.

“You can’t run away from him,” Lokta said with a sneer. The boy pulled the string he was dangling from and sliced off his arm. Lokta screamed. He’d almost forgotten how much that hurt.

“Who said I was trying to run away from him?”

In the distance Lokta heard his father roar in rage. He watched him shoot forward, faster than he ever had. His captor swerved sharply to the side and his father sped ahead of them. Lokta saw a blue flash out of the corner of his eyes. He heard a sizzling sound but he couldn’t make sense of what was causing it.

Damn it! My core is sealed! Without his core, he was like a mortal. He couldn’t even extend his perception.

The next moment, his captor extended a whip and what happened next shocked him to stupor.

~~~

Boom!!!

Jerome felt as his whip connected with flesh and bones. Everything in its path gave way. He dove downwards and swerved left to orient himself. This man, whoever he is, had very little understanding of aerial maneuvers. Jerome had been using the wind to help himself accelerate and decelerate at the right times. His wings were a huge advantage as he didn’t have to spend essence to use them. But he also couldn’t use them forever, else his vitality begin to fail.

He flew around in an anticlockwise direction to position himself at a higher altitude above his enemy. The man had lost an arm completely and was free falling. That was impressive. He’d thought that that would take his head and half his body. There was no time for regrets though. Jerome took advantage of the rare opportunity seeing as the man was passed. He shot two spinning blades at him.

“Nooo!” Lokta screamed.

Shit! He had almost forgotten he had a passenger. He sent a small tendril of living steel to wrap tightly around the boy’s mouth to keep him from talking.

But his father woke up with a start because of the scream. The man surrounded himself in those eerie, spike-covered chains. Those chains were made of congealed blood, but they were more powerful than any weapon Jerome had ever seen — and heavy too. Lokta’s father swiped his blades aside and shot toward him.

Jerome sped north, bringing his blades with him and using them to keep his assailant at bay. He wasn’t sure he could passively control more than two in a real fight. Training was different; there were no stakes but this… he had to stick to what came most natural. And two blades, it was.

“Three more limbs to go!” he taunted. “Your madness will be my entertainment!”

The man roared in anger. Whatever he was on that was keeping him riled up, Jerome was grateful. Because this way he got to fight with someone without the capacity for restraint and tactic… or so he thought. Blood gushed out of the man’s severed arm to form a new one.

No, Jerome observed. Not a new arm. The arm was congealed blood and was oversized and deformed in places. Through that arm, multiple chains shot out after him. Jerome fled but was not fast enough. The spikes on the chains shot out and peppered his body with holes like bullets.

His eyes swam and he nearly lost consciousness but he held himself. Jerome groaned in pain. He cycled as fast as he could to heal his injuries but was quickly reminded that this wasn’t the Royal Estate. There was very little ambient essence to absorb. Damn. His wings were battered and torn. They were already fixing themselves but they were too slow. They were useless. At this rate, he’d be skewered before he could get his wings to fly him again.

His assailant shot toward him. Jerome formed a large shield with Suzie. It was light — too light — but he hoped it’d help a little. He could only hover in the air with his damaged wings and even at that, he was losing altitude.

Lokta’s father prepared his chains, multiple blood-red abominations that looked like tentacles from afar. As the man drew closer, Jerome got ready. He estimated fifty yards…

Forty yards…

Thirty yards…

Jerome readied five blades behind him, ready to skewer the man when he got close. But the strangest thing happened before he got the chance. The man took out a claw bone and Jerome lost control of Suzie. The living steel coiled violently inside his bloodstream and receded to the deepest parts of his being.

Jerome fell out of the sky.