The sight froze Jiran’s blood in his veins. It was by far the most terrifying thing he had ever seen.

Three meters tall at the shoulder, with powerfully-muscled, reverse-jointed legs. Sharp spikes and horns covered its body, gleaming menacingly in the midday light. Its head was covered with dozens of red, beady eyes. Each one tracked a different target. For an instant, one even looked directly at Jiran, petrifying his entire existence with the surety of death.

The beast's mouth opened wide in a haunting scream. It was the same one he heard earlier, exactly like a woman in distress. Jiran’s hackles rose at the sound, which struck a primal chord of wrongness deep within his psyche. The nightmare-made-flesh’s maw slammed shut. It was easily large enough to swallow him whole and coated in hundreds of teeth—there wasn’t even a tongue, just rows and rows of teeth like two beds of nails.

[https://i.imgur.com/PCjxRfv.png]

Jiran couldn't stop his imagination from running wild. He could see those teeth closing on him, a single bite turning him into an easily swallowed stew. Enthralled by the horrible visage before him, Jiran didn’t notice Skandor until another explosion blasted the monster in the side and sent it stumbling. The creature regained its footing quickly, its muscles rippled as it leaped into the air so quickly Jiran could barely follow the movement.

Skandor flew ten meters off the ground on green gusts of wind that shimmered around his lower body, propelling him to the side long before the beast reached him. Jiran refused to blink as he watched Skandor loose another arrow coated in red flames. It exploded upon contact with the monster's flank, leaving a small scorch on its hairy hide.

Their deadly game of catch continued for what felt like hours. He was so absorbed by the beast and hunter that he almost failed to notice when Micah arrived at the top of the wall. Jiran had never seen his uncle fight, though he had heard stories from his parents and some of the villagers. Anticipation and fear warred within him as he realized he would finally get to see his idol in action.

What can he do though? Micah is only tier three. Maybe he can distract it so Skandor can attack more freely. Will that be enough? Please be careful, Uncle!

Micah didn’t jump down from the wall right away. He crouched low in his leather armor—spear held before him in a steady grip, its point never straying from the beast's heart. A crackling sheen of blue light slowly spread from Micah’s chest, soon coating his entire body. Then, all at once, the coating was absorbed into his spear which then shone as bright as First Mother in the sky.

With a deep bellow, Micah leaped from the wall, spearhead glowing brighter and brighter with each passing second. Just as the beast landed from another failed lunge at Skandor, Micah thrust the point of his spear toward the far-off monster. A blast of lightning spanned the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

The thunderous roar hurt Jiran’s ears and the bright blue light burned his eyes, yet he refused to blink or look away. Micah’s attack pierced straight through the beast before colliding with the ground a short distance away amidst a storm of dirt and rock.

Steam rose from the gaping hole torn straight through its body. The huge beast howled in pain and rage as its head swiveled toward Micah who stood in front of the rampart wall. His uncle was panting and heaving as if he’d just run for a week straight. The butt of his spear was planted in the ground as he used it to support his exhausted weight. The tip was red-hot and wafts of smoke curled into the air.

Jiran knew in his gut that his uncle was about to die. There was no way he could dodge the incredibly fast lunge that was surely coming. Micah wasn’t like Skandor in the fourth tier, who had far more mana available to throw himself through the air on currents of wind.

True to Jiran’s fears, the beast dove, closing the distance in the time it took his galloping heart to beat twice. Time slowed as Jiran’s adrenaline spiked. He could see everything happen in slow motion, the beast closing in with maw wide, hundreds of teeth leading the charge. Yet just as the mouth slammed shut, Micah simply vanished.

The beast shot forward with all its considerable momentum, slamming into the wall with a terrifying crash that shook the entire foundation. Jiran lost his grip as the ground heaved and he fell for one terrifying instant before managing to wrap his legs around one of the protruding wooden beams. He clutched it with sheer desperation, shaking like a leaf. His breathing was ragged as he frantically scanned the field for signs of Micah.

The beast had been stunned by its head-on collision. Its rear was planted in the dirt while it shook its head from side to side. A barrage of elemental attacks came from above as every tier three villager with a weapon threw their worst at it. Not one was anywhere near a match for what Micah had done. Only a few even scratched the beast, the rest of the attacks bouncing off its thick hide.

Skandor had not been idle. His body shone with a pale, fiery light as he landed next to the stunned beast. The glow shifted from his body to his bow, then from bow to nocked arrow, and finally, just the arrowhead shone with a blazing light. The arrow was loosed directly into the hole in its side. It flew into the center of the beast's chest where it disappeared from sight.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

A moment of stillness followed the vanishing arrow before a loud, dull thump preceded a fountain of blood and gore gushing out both sides of the beast’s torso. The severe wound caused by Micah had been rapidly closing before Skandor’s attack. Now, the flesh was completely devastated, sending the beast into a thrashing panic.

Yet somehow, even with its life force gushing out like two sanguine waterfalls, the nightmare fought on, refusing to die. It kicked off from its squatting position and shoulder-slammed into the recovering Skandor. A scuffle too fast for Jiran to follow ensued as the impossibly quick creature tried to pin him to the ground with its spikes.

If that beast gets its teeth around Skandor, we're all dead.

Through luck or skill, Skandor came out on top. He once more flew into the air surrounded by green winds. He was not unscathed, one of the spikes had pierced his chest, destroying his light armor and leaving a nasty-looking wound.

Skandor ignored the damage and resumed his barrage of exploding arrows. With the beast so wounded, it was unable to keep up with him. Several minutes of frantic dodging later, it collapsed to the ground, wheezing pitifully, before finally lying still.

Jiran’s head felt fuzzy and he realized he had stopped breathing some time ago. Instinct kicked in, filling his lungs with sweet air. The influx of oxygen returned colors and sounds to his world.

Suddenly, he could hear the screaming. Looking around, a full third of the village was present atop the wall cheering for Skandor. Tears flowed freely as fear and dread turned to relief and fervent joy, all aimed at the village’s savior. The man stood near his kill, hands on knees, chest heaving and dripping blood. Standing tall, he threw a fist into the air and yelled right back, matching their display of raw emotion. Jiran returned his call, screaming right along with everyone else as his arm pumped the air for victory, for the gift of living another day.

He had been told time and again that beasts of a higher tier were something you ran from, never fought, and now he knew why. The difference in speed, endurance, and deadliness of a higher tier beast was not a gap that could be bridged. Death was the only outcome for those who tried. Even a dozen Micahs would have died to that monster as it certainly would have dodged any more of those attacks after experiencing the first one.

His uncle walked up to the base of Jiran’s perch and motioned him down. Dropping the few meters to the ground, Jiran clumsily landed next to Micah and immediately leaped to hug the giant man. “I thought you were going to die, how did you escape? You were so fast, I couldn’t see!”

Micah chuckled, returning his hug. “I thought I was a goner too. I didn’t expect the beast to be so fast, or that bolt to wipe out my mana so thoroughly. Just as I gave up, the elders combined their castings and pulled me out.”

“That’s amazing! But not nearly as amazing as what you did with your spear. How did you do that? You shot lightning!”

“Just a trick I learned in the army, I’m sure you’ll be doing the same in no time. Enough about me, now is your turn, Jiran.”

“Um, what? My turn for what?”

Then it struck him, it was his birthing day and by imperial law, he was due the right of claiming a cut of the day's kill. Except, how could he possibly go out there in front of everyone who had just seen how close that fight was and claim the tithe?

A tier two he would be fine with, a tier three would be asking too much. Did Micah truly expect him to go up to the wounded Skandor and demand a cut? The anticipation made him shake in his boots.

“Oh no, you can’t be serious, Uncle.”

“Of course I’m serious, now c’mon, let’s go,” Not giving Jiran a chance to weasel out of the situation, Micah placed a steady hand on his shoulder and practically dragged him through the gate and out onto the field.

The smell of blood assaulted Jiran’s senses. There was so much of it. Everywhere he looked was a sea of red. Skandor stood proud in front of his kill, watching every step Jiran took, measuring his worth to claim a portion.

Every eye was on him.

Jiran was so nervous that when he opened his mouth to speak, no sound came out. Embarrassment shot through him in a flash of heat as he blushed a dark crimson.

I-I can do this. This is what I chose to do!

Gathering courage from the hand on his shoulder, Jiran took a deep breath. He clenched his fists and met Skandor’s eyes before he screamed the words his father forced him to memorize over the last Moon.

“By imperial decree, I hereby declare my right to the Fifth, I swear to uphold my obligations to the emperors, the Finlest Empire, and my fellow imperialists. Let my pledge of two years be heard by all, under the five emperors' grace, may we all thrive!”

“May we all thrive!” Came the return salute from the villagers on the wall. Even Skandor mumbled along. Apparently content with Jiran’s performance, he moved to one of the beast's legs with a burst of speed no one else in the village could begin to match.

He drew a large serrated knife from his belt and used it to cut off a thick chunk of meat the size of Jiran’s head. Once removed, Skandor tossed the meat at Jiran who barely managed to catch it without falling. He then mumbled a sarcastic “May we thrive,” before going back to his grisly task.

“Thank you, sir, I won’t disappoint you,” Jiran spoke as bravely as he could before walking back toward the village with Micah. They passed Skandor’s apprentices, two of them glowering at him, baring their teeth.

Jiran understood their anger. He was disgusted with himself as well. He had never heard a single story of a child claiming tithe on a fourth tier beast. He felt dirty, like a thief. Wouldn’t this meat be better used to empower the hunters or elders? Why did Micah make him do that? Would it really have been so bad to wait for tomorrow's kill? Looking up at the man as they walked, Jiran found no answers to the questions burning a hole in his gut.

Jiran had felt so guilty standing before Skandor and the village, he had even doubled his intended oath of service to two years. Barely a year old himself, and he was now sworn to serve two entire years in the army. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he trudged along behind Micah toward home.