“This is becoming a pattern, nephew.” Doco said. As he kicked Noctis' side. Kenan flipped over and went to his stomach, only to get a mouthful of mud. Quickly he got on all fours to spit out the brown muck.

“Couldn’t have moved me somewhere… more comfortable.” Kenan growled out.

“You looked snug to me.” Another said, then belched out a belly laugh. Noctis turned to his head to see two large gray figures standing not too far away. Oz chuckled away as his brother smirked in silent amusement.

Dion appeared under his owner, offering his weight. Noctis used the help readily. With effort he stood, the strength in his legs wavering for a second before they found their power. The next moment, he ignored a jumble of words from both Oz and Doco as he strode in front of a training dummy. He unsheathed his sword and held it out in front of him. Then, he entered Vatr in a second.

It was different, altered. Before he found himself getting rid of all emotion to enter such a state, and trying his best to erase all thought too. Now, he could operate normally, but everything had an underlying motion and intent. If his thoughts were to kill, normally, now they were to take. Anger now was derived from greed. It was odd, and indescribable. Something Kenan wouldn’t be able to properly convey. However, there was one thing that was clearly defined in this evolved power. The chill, the cold, merely stemmed from an always present hunger.

“By the Ram-headed creator. You are even more terrifying!” Oz said. Seeing the pulsating veins filled with power. Ozzy grunted in agreement.

Mana was sent down to his sword. First it swirled in white dots. They expanded and altered to a green color as teal flame burst from the edge. Noctis flicked the blade, slicing the dummy. After a few seconds fire started to corrode from the cut and travel outwards. Eventually devouring the entire straw structure.

“It seems as though you have figured it out. What was it?” Doco asked.

“I have…”

“By the gods! You sound possessed.” Oz commented. Ozzy nodded. Kenan noticed that Doco flinched at his voice. From the subtle smell and the odd body language of his uncle. It was mostly from surprise, with a sliver of fear. Noctis threw away Vatr. His veins, fangs and claws became normal. Senses narrowing to regular levels.

“I have come upon the realization that I am not a part of Nonesthic. I am Nonesthic.” He said proudly.

“What in the fuck does that mean?” Oz asked. Kenan shrugged. “Hold on, why were you on the ground? Looking like a piece of fried meat.”

Noctis glanced down at his burnt and blackened skin. He thought for a moment. “I was struck by lightning.” All three, Doco and the two Ram-born laughed. Then they stopped when they realized that he was serious. “Well, it was more like a person made up of lighting.” For the next few minutes, Kenan and Oz bickered back and forth to find the exact meaning of a lighting person. They eventually came to the consensus that Noctis was simply crazy.

“Whatever the reason…” Doco interjected, cutting the conversation short. “Whatever you did, worked. Doesn’t really matter too much on how it was done. You have today and tomorrow to rest and prepare yourself. The guards and the townsfolk plan to attempt to break the siege. I bet my sword there going to need your help.”

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***

Thanks to the healers of Banburn, Kenan had been rocketed to top notch health in a few hours after waking up in the mud. The rest of the day he spent resting. While listening to Jorun's songs, who had enhanced the experience with mana. Now he was infusing his blood with power, making Qi

Tomorrow they will battle. Noctis threw out his apprehension, nervousness and even fear. As he had already learned, those emotions contributed nothing to the success of battle.

He was sitting on an empty rooftop, overlooking the space between the Walls of Banburn and the tree front. It was barren and dead. Cursed and scared from battle. It will have an even deeper wound tomorrow.

Through the trees, that turned into ugly brown poles jutting from the ground. He could see a mass of movement, hundreds of vine mutated creatures. Suddenly his right shoulder ached.

His senses picked up a few grunts, and a couple of curses. Then the smell of faint alcohol and sweat. Oz had clambered his way to the top of the building. “Why the bloody…” He got to the pinnacle of his climb and pushed himself over. “Abyss demon balls filled with gods be damned…” He mumbled the next bit himself. Kenan, with his wolf-like senses, easily heard it. “Would anyone want to be on a rooftop?”

Noctis shrugged. Not turning from his focus point of the creatures, or his cultivation.

“Oi!” Oz fumbled his way to Kenan. “Here.” The Goliath handed him a large flask. Then he took out a bowl with another flask, and poured out a white viscous liquid that slushed on the sides of the container. “For the dog.” Oz then sat next to Noctis, with his feet dangling off the sides. Once settled, the ram-born took out a flask of his own, and started to drink it.

Kenan and Dion looked at each other. Both had apprehension in their eyes. Through the connection a conversation took place in seconds. Dion growled, crawling, he inched forward to the bowl. A hesitant tongue gave the liquid a lick. A second passed, and he jumped up. He barked as he started to pounce at the bowl, but purposefully missed short. Head twisted in confusion, he repeated the action. Eventually the dirus gained enough courage to take another lick. His tail started wag after the third hesitant drink, Dion began to consume it dutifully.

“What's in it?” Kenan asked.

“Drink.” Oz grunted out.

Tipping the flask back, it took longer than he thought for the liquid to touch his tongue. The moment it did, he pulled away from it. Looked at in confusion and arched brows. Questions formed in his head. He tried it again, this time taking a good pull. Kenan let the taste settle before swallowing. “What does it taste like?” Oz asked.

“Like… my mothers… cooking. It’s almost…”

“Like you're back home.” Oz saw Noctis’ questioning gaze. The goliath breathed in sharply and let out the breath. “It’s part of our tradition. When we know a battle is in short time, and it's far from home, we all drink this. It’s part ale, and mostly alchemy. I don’t know the specifics, but each drink is tailored to the person. The first thing it does is relax the body, somewhat forcefully, and then it has a flavor that makes us remember where we grew up.”

“What does it taste like for you?”

“A meat pie, made by my father.” Oz smirked, and then his face crunched in a combination of pain and remorse. He shook his head, and landed back on his usual smirk.

“Did you make this?”

“Oh no. I couldn’t make this. Ozzy.”

“Speaking of…”

“Another time, sorrow born.” Oz rolled out his back. “I have some things to tell you. Going over strategy. Shell's power has limitations, but its weaknesses are conveniently tied with its strengths. Firstly, she can control a near limitless number of creatures, but they all pull from the same power pool. Do you understand what I’m trying to get at?’

Kenan put down the alchemic flask and forced his brain to move from thoughts of home. “Will the creatures be weak? But you said the strength and weakness are intertwined. So that means…” Noctis looked at Dion, he barked. Kenan agreed. “Each kill means the rest will get a little bit stronger. So in the end we will have to deal with an animal of Ordning proportion.”

“Exactly. Wait.” Oz looked at Kenan in surprise. “How do you even know what Ordning is?”

“I did some research on ogres.”

The Goliaths eyebrows arched further. “Your saying ogres are giant-kin?” Kenan nodded. Oz’s eyes bounced around quickly as thought traveled as fast. “You are not saying there is a vague chance I’m related to those fuckers!” Noctis smirked guilty. Oz cursed.