“Come to think of it, Napalmic. You said you’d tell us why you were locked up in jail if we released you. I think now’s as good as ever to tell us what happened.”
John, Lolly, and Napalmic were sitting under a tall, oak tree. After Yawalc had left, they were prepared to head into the city of The Sky Leopard. However, the past of Napalmic intrigued both John and Lolly. Napalmic let out a sigh, his fire shrinking in scale.
“Aalright, Aal tell ye’ lads. But Aal only say it once, so no encores.”
John and Lolly nodded their heads, they leaned in, eager to hear Napalmic’s story.
“It all started like this…”
Oh man! Are you ready? We’re about to get a backstory to a fan favorite! Or… At least, I think people like Napalmic.
…
Do people like Napalmic?
----------------------------------------
ESCOTTIA
Okay, Okay, this is my last chance to make people like Napalmic… Maybe a backstory will help!
Before Napalmic moved to the United States of Slamerica, he was once a young man residing in Escottia. His dream was a simple one of most boys his age: To join his nation’s army. After all, it was considered world-class in its ability to produce high grade warriors.
Napalmic was calmly sitting on the docks in his hometown, Helmsbrye. He looked out to the sunny ocean, and the many boats and ships which were sailing through the peaceful waves of the water. His fire was in a calmed state as he took in the scent of the sea.
Tmp tmp tmp…
“Ello’, Nammy. What are you sittin’ere for?”
Napalmic turned at that voice. A girl around his age. In Napalmic’s eyes, she was the most beautiful lady… Second only to his mother, as Napalmic always insisted. She had long, flowing red hair, pairing wonderfully with her jade-green eyes. Rosy cheeks akin to cotton candy, and wore a green gown. This gown only added to her modest charm.
“Sigrún. I told ye’ not to give me tat’ name…” Napalmic was peeved by the nickname he was referred to. Ever since they became friends as children, Sigrún had always referred to Napalmic as “Nammy”. A name which he had never warmed up to. She walked up next to Napalmic and sat down.
“Oh, c’mon. I know as well as anyone tat’ ye’ like the name.” She tilted her head with a cheeky smirk, knowing how vulnerable Napalmic was to teasing.
“I said I do not!” His fire suddenly blazed up in annoyance, his eyes turning white with anger. Sigrún laughed at Napalmic’s reaction.
“Aalright then, Napalmic.” She took a breath in before speaking again. “What was it tat’ ye’ said to me? When we were bairns?”
Napalmic’s eyes returned to their usual black color as he breathed. His fire calmed down as he sat there to recall an early memory.
“I said tat’ I’d become a knight of the Escottian Army, so I could fight for t’’good of tis’ country… I aalso remember ye’ promised me something, lass.” Napalmic smiled. This was his dream. He wanted to protect whomever he could consider an ally. From close friends, to family, to the honor of his home country. He was a gentle guardian at heart, with the mentality of a fierce warrior.
“Me? Well, I aalways wanted to be a combat medic. I aalways fancied patching people up.”
“Tat’ so? Ye’ got big ideas, even without having a Candy Element.”
“Hee hee, tat’s aalright. I figured out a way to heal people, even with my Blood Element.”
“Blood? Don’t ye’ got to have a bloodthirsty attitude to get tat’?” Napalmic asked in wonderment. To his knowledge, Blood Elementals needed to have an insatiable crave for all things blood and gore. This required personality sharply contrasted with her cheery demeanor.
“And I thought Fire Elementals were s’pposed to be super angry and all, but I don’t see ye’ going mad.” She smiled, holding her arms behind her back. “Though, you’re right. I was in a pishy spot with my da and maw. Tat’ was until ye’ found me and… Oh, my bad, ye’ heard tat’ story already.”
“It’s aalright. Me and me’ nan did take you in, that’s true. Ever since you became my sister, I noticed how happier ye’ have become.”
“Tat’s right! Oh, you aalmost made me forget. I’m such a dunderheid!” Sigrún looked over at Napalmic. His attention suddenly became focused on her words as his flame stoked in interest.
“There’s a pair of recruiters patrolling the streets today. I heard if ye’ beat the both of them in one-on-one duels, they’ll write a personal recommendation to the military. Tat’ll definitely help with you getting in!”
Napalmic’s eyes shot up in delight. He grinned before patting Sigrún’s head.
“Tat’ so? Then Aal beat those two. Tis’ is my chance to become a knight!” Napalmic exclaimed. He raised his fist into the air, smiling.
“Do ye’ even got yerself a sword or armor?”
“Of course, lass. My da made me a suit and forged a blade.”
Napalmic stood up and made a dash towards his home. He opened the door and shuffled inside.
“Nan! Mither! Da! I’m home!”
But there was no response. None at all. Napalmic was confused, he was used to a loud greeting by his family. However, the house was terribly quiet. This null of sound unsettled Napalmic as he continued to shuffle throughout the house.
“Nan? Mither?”
CLANG… CLANG…
The sound of a metal being forged. He could feel the might of every swing of a hammer down below. He made his way through a hallway and into the basement. It was there he saw the back of his father. The room wasn’t very bright, save for the large smithing forge in the center of it all.
“Da? What’re you doing? Where’s mither and nan?”
Napalmic’s father stopped forging whatever it was he was creating to face his son. He had a somber look, devoid of his usual energy.
“Well, what happened?!” Napalmic was beginning to get confused, an emotion he couldn’t take well. He ran up to his father and yanked on his shirt, his blaze shooting up in rage.
“I’m sorry, mac. Yer mither and nan… I had to… Cremate them.”
“!!” Napalmic’s fire wavered in shock. He blinked his eyes twice trying to process what he said.
“WHY?! WHY DID YOU DO TAT’?!” Napalmic was vexed, and rightfully so. You don’t just casually announce the cremation of someone’s parents!
“I had to, mac. They succumbed to their Speckola. Ye’ know what that is, right?”
Napalmic’s flame wavered once more. He remembered his grandmother developing signs of the disease in its early stages. He was coming home to see her scratching and raking a spot on her shoulder. It was hard to make out, but it appeared to be some sort of large, triangular rash or bump. He recalled it as being nasty.
“The… Sickness that comes from those norvebanes* creatures?”
“Exactly… Once they had perished, there was a risk o’ me catching the disease, too. Had I been infected, you and Sigún would’ve caught it as well. I can’t allow such a fate to befall upon my children.”
CLANG… CLANG…
Napalmic’s father returned to forging whatever it was he was making. Napalmic couldn’t find any words to describe how he was feeling. He gave up on his objections to the deaths of his mother and grandmother and decided to switch topics to the forge.
“What… Are ye’ making there?”
“It’s what yer mither and nan would’ve wanted… It’s a blade with the ashes o’ them held in the hilt. As long as the hilt remains intact, you’ll always have a piece o’ them with ye’, mac.”
Napalmic nodded, then he had sighted the blade itself. The metal was distinct, being more grayish instead of the usual metal. His father worked that blade with the proficiency of a god and the energy of a child playing with his new toys.
“Tat’ grey metal… Is it-”
“Aye. Teprosite. You should know tat’ tis’ metal is special in tat’ it never melts or gets deformed by flames.”
“I know tat’ part. Why teprosite, though? Wouldn’t ordinary metal do just fine?”
His father seemingly ignored his question as he kept working on the blade, his swings and craft all an excellent display of skill. He finally stopped banging on the blade, and lifted it up with his bare hands… Okay, tough guy. He then proceeded to drop the blade in a pool of cold water.
SIZZZZZZZZLLLLLLEEEEE
He retrieved the blade, and after a lengthy process, finally completed the entire sword. He turned to Napalmic, pointing to the rain guard. There was a palm-sized orb where it should’ve been.
“See tis’? Tis’ Flame Orb will allow ye’ to use yer Element with tis’ sword like it’s a part of you. The teprosite makes it easier to use your fire without burning away the blade, mac.”
“I… I see…” Napalmic scratched the bottom of his fire, as if he were scratching a chin.
“Ye’ don’t have to act like ye’ understand. Just take it. I know ye’lways wanted to be a knight, so Aal give you tat’ opportunity.”
With a nod of his head, Napalmic grabbed the sword. It felt perfect in his hands. He could feel his breathing becoming synchronized with each practice swing he made.
“Yer sheathe and the armor I made for ye’ are in yer room.”
“I know, da. Thank you.”
Napalmic gripped the handle tightly as he was preparing to sprint out of his room, but his father stopped him.
“Stop! Don’t ye’ want to at least know the name of that sword?”
“Oh, yer right, make it quick.”
“Ahem… That blade is named ‘Ghrian’*. Do not forget that.”
Napalmic nodded, then left the room, the name of his claymore now safe in his head. As he left, his father slumped to the floor, exhausted. He looked at his hand, and the massive rash on it.
“Phew… I hope my last effort was enough for my mac…” Wait, so not only was he gripping a hot sword with his bare hands… He was gripping a sword WITH A RASH on his bare hands?! Okay, this guy is trying wayyyy too hard to be cool now.
Napalmic equipped his armor hastily, ignoring the need to properly adjust it to his body. After he sheathed his blade, he ran out the house. He scanned the area, expecting to see the two recruiters Sigrún mentioned.
His expectations were met.
Riding along on two horses, there were two men wearing the blue and white uniform of Escottian army officers. The one on the brown horse had a sort of sharp chin, while the other mounting a white horse had a chiseled jawline. As the horses clip-clopped through the road, Napalmic stepped in front of them. The men stopped their horses and hopped off to face Napalmic.
Here it is! Napalmic’s theme! Take a listen to this while reading this scene.
“We assume that you heard of the recruit challenge?” Asked the sharp chinned man.
“Tat’s right, and I’m here to take it.”
“Norman, shall I?”
“Go ahead, I’ll watch.”
The two men nodded before the man with the impressive jawline got off his sword. He glanced at Napalmic, then looked down at his sword.
“Now, since we are looking for skilled recruits, I request that you don’t use your Element for our duel.”
Napalmic nodded in understanding. Elements were naturally powerful, so it was no secret why a test of skill would bar the usage of these forces of nature. He drew his blade, gripping it tightly. The officer drew his own sword. While Napalmic’s weapon was more of a claymore, the officer’s sword was a sabre. They glanced at each other for a few moments, taking in the tension and processing multiple strategies in their mind.
“The winning condition is simple: whoever can disarm the other shall be declared the victor.”
“Aye, sir.”
Don’t you love to see it? In a story that’s filled to the brim with fantastical, divine elemental powers and Onis and Balandians, I think it’s nice seeing a classic contest of swordsmanship.
Tmp tmp…
Two small steps forward. The both of them wanted to perform the first move, but they also knew that their opposition would likely have some sort of defense in anticipation. To ease up the tension a little, Napalmic poked his sword forward slightly, making the officer step back.
“Spacing the field, a wise move.”
But Napalmic didn’t respond, for he was laser-focused on obtaining his win. Spacing the distance was merely a method to help him assess the situation.
CLANG
Napalmic had swung at the hand of the officer, but his blade met metal. The officer smiled before retaliating, staggering him back.
“Such a predictable attack. Do not disappoint me with such a parryable move.”
“Aye, Aal learn from me’ mistakes, sir.”
Tmp FWIP
Another slash directed at the hands, but something was different. When the officer acted to parry, Napalmic stopped his motion, instead going for a kick to the midsection.
THWAK
“Oof-!”
Napalmic continued his pressure. He raised his sword up to anticipate a counter-attack. Unfortunately, this risky maneuver would cost him a meaty punishment.
SLASH
A quick, shallow cut. Not overhead like Napalmic predicted, but rather to his stomach. He grunted as he stepped back. My fellow fighting game players, you’re all probably collectively facepalming after reading this. “Aal learn from me’ mistakes”, my butt…
“Predictable and a moron. I thought you’d have some sort of skill.”
“And I do… Just let me get going!”
“This is a duel, there is no room to let you ‘get going’.”
Tmp tmp tmp CLANG
He reached in for an overhead swing, but Napalmic reacted accordingly this time around. He parried, pushing back the hand of the officer. Napalmic decided not to be defensive, instead smacking the blade with the flat side of his sword.
SHING
The sabre went flying out of the officer’s hand. He was astonished by how quickly it all happened. He stared at his bruised hand before picking up his sabre again. He placed it into his sheathe, then clapped his hands in respect.
“Very well. I accept my loss.” The officer tipped his hat, nodding. “You have proven yourself flexible in combat. You are eligible to join the Military Academy to further hone your skills.”
Napalmic nodded. He smiled before pumping his fist into the air, yelling excitedly.
“YALDI*! When do I start?”
“Tomorrow. We will offer you this day to say farewell to anybody in particular.”
The man mounted his horse, nodding at his fellow officer.
“We’ll be off now, we await your performance at the army.”
As they galloped away, Napalmic stood with an unknown feeling. Yes, of course he was overjoyed at receiving recognition from the military, and two officers, no less. There was also a sense of unknowing. For all he knew, this could very well be the last time he would see his hometown, the very town he was born and raised in. His sword clinked on the ground as this feeling of dread loomed over him.
“Hey! I thought tat’ winning the challenge would make ye’ happy, not sad!”
Napalmic turned to see Sigrún running up to him. He shook his head before smiling.
“Yer right, my bad. They told me Aal be joining them within a day or so. Which means…”
“Tat’ Aal see you in the military, right?”
Napalmic looked at Sigrún with a befuddled expression. Did she also take the challenge while he was away? The question only brought up more questions.
“Oh c’mon now, don’t act like I didn’t say I’d be a medic! They already accepted me a while back now. If anything, I was planning on saying goodbye to you!”
The statement surprised Napalmic. If what she said was true, then it had to mean Sigrún was hoping he’d become a knight in the army. A smile cracked across his face before he nodded.
“Heh… T’en I guess we’ll see each other soon, aye?”
“Aye.”
With one fist bump, they promised to have each other’s backs while serving their country with honor.
5 FORTNIGHTS LATER
It was a long ten weeks of training, yes. However, it was all worth it. Napalmic and Sigrún had finally reached the ranks and roles they wanted, and they were assigned to their first outpost. It was a quaint outpost set in the outskirts in Slamerica. According to their captain, the countries of Slamerica and Escottia wanted to practice joint cooperative skills.
Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.
“Nammy, don’t ye’ think it’s strange how we got sent here early on just ten weeks of training?” Sigrún pondered. Normally, the training to become a knight would’ve been 32 weeks. However, for whatever reason, both Napalmic and Sigrún were sent prematurely to an outpost all the way in a different kingdom. She scratched her hair as she looked around the camp.
“I think it’s because o’ the strange readings this area had… Ye’ didn’t listen to the briefing, did you?”
“Nope! I didn’t pay attention one bit.” She stuck her tongue out, as if trying to make herself seem innocent.
“Yer a numpty!” Napalmic saw through that facade she had put up. He smacked the top of her head in his annoyance.
“Owie…”
“Alright, everyone, line up!”
That voice came from the captain of the outpost. He was a Slamerican man with a taller stature and a small head compared to the rest of his body. He wore the uniform of a captain; A puffy pair of beige breeches, a blue tunic worn under a black cloak with the green, orange, and black flag of Slamerica woven onto it. Within an instant, Napalmic’s fellow knights marched out in a synchronized motion. The unified sound of footsteps echoed through the air as Napalmic and Sigrún stepped into line.
“Good, we’re all here. Now, as you all know, we’ve been assigned here for two reasons. One is to practice cooperative skills between Slamerica and Escottia. The second is due to the abnormal disturbances in the ground a couple of our Nature Elementals picked up.” He looked up into the air, observing the flag pole waving in the wind, then looked back at his lined up men.
“Not to disturb you all, but if the disturbances imply anything, it might be the first contact we’ve had with a Balandian since the second Balandian War.”
The soldiers shuddered. They all muttered amongst themselves, Napalmic and Sigrún looked back at each other, mouthing words of shock and concern. The return of the demonic sinners was a big deal. A very big deal.
“So… That’s why in an estimated arrival time of 35 minutes, someone of exceptional strength is going to arrive here and be on stand-by, should any incidents occur.”
One soldier raised his hand, curious about something. “Who’s this person, if you don’t mind me asking?”
The outpost captain nodded his head, and pointed his finger to the Slamerican flag that was raised in the center of the outpost up to the night sky.
“She’s the embodiment of what this country stands for,” All the soldiers ooo’d and ahh’d in anticipation. Napalmic looked as if he was going to burst into excitement. This could be the chance to meet one of the world’s strongest swordsmen.
“You may address her as Captain Sopreen.”
And then, groans of disappointment. The name was too familiar with the Slamerican knights, but their reaction confused Napalmic and Sigrún.
“Ye’ got any idea who that is, Nammy?”
“They’ve got me lookin’ like a dafty…” Napalmic shrugged, walking up to a Slamerican soldier, he tapped his shoulder and whispered to him.
“Who’s tis’ Captain Sopreen?”
“Huh? You must be one of the Escottian ones. Captain Sopreen is one of the Seven Armageddons, and a strong one at that… So they say.”
“Eh? What do ye’ mean by ‘So they say’?”
“Well… Here in Slamerica, they call her The Sleepwalking Knight. For good reasons.”
Napalmic took a second to think why such a title would be given to a knight. Then he groaned along with the other Slamerican knights.
“What is it?”
“Tat’ lass sleeps on the bleedin’ job!” Napalmic exclaimed, grinding his teeth.
Sigrún couldn’t help but giggle at Napalmic’s vexed tone. She smirked at Napalmic, a teasing face Napalmic knew all too well.
“Aw, were ye’ a wee bit mad you couldn’t test yer sword on a strong opponent~?”
“Quiet, you. I’m sure I’ll find a mighty wielder of the sword.”
The outpost captain sighed, seeing his men with a perplexed expression on his face.
“Now, I wouldn’t be so quick to slander her. I’m sure all of you know how much of a boogeyman Sopreen is to Omegum. How many of you people have the courage to take on that group?” All the soldiers quickly lifted their palms into the air. The captain sighed and shook his head.
“Don’t try to act tough! Be honest.”
…And like a supposed “gangster” rapper, they all quietly lowered their hands in the face of being checked by their leader.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. With her ETA disclosed, I’ll let you guys do whatever until she arrives.”
The men nodded and removed their helmets. They all shouted “Yes sir!” With a resounding enthusiasm. Napalmic and Sigrún sneaked off to a more isolated part of the outpost, behind a set of tents, to be exact. Napalmic sighed, placing his sword sheath on the grass next to him.
“So, how is it?” Asked Sigrún.
“Eh? How’s what?” Replied Napalmic. He tilted his side to the side in slight perplexion.
“Yer first night as a knight, numpty!” she covered her mouth and giggled.
“Ah, tat’. Well, it’s not exactly what I had in mind… I want to protect something, anything.”
“Is tat’ so?”
“Yes,” Napalmic’s faced her with a solemn look. His head of flames burned with a lower intensity. “After all… Our nan and mither passed away… And I can’t seem to find da anywhere. I can’t lose anyone else now.”
Sigrún’s expression shifted to a similar one to Napalmic’s. She looked at the stars above them. Gazing at those brilliant lights in the sky gave her an idea.
“Ye’ see those stars, right?”
“What about tem’?
“They’re all shining so brightly… And there’s a whole lot o’ tem’. However, those stars don’t last forever. They eventually fade away and explode.” Sigrún allowed for the words to sink into Napalmic’s head before continuing. “In some ways, they’re like us. Some live long, others are a wee bit less fortunate. Tat’s why people like you exist. People who have the desire to protect, to make sure we don’t fade away like those stars. Never forget this, Nammy: This world is your solar system… And you are its sun. Do you understand?”
With that last line, Napalmic was hit with a revelation. Yes, she was right. If Napalmic was going to be the protector knight like he said he would, he would need to think higher. He must imagine himself as the sun, and the solar system as all his loved ones. The sun that all his planets revolve around. His eyes glistened, and a warm smile appeared along his face. He nodded in understanding.
“Aye, I get it. So I’m guessing this outpost is my solar system, aye?”
“Yes! Tat’s exactly how ye’ should think.” Sigrún exclaimed, patting Napalmic’s shoulder. He felt touched, despite the pauldron blocking her hand from his skin.
“Heh, being a protector is such an amazing role. I get to fight strong people and save lives at the same time. Ye’ get me, right?” Napalmic smiled. His two favorite things to do were polar opposites. On one hand, he greatly enjoyed fighting and everything it had to offer. On the other, he desired deeply to protect and guard life from the crossfire.
“O’ course, Nammy. I know yer a big fan o’ being a fighter. So, imagine those enemies as meteors heading towards your planets. It’ll be yer job to protect those planets from meteors, got it?” She smirked, the cold breeze of the night whispering and tickling the skin of Napalmic and Sigrún.
“Aye, I got tat’. Now, I’m gonna head out and hunt for some food, are ye’ coming with me?” Napalmic stated, reequipping his sheathe and rising from the ground.
“Huh? But there’s a whole supply o’ food ready for the camp here. Aren’t ye’ going to eat here?”
“Well,” Napalmic blinked twice before speaking, “I prefer my food straight from the source.”
…Okay, we get it, writer, he’s a tough guy. Can we get to this guy’s tr- Ohhhhhhhh ho-hoooo, almost slipped a spoiler there. Ahem, Sigrún scoffed at Napalmic’s line, cursing something under her breath.
“Tat’ was the corniest thing I’ve ever heard ye’ say, Nammy.” She frowned, grinding her teeth at him.
“Oh please! Tat’ was such a cool line!”
“Nah. Just go get yer’ food.” She flatly said.
Napalmic grumbled angrily, stomping out of the outpost. So what if she didn’t think it was cool? It was cool to him, darn it. It didn’t take long for the familiar environment to convert to a strange forest. Cluttered trees of wide and tall cinder wood and brittle ash gray leaves. Lakes of orange, boiling water. This wasn’t just any forest, this was a caliden. Well, actually, this is just a normal forest, but with a bit of spiciness. Not everything in a fantasy setting has to be over the top, y’know?
In the darkness of the night, it would be difficult for one to navigate the caliden without a torch. Thankfully, Napalmic had no need for a light source, as his head was always illuminating with its flames. He kept walking, feeling the ashy leaves crunch under his sabatons. A few paces later, and he heard the sound of an animal.
Snorf Snorf… hff…
Napalmic slowly drew his blade, shuffling towards the source of the snorting. Peeking through a bush, he saw the animal: A short, wide, and thick boar with rough looking bristling hair sticking out of its deep gray body. Along its back was a long row of sharp bones, the biggest starting at the base of the head, gradually decreasing in height as they reached the lower end of the body. Its head was wide, with a narrow snout and a wrinkly face and saggy chin akin to that of an old man. A singular, long and girthy tusk was under its mouth.
“Never seen tis’ before, must be native to Slamerica.” Napalmic observed the boar look around its surroundings. That’s when it heard a noise.
Krunch Krunch
It turned its entire body. Napalmic could tell that the animal either had no neck, or its body was so large and cumbersome that turning its whole body instead of just the head was a better move. The creature snorted once more, a huff of air escaping from its nostrils.
Grrrrrr….
A growling. This did not come from the boar, but instead a wolf. No, this was just a regular red wolf, sorry. It snarled and paced itself towards the hairy beast, bearing its teeth at it.
“Ah, a predator, it seems.” Napalmic moved his hand away from the sheathe, taking time to appreciate behavior in this ecosystem.
BARK
The wolf lunged at the boar with a sudden motion, but the pig would respond quickly.
TACK… SPLAT
The tusk hanging from the chin of the boar was launched like a projectile. It zoomed through the air, and struck the body of the wolf. The wolf’s soft flesh was no match for the sharp tusk. It didn’t even hinder its velocity, going straight through the canine’s body and sticking to a tree. The wolf laid on its side, whimpering its last breaths before it all went dark.
“Crivvens! Would my armor even slow down tat’ boar’s tusk?” Napalmic’s mouth gasped as he felt the air leave his body. The boar snorted once more, and then something peculiar occurred.
Cha chink…
The bone spine protruding from its back shifted forward, one after another. The forwardmost bone creeping into its body, and re-exiting through its chin. Ooooh, this is like how sharks use their spare teeth after expending the old ones! Convergent evolution sure is interesting… Oh, that pig is called a scroken, just so you know.
Such a powerful beast, and such a meaty looking frame, too… Napalmic had found his next meal. A boiling steam emerged from his mouth, the same way our mouths water when seeing something delicious.
He stepped out, rushed towards the boar and pulled out his blade with ferocity.
“Come here!”
Cut to about 30 seconds later: Napalmic, munching on the cooked meat of the scroken. He made the smart decision of first slicing all of the tusk bones with one lateral slash, followed by a quick stab to the head. He then used his Element to heat up the sliced body parts of his food.
“Mmf… Tastes like chic-”
NO. That’s like, the oldest cliché in the book. Rewrite that line, writer!
“Mmf… Tastes exotic.”
Much better. Once Napalmic had finished eating his food, he took the time to sharpen his sword with the bones he cut off. Examining his blade, he admired how effective the bones were as sharpening tools. He cut chunks off the bones, and kept it to himself for future usage.
Feeling full and satisfied, Napalmic began pacing back towards his outpost. He memorized the path he had taken, so returning was no issue for him. Napalmic walked faster, noting the moon rising further up. Midnight. After a short time, he reached the front entrance of the outpost. He knocked twice on the wooden gates, to no response. He was puzzled.
“Gatesman, open it up!” He exclaimed.
…
“Gatesman, open up!” He said once more, his voice raised in harshness this time.
…
“HEY!! OPEN THE BLEEDIN’ GATE!!” He yelled out. Frustrated, he drew his claymore, and slashed at the gate.
KRASH
With two powerful attacks, the gate came crashing down. He rushed through the destroyed gates, ready to curse out the incompetent gatekeeper. However, what he saw was not at all what he expected.
Bodies sprawled around. They laid in their own thick blood, the wounds grievous and appalling. Napalmic had first assumed this was an animal mauling, but there were no marks to hint at any animal to penetrate the walls, and no aerial animals to his knowledge that actively seeked out to kill humans. Even if it were a mauling, there would have to be a sign of forced entry around the place. No, Napalmic stared at the injuries. These were too… deliberate… to be of a savage animal. They were more aligned with that of someone with a great deal of swordsmanship and experience. He looked up in front of him, seeing the most horrid sight imaginable.
A black figure with purple armor. A purple as deep as the roots of corruption. Judging by the shape of the armor, Napalmic could infer the being to be female. She had eyes of the most alien shape; three triangles connected to one another, a singular golden pupil moving along the tubes of the triangles. Yup, they’re valknut eyes. Wicked, no? The next thing he noticed about her were her long horns, coming out from the sides of her head. They reached high up then curved down forward, The upper portion being coated in red.
What was most horrifying of all, however, was the action she was performing.
Being absorbed into her body was Sigrún. Sigrún, the companion who knew Napalmic for years. Sigrún, the same one who trained alongside Napalmic so they could be together in the army. Sigrún, his sister… Being absorbed into this monster.
There were no words from Napalmic, no screaming. No questions. He simply drew his sword at record-breaking speed, and charged towards this demon.
The abomination of nature responded coldly. Simply lifting a rönd shield adorned with corrupted symbols. Symbols that once meant hope, freedom, and inspiration being twisted into evil fallen counterparts. The moment she lifted the shield, a massive, dark, shadowy wall intercepted Napalmic’s attack. It bounced his swing off of her.
“I’m sorry, but do not interrupt me in the middle of plundering.” She said in a deceptively soft tone. The gentleness of the voice contrasted by what she was doing only further angered Napalmic. He kept swinging and hacking at the misty wall created by the demonic entity, hoping to at least make a crack on its surface.
CLANG KRECK….
The demon took notice of the crack. It was a tiny, miniscule crack.
“Hm? He broke my shield’s ability? But that should not be possible… And what is this strange feeling in my body? It’s as if this girl I’m absorbing is reacting to the Fire Elemental’s attacks…”
But this seemingly insignificant crack was enough to startle the demon enough to put down her shield, turning off the wall entirely. Napalmic didn’t waste a second, taking the chance to blitz the demon and take her head.
ZLASH
Napalmic never saw it coming. He never even saw her hand move. But somehow, a slash appeared on his chest. The armor being cut through as if it were paper. Blood erupted from forth his torso, and he staggered back.
“Very well. You may have her back, if that is what you truly desire.” She said with a hint of snarkiness.
GLURSH
The body of Sigrún ejected from the gooey body of the demon… Okay, let’s not beat around the bush here, this was a Balandian. The body spurted out, looking pale and dried out. Napalmic rushed to the body, ignoring the large wound inflicted by the Balandian. She simply looked with curiosity as she retrieved her sword and shield.
“I have already achieved my goal here. There is no reason for me to continue.” The Balandian said. A veil of darkness enveloped her. Before Napalmic could retaliate with one more slash, the shadows took her, and she vanished.
“Sig… Rún…”
There was no response but the labored breathing of Sigrún, her decrepit body shook Napalmic to his very core.
“Nammy… I don’t… koff… Think… Aal… make it… koff…” She said. It took considerable effort to verbalize words. Napalmic’s eyes hissed and boiled steam.
“Awa’ an bile yer heid! Don’t say rubbish… Yer going to be okay…” He spoke with a deteriorating tone. This was a true, sincere feeling of grieving. He grinded his teeth in denial of Sigrún’s inevitable death. He held the dying body of Sigrún close to his, trying to keep her warm in the cold face of death.
“No, Nammy… It’s aalright… There’s probably nothing you could have done to save me, anyways… Tat’ Balanny’ was a real beast whit the blade…” She explained. Napalmic knew the meaning of her words. After all, he was slashed by an unseeable strike. How could a swordsman ever achieve such blazing movements? Even still, Napalmic tried to reason with her.
“No… There had to be something… Anything…”
“Nammy… Just grab yer sword and go… Wait for the Slamerican knight to take you. It’ll be alright…”
Then, the life of her eyes sputtered out. Napalmic stared at her body, expecting to hear one last remark from her old friend.
The only sound he heard was the crackling of his flame, and the rain, which had now began to parade down to earth. Normally, when water comes into contact with fire, it’s bad news for the fire. But in this situation… The water bursted into clouds of steam. His body heated, his heartbeat resounded to a new height. He turned around, looking at the aftermath left by the Balandian.
As he did, he realized his friend was gone, nowhere to be seen.
…
….ba-dump
…ba-dump
…ba-dump
…ba-dump
…ba-dump
…ba-dump
…ba-dump
…BA-DUMP BA-DUMP BA-DUMP BA-DUMP BA-DUMP BA-DUMP
“RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”
BWOH
There was no one to hear his cries. No one could hear his screams of agony and mourning. All except for a massive explosion of flames that had been released from his body the moment he had screamed. It completely swallowed the outpost, burning the walls, tents, and burning away the bodies left by the Balandian.
“Huff… Huff…”
All that was left was a crater, with him standing in the center of the area. To someone who didn’t know what happened, they may have assumed it was a meteor who could produce such a destructive dent in the Earth. But this wasn’t a meteor… This was the unsullied, raging firestorm of Napalmic Fehíonas, a mere Fire Elemental.
From somewhere outside the range of the eruption, there was a knight, mounting a horse. She observed the blazing inferno with concern and shock.
“Oh, geez… This is bad, I better go back and report this to HQ.”
“Yes,” Her steel armor spoke, opening the eye on the center of the breastplate. “I sense no reason to check for survivors, let us retreat and submit your report, Mistress Sopreen.”
A mere moment after the eye finished its suggestion, Sopreen took out a pair of binoculars she had tied to a leather strap around her silver armor. She used it in an attempt to double-check if there were truly no survivors. That’s when she saw it. Amongst the intense flames fuzzing up her vision, and the crack on the right lens, she could make out the figure of a man.
“Red armor… Fire Elemental. He might be behind this.” She said, placing the binoculars back on her waist. The horse neighed curiously as the eye’s pupils shifted up as if to look at its mistress.
“Could he be associated with that crime ring you feud with? Omegum?”
“Nope, this guy’s got like, no white on him. All Omegum members wear white on their outfits to represent that syndicate. Nonetheless, I am so arresting him.”
With a kick to the side of her steed, The brown and white horse galloped with the strength and stamina of a powerful wyvern. It jumped from the mountain, giving Sopreen a rush of adrenaline as wind touched her face with its frigid hands.
“Woo-hoo!”
THUD
Napalmic, in his sorrow, was snapped out of it by a loud thud sound. It sounded like something or someone made a landing from an elevated position. What followed were the sounds of a horse sprinting with the complete might of its hooves, creating loud clopping that clanged as it approached him. Napalmic readied his sword, then he realized who was riding the back of that steed. An armored woman, carrying a polearm with the Slamerican flag on it? It just had to be…
“Are… Are ye’ one o’ the Seven Armageddons…?”
“Yes, that I am. And you totally wrecked this place. I could’ve sworn there were supposed to be living, not-mutilated people here. Did you… Destroy the camp I was supposed to be working with?”
Napalmic opened his mouth to object to the accusation. But no matter what excuse he could come up with, there was no logical explanation. A large inferno appearing suddenly out of nowhere with one Fire Elemental at its center? All the pointers led themselves right to Napalmic.
“I… I’ll turn myself in.”
“Good, no resistance to arrest. I like your vibes! Now if you could just…” Sopreen grabbed onto Napalmic’s shoulders, aggressively spinning him to be facing away from her. The next thing he felt was being pressed down to the ground. Napalmic was snapped out of his depressed state out of astonishment for the amount of strength the woman had to be able to so easily restrain Napalmic.
“Hnn… I didn’t know ye’d be so strong, lass.”
“I’m the Armageddon of North Slamerica. I’m like, supposed to be strong.”
CLOMP
Two large rings of blue psychic energy encircled Napalmic, appearing wide before suddenly slamming themselves against him. Napalmic was shocked by the power of these restraints, but still did not seek resistance to his arrest.
“Now, let’s take you away… Hm?”
Sopreen detected something with her Element. It came behind Napalmic. She tilted her head in intrigue, approaching the source of this feeling. She inhaled deeply, taking a whiff of whatever it was that set off her Psycho Elemental abilities.
“YURK! Ugh! What is that smell?!”
It was an awful sound. Sopreen had smelled many scents across her time of service. The coppery smell of crimson essence was something she was already used to, so the corpses couldn’t have been that smell. It was more like… A trace of what was here. The odor was a combination of some of the world’s worst smells imaginable. The rotting of corpses, with the fly-attracting aroma the rafflesia arnoldii contain within its wretched petals. One could detect the subtle hint of the foul thioacetone, too.
“Something else was here, I know it. Come to think of it, these guys looked to all be killed by some kind of blade or sharp object… And that Fire Elemental doesn’t seem to have a lick of blood on his sword. Hmm… Could someone be framing him?”
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