The name Neekimuugorr is a name that belongs to a creature so terrifying to the tribe of the Zaereens, that the creature possessing the name is revered as a sort of god, or at the very least, a divine judge of worthiness.

For centuries, the Zaereens have performed a rite of passage known as the Rite of the Goddess Moon, during which chosen champions -one of whom brandishes the legendary heroic sword known as Zaermaa- do battle with the Neekimuugorr. Few survive the ordeal, but if any one of the chosen can manage to sever the head of the Neekimuugorr, that warrior is deemed a hero and worthy of further trials and rites within the Zaereens.

To a professional colossus slayer such as Murtoa of Lakia, the Neekimuugorr is actually known as a coratodra, a species of hydra-like creature that sprouts two new heads every time one is severed.

Murtoa has only fought one before, and he managed to kill it after hours of trial and error and several tactical retreats. Naturally, he figured out quickly that severing heads was not an option, but he also discovered that the heads get in each others’ way. Utilizing this can help him not only thin their numbers by knocking some heads unconscious with concussive blows from its compatriots, but he can also tangle their necks and disorient the monster. And, though it’s often disadvantageous to him, severing heads from the beast can buy him moments of recess while it recoils in pain and regenerates the two new heads.

Attrition is obviously not an option with a coratodra, but a sort of blitzkrieg is. Coratodras typically have several hearts for feeding blood to its many brains. Wounding one isn’t enough to kill it, but injecting an air bubble into its arterial system is. Mury used a similar method as when fighting the Nightenmael, though in the Nightenmael’s case, he drove a pike into the colossus’s brain with an explosion, and for the coratodra, he ended up forcing a massive air bubble into an exposed artery using one of his blast flutes.

He may not have his gear, but he currently has the spirit of the wind at his disposal.

Or, he did.

Murtoa looks around during a brief moment of recess following two more severed heads. He’s getting tired, but he’s close to the body, and the monster is also a little tired. He shouts, “COCO! WHERE’S SCHIERANNA!?”

The teen pops up from her hiding place, shouting back, “She flew inn’e gabhole!”

Mury grits his teeth. She was undoubtedly well-intentioned, but it hinders his current plan. He has no way to communicate with her, and he was trying to recall how he actually killed it while holding it at bay. Fortunately, mature coratodras don’t tend to move, as they typically find a place they’re content with and feed off of anything and everything that approaches via the tunnels the heads can protrude from.

The coratodra suddenly squirms, seemingly forgetting about him for a moment as it groans. Several of the mouths rumble, and their heads shake, battering other heads around them.

Mury smiles under his helmet. “Fair enough.”

Several of the heads roar, but the sensation continues, and the disoriented creature tries to flex its large abdomen to work the gas out of its system. Unfortunately, air is also being drawn in, and even though it tries to batter those heads allowing air in, new heads simply pull air in after.

Schieranna has rather fine control over air and wind, meaning to force a burp, she’s managing to pressurize the coratodra’s body.

And, Mury has a blade that should be long enough to pierce to its stomach.

He sprints in close while it’s distracted, jamming the blade in with his remaining strength. He has to step into the blow, shoving with a second surge to get more depth, and the monster howls, noticing him.

A flash illuminates him from behind, and he smiles. He never once doubted Coco’s place as a companion, and she proves it every day. Though, he also knows she spreads her supply of batteries thin, meaning she likely doesn’t have any more electrical flashers. He knows the teen and Maerin trade resources; namely Coco’s time in brewing alcohol and Maerin’s chemical mixes producing explosives, poisons, and other support mixtures. It’s anyone’s guess what Coco is currently carrying.

Mury wrenches his blade, trying to widen the wound he’s making. Blood starts to spurt out around his hands, and he keeps his grip tight. He can feel his fingers becoming slick, so he needs to be careful. He’s not wearing his gloves.

The coratodra’s hide is tough, but he’s able to widen the slash by wrenching up and down, and the blood begins pouring, turning a yellowish-orange color.

It’s mixing with stomach acid.

When he withdraws the blade, he’s sprayed with the mixture as the force continues, and he weighs his options. Below the stomach acid line, an air embolism won’t take. And, he has no way of knowing right now how deep the liquid is. Without being able to communicate with Schieranna, he can only hope she keeps the pressure going.

Mury whirls and swings as a head slams towards him, and he takes yet another head, though it slams its own stomach.

Mury jams the blade in higher, repeating the process. Air embolism is a slow process anyways, but if he can ensure one starts, then it’s something.

**********************************************

Schieranna could go all day. In fact, she has several hours remaining of her initial contract, thanks to Lykha, and she hasn’t even scratched the surface of her magical reserves. She is a spirit after all.

And, though Lykha will be exhausted from the trials and tribulations her poor little body has been subjected to, Schieranna will have no regrets.

She continues to keep her attack; pulling air towards her from wherever it will come, and then expanding it outwards, pressurizing the stomach cavity. The monster is howling and wriggling, but from inside, it’s just a big stinky balloon that can do nothing about its predicament.

Plus, cycling fresh air is making it more bearable for the spirit, as she had no idea how foul the insides of a monster would be.

Lykha asks through the spiritual connection they share so long as they’re under contract, Have you thought of a way to kill it?

“Why yes. I figured I would do this until Murmur kills it.”

I can definitely not fault that logic. But, what if he needs help out there?

“I could suck all the air out of its blood if I wanted, but even my sisters and I frown on that… Plus, I’m trying to not make it OBVIOUS that I’m killing it with magic.”

Another voice echoes deeper in her mind, She’s at her limit through your body, Lykha. If she passes any more magical energy through you, she would hurt you.

R-Really?

Schieranna is silent. She keeps her spell exactly as is for the moment.

I-If Mury is in danger…

“He’s a mortal and a human. No one is worth…”

That’s not true! He’s…

“I’m not going to hurt you just to win, Lykha. We’ll find another way…”

There’s a moment of status quo as both of them say nothing more.

Schieranna can’t really hear anything over the rushing air, but she notices movement along the stomach wall. She slows the air current, and the movement continues. “What is that?”

Parasite? Mury and I faced a bunch in the gryduke.

The strange object moving grows, as if piercing through the flesh of the stomach wall, and it becomes bulbous.

It twists its way in a little further and grunts.

A voice croaks out, “Schieranna.”

“Murmur!” She instantly darts down to him, hovering in front of him.

“Listen, Coco has it momentarily stunned. Keep the pressure up. If you can, focus on this wound. If we get air into its blood stream, it’ll collapse in a few minutes.”

You and your sisters object to injecting air instead of ripping it out?

Schieranna shrugs. “Wasn’t my idea.”

“What?”

“Talking to Lykha. I’m in.”

“WAIT! HEEEEELP!” The Zaereen cries out, and Murtoa says, "We'll fish them out when we can. If you have to ignore them…”

“Yeah yeah. Be careful out there. Lykha won’t be happy if you get noped after all this.”

He nods. “Always am.”

He’s lying!

Murtoa withdraws from the wound, and Schieranna resumes pressurizing the coratodra’s abdomen, but focuses the jet of air towards the wound.

I envy you, Great Spirit Schieranna…

The spirit smiles, replying, “You should… But then, you shouldn’t. You know better than most the curse of true power.” Schieranna rolls her shoulders, since her arms are feeling a little stiff. “I envy you for how highly your friends think of you.”

The young fairy is quiet for a moment, and most likely, she’s being teased warmly by the other spirits because of it. Schieranna adds, "Also, stop calling me 'Great Spirit'. At least let me pretend we're friends."

I… is that really okay? F-for someone like me?

"Pfft. Yeah, 'cause you've got so much competition right now for my attention, right?"

This time, she can feel the giggling and snickering of her sisters around Lykha, and a warm feeling crosses the connection between them.

The wind spirit idly wonders if Lykha feels inadequate for her current friends. All of them are strange in ways, but it is that admirable strangeness that makes a human warrior and a teenager go to great lengths for a wishless fairy, a drakyk spell caster to seem genuinely apologetic for the ignorance rampant in the world regarding the spirits, and for all four of them to treasure a young, compassionate fairy with a big heart.

Schieranna smiles. That little fairy has no idea how much she means.

********************************************

Mury can see the bubbles roiling from the wound he just made, indicating Schieranna didn’t delay. However, he can’t dwell on it long. The coratodra is not dead yet, and it still has many active heads, some of which are newly grown.

The human warrior tumbles to avoid a brutal hit. He misses his jacket and armor, of course, but injuries heal. Death doesn’t.

And, even with his armor, his skin would only be protected from his maneuvers. Any hit from the monster will be bone-breaking if not outright fatal.

Thankfully, Coco is out of range of the coratodra, and she’s staying mostly in cover of the roots of one of the giant trees. True, the coratodra might be able to topple one of the collosal trees, but it has other problems keeping it from mustering such strength.

One of those problems is a human warrior trying to kill it just as much as it is trying to kill him.

Mury’s only faced one other coratodra before, though. Once they’re mature, they don’t seem to migrate or move, so they don’t encroach on villages or bed down on trade routes. Instead, they lie in wait and eat anything that stumbles across one of their typically many holes. In this case, the coratodra was well-fed enough by the Zaereen tribe -inadvertently- that it didn’t need to waste energy utilizing its other heads.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Unfortunately, each head has its own brain, so it could be argued a coratodra is a multitude of creatures. And, given that Mury is doing what all coratodras are adapted to combat against; severing heads, the colossus has heads observing and strategizing while new heads keep him on his toes.

Most colossi are essentially animals -very, VERY big animals-. They seek food most of their lives, and do so with animal intelligence. So, while the strategizing a creature like the coratodra can muster is limited, one of the heads bites a large limb of the tree behind it, breaking the limb.

Mury flinches when he glimpses it. He scrambles the opposite direction of where he was going, diving under one of the colossal exposed roots of the tree. The massive branch, easily the size of the trunk winder, slams down nearby, tumbling with a calamitous crash.

Coco cries from somewhere above him, “‘Bando!”

Mury furiously crawls as one of the heads tries to pursue him under the root. He squirms out from under the other side and sprints around the tip of the root, jumping into a chop on the neck of the head pursuing him. He rams into the neck, but it doesn’t sever, and he recoils, chopping again, finishing his cut. The neck severs and one more head dies, soon enough to be replaced.

In his moment of approaching exhaustion, he delays too long, and when he tries to dodge, he is clipped in the shoulder by one of the heads ‘punching’ by him as it tried to hit him.

Mury is tumbled violently, undoubtedly blacking out intermittently.

He snaps to on his back on the ground, and he goes on instinct; instinct honed in years of battle against colossi. It’s already too late to think; just move.

He curls back, rolling with his core strength to his feet. He nearly faints from the pain shooting through his arm, and he keeps it close to his body as much as he can.

Injuries heal. Death doesn’t.

Mury stumbles out of the way of another attempted slam from another head, and he swings Zaermaa sloppily. He can see some of the heads writhing and roaring -though his ears are ringing, preventing him from hearing-. The air is working its way through the multitude of arterial systems, halting individual brains in their tracks. A lucky enough embolism can stop the core blood flow of the coratodra, killing it outright. But, for the moment, he needs to stay alive.

However, some heads of the coratodra are observing and strategizing. One particularly large head has yet to make any aggressive attacks. It is larger than all of the others, and it is faded in color, with old scars and one of its mandible-horns broken.

Murtoa wondered during his fight with his first coratodra if killing the ‘correct’ head would kill the beast, but he’s unsure. He couldn’t discern which of the heads would be its ‘true’ head. If he had to guess, this one would be the closest to that; the oldest and wisest head of a beast that has dozens.

It stands to reason that the oldest single head had to have been severed at one point for there to have been two, but little is known about immature coratodras. Mury is an expert because of how many colossi he’s killed, but he’s far from a scholar, and he has seen few written texts trying to catalog the colossi of the world. And, at least one of them was completely wrong, most likely written from speculation in hopes of making a little money from an unwitting scholar or town bailiff.

Regardless, Murtoa is not against attempting to sever the ‘true’ head, and see what happens. He knows there’s more than one way to kill any colossi. But, to reach that head, he would need to have spotted it when the battle first started, when he had enough strength to fight his way to it.

Now, it seems to have realized where the real source of its woes are coming from; not the tiny pathetic creature wielding a sharpened stick like so many before it, but something within its own body. Heads are dying rapidly, and the coratodra is not pleased.

The oldest head looks at one of its younger counterparts, slightly younger in age than itself, as the latter throws a rock at Coco. She screams, but she manages to duck as the boulder explodes against the root, taking wood and stone shards in every direction.

The oldest coratodra head bears its teeth, and it latches onto the base of the neck that just threw the stone. The head howls in pain, and others look to the elder, seemingly surprised and confused. It viciously bites and pulls, even as the junior head attempts to bite it in return. Still, the elder mercilessly pulls a fellow head from its own body, neck and all. Murtoa watches in surprise as well.

He probably should have simply kidnapped Maerin and ran.

“I’mm’a ki-kill you whens this is over…”

Murtoa looks quickly. Hovering towards him painstakingly as she drags a sword is the inebriated fairy herself. She stinks of alcohol, meaning between her escape and the present moment, she finished off whichever of her flasks she found.

The sword she’s dragging, though, is much lighter than the longsword Mury can barely swing with one hand. Maerin continues grumbling, somewhat oblivious to the danger she’s in now, “L-leavins me thirsty in a tied up chair… Despicable.”

Mury wraps his good arm around her, carrying her and Kolaya’s sword away from the coratodra as fast as he can. A head slams down where they just were, though it loses strength fairly quickly. Most of the heads have deceased for one reason or another, but the eldest head has removed its counterpart as the other survivors shriek at it. It ignores them, tossing the head aside. It then angles itself towards the severed neck, and Mury realizes what it’s doing.

Mury has a choice to make now, and he doesn’t have long to make it.

******************************************

“Yeep!” Schieranna screams when light suddenly rips into the colossal stomach. Her eyes were finally somewhat adjusted to the dark, and now a giant opening is beaming down on her. From that giant opening, she can see a humongous eye peering down inside.

Her heart -Lykha’s heart- races quickly. She wasn’t overly afraid outside of the colossus, but inside felt inherently safe. Especially since there didn’t seem to be any of the parasites or antibodies that Lykha was particularly afraid of.

With that said, however, an opening large enough for one of the coratodra’s heads to squeeze through is now open -seemingly intentionally-. And, that becomes all the more apparent when a gigantic reptilian muzzle rams into the hole, hampered by being larger than the wound.

KEEP GOING!

Lykha’s voice is also nervous, but also confident. The young fairy isn’t a hero, but she’s clearly no stranger to these kinds of threats anymore. Schieranna quickly resumes her wind-based assault, pushing the boundaries a little further.

The coratodra’s head snarls as it wriggles violently, shaking the body. The Zaereen dangling from a spear along the wall screams in fear, but the spears hold -at least for now-.

Sweat dribbles down Schieranna’s cheeks -and the rest of her body-. She knew not anything of exertion when she was purely a spirit, but she can feel it in Lykha’s body. However, she trusts Murtoa. Lykha trusts him, and now Schieranna trusts him. His plan will work. They can stop its hearts all at once if they can get enough air into its bloodstream.

The head roars as it fully enters, and Schieranna flinches from pain to cover her ears. The enclosed space makes it especially painful, and she nearly falls from the air.

She catches herself, struggling to summon the focus to continue as her head swirls. She almost feels like she can feel its hot breath as it worms its way into its own body, trying to reach her.

The coratodra’s head takes a deep breath as it scrunches its neck back, readying to spring forward.

Schierannaaaa…

“I know!”

She clenches her fist, feeling for the air within its body. It’s impossible to know how quickly it will work, but she’s running out of options, and it’s about to spring towards her.

However, the head shrieks suddenly, losing its spring-loaded compression as it flinches. The shriek is painful for the spirit, but also, different than its roar. And, the head tries to recoil out of its body.

Its own protrusions, horns on various parts of its head, snag, halting its retreat, and it struggles. Again, it shrieks and flinches, all but yowling in agony like a pathetic and dying beast. Several more pangs of pain seem to hit it, but the head is visibly weakening. And, before long, it seems to give its last breath, groaning in one final death throe as it shoves itself inward to about the same distance it had reached a moment ago. The head collapses, losing all strength as it falls like one of the great trees outside. The head with its crown of majestic horns, splashes into the stomach acid, sending waves all around and nearly splashing the spirit, who is able to dodge the splashes.

Schieranna stares at the head a moment longer, but it doesn’t bubble or groan, nor does it struggle to rise. It is wholly and truly dead.

“Beloved world… I love him.”

HEY!

“Yes, yes, Lykha. We all know you love him, too.”

I-... I… Wh-! He-... I mean… um… I… I do… Okay? I really do…

The other spirits giggle, and that same warm feeling crosses the connection Schieranna and Lykha are sharing through the contract, but the wind spirit sighs to refocus. “Alright, let’s finish this thing and tell Mury in person.”

DON’T YOU DARE!

“I can’t -swish swish- hear you Lykha! -swish swish-. You’re in the spirit realm, and it’s windy here! -swish swish-.”

Schieranna resumes the final stretch of pumping air towards open wounds with high pressure, driving air into the coratodra’s body. Lykha whines in the back of her mind, You liar! You can hear me just fine!

“No I can’t! I can’t hear you just fine!”

PLEASE DON’T TELL HIM! PLEASE!

“He already knows! Not that I can hear you! -swish swish-!”

You’re just saying ‘swish swish’!

“I would never!”

Something strange stops the argument. A groaning, bubbling sound seems to be rippling the stomach acids, as well as the walls of the creature’s stomach. Is it shivering? It also seems to emmitting groans from its heads and lungs, while its body seems to be slumping overall.

I think… it’s dead…

Schieranna smiles. “Yeah… I think you’re right.”

Light peeks at her from above, and she looks up. This time, the shape of the hole is much more square, peeling back a little at a time. From the newly created opening, Mury’s voice calls out, “Schieranna.”

“I’m here.”

“It’s safe. If you can bring the survivors up to me, we’ll get them down.”

She nods, even though he probably can’t see her. “I’m on my way. There are two survivors.”

“Good. I didn’t see anyone else engage. I’ll be here.”

Schieranna smiles, hovering towards the Zaereens as she stretches. The conscious one murmurs wearily, “Please… Please I… Please…”

“Shh, we’re going home, alright? You’re safe now.” She unhooks the desperate fairy, and the Zaereen clings firmly to Schieranna. She flies up to Mury’s position with the Zaereen sobbing on her shoulder.

Mury holds the opening open wide enough for her to exit, and she lands on her feet. She murmurs softly, “Mury is going to take you to the ground once I get the other girl, okay? It’s perfectly safe. He’ll protect you.”

Mury supplies his left hand, so that the Zaereen has something to hold onto for security, still terrified from her ordeal.

The human warrior nods, and Schieranna flies carefully back inside, retrieving the unconscious Zaereen.

Thank you, Schieranna…

“My pleasure. Thank you, Lykha.”

The spirit retrieves the wishless fairy, and she flies her back up to the surface, where Murtoa collects the fairy into his other arm. He seems to be hesitant with his left arm, even though the conscious Zaereen is clutching his fingers tightly and sobbing with her face buried in his palm.

Mury asks, “Are you okay?”

Schieranna nods tenderly, murmuring, “I am…. A-Are you?”

“Well enough. Let’s get down before I fall.”

She snickers, but replies, “Right.” She lifts back into flight, following him as he carefully shuffles on his hip down the side of the coratodra. He almost slips a couple times, causing Schieranna to flinch helplessly.

He… used it…

Schieranna asks softly, looking at the warrior. “Used what?”

Kolaya’s sword… He… he defeated it with Kolaya’s sword…

Schieranna looks to his hip, where a sword belt is holding a much lighter-weight sword than Zaermaa. However he got his own sword back -or this ‘Kolaya’s’ sword-, he used it to fight the coratodra.

On the ground, Coco and Maerin rush up, asking, “MURY!? Are you okay!?”

Mury hands the unconscious Zaereen to Coco, and she gingerly cradles the small winged woman. “I’ll be fine.”

Coco grimmaces, “Blegh! ‘Bando, you stink’o’foul a mighty reek!”

He jokes dryly, “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Lot’o’good ye wishie-splash did now, ey?”

“Nice try. I’m looking forward to another.” He walks past her, and Schieranna takes a seat on his right shoulder. He reclaims Zaermaa with his right hand, carrying it in his hand as Kolaya’s sword hangs on his hip.

The human warrior walks wearily down the slope towards the village, and there, the chieftain is trying to rally peace back into the villagers as they scramble back and forth, fetching food or other belongings as they ready to flee. Some are arguing and screaming at each other, and others seem to be close to blows as children cry.

A small clay pot breaks when its carrier drops it, spilling spice on the forest floor. She points, and the chieftain and several others turn to look. A sudden calm creeps over the crowd as everyone notices them descending into the village, very much alive and carrying two villagers witnessed at large to have been consumed by the Neekimuugorr in valiant combat… before the creature was revealed for its true form.

Murtoa approaches the frozen chieftain, kneeling down painstakingly to set the terrified Zaereen down. He sets the sword Zaermaa down next to the chieftain, who can only look at it. Though she’s wearing her ceremonial mask, it’s clear she’s dumbfounded.

The Zaereen stumbles free of his hand, all but falling against the chieftain as she whimpers unintelligibly. He pivots to Coco, receiving the unconscious fairy from the teen, and then placing her gently on the log next to the sword. Schieranna waves at the chieftain with a prideful smile.

The colossus-slayer states calmly, “I’m taking Maerin.” He rises to his feet, walking back to the hut where his gear is currently stored, with Coco, Maerin, and Schieranna in tow.

The warrior painstakingly puts his gear back on, clearly in pain from his left shoulder. Coco asks, “Ye WERE tumbled!” She jogs to his side, taking his shirt to help him put it on more gently. “Ye shoul’ have Tricksie spit-glow ye.”

“Later. We should make sure Gyrryth is okay.”

Maerin grumbles from Coco’s gearbag, “An’ what’ye think you can do if he not?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not dead yet.” Coco frowns as she continues to help Mury get dressed.

Schieranna chuckles, amused by the conversation. Just as they all care about Lykha, they all worry about Mury, they all respect Gyrryth, they all treasure Maerin, and they all love Coco. It’s refreshing for a timeless spirit trapped in a prison for an untold number of centuries. Perhaps even millenia.

However, once Murtoa is geared back up in his makeshift armor, he looks at Schieranna. “Are you changing?”

No. Definitely not. No. Not now that he’s looking. You’re not allowed. I forbid it. He’s never allowed to see me naked again. That’s going in the contract from now on. Seriously, don’t.

Schieranna smiles, replying warmly, “Lykha says she’s fond of this dress, actually.”

Mury nods. “Coco, do you mind carrying her old one?”

Coco nods, taking Lykha’s normal shirt and pants. She jokes though, “I dunno, Tricksie’s belongin’s awful hefty.”

I kinda wish I helped Maerin now.

Schieranna grins, and Coco notices, grinning deviously herself.

The four turn towards the door of the hut, however, and find the chieftain standing at the door.

While Mury is putting on a strong face for his friends, no doubt, Schieranna wonders if they can win a fight against the villagers if it comes to that. She’s not sure how much they actually knew about the coratodra -to them, the Neekimuugorr-, but they revered it like a god, it seemed, and Mury killed it. Though, technically, the argument could be made that Schieranna killed it, he guided her hand without doubt and with a solid plan.

Plus, if it’s going to start a war, Schieranna definitely doesn’t want credit.

************************************