Gira stared in awe as the screen revealed the city sprawling at the feet of the dead colossus.
The camera shifted slightly, and Lucas’s voice crackled through the call. “Pretty unreal, isn’t it?”
From his vantage point on the balcony, Lucas captured the cascade of cubic houses below. Their whitewashed facades and sharp-edged terraces clung to the hillside like scattered building blocks, jutting out at uneven angles as if defying gravity. The homes spilled downward, winding toward the cliff where the earth dropped abruptly into a misty abyss.
Despite the darkness, the city shimmered in waves of color. The cobbled streets below radiated a soft, otherworldly light—prismarine blues and sea-tinted greens emanated from lamps and fixtures, illuminating the city’s winding streets. The luminous hues shifted and rippled, bouncing their living light across the frosted rooftops and icy railings, giving the city an ethereal vibrancy under the colossus’s oppressive shadow.
“The city is called Heilagjǫtunn,” Lucas said, his voice soft, trying not to disturb the scene as he panned across the icey city. “A city built at the literal feet of a Nókktald—pretty insane, huh?” He panned the camera across the cascading buildings, capturing the wave of colors as they dissipated into the dark.
Gira scanned the city, his breath catching at the stark contrast between its glowing streets and the dark, snowy veil above. “Wow,” he muttered, barely audible, his eyes following the snowflakes spinning lazily around Lucas. “Say, Lucas, what is—or what does Nókktald mean?”
Lucas turned the camera, the lens tilting upward to once again reveal the towering shadow above. Its figure stared down from high above, its nature veiled by the falling snow. Shrouding the colossal form in mystery, yet their was this dread that Gira didn’t quite understand—a silhouette so massive it swallowed the city in twilight.
“That…” Lucas said softly, raising his mechanical arm to point at the faint outline. His metal fingers lingered in the air, trembling slightly.
Gira’s eyes widened, his gaze locked on the barely visible outline of the head of the Nókktald just beyond the feathery snowfall.
Lucas’s voice dropped as he continued, “There are beings people call the Symbols of Creation—fifteen entities that reshaped the very firmament of everything.” He paused, his hand still hovering, “…among their creations were beings like that—a Nókktald, a relic of the race for supremacy.”
He lowered his hand, the lens lingering on the silhouette.
Gira sat in silence, studying the being. His imagination was running wild as he imagined the giant in life. The weight of its form shifting mountains, the sound of its roar reveberating through the skies, the awesome terror of the colossus.
Gira broke the silence; his voice edged with wonder. “H-how—how did something that huge end up like that?”
Lucas panned down, revealing more of the giant's body, its petrified legs entwined with strange, angular buildings. Buildings that glowed with a human warmth as they clawed up the remains like ever-growing vines, clinging to an old dead tree. Gira’s breath hitched as Lucas revealed a massive dark steel structure piercing the old bone, binding both its legs to the darkness beyond its frame.
“It was crucified,” Lucas said, his tone hushed, reverent. “By Inazuryu the Lightning Cross and Dinobrassax the Symbol of Oppression.” He let the names hang in the air, esoteric and heavy. “Esthes-3—this planet—was the scene of a battle beyond us. The greatest battle in its history was waged here once. And this is all that’s left. The haunting remains of those who lost. The Nókktald.”
The feed wavered slightly as Lucas adjusted the camera, steadying it to frame the glowing structures twisting like vines around the Nókktald’s petrified legs. The snowfall intensified, the flakes swirling against the lens, their delicate patterns briefly catching the light before vanishing into the dark.
Gira couldn’t hold back a smile, his awe plain as he whispered, “That’s so freaking cool….” his words trailing off, lost in the inmensity of the giant.
The camera shifted suddenly, cutting back to Lucas.His face came into view, his nose bright red from the cold, cheeks slightly flushed. He smiled weakly before he scurried back inside, placing the crystalcomm on a table. The crystalcomm wobbled for a moment as it settled, the view tilting to show the cozy but slightly messy dimly lit room.
Lucas rubbed his shoulder briskly, exhaling a visible puff of breath. “One sec,” he muttered, fiddling with a small control on his mechanical arm. With a faint click, the plating shifted, revealing glowing orange coils beneath. A soft hum filled the air as the warmth spread, his arm emitting radiant heat.
"Ahhh…nice and toasty,” he remarked as he moved his arm up and down like a makeshift heater. The orange glow pulsed faintly from the exposed plating, casting soft light on Lucas.
“Dude, your arm is so handy!” Gira exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. He leaned closer to the screen, practically bouncing. “Did you get it??”
K-11leaned in, growling softly .“The beta design was superior,” he grumbled, his synthetic voice cool and monotone despite the rumbling in his throat.
Lucas sighed, “Your design was too aggressive! It had a triple-serrated chainsaw with barely any articulation!”
“Did you get my jo—”
K-11’s large, clawed hand shifted, as though gesturing dismissively. “Overcompensated Kyyr distribution. Limited weapons inputs. Inefficient thermal venting under stress,” he rattled off, each word delivered with calculated precision, his synthetic tone making it sound like a rehearsed lecture.
Gira blinked, his mouth falling open slightly as he tried to follow. “But did you guys get my—”
Lucas rolled his eyes, raising his arm to flex his mechanical fingers. “I—NEED—to—be able—to GRAB—things!” he said as he articulated his fingers into an accusatory point as he walked over to the table. “ I don’t care if I can’t shoot out knives, bladed bullets, or have claws.”
K-11 looked away from the feed, his amber eye narrowing slightly as it lingered on Lucas’s arm. “Lame Vileblood excuses,” the Rak’da synthetic voice said as he gave a half-growl—or scoff? I honestly can’t tell.
Gira smiled, looking back and forth between the two, amused by their banter. “So—did you get my joke?”
Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
“YES!” both Lucas and K-11 shouted at him in unison, their voices overlapping in exasperation, followed by a low growl from K-11.
Gira leaned back with a triumphant grin. "Hehe."
Lucas exhaled, smiling at Gira’s demeanor, “I’m glad you haven’t changed, bud. I was honestly scared of how you would act after activating your calamity core…”
“My what?” Gira asked, his expression going blank as his brain loaded up his vocabulary zone. His hair bits twitched slightly as if trying to jumpstart his thought process. Suddenly, Gira perked up, his face lighting with a flash of realization. “OH! Right—yeah, that broke or something. I don’t know.” He shrugged, his tone as casual as if he were talking about a broken toaster.
Lucas eyes shot wide open. “IT WHAT?” Lucas shouted as he grabbed the crystalcomm. “H-how are you alive?!”
Gira waved a dismissive hand, completely unbothered. “I don't know what that is but the me inside me told me it was broken or something. I still have no clue what half the crap you guys say even means. I just figured I'd be fine since I don’t hurt anywhere.”
Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering under his breath. “Of course. Why would you think a calamity core—with the words CALAMITY in the name—breaking is a big deal?” He sighed, shaking his head. “Only you, Gira. Only you.”
“Savagrios didn’t seem to care.” Gira said casually as he stared up into the sky, remembering his big red friend.
Lucas snapped his head to the camera as he squinted at the nonchalant Gira. “Excuse me—d-did you just say S-Savagrios?”
Gira looked back down at the screen, his expression unbothered, though his hair bits twitched slightly as if catching on to Lucas’s rising panic. “Uh, yeah?” he replied, his tone casual. Then, with a sudden burst of enthusiasm, he added, “Oh, and don’t worry—not the same one from those people-eating videos Bern showed me!”
Lucas loosened his posture as he picked up the crystalcomm, slouching back into his seat. Okay… but could you please explain yourself a little?”
Gira put his hand on his chin and thought for a second, organizing his thoughts, “ “Alright, let’s see... So, when I use Kyyr, I sometimes see a bunch of weird arms and one of them was crimson red. Right—that was me? I think—I’m not really sure yet, but I’m like 70% sure its me…”
Both K-11 and Lucas gave a weary look. “Oh, okay?” Lucas muttered.
“Yeah, so… that red arm was Savagrios and he helped me turn into a Coarseblood! Which was a really weird experience. I mainly remember being super hungry—anyways, turns out my body wasn’t good enough? Or something… and my calamity core cracked or something. So yeah. That’s about it.” He ended with a carefree smile.
Lucas dropped his head into his hands with a groan. “No offense, Gira, but that sounded incredibly deranged.”
“I concur with the Russo Spawn.” K-11 chimed in, his synthetic voice steady and monotone as he tipped the last of a massive tub of Basidrame Bites into his jaw.
“Deranged? How?!” Gira protested, “You literally live under the corpse of a giant!”
“That’s different!” Lucas defended himself.
“How?!”
“Because I can see it outside my window!” Lucas pointed dramatically toward the vague direction of the colossal shadow. “Your little story, on the other hand, sounds like you actually did have brain damage when I found you!”
“Gasp!” Gira exclaimed. Wait, did he literally just say the word gasp—“I told you my brain was just warming up!” He turned to K-11, waving his arms as if for backup. “Plus, K-11 could see him, right?” He pointed at the Rak’da expectantly.
K-11 said nothing. His amber eye stared ahead, unfazed.
“Smell him?” Gira tried, his voice faltering slightly as he looked back at the Rak’da. Still nothing.
“...S-sense him?” Gira’s voice shrank, almost pleading.
K-11 finally gave a single, deliberate nod.
“HA!” Gira exclaimed, throwing a triumphant finger in the air. “See? K-11 sensed him. I’m not crazy.”
Lucas stared at him, deadpan. “That’s not as reassuring as you think it is, Gira.”
K-11 emitted a low, synthesized hum, his tone flat. “It is not.”
Gira frowned a little. “Whatever—anyways my calamity core broke—big whoop. I’m still kicking and itching to explore Krreat! Say—Lucas, when are you coming back?”
Lucas blinked, looking around. “Uhhhhh—probably after I finish ranger training... in like a year?”
“A year?” Gira groaned, slumping dramatically against K-11. “Man… that's... actually,” he paused for a moment. “Uhhh—I don’t really have any real framing for time because I’ve only been awake for a combined total of about a single day.” His own words smacking him as he perked up, shrugging. “Welp—guess I’ll just explore Krreat until you’re back.”
Lucas sighed, "Ohh, right... you keep bringing that up. You know, there’s seriously just empty rooms up there. Long, endlessly stretching in every which way, with your only company being the hum of the vents and the distant echo of machines endlessly cleaning.”
“Beats being forced to do stuff,” Gira replied with a dismissive shrug. “Like, the rangers seem fine and all—but I just don’t...” He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. His tone was light at first, but Lucas caught the faint shift in his expression. Gira’s gray-black eyes shifting in color, their hue softening to a light, sky-like blue as he continued. “It’s hard to describe, but there’s this... horrid dread.” His voice grew quieter, his gaze oddly tender.
Lucas sat up, his brow furrowing as he studied Gira carefully. “What do you mean?”
The color in Gira’s eyes faded back to their usual gray-black, and he blinked, breaking whatever train of thought he’d been following. “It just seems boring, I guess,” he said quickly, waving it off with an exaggerated smile. “Anyway, Krreat isn’t going to explore itself?”
Lucas didn’t respond immediately, his eyes focusing on Gira’s eyes. Did his eyes just change color, or am I having a stroke? He shook his head. “Well—At least can I have you go with someone?”
“Why?” Giras asked bluntly.
“Because you might go missing up there,” Lucas said, pointing at Gira with emphasis. “It’s super freaking big—like an incredibly big and confusing maze. Endless halls, random doors, rooms that don’t lead anywhere. You’ll probably end up dehydrated and dead if you go alone.”
Gira snorted, crossing his arms. “I’ve actually got an amazing sense of direction. Plus, K-11 will be with me!”
Lucas narrowed his eyes. “He’ll probably just end up eating you.”
“What? K-11 would ne—” Gira stopped mid-sentence and turned to the Rak’da, his expression shifting to cautious optimism. “You wouldn’t, right?”
“I would,” K-11 replied without a moment’s hesitation, his synthetic voice flat and emotionless.
Gira’s smile drooped a little. "Damn—but I get it. Being hungry sucks.”
“Regardless,” Lucas muttered, pausing as his mechanical finger hovered over the contact list on his crystalcomm. His gaze lingered on one name—the only person he knew who wouldn’t just be willing but thrilled to drag another weary soul into the entrails of Krreat.
He hesitated, his finger twitching over the contact—still resigned himself in his decision. “It was only a matter of time before you two would meet…”
With a resigned sigh, Lucas tapped the name: Aria Mourns. He wrote a brief message that he hesitantly sent, his words vanishing into the ether with a faint chime. He slid down in the fluffy white sofa, staring at the screen, half-regretting his choice and half-curious about how a meeting of the minds like theirs would be.