The distant sound of a slowly faded piano echoed through the air of a long worn hallway. The somber melody was bittersweet; its tender tune from a long-wilted instrument reverberated through the vastness of here. A pleasant voice accompanied the melody—a sweet hum, tender and warm. Its melancholy swayed in and out, vibrating through the halls with a lingering resonance.

Weak light filtered onto the plated gray walls of the eerie corridor, slicing through the intricate mess of shadows beyond the long window running parallel to the wall. The light swayed faintly like a tender breath, brushing softly against the speckled carpeting on the floor.

Scattered patches of strange lichens and mosses clung to the floor and walls, sprouting like stray weeds in a forgotten forest. Amidst the overgrowth sat a small spherical machine, its once-pristine ivory frame now encrusted with green moss. Its round little frame lay on its side, its little legs folded uselessly against gravity. Like a lifeless body, the little mechanoid sat still enveloped in song and moss.

The song began to fade and with it the sweet humming. At the far end of the hall, just beyond reach of the dim light, at the edge of light and shadow, there was a large formless figure. Its frame swiveled as it peered toward the small mechanoid. A piercing single red light flashed in intervals from the gloom. The red light slowly dimmed, like a fading heartbeat. Then, the massive formless silhouette shifted as it silently lurched back deep into the darkness. Leaving the hallway in quiet solitude.

----------------------------------------

After saying their goodbyes to Lucas, K-11 and Gira sat in silence under the darkening blue sky. The hum of machines and the faded conversations blended with the faint rustling of the tree they sat under.

For a while, they talked aimlessly, tossing out half-baked ideas about what to do next. Lucas had mentioned Aria—a name that he’d heard quite a bit, yet he had a hard time figuring out why they compared the two so often.

Gira frowned, his gaze fixed on the blue expanse above the towering form of the megastructure as alluring as the day he’d first seen it. He stood, shoving his hands into his pockets as a chilly breeze surged past them, rustling the flower beds around them.

“So,” he muttered after a pause, “this Aria person… have you ever met her, K-11?”

K-11 stirred, lifting his head from where he’d curled up. Despite his size, the large Rak’da looked like an old tired house cat under the tree. “Erratic. Stubborn. Sad. Spirited. Loud. Excitable…” He was very matter-of-fact as he listed traits, before he paused, his amber eyes flickering as he considered something. “She is very human.”

Gira narrowed his eyes, starring at K-11. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

K-11 tilted his head as he thought, “When I think of humans, I think of Vilebloods like her.” he said simply. “She will be a good guide,” he added with a nod.

Gira sighed as he turned back to look up at the underside of Krreat. The intertwining structures that wove through the megastructure were now beginning to turn their lights on.

“Guess I’ll try and figure out where Xizu lives…” he muttered, pulling out his crystalcomm. He awkwardly smiled as he fidgeted with the device. How the heck does this thing work?! He tapped aimlessly, flipping through menus, swiping in random directions, and opening apps he didn’t recognize, trying to figure out how to call Xizu or Bern.

K-11 watched in silence as Gira did everything but hit the contact button. Finally, his synthetic voice broke through Gira’s focused fumble. “Query: do you require assistance?”

Gira froze mid-swipe, glancing over his shoulder with a defeated smile. "Uh—yes, please…” he admitted, holding out the crystalcomm in defeat.

The Rak’da expertly handled the device, despite the size of his claws there was borderline supernatural dexterity to how he handled the device as he showed Gira how to use the device. “Observe,” K-11 said simply, his amber eye glinting faintly.

Gira leaned in as K-11 patiently walked him through the basics, his synthetic voice steady and methodical. He showed Gira how to add contacts, how to call for help, and how to use the various applications installed on the device. Within minutes, K-11 had queued up a call to Xizu—whose name appeared in Gira’s contact list as Mommy.

“Eww, how do I change that?” Gira asked.

You can edit from here." K-11 replied, pointing to the screen.

Gira quickly tapped the screen, muttering under his breath as he changed her name to just Xizu. Satisfied, he hit the call button and waited as the line connected.

“Thank you,” Gira said as the dial rang, glancing at K-11. “Say… you’re a lot friendlier than what I imagined Rak’da would be like.”

K-11’s eyes stared up at the darkening sky. “ I share this sentiment,” he said softly, his synthetic voice growing mellow. “The small good I encountered here contrasts the bleak beyond this place. To think for once, rational beings could speak to one another. Perhaps the system beyond this world is what made those who came before me—hate.”

Gira tilted his head in confusion as he listened.

“It may be, we Rak’da became too lost in the pleasure of our selves…” K-11’s synthetic voice trailed off. K-11 shook his head, "Please ignore my ramblings,” he said, his tone regaining its usual steady cadence. “I too find you people far more... friendly than I had imagined.”

Gira silently looked at K-11. He opened his mouth to respond, but the ringing finally stopped, ending the brief sincerity. Xizu’s voice came through the line, bright and intrusive, interrupting their exchange.

“Gira? Did K-11 take you to Bazet’s Bites? You better have enough space for dinner in a couple hours.” Xizu’s voice chirped through the crystalcomm, warm but with a new motherly edge.

Gira sighed, leaning back against K-11. "Yeah, I will... question—Where do you guys live?”

“Just have K-11 bring you back to the ranger station,” Xizu replied smoothly. “We’re still here, after all. We’ll head home together.”

“Okie… cya in a bit,” he said, giving a little wave into the void.

“Alright, see you soon, swee—uh, buddy?” Xizu stumbled slightly, the awkwardness in her voice breaking through her usually composed demeanor.

“You can just call me Gira.” he said warmly.

Xizu paused on the other side of the line, clearly embarrassed. “Right. See you soon, Gira,” she replied, her voice softer this time before the line went dead.

Gira lowered the crystalcomm, staring at it for a moment before turning to K-11. The Rak’da had been silent during the entire exchange, his massive frame still under the trees shade.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

“She really wants me to call her mommy? She can barely call me ‘sweetie’” Gira said with a shrug. Gira stretched, putting the crystalcomm in his pocket. “Anyway, guess we’re going back to the ranger station.”

K-11 nodded, already moving to rise, his massive frame looming over Gira. Climbing back onto K-11 the two began their journey back to the ranger station.

The trip back wasn’t as exhilarating as before, but there was a serene brevity to the moment. The thrill of the afternoon had been replaced by a tranquil peace. The horizon’s blue was fading as distant clouds began to swirl in-between a honey-dipped gold and sweet strawberry pink.

Gira sat atop K-11 staring in silence at the rays of golden light piercing through. His eyes were lost in the beauty of the sky—enamored by the grandiose form of the fluffy colossi that painted the sky in a wispy interplay of texture and color.

The crimson scar of the shattered sky did little to dissuade the beauty as K-11 moved steadily beneath Gira. Despite his massive biomechanical body, there was close to no sound. Letting the soft rustle of the afternoon breeze bathe the two in a cozy reprieve.

Gira closed his eyes with a faint smile. There had been a mild dread within him, but no more. He let the colors bathe him in a serenity he quietly cherished.

They arrived at the Krreat Ranger Station in silence. K-11 scaled the walls with practiced ease, reaching the roof access to his perch.

“Gira, if you ever require my assistance, I’ve added myself to your contacts,” K-11 said as Gira slid down from his back. “Next time we meet here, I wish to learn more about the crimson you.”

“Why here? Wait—do you live here?” Gira asked, pointing at the ground.

“I do indeed.”

“Oh. Also, by ‘crimson you,’ are you talking about my Coarseblood form?”

K-11 nodded, “Yes. I am very intrigued by it.”

Gira awkwardly half opened his mouth, “Uh, well... I’ll try and fix myself, but it might be a while before I can fully turn…” he admitted.

Extending his hand toward K-11, Gira concentrated. Straining his breath, he pulsed his Kyyr through his hand. Slowly, crimson scales blossomed around his fingers, encasing them in red claws. Letting out a strained exhale, he said, “This is all I can muster right now…”

K-11’s eyes widened, the quills at the back of his head perking up as he studied Gira’s hand. “How… intriguing…” the synthetic voice muttered as he hovered his claws around his hands in awe. “ I-I shall aid in your recovery,” he added softly.

“Okay, cool,” Gira replied nonchalantly, giving his hand a shake like an old dusty rag. He tilted his head as he studied his crimson clawed fingers, his expression thoughtful but not particularly concerned. “Hmm. I don’t remember how I got rid of the crimson bits last time…”

K-11 stiffened slightly at the remark, his claws twitching faintly in midair as if to grab the hand and examine it more closely.

“Oh well,” Gira said with a shrug, his carefree attitude cutting through the tension as he dropped his hand to his side.

K-11’s synthetic voice wavered slightly as he responded, “It would be... prudent to remember such details.”

Gira just grinned, patting K-11 with his untainted hand. ‘Yeah, yeah. I’ll figure it out sooner or later,” he said as he wandered over to the large entryway that led back to Bern’s office.

K-11 stared at his hand, the crimson memory of that night flashing in his mind as he recalled the power of the Coarseblood. “Your optimism is... noted.”

K-11 guided Gira not to the perch’s entrance from earlier, but to a similar gate that opened into the large pool area Gira had seen on the way to Bern’s office.

“We part ways here, friend.” K-11 said as Gira stepped through the threshold.

Gira gave him a smile, “See you around K-11! Maybe we can hang out tomorrow.”

“Indeed,” K-11 replied, his synthetic voice steady. “May we ‘hang out’ some other time.” With that, the Rak’da turned, his massive frame lunging off the roof in a single, fluid motion, and vanished.

Gira waved after him before turning to fully take in the loft overlooking the pool area. The loft contrasted sharply with the vibrant colors below. Its dark steel frame clearly a new addition. With the door behind closing with a smooth mechanical sound. Gira could really take in the ambiance of the pool room. There was a pressing nature to the wash of humid air. The chemical tang of treated water was now enshrouding him.

The temperature disparity was enough for him to shrug his jacket off as the moisture clung to his skin. As he pulled it free, his claws snagged on the sleeve, ripping through the fabric of his brand-new coat.

"Ah,” he mouthed silently, staring at the damage. I’ll fix that later…

Walking toward the railing that overlooked the pool area, Gira finally got a sense of just how massive the space was. It stretched out before him, enormous and sprawling, with towering slides twisting through the air like a jungle of tubing. The room was adorned with colorful sea-creature decorations and lush, tropical-looking plants, creating a vibrant and playful atmosphere.

Faint sounds of laughter and talking echoed through the space, coming from somewhere deep within the maze of slides. Gira looked around, trying to spot the source, before his gaze fell on a ladder leading downward.

He made his way to it, his fingers gripping the rungs. The metal was cool to the touch, and droplets of condensation clung to its surface, wetting his hands as he descended. He dragged his crimson hand along the wet metal, feeling the sharp contrast of the cool sensation against his scales. Wow… he dragged his hand against the wet metal, his hands capturing the cool wet sensation against his scales.

Sliding down onto an older maintenance catwalk, Gira paused, his boots clanging softly against the rusted metal. He glanced at his palm, his curiosity drawing his attention once more to his crimson hand. Grabbing it with his unaltered one, he turned it over carefully.

The surface was warm to the touch, sleek and smooth, yet each small movement caused the surface to fracture slightly. The shattered patterns gave it a coarse texture, fleeting but noticeable. He ran his fingers across the lines, watching as the fractures mended themselves after a moment of stillness, albeit not perfectly—each repair left faint imperfections beneath the crimson sheen.

He opened and closed his hand over and over, mesmerized by the cracking crimson patterns that seemed to shift and stretch beneath the surface. A smile crept across his face as he watched the patterns.

Gira… A voice echoed in his mind.

“Savagrios?” he asked aloud, startled.

No. The voice sounded almost offended.

“Then who? One of those other guys from my… dream? Vision?—Uhh, delusion?”

Uhh—yes… Sure.

“Well, what’s up, disembodied voice in my head?” Gira leaned on the railing, only to instantly recoil as his shirt absorbed moisture. “Ugh…”

I want to warn us…

“Warn me?”

We’re dying…

Gira froze mid-panic, “Wait—when you say ‘we’re’ do you mean as in you or bo—”

Blood erupted from his mouth as a blinding pain erupted from behind his eyes. Clouding his vision as he fell forward. Dropping his coat and crystalcomm over the edge and into the water below.

His eyes flew open as he fell on his side, bending his back in agony as he felt warm blood clogging his throat. Tear rolled down his eyes as he desperately reached for his own throat, crimson claws accidentally slicing into his neck. More blood spilled through the grates as the aperture painfully let air back into his lungs.

The crimson scales seemed to stand on end as they dug into his hand. The crimson mass expanding as it crawled up and around his neck and jaw, melding with his skin. The gurgling turned into muffled screams as he flailed around in pain.

With trembling effort, Gira reached out to grab the railing, but he couldn’t muster the grip strength and he collapsed again, slamming back down against the metal. Writhing on the ground he fought to pull his arm away from his neck, but the crimson growths burst into more scales.

Finally, his jaw cracked open, his human teeth replaced with jagged Coarseblood fangs. He couldn’t scream his throat, a messy intertwining web of crimson scales that seemed to pierce his own flesh with every breath. The bleeding had stopped as the crimson scales sealed his wound, but the sharp, stinging pain caused Gira to convulse.

Happy accidents… the voice whispered calmly.

Gira lay there, shaking, his body and mind reeling from the half-transformation as crimson tears streaked his face.