The bloodied man was quickly ushered away by two town nurses, their faces tight with concern as they helped him toward the back of the hall. His legs wobbled, barely able to hold him up after the adrenaline left his system. The wounds he bore told a grim story—slashes and punctures from blades, his clothes stained with a deep crimson that dripped onto the stone floor. Elmore watched him go, feeling a sense of profound anger settle deep in his chest. This attack was deliberate and brutal. They were playing for keeps.
As Elmore’s thoughts churned, a sudden *ping* resonated in his mind—a pop-up window formed in his Nexus interface, drawing his immediate attention. The text was cold and clinical, yet its meaning was clear:
[WAR DECLARED: BoonThrone]
- Time until engagement: 7 days
- Objective: Victory determines fate of the losing throne
- Reward: TBD by the Aither System
Elmore’s jaw clenched. The Aither system had formalized the conflict, turning it into something far more than a regional skirmish. It was now a battle that would alter the very existence of one of the thrones. The fate of thousands, would hinge on the outcome.
He turned his gaze back to the hall, where his people stood in tense silence, waiting for his command. Elmore stepped forward, raising his voice so all could hear him.
“The Aither system has made it official,” he declared, his tone somber but resolute. “We’re at war. We have seven days. The winner decides the fate of the losing side.”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the room, the weight of his words sinking in. Elmore held up a hand to silence them. “I’m not going to sugarcoat this. The lord of Boon has thrown down the gauntlet, and they’re coming for us. But we’ll be ready. We’ve faced beasts, bandits, and worse. We’ll face this, too.”
Without missing a beat, Elmore started issuing orders, his voice commanding and decisive. “First things first—we need to take stock. Brett, I want a full count of our ammunition by tomorrow. Work with the blacksmiths to produce any weapons or armor we might need. If we’re short on anything, let me know.”
Brett nodded sharply and moved toward the door, already shouting orders to the men to start preparing inventories.
Elmore turned to the crowd again. “Any of you good old boys with trucks, it’s time to armor them up. I want those rigs fortified like nothing can get through ‘em. We’re turning one of the dozers into a makeshift tank—something to plow through whatever they send our way. Dad, you’re in charge of that.”
His father, standing near the back, gave a grunt of acknowledgment. The old man was stubborn and meticulous, the best mechanic around. If anyone could turn a dozer into a battle-ready vehicle, it was him.
“As for the rest of you,” Elmore continued, “we need to prepare. Decide now—who will fight and who will stay behind in the Hall of Beginnings for safety. We can’t leave anyone vulnerable. If you’re staying, I want you to secure the hall and make sure all our supplies are moved further inland. Anything valuable needs to be protected.”
People were already splitting into groups, talking in hushed voices about who would go where. Some men, veterans of old hunts and wars, had already decided to fight. Others, the non-combatants meaning the women and children and what few men knew they were not good in a fight, quietly resolved to stay behind. The air was thick with tension, but also determination. These were hardy folk, used to fighting for their survival.
Elmore allowed a moment for the people to sort themselves before raising his voice again. “For the next three to four days, I’ll be taking a group of no more than ten men into the woods. We’re going to hunt as many beasts as we can. I need to level up before this war starts, and the more of us that can do the same, the better. If any of you want to form your own hunting parties, do it—but stay safe. Don’t take unnecessary risks. Focus on getting stronger.”
There were nods of agreement, and already a few experienced hunters were planning their own expeditions into the wilds. They all knew that any edge they could gain in the next few days might be the difference between life and death.
“And one last thing,” Elmore added, his tone stern. “We’re not just fighting to defend land. We’re fighting for our families. We can't lose Not to them. Move anything important, anything valuable, toward the center of the chiefdom. We can’t afford to leave anything out in the open.”
The crowd murmured in assent, understanding the gravity of the situation. Elmore took one last look at his people, standing strong in the face of the looming threat, before calling the meeting to a close.
“Get to work, everyone. We’ve got seven days.”
As the hall began to empty, Elmore turned to Ash, the person who had stood by his side through everything. Ash, with her calm but fiery spirit, gave him a reassuring look. nodded in silent agreement with the orders given. There was little left to say—preparations had to be made.
---
That evening, Elmore returned home with Ash, Edward, and their dog ditzy following close behind. The air had taken on that late autumn chill, and the soft glow of their home’s hearth was a welcome sight. For a moment, as they stepped inside, the weight of the war and the coming days faded, replaced by the comforting warmth of family.
Elmore knelt to Edward’s level, ruffling his hair with a smile. “How’s my little man doing?”
Edward grinned, wrapping his arms around his father’s neck in a tight hug. “Good! I helped Mama today!”
Ash chuckled softly, watching the scene unfold. Despite the looming threat, the love between father and son was a balm to the day’s stress. She placed her hand on Elmore’s shoulder as he stood, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek.
“We’ll get through this,” she whispered.
Elmore gave a small nod, pulling her close for a moment. “We always do.”
The rest of the night passed in a quiet, almost somber peace. They ate a simple meal together, sharing stories and laughter that felt like a momentary reprieve from the coming storm. Elmore couldn’t help but feel the weight of the battle ahead, but he also knew that nights like this—spent with his family, safe and together—were what he was fighting for.
___________________________________
Elmore woke with a sense of grim purpose. He moved through the house with silent efficiency, gathering his gear for the hunt ahead. His leather armor, worn and flexible from years of use, was slung over his shoulders, and he fastened it securely before strapping on his ammo pouches. His shotgun, its grip worn smooth from countless encounters, lay beside his trusty axe, both weapons charged with Aither, ready to be tested again. He checked the shells—enough to last several engagements, but he knew they'd have to be precise with their resources.
His canteen, filled with the last of the cold coffee Ash had brewed the night before, was clipped to his belt. It would be a long day, and the caffeine would be necessary to keep his senses sharp. As Elmore tightened his boots and prepared to leave, he felt a presence behind him.
Turning, he saw Ditzy, his loyal 100-pound Pitbull, blocking the doorway. Her intense brown eyes were fixed on him, her body language making her intentions clear. She wasn’t letting him leave without her. Ditzy’s gaze was unwavering, her head held low, her broad chest puffed out as if to say, *I’m coming with you.*
Elmore sighed, his hand brushing through his beard as he crouched to her level. “Ditzy, this ain’t gonna be a stroll through the woods. We’re hunting beasts. Dangerous ones.”
She tilted her head, her ears perked, the slight wag of her tail the only sign of her stubborn defiance.
Elmore raised an eyebrow and tapped his knee, signaling her to stay. She didn’t move. Instead, she gave a low huff, and her stance remained firm, every muscle in her body tense with determination. He could feel her resolve. This wasn’t just a dog's loyalty; she was telling him, in her own way, that she was part of this fight too.
“Fine,” Elmore said, standing back up. “But if you’re comin’, you’re followin’ orders. Understood?”
Ditzy gave a soft bark in response, her tail wagging slightly. Elmore chuckled under his breath, patting her on the side. “Alright then. Let’s get to work.”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Together, they left the house, walking through the crisp morning air toward the meeting spot. When they arrived at the edge of the town, Brett was already there, standing tall with his wild mane of brown hair and beard. His sharp blue eyes caught sight of Elmore, and a grin split his face, revealing the sharpness of his teeth—a remnant of his Aither-powered [K9 Transformation].
Around them stood a group of men, rough around the edges, bearded, and clad in makeshift armor. They were the mountain men—Elmore’s finest.
The first to speak was Hank, a hulking figure with a thick red beard and arms like tree trunks. His skill, [Brute Strength], made him a human battering ram. “Morning, Chief,” Hank said, his voice a deep rumble. He wore a simple flannel shirt, the sleeves cut off to reveal arms corded with muscle. “Ready to bag us some beasts?”
“Always,” Elmore replied, giving him a nod.
Next to him was Charlie, a wiry man with gray streaks in his otherwise dark beard. His eyes sparked with energy, and Elmore knew he held the power of [Electrokinesis], able to discharge electricity in controlled bursts. “Weather's good for a hunt,” Charlie said, his fingers twitching as though eager to let loose some sparks.
On the other side of the group stood the twins, Rick and Ron, both with rifles slung over their shoulders. They had the [Sharpshooter] skill, which doubled their dexterity when using ranged weapons. Their matching black beards and camo gear made them hard to tell apart, but Elmore had long since learned the small differences between the two. “Got plenty of ammo,” Rick said, patting his rifle. “Just make sure to give us clear shots.”
“I’ll handle the scouting,” said John, a lanky man with piercing green eyes. His skill, [Hawkeye], allowed him to zoom his vision like a living scope. “Nothing’ll get past me.” He wore a woolen cap pulled low, his rifle gleaming at his side.
Then there was Tim, a shorter man with a constant smirk on his face. His ability, [Echolocation], made him invaluable in dense woods and caves, clicking his tongue to sense things others couldn’t see. He clicked once, his smirk widening. “Sounds like we’re gonna have a good day.”
Wes, a tall, lean man with a salt-and-pepper beard, had [Fast Twitch Muscle], allowing him bursts of extreme speed when needed. He was already stretching, his movements swift and controlled, ready to bolt at a moment’s notice.
The last two were big men, like Hank, both with the [Tough Skin] skill that doubled their resistance. Frank, the elder of the two, had a beard streaked with white, while his younger companion, Sam, had a thick, dark beard. “We’ll hold the line if need be,” Frank said gruffly, his voice as solid as his skin.
And finally, Brett stood to Elmore’s right, towering over most of the men. His Aither abilities, [K9 Transformation] and [Advanced Smell], gave him a natural advantage in the hunt, and his sharp senses had saved their group more than once. His muscles rippled as he casually stretched, the faint outline of fur rippling across his skin before fading.
“Well, boys,” Elmore said, casting his gaze across the group. “This ain’t gonna be easy. But we’re the ones best suited for it. We hunt, we bring back the spoils, and we make sure this town’s ready for what’s comin’.”
There were nods of agreement, and Ditzy barked beside him, as if echoing the sentiment. Elmore scratched her behind the ears and smiled.
“Let’s get movin’.”
Elmore and his crew set off from the village just as the morning mist began to lift, the damp forest floor crunching under their boots. The air was cool, sharp with the scent of pine and earth, as they ventured into the heart of the woods. Behind them, they dragged a long, thin trailer that was custom-made for this hunt—sturdy, with wooden slats reinforced by steel, meant to carry the beasts they would fell during their expedition. The trailer squeaked occasionally, but it moved easily over the rough terrain, guided by the group’s strong arms and sure footing.
The first hours passed effortlessly. Small, mutated creatures that had become common in the woods fell before the group’s coordinated strikes. The beasts they hunted were strange—some were familiar like deer or wild boar, but their appearances had been warped by Aither. Fur shimmered in unnatural colors, ranging from deep blues to violent reds, and claws and teeth were made of materials that seemed pulled from the earth itself—crystalline, metallic, or something entirely foreign. The men worked together as a well-oiled machine, setting up quick traps and springing ambushes that took down these creatures with precision.
Elmore led them with ease, his axe flashing in the daylight, striking true with every swing. Brett’s heightened senses proved invaluable, as his [Advanced Smell] guided them toward game trails, and occasionally, he partially transformed, his muscular frame growing leaner and more lupine. His [K9 Transformation] allowed him to dart ahead, sniffing out danger and targets with unmatched speed.
The others followed suit. Hank, with his [Brute Strength], could easily carry beasts twice the size of a man on his shoulders. His deep laugh boomed through the forest as he hoisted a strange boar with tusks made of solid iron, tossing it onto the trailer. Charlie, with his [Electrokinesis], stunned an Aither-twisted stag, its eyes glowing white, sending it convulsing to the ground before Frank and Sam finished it with heavy blows, their [Tough Skin] making them unshakable against the panicked beast’s last thrashing kicks.
The twins, Rick and Ron, with their [Sharpshooter] skills, expertly picked off creatures hiding in the higher branches of trees—odd, mutated squirrels and birds with glass-like feathers that refracted the sunlight in kaleidoscopic patterns. Their rifles cracked the air every so often, signaling another beast’s demise.
By mid-afternoon, the group had made it further into the woods than any of them had ever ventured in their smaller, more casual hunting parties. Now, under Elmore’s command, they moved deeper into uncharted territory. The beasts became larger, more feral, but the group handled them with ease. Each kill was swiftly loaded onto the trailer, which was now beginning to look like a moving gallery of unnatural, grotesque creatures. Crystal-toothed wolves, a scaled bear with shimmering emerald fur, and a fox with skin like polished stone—all felled by the crew’s efficiency and teamwork.
As evening approached, Elmore led them toward a path he remembered from his youth, one that twisted down toward a lake he hadn’t seen in years. He hadn’t made it far enough to see it today, but he knew there was good hunting around that area. Still, there was no rush. They’d already collected a fair haul for the day.
“We’ll make camp here,” Elmore called out as they reached a small clearing, large enough for their group but not too exposed. “We’ll aim for the lake tomorrow.”
They set to work quickly, Brett scouting the perimeter while the others gathered firewood and set up makeshift tents. Tim used his [Echolocation] to make sure there were no hidden threats in the darkening woods, clicking his tongue softly as he circled the camp. When he confirmed the area was safe, the men relaxed, setting up a fire at the center of the clearing.
As the fire crackled to life, they began to skin and butcher the smaller animals they’d caught earlier, cooking up their meat alongside the rations they’d brought. The smell of roasting meat filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the woods. Elmore pulled out his campfire coffee maker, setting it up on a small rock near the fire. “Can’t end a day without coffee,” he muttered, grinning as the others jeered and laughed, poking fun at his addiction to the bitter brew.
Meanwhile, Ditzy had proven herself as much a part of the crew as any of the men. Earlier in the day, she had taken down two wolves on her own—Aither-twisted beasts with fur that shimmered like glass and fangs sharp enough to slice through bone. She had stalked them silently through the underbrush, her body low and her eyes fixed on them with predatory focus. When she struck, it had been quick, efficient. The wolves never stood a chance.
Now, as the men gathered around the fire, Ditzy lay beside Elmore, her head resting on her paws but her eyes alert, watching the flames dance. The men tossed her pieces of cooked meat, praising her prowess in battle.
“Never seen a dog take down wolves like that,” Hank said, chuckling as he scratched Ditzy behind the ears. “She’s got more fight in her than most folk I know.”
Ditzy gave a soft grunt, accepting the praise with quiet dignity, though her tail wagged slightly whenever someone passed her a scrap of meat. Elmore smiled, watching his dog settle into her role among the men. “She’s a natural,” he said, tossing her another piece of venison. “Don’t know what I’d do without her.”
As the night deepened, the group relaxed, their bellies full and their spirits high. The trailer, half-filled with strange, warped beasts, sat nearby, a testament to their success on this first day. They shared stories, laughed, and planned for the days ahead, the flickering firelight casting long shadows around the clearing.
Elmore sat back, sipping his coffee, the warmth of the fire and the company of his men easing the tension in his chest. Tomorrow, they’d push further into the woods, closer to the lake, and hopefully find even greater prey. But for tonight, they had done well. They had done more than well. They had taken another step toward ensuring the survival of their people.
As the fire crackled and the stars began to shine overhead, Elmore couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of pride. They were ready for what was coming. Whatever threats awaited them, his people—his family—would be ready to face them head-on.
The night passed in quiet, broken only by the occasional crackle of the fire and the soft murmurs of the men as they took turns on watch. Each of them, in their time, sat by the fire, sipping from a shared pot of coffee that Elmore had brewed, its bitter warmth helping to keep them alert. Shadows danced across the trees, and the forest seemed alive with the subtle rustling of nocturnal creatures going about their business, but none ventured close enough to be of concern.
Hank took the first watch, his broad shoulders hunched as he stared into the woods, occasionally glancing down at Ditzy, who lay beside him, her ears perked and her nose twitching in the air. She seemed to be as vigilant as the rest of them. After a couple of hours, Brett took over, his enhanced senses allowing him to track even the faintest of sounds or movements in the distance. The night remained calm, and when the time came for Elmore's shift, he found himself sitting quietly, watching the fog roll in through the trees, the world gradually becoming blurred and dreamlike.
As dawn approached, the sun began to burn away the mist, and the fog lifted from the trees in lazy tendrils. The air grew warmer, the light more golden as it filtered through the dense canopy overhead. The group stirred from their sleep, shaking off the grogginess of the night as they packed up camp and prepared to continue their journey. The men checked their weapons and gear, while Elmore pulled his rations and refilled his canteen with cold coffee, feeling the familiar hum of anticipation building in his chest.
Ditzy trotted around the clearing, her muscles loose and ready, as if she knew they had a long day ahead of them. Elmore couldn’t help but grin at her, slinging his axe over his shoulder. “You’re raring to go, girl,” he muttered, ruffling her ears. She gave him a short bark in response, tail wagging.
The group gathered their things and, once again, hitched the trailer behind them. Though the terrain grew steeper and the brush thicker, their combined strength made the task easier than it should have been. Hank, with his [Brute Strength], and Frank and Sam, with their [Tough Skin], took turns pulling the weight, their muscles straining but showing no sign of quitting. Despite the challenge, they moved steadily through the Appalachian forest, weaving between trees and pushing through undergrowth.
As the morning wore on, they began to encounter creatures more formidable than the ones from the day before. A massive bear with crystalline claws and fur that shimmered like obsidian charged them out of the woods, but Elmore and Brett were on it before it could reach the group. Brett, half-transformed into his K9 state, ripped into the bear’s side while Elmore delivered a precise blow with his Aither-charged axe, sending the beast crashing to the ground. The others dealt with smaller threats—mutated wolves with metallic teeth, a feral elk with horns that looked more like blades than antlers. The group fought in sync, drawing on their combined Nexus abilities to deal swift and devastating blows to their attackers.
Though some of the men sustained injuries—scratches and bites mostly—their high vitality allowed them to heal as they pressed forward. Elmore noticed the way the wounds stitched themselves back together slowly over the hours, leaving only faint scars behind as reminders of the day’s battles. Endurance, however, began to be an issue. The constant hauling of the trailer and the long trek through the woods forced them to stop every so often for rest, the men leaning on their weapons or sitting in the dirt to catch their breath.
It was during one of these breaks, as Elmore leaned against a tree and wiped the sweat from his brow, that he caught sight of a familiar stream—a narrow ribbon of water that snaked through the forest, its soft gurgling sound cutting through the quiet.
“This way,” he said, pushing off the tree and leading the group toward it. “We’re close.”
The men followed without question, their heavy boots squelching in the soft soil as they made their way alongside the stream. As they traveled downstream, the terrain leveled out, and the trees began to thin. The sound of the water grew louder, more forceful, and soon they found themselves standing at the edge of a large, clear lake, its surface glassy and still in the early morning light.
On the far side of the lake, a sheer cliff face loomed, towering above the surrounding landscape. Its gray stone was mottled with patches of green moss and dark, shadowed crevices. At the base of the cliff, just above the waterline, was the yawning mouth of a cave, dark and foreboding, with water lapping at its edge.
The group stopped at the shore, catching their breath and taking in the scene. Elmore felt a twinge of unease at the sight of the cave. Something about it was… off. The air around them seemed to hum with energy, and the surface of the lake rippled unnaturally, as though something beneath was stirring.
Then, suddenly, a pop-up appeared on his Nexus, followed by similar notifications on the others’.
**[Area Boss Encounter: "The Bass of the Mountain Air"]**
Elmore’s stomach clenched as he read the words. His eyes darted to the lake just as the water near the cave began to ripple more violently. Something large, something immense, was shifting beneath the surface, its form indistinct but undeniably massive.
The men stood frozen for a moment, their eyes wide as they took in the pop-up and the strange movement in the water.
"Well, damn," Hank muttered, his grip tightening on his axe.
Elmore stepped forward, his heart pounding as he stared at the lake, the shape beneath the surface growing clearer by the second. He could see it now, a massive, shadowy form gliding through the water, its scales catching the light in flashes of dull silver and deep green.
“We’re not backing down now,” Elmore growled, tightening his grip on his axe. He turned to the group, his voice low but steady. “Get ready. Whatever that thing is, we’re going to take it down.”