“It just took her, Captain!”

Cid’s voice was high-pitched and panicked, and his eyes were wide with shock. The dust and debris from the Spawn’s takeoff was still rolling outward, and the beast was just stooping above the smoking entrance to its lair.

“I saw, Cid.” Eric said, fighting to get his own emotions in check, getting himself to his feet and placing his hand on the scientist’s armored shoulder. The Spawn entered its lair, its thrumming wings creating vortices that disturbed the plumes of smoke as it descended inward. “We’ll get her back!”

Osar appeared beside them, his fearsome helmet receding as he came to a stop.

“What’s the plan Jad-Os.” The big Urgan rumbled, concern tightening his broad features and sweat visible on his grey skin.

Before Eric could answer there was a shimmer across the Atmospheric Dome above them. All of them looked up, half fearing that the Spawn had returned and was launching an airborne attack. When nothing appeared, the trio relaxed a bit, and Eric looked at the faces of his companions.

“We’ll have to go in after her,” Eric said firmly, his spirits lifting when the others nodded in assent. “Cid, I need you to get back to our Fall-Back position to rearm and resupply.”

“But…”

Eric steamrolled over the man’s objections, speaking calmly and clearly. “We need to put the hellspawn down as fast as we can and you and your Lancers are the best heavy weapons options we have. We’ll need you fully capable and operational in case we need you to strike the knock-out blow.”

Cid nodded reluctantly as Eric continued, his objections dying on his lips.

“Osar,” Eric continued, and the Urgan stood straighter. “You and I will hurry into the lair, try to keep the creature occupied and pinned down so Cid can hit it with all he’s got once he arrives.”

Osar nodded, just as Luna appeared beside them in a swirl of aether-generated pixels.

[Commander,] The Vessel Interface began immediately, before she had even fully-formed, and the urgency in her tone instantly caught everyone’s attention. [A small void-capable vessel has breached the Dome.]

Eric shook his head even as his instinct for danger spiked within him. However, he didn’t have time to deal with intruders while god knew what torture Serra was undergoing within the Spawn’s lair. “Mark and monitor for now Luna,” He told the worried-looking aetheric construct, ignoring the alarm in his companion’s faces. “Our priority is getting Serra and putting the Spawn down, in that order.”

[But Commander…]

“You have your orders everyone.” Eric rudely interrupted, willing his helm to flow out and cover his face. Without another word he engaged his jump jets and leaped upwards, tracing a parabolic arc directly towards the Gharun Spawn lair’s entrance. A glance at his auto-map showed Osar following close behind, while Cid peeled off towards their prepared supply cache, and Eric breathed a sigh of relief.

They were getting Jakobin back and then they were killing the fucking Gharun Spawn.

And then they would deal with whoever or whatever had decided today was a good time to invade their home. Whoever it was would learn just how wrong they were, but all of that would have to wait until Eric and his teammates got Serra back.

There was nothing more important than that.

Left behind, Luna stood for a moment looking at Eric’s receding back before dissolving once more into thin air.

The irregular lip of the entrance to the Gharun Spawn’s lair was made of congealed stone, sand and stone mixed together by some sort of organic cement, the lower edge worn smooth by the constant passage of the Spawn’s former caterpillar form. Thin wisps of black, foul-smelling smoke floated out of the higher, lesser-used edge, which was stained black from what was likely years of exposure.

< You have anything to tell me about this Gharun’s new form? > Eric asked softly as Osar touched down alongside him, the backwash of the man’s Voidwalker’s jets sending loose gravel clattering away all around them. Radiating a subtle pressure that Eric recognized as a singular focused will, waves of not-so-subtle threat seemed to pulse out from his comrade. Adding to the Urgan’s menacing presence and sense of purpose, his fearsome Squallbiter blade was already out and ready, resting edgewise on Osar’s broad shoulder plates, looking like death ready to be unleashed.

< Null, Jad-Os, > Osar grunted, so close now that Eric could hear the aetheric hum of the Urgan’s battlesuit’s. Despite the circumstances, Eric felt a smile twist one side of his lips upward as he heard Osar adopt the familiar Corp-Sec speech patterns. Less confusion this way, Eric thought with approval, looking at his Auto-Map to make sure Serra’s personal sigil was still green.

“Miss Jakobin’s vital signs are holding steady, sir.”

Eric nodded, not sure what he would have done had that not been the case. Eric’s hand tightened on the unfamiliar hilt of the sword he had chosen to temporarily replace the one he had lost to the Spawn’s claw. He would seek the sword later of course, but for now he was more concerned about losing time that could be better used bringing Serra back from the creature that had taken her.

“Pig, did you manage a fix on her location?”

“Sonic mapping of the area beyond the entrance is at eighty percent. I’ll have a partial map in a few minutes.”

“Excellent.”

Ready, Eric tapped Osar on a pauldron ang waved his hand forward once the man turned to him, indicating that they should proceed onward. Then, not waiting for the Urgan’s reply, Eric crouched to keep his head below the level of the black smoke and moved forward into the hole.

For the better part of five minutes the two fighters moved cautiously inward and down, though their attempts at stealth through the smoothened tunnel were largely frustrated by the faint but unmistakable sound of their boots on the metal-laced floor. The thick smoke hugged the tunnel ceiling for much of its length, but thankfully disappeared once Eric and Osar stepped down a level to the lower tunnels.

The Spawn’s inner lair was a deep vaguely oval space, probably a basement or an underground warehouse once upon a time, which the creature had modified by adding several layers of its self-produced cement. The tunnel Eric and Osar were following opened into the lair near the ceiling, just above a massive tub, about ten meters across, filled with red-glowing rocks, which also appeared to be the source of the black plume of smoke.

< Evercoal, > Osar said as he carefully positioned himself to look out from the very lip of the tunnel. There was a steep but navigable slope leading to the uneven lair floor at the far end of which was the transformed Spawn, crouched protectively over Serra’s still-armored form. < The beast must have gathered it from the surrounding buildings and used it to heat the cave. >

< Smart. > Eric studied the relatively confined space, noting several other tunnels leading out in different directions, as well as a small pile of what looked like garbage shoved into one corner. The sight of the pile stirred something in Eric’s chest, and he gave a surprised gasp.

< That’s a loot pile alright, > Osar said, audibly chuckling through the ‘Net. Eric shook his head in annoyance as his Flaw once more reared its greedy head. < The closer to evolution the elder beasts get the more they begin hoarding treasures, as if aware that they’re going to need such things once they achieve their humanoid forms. >

With an effort of will Eric pushed back his Flaw’s compulsion, turning his attention to the creature they had come to kill, weighing the pros and cons of the upcoming confrontation.

The transformed spawn was both smaller and yet appeared more dangerous than its previous incarnation: It’ body mass had shrunk by nearly half, and gone were the heavy plates of metallic armor that had once offered protection. It’s body also appeared to be frailer, while its diaphanous wings looked vulnerable. However, as if to compensate, the Spawn now had a longer reach advantage, with many of its limbs now reaching almost five meters in length, while the way it blazed with color under Eric’s Dragon Sight indicated that perhaps its aether-powered abilities were now more powerful.

Frankly, Eric would have loved to have more time to study the creature, but the sight of Serra’s body drove such luxuries from his mind. As they watched the Spawn turned the woman’s body over, running a serrated claw over the armor as if checking for weak spots.

< Osar, we’ll keep things simple, > Eric decided. < Get down there and gain its attention, I’ll come up with something to put the thing down. >

< Roger, Jad-Os. > Osar sent back without hesitation, before jetting down to confront the beast.

As soon as his armored boots touched the lair’s floor Osar let loose a lightning strike, driving back the beast from its captive. With amazing agility, the Spawn’s wings blurred and it zipped to the side, trying to come up on Osar’s flank. Osar cut to the side with his oversized sword, fending off the attack, before leaping forward and punching out with a near-solid gust of wind that impacted with a crack on the beast’s torso.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

The beast shrieked, its spindly bladed arms lashing at the Urgan, who took most of the blows on his force shield. One of the Spawn’s strikes however, snaked outward and hit Osar’s side, driving the big man to his knees.

Another crack of displaced air echoed within the confined space, and the Spawn staggered away from the kneeling Urgan, half of its face destroyed by a shot from Eric’s pain lance. Unbalanced, and clearly hurt, the Spawn flapped heavily towards the ceiling, scanning the far wall for its attacker. When it spotted the armored form just inside the shadow of the outgoing tunnel, the vengeful beast zipped forward, swiping at the figure with vicious force.

The bundle of armor pieces arranged over Eric’s empty Voidwalker frame clattered emptily across the room, a few of them damaged beyond repair, but there was no satisfying explosion of blood or the screams of the dying. Confused, the Spawn hovered for a moment, before something landed on its back from above. As soon as his naked body struck the Spawn, Eric became visible, his arms clutching at the bristle-haired back of the beast.

Mark.

Burden.

The huge creature collapsed downward into the smoking Evercoal pit as if swatted from above, its lower body crushed into the burning coals as it screamed in pain and outrage. Eric, rolled off the body and leapt for the edge of the burning tub, fumbling for a change of clothes as Osar loudly laughed in the distance.

After putting on some new clothes and then re-donning his battlesuit, Eric remained close by the now-flaming tub until the Spawn finally died, continuously reactivating Burden every time the ability began to wear off. Luna appeared briefly to talk to Eric for a moment, before disappearing again in a swirl of pixels and aether. When the Spawn finally stopped moving, Eric reached out and took the grilled body into his ring for a thorough looting later, turning around in time to see Osar moving towards him carrying the still-limp form of Serra in his arms.

< She appears stable, Jad-Os, > Osar said as he handed the woman over at Eric’s gesture. < We should bring her back to the Control Center for observation, but I think she’ll be fine. >

Eric nodded. < And the other… >

< I’ve taken everything the Spawn had collected Primus. >

< Good. > Eric said, feeling the tightness on his chest subside as the Flaw receded. He began walking up the slope along the wall towards the tunnel mouth, Osar following.

< I guess you managed to use that unusable ability of yours, eh? > Osar said a bit too casually as they reached the large opening. The Urgan tried to hide it, but Eric could hear the laughter in his words. < How did it feel? Breezy? >

< Shut up. >

The day held one more surprise.

Just as the they emerged from the tunnel mouth, both of them stopped.

Standing on the relatively flat area on the windy crest of the Spawn’s mound was a humanoid creature clad in a dark-green battlesuit. The intruder stood helmetless, but was also armed with a long sword made of some beautiful milky white metal. The face above the forward cowl of the armor’s breastplate was covered in pale brown fur which darkened into a wide strip at the top of the rounded head. Two large, brown eyes studied both of them intently, while a furred tail swung lazily behind it.

< Is that a monkey in a suit? >

< It’s a fucking Bolseq! > Osar muttered as if in response to Eric’s question, though his body tensed in readiness for action. < I fucking hate these clowns! >

Eric chuckled grimly at the Urgan’s words, but from what he could see either the lone adept confronting them was supremely confident in his abilities, or he was a fool.

“Esskos, strangers!” The figure shouted amiably, spreading its arms and allowing its bared blade to dangle from its right hand. “I named Nurixan, bounty-finder of the Clan Giboga. Talk, is are possible?”

< A bounty-hunter, eh? > Osar said, his voice sounding harsh, carefully keeping himself from looking at Eric and giving away the fact that they could communicate. < Makes me hate the fucker even more! >

< I smell an ambush. > Eric said, looking over the flat ground between them and the waiting adept and seeing nothing that stood out. Which made the whole situation even more suspicious. Eric was done underestimating his opponents: If anything, the fight they just had against the Spawn had made him even more paranoid than he usually was. Which truly was saying a lot, he admitted to himself with another quiet chuckle. < Do bounty hunters habitually do this sort of thing? >

< You mean do they confront unknown adepts in the open? > Osar asked with a rumble of dry amusement. < Not if they wanted to live long, fulfilling careers, they don’t. >

< That sounds right, > Eric agreed, acutely aware of Serra’s unmoving body in his arms. < So why do you think this asshole is acting this way? >

< We can ask. > Osar growled, before retracting his protective helm and facing the adept. Eric rattled off a series of instructions through the Squad-Net, even as he noticed a slight sheen of sweat on the Urgan’s grey skin. It was likely his friend was still not fully recovered from the battle they had just fought.

“What brings you to this place Nurixan of Clan Giboga?”

The Bolseq seemed taken aback by seeing an Urgan, but the furred man recovered quickly. “Passing through I was, friend Urgan,” It began, its tone polite. “I had heard a Wyrm of Sun was in the location/area, which is Core Quest for me.”

“The Wyrm is dead and gone, Bolseq,” Osar said amiably, “Killed and harvested by hunters a few months past.”

“That is a sadness,” Nurixan replied, looking not in the slightest bit sad. In fact, the aliens smile widened, showing large, pointed teeth. “I see you have injured friend, perhaps assistance I can be?”

“We can take care of our own,” Eric said, retracting his own helm as he spoke. The Bolseq appeared even more surprised at seeing Eric’s face than it had about seeing Osar’s. Its large brown eyes flicked from Osar’s face to Eric, undoubtedly trying to judge the relationship between the two.

“You let human speak that way, friend Urgan?”

Osar shrugged, showing the Bolseq his teeth as his chin fronds moved in mild agitation. “Jad-Os Eric can speak for himself.”

“Jad-Os?” The Bolseq’s eyes widened even further. “This human trash is Jad-Os to you?”

“Yes,” Osar said grimly. “And that insult will be your last, dead man.” The Urgan donned his helm again, and his Squallbiter appeared in his hands.

“Wait, jadosi,” Eric said calmly but forcefully, placing the flat of his blade between the Urgan and the bounty hunter. A slight breeze played through Eric’s short hair, cooling his scalp a little as he addressed the Bolseq before him. “Perhaps you should leave this place now, adept Nurixan, before you say something you will regret.”

The alien’s large eyes narrowed and the thin lips of his wide mouth tightened with displeasure as he took in Eric's words.

“You have sword loudmouth,” The alien said eventually, pointing with his own sword at the blade that Eric held. “Will you fight me?”

Eric glanced at his auto-map, marking the relative positions of his friends, before gently handing over Serra’s body to Osar. The big man paused for a moment, jamming his blade’s point into the cracked pavement so that it remained upright.

< We have to take him out together, Jad-Os. > Osar said urgently, even as he took hold of Serra. < A bounty hunter like him is something you cannot yet handle alone. >

“I just need to keep his attention for a small amount of time Osar,” Eric whispered to his comrade, tapping one of the Urgan’s pauldrons. “Listen to Cid, and make sure Serra doesn’t come to harm.”

< The man looks capable with the blade Jad-Os, > Osar continued as he stepped back. < And as I have warned you before, you are not. >

Eric kept the smile from his face as he answered. “We shall see, my friend.”

Nurixan stood confidently, the point of his beautifully-crafted sword resting on the pavement. Eric breathed deeply, calming himself, lowering his body into a crouch and lifting his sword to point it at his challenger.

“When ready you are, human.”

As the Bolseq spoke Eric kicked back with his trailing foot and launched himself forward, arriving in a split second before his foe. Nurixan’s eyes widened slightly at Eric’s speed but reacted even faster, turning sideways just enough to let the human slide past him without contact. In midair, Eric twisted, using the Voidwalker’s shoulder jets to arrest his forward momentum and shoot him to the side. From the corner of his eye he saw the Bolseq’s unhurried turn, its large brown eyes intent on his movements.

Eric flashed back, swinging his sword, his attacks blurring, so fast that the air seemed to shriek with the blade’s passage.

None of his superhuman strikes hit their target.

Nurixan dodged and ducked beneath everything that Eric threw at him, his expression growing from wary to puzzled to irritated, until it finally settled on disgust. The adept allowed the human to attack for a few more moments, hitting nothing but air, before with a sigh he snaked out his tail to trip his opponent.

Eric crashed to the ground and rolled away, coming to a stop resting on one knee and his left hand, gamely keeping the sword pointed towards Nurixan.

“This is best for you, human?” The Bolseq asked, spitting casually to the side. “You disgrace your teacher.”

The Nurixan’s eyes flicked to the side, where Osar stood quietly, his broad face impassive, big black-nailed hands resting on the cross-hilt of his huge Squallbiter, the weapons tip piercing into the hard-packed ground. Behind the silent Urgan Eric could see Serra’s unconscious body propped against a small boulder, her hands limply crossed over her lap.

“I have no teacher.” Eric growled, fighting down the sense of doom that threatened to rise within his soul.

“Clearly.” Nurixan drawled, his high-pitched voice gaining a mocking tone.

Eric slowly got to his feet, his mind working furiously, trying to think of anything he could do to wipe the smile off the face of the furry prick. He was outmatched, that much had been made painfully, obviously clear: The Bolseq was faster and likely stronger and more experienced, and the longer the duel dragged out the easier it would be for him to kill Eric.

Moving slowly, Eric pulled a cloth from his ring, wiping at the slight sweat that had broken out over his face, using the action to stall for time as he studied his opponent more closely. The Bolseq’s dark green battlesuit was serviceable but clearly hard-used, with several dents and scratches marring the surface of its protective plates. It was a working man’s armor, which didn’t do anything to bolster Eric’s confidence. He searched for weaknesses, anything that he could use, but the only thing out of the ordinary that he noticed was that the Bolseq’s left hand sported a neat bandage and clear armor sealant where the adept’s ring finger would normally be.

“What happened to your hand, friend Nurixan?” Eric asked casually, pointing at the injured appendage with his sword. “Some rat bite it off?”

The furry-faced adept’s features briefly twisted in anger and the hand in question twitched slightly towards his chest.

“Shut up and fight!” The Bolseq snarled, whipping up his sword.

Ah, that was interesting, Eric thought, but hardly useful in his current situation.

Without warning Eric attacked again, his sword once more a blur, using every bit of speed and guile he had to somehow land a hit on his opponent. Nurixan, though surprised at the ferocity of Eric’s attack, was too experienced to let his guard down. Once more, the alien dodged and weaved, contemptuously ignoring several obvious openings in Eric’s defense, prolonging the combat. Eric recognized the attitude, knowing that the man’s confidence was rising as he became more convinced about the disparity between their level of skill and ability.

When he judged the time right, Eric took his chance.

He feinted to the left, even as he let a light bead fall from his ring.

The sudden burst of light took the Bolseq unaware, and the adept instinctively pulled back, shading his eyes with one hand. Eric pursued, sword flashing out and up, its tip cutting a shallow but painful groove along the right side of the Bolseq’s face.

With a pained shout Nurixan stepped back, a stream of dark blood staining the fur on his face.

Eric smiled.

Rage bloomed in the Bolseq’s face and with incredible speed the bounty hunter lunged, his blade a flashing streak of white.

Eric felt something slide along the armored plates covering his chest, then there was a sharp tug at the inside of his left arm. Then the pain hit, and Eric screamed.

The next moment, his left arm was tumbling away in a spray of blood.