“Layroins! Yohoo. Come out wherever you are.”
Aya balanced himself on one of the highest branches of the tallest tree he could find. Nearly two weeks have passed since he first drunk the blood of a layroin, but he only caught two more of them, as if they were hiding from him. For how long could he stay here hunting for layroins? Was the empire looking for him? In that case, he should be on the move…or not. No posters calling for his head, no soldiers combing the towns, not even an announcement from their good mayor that there was a dangerous person on the loose.
And he was a dangerous person, from the viewpoint of the knights who were supposed to guard him. They could connect the mysterious void spells that appeared in the city on the day he escaped back to him. So, why weren’t they looking for him? Aya shrugged. That was their problem then.
It has been generally peaceful in this parts. No wars, no bandits, no thieves forming a guild, occasional rabid beasts but they didn't stray near the town.The Blighted Multitude held back by this "West System" which sounded like a line of fortifications. Life was good; better than during Aya's time, that's for sure.
But where is the Blight Incarnate?
Wasn’t this the more pressing question? His spell, the one he used against the Blight Incarnate five hundred years ago, obviously failed. But the world wasn’t consumed by the Blight, its inhabitants weren’t walking with the Blighted Multitude as a part of it. Unless this was all a dream?
Happy ending? Should he just accept that they actually won?
Aya leaped to another tree. He crossed his arms in front of him as he plunged into the thick foliage. Small branches whipped him and broke. He landed on a large branch and placed his hand on the trunk to balance himself. Then he dropped down, latching on to the branch with his hands. He swung down to another branch. As he hung from the branch, he gazed at the setting sun.
One more layroin and then he would travel to Mandolin City. Perhaps he could find a lead there on how to contact void mages.
He couldn’t stay here forever. But wouldn’t it be awesome if he turned into a beast and settled down in this forest to roam wild and free? No responsibilities, no burden. Wouldn’t it be awesome if Clement and the heroes who defended the mana node actually found some way to defeat the Blight Incarnate and now he can just live his life peacefully?
Hunting for beasts in the mountains to sell seemed fun. He closed his eyes. He suppressed those silly thoughts. The Blighted Incarnate was still out there somewhere. Maybe Clement did stop the Blighted Incarnate, using his body as an anchor in the Void Plane, but what could he have used for an anchor in the Elemental Plane since the WorldHeart was already destroyed?
Aya smiled. He slowly loosened his grip on the branch and then let go. Who knew, though. Maybe if he found Clement, he would tell him that everything was okay, that they were able to save everyone. He felt a bit giddy although he knew it was false hope. The winds blew through his clothes as he fell.
I should hurry and find another layroin.
An image of a small dragon entered his mind, taking over his worries about the fate of the world.
“Oops, I forgot to take off my clothes,” he said after feathered wings burst from his back, ripping through his white linen shirt and shabby leather vest. For a moment, he looked like a winged human before his whole body enlarged, tearing all of his clothes apart. He flapped his wings to slow down his fall. His fingers merged into three digits while large talons curved out from his melted fingernails. His legs stretched out and powerful hind leg muscles gave him a boost as he turned in mid-air and kicked against the wide trunk of the tree. With one full flap of his wings, he soared the air, leaving behind the torn fabric of his clothes floating through the air.
Goodbye, clothes. I guess it’s fine to walk to the town naked since I have a mask on, anyway, and they will never know who I am.
Aya worked his wings to gain altitude. While he had powerful wings, he didn’t have the endurance for continuous flapping. He opened his sharply curved beak lined with teeth and shrieked, the challenge call of the Myorpior Dragon. His throat muscles vibrated as he emptied his lungs. He wasn’t challenging anyone, just urging himself on to fly as high as he could.
A ripple of heated air greeted him. He let out another shriek as he spread his wings to catch the thermal. The hot air sent him up, higher and higher, in altitudes the Myorpior frequented. They normally lived in the cliffs of the greatest mountains so they didn’t care about flapping to get to high altitudes, rather they glided down from the heights of their lofty ledges to hunt their prey. Once full, they would take their time going up the mountain again, resting once in a while if they were tired.
Aya wondered how the Myorpiors handled the change of lifestyle when they transferred over to the crystal mountain on top of the mana node. They wouldn’t be allowed by the powerful dragons to live at the upper part of the mountain. Maybe the Myorpiors didn’t even live on the crystal mountain since they were too weak to compete with most of the other kinds of dragons.
Which was why he hadn’t used this transformation before. Myorpiors were one of the weakest dragons, but Aya wanted to fly. And not just flying using magic but flying with wings.
Flying with wings gave a sense of freedom flying with magic couldn’t match. He laughed, or tried to, and ended up sort of cackling. He realized that to have wings, he also used magic.
From where he was, he could see the town and the city of Berkindale a fair distance away. The eyes of the Myorpior had mana veins running through them, powered by their beaststones, enhancing their eyesight. Aya could see the individual leaves on the trees below him. With three eyes on each side of its skull, the Myorpior could see from almost every side except the direction blocked by its body.
Let’s see if I can find some layroin now. Just one more and I’m off to Mandolin City.
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“Should I just give up?” Gerlam asked his faithful companion Lonar.
Lonar tilted its head with its tongue sticking out of its panting mouth. Its small beady eyes looked at Gerlam with interest but obviously didn’t understand him.
Gerlam sighed and reached out to scratch Lonar behind his long dropping ears. Lonar, a Dubascan hound, licked Gerlam's face. Then the hound jumped on him. Weighing about six times his own weight, Lonar could have easily injured him. He stepped to the side as Lonar slumped on the ground, kicking up a bit of dust. The hound rolled on its back and wiggled his paws which were as big as his face. It wanted him to scratch his belly.
“We’re still in a hunt, put your working face on and be serious,” Gerlam said.
Lonar barked, sat on its hind legs and then scratched its ears.
Gerlam laughed. Lonar wasn’t a trained hound. If it was trained, Gerlam wouldn’t have money problems right now. Dubascan hounds could track down anything to the ends of the earth. But where would he have gotten the money to have a Dubascan hound trained in the first place? If he had that much money, he wouldn’t be tracking this masked hunter who mysteriously showed in their town.
“Who do you think that person is?” Gerlam asked Lonar. He held on the back of Lonar and jumped up to ride it. Thankfully, he had thick pants, otherwise, the coarse back fur of Lonar would have made for an itchy ride.
Lonar just barked in response.
Gerlam grabbed on to Lonar’s thick black mane and pressed its sides with the soles of his boots. Nothing. Lonar craned its neck to look back at Gerlam, puzzled. Gerlam chuckled. “Run, Lonar,” he said, pointing forward. “Remember ‘run’?” He squeezed the sides of Lonar again. “This means run.”
The hound blinked a few times.
"Run, go, forward, let's go. There, forward. Go there."
Lonar seemed to have understood him because it sprinted forward. Gerlam held on tight, crouching low, almost hugging the wide neck of the pet of his son. For years, he and his son expected some noble to suddenly show up and claim Lonar. His son, Gernock, inadvertently found Lonar in the forests and raised him, raising the number of their family from two to three.
“I wonder what Gernock is doing at home,” Gerlam said. Lonar barked happily upon hearing Gernock’s name. “We’ll see that boy after we’re done with this hunt, you, old dog.”
Unfortunately, the hunt wasn’t going well. Why were the layroins so hard to find? In all his time in the mountains, he never met one. He wasn’t specifically hunting for them before, he only knew about them when the masked hunter sold them, but at least he should have seen some, right? He guessed that the layroins probably lived in the “off-limits” parts of the mountains. The parts where dangerous beasts lived, where only groups of veteran hunters dared travel.
Either that masked person was very strong, maybe has a Bloodline of some sort, or the powerful beasts moved about and left their territories because of the upsurge, allowing that person to pass into their areas and hunt layroin there. Whatever the reason might be, he only wanted to hunt a layroin. The prices paid for by the buyers of lairon body parts were outrageous, especially by Lady Fainsalla.
Every week, for the past month, that masked hunter set up shop along with them. Gerlam only heard about him a couple of weeks ago, and then decided to see for himself what the fuzz was about. Beasts, those he hasn’t even heard of before, hunted by the masked man, their beaststones and other valuable parts sold.
“If we get a layroin or some other unusual beast, we could feast like kings,” Gerlam said. “Feast like kings and then buy new equipment. I might have the house fixed as well.” He laughed and Lonar made short bursts of something like a bark and a yelp, perhaps trying to laugh along with him.
His face turned serious. No, he shouldn’t waste money like that. He would hunt layroins to save money for the training of his son. He son would be trained as a soldier of the empire. And not just a simple soldier, he would be a knight. Gernock had potential, he shouldn’t be stuck here in the outskirts of the empire with his poor father, tilling their own garden and occasionally hunting beasts to survive.
Lonar slowed down. It made a questioning whine and glanced back at Gerlam.
“Nothing’s wrong, you big pup,” Gerlam said, putting on a forced smile on his face. “Run faster, we need to find the trail of the masked hunter.”
They lost the trail of the masked hunter about three days ago. The masked hunter didn’t care about erasing his tracks, bandits were rare in these parts. It made tracking him very easy. Gerlam carefully followed him, but he always placed a space of about a few hours between them. He never wanted to cross paths with the masked hunter. He merely wanted to see his hunting spots and maybe nab a kill or two, not steal a kill of the masked hunter. That mysterious person might be a deserter of the army or some wanted criminal. No, sir. I don’t want to fight him at all.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
A dreadful screech shattered the melancholic silence covering the forest. Gerlam covered his ears as the screech continued. Lonar suddenly stopped running and tensed up, sending Gerlam tumbling forward.
“Grakkers!” Gerlam picked himself and immediately drew his short blade in one hand and a small crossbow attached to his right leg. He raised the crossbow but he didn’t know where to point it. His heart pounded fast and his ears were still ringing from the screech. Flocks of birds roused from their nests on the treetops and flew away. There was a continuous ruffling as bird vacated. A muffled noise made him turn. A group of red-tipped hares emerged from their den and ran off, scattering this way and that.
He looked back at Lonar, anxious that the Dubascan hound might be excited by the hares and chase after them. Lonar snarled up at the sky, his fangs bared, foam frothing from his mouth.
Is a beast up there?
He pointed his crossbow up, but only some common forest monkeys passed by, frantically swinging from branch to branch. Pretty soon, the group of monkeys was gone. He exhaled, sheathed his sword and place the crossbow back in its holder attached to his leg.
But Lonar still stood transfixed at the sky. Gerlam hugged Lonar’s neck and scratch its chest fur. “It's alright. Maybe a territorial fight between crazy beasts,” he muttered.
Lonar wouldn’t move from his spot and kept on barking at the sky. What was up there? Lonar might not be trained but it had excellent senses. If it felt there was danger then he should be prepared. “Whatever’s up there, we don’t want to meet it.” Lonar only moved after hearing the sounds of other animals.
Through the thick trees, Gerlam caught a glimpse of other creatures running wild from fear. He pulled Lonar again. Should they continue their hunt? What if they met whatever made that sound? He promised his son to return after a week of hunting, a promise most likely broken if he met his end here.
But what were the chances of meeting this beast? Shouldn’t he take advantage of this change to try to hunt something new, something worth a lot of money? It was the first time he had wandered in this part of the mountain because it was the territory of the Golden Kabalkar. The latest news was that the Kabalkar had crossed the river because the mana lines shifted that way. Maybe the screeching beast was a newcomer taking over the Kabalkar’s territory.
Another shriek sent shivers along Gerlam’s bones. He dropped to his knees, pulling Lonar’s head down with him. He squinted at the sky above. “Don’t move, Lonar”
Something passed overhead. A black blur, high above, with a very wide wingspan.
“What was that?” He waited a few minutes to make sure the flying has passed. He never heard of stories about that beast before. In about a decade of hunting in this forest, he was sure he hadn’t encountered something like that before. This is a big opportunity!
Death would greet him if the creature attacked him, he was sure of that. But he didn’t plan to hunt the beast. Such folly to even think about it especially since he had no idea what the beast was. The beast wasn’t the target, rather, he wanted to know the location of its home.
“Lonar,” Gerlam said. “Let’s follow it.”
They dove into the thick forest, navigating the curling roots, wide trunks, and jutting rocks. Gerlam couldn’t help but grin. Just imagine if that beast had an egg? Or maybe even just babies. Those would fetch a hefty prize. At the worst, he could find that the beast lived alone. But that was fine as well since he could search the carcasses of the animals eaten by this beast.
A powerful beast, an apex predator, certainly hunted large prey. If he was lucky, he might find several beaststones inside the den of this beast. He just needed to find its home, wait until it left again to hunt before searching inside.
This was way better than trying to find the masked hunter and his layroins.
“Faster, Lonar. Faster. We might lose it.”
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Aya continuously shrieked a call of challenge, swooping down to the tree tops and then climbing high again with the speed generate by his dive. No Myorpiors answered his challenge. It would have been very surprising if another dragon arrived. There seemed to be no flying beasts strong enough to try to chase him out of their territory. He spotted large birds and a couple of winged serpents, but they flew low as a sign of respect and immediately left when he started shrieking.
The animals in the forest below ran around in confusion. This made it easier for him to spot them. Although the Myorpior had a very keen sense of sight, they were more attuned to spotting movement, like most predators. Once movement was detected, he could easily focus on it.
He continued screeching to flush out the beasts. They wouldn’t know that the one making those sounds was hundreds of meters up in the air, and couldn’t even catch them if they just stayed hidden in some hole. The animals only felt a sense of fear, fear that they have never before felt in their entire lives.
Poor animals. I will stop doing this once I see a layroin running around. Aya steadily glided down. He caught another updraft and was propelled upwards. He screeched as he rose through the clouds.
After flying for some time, he reached the river flowing down to the village. It marked the boundary of the mountains. Aya adjusted his wings and turned back. He already searched the mountain beyond the river before and found nothing. He hoped to get lucky with another pass.
Only a hint of the sun still peeked over the horizon and the Myorpior’s eyes already struggled in the dark. He wasn’t going to stop his search but just change his form to another beast. But first, he should catch some dinner.
He screeched again causing birds to scatter from their nests, flying in a dense cloud away from him. Why were they so scared? He was way up in the sky. Tilting his wings, he banked and followed the river upstream. He left his things hidden by a bush by the river near the top of the mountain. Five was waiting there as well.
Now, if only I could remember which bush I left my bag in.
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“A layroin?” Gerlam whispered as he pulled back the thick shrubs. There it was. A large layroin grazing the clearing near the river. It stopped walking, its ears twitching. Gerlam held back Lonar who wanted to chase the layroin. What incredible luck!
They lost the flying beast about an hour ago and were about to give up their search when they came upon a layroin. He was sure it’s a layroin. It has a skull like mask on its face. Gerlam remembered that several merchants fought over who would buy the mask sold by that person during last week’s market day. He was going to be rich. The others would envy him with his find.
Gerlam massaged the snout of Lonar while making sure he had both his hands on it so that it couldn’t bark and scare away the layroin.
The layroin went back to eating grass. Gerlam removed the straps of his crossbow holder and took out his weapon. He placed it to one side while he retrieved a bottle of drowsing serum. He liberally coated four bolts with the serum. Then he loaded the bolts in his crossbow which could fire four bolts in succession.
He licked his lips as he raised the crossbow. You don’t seem like a dangerous beast. I’ll just put you to sleep. If he brought the layroin back alive, it might fetch a higher price. It will have a higher price. He would put it up for auction and then Lady Fainsalla would participate and pay several times the other bidders would offer. He could already feel the weight of the coins he would get from this.
He took out a small gem. It had a spell inside it which increased the penetrating power of his bolts for a short amount of time. He could shoot through several layers of armor if he used it. But should he use it? His wife sold her necklace to buy him this gem. It was one of the mementos left by his wife.
“This is for the future of our son,” he whispered as he placed the gem over the crossbow. It broke and sprinkled the bolts with metallic snow.
Lining the layroin with his sights, he steadied his breathing. Aiming for the neck would ensure the immediate effect of the serum. Carrying that huge body back to town would be a chore, which was probably why the masked hunter only carried the most valuable parts, but he has Lonar to help him out.
One, two—
The dimming sky suddenly became darker. Sparks formed around the layroin, and it tried to run away. But something swooped down on it with such speed that it crumpled with its head smashed against the ground. Gerlam stopped moving and held his breath as he examined the beast that killed the layroin. It had four legs, feathers covered its body and it had large wings. The beast we were chasing.
It turned to look at his hiding spot. He felt as if something was stuck in his throat as his eyes met that of the beast. I am dead.
Lonar charged out of the bushes and attacked the winged beast. “Lonar!” Gerlam cried out. He gritted his teeth and rushed out of the bushes as well and took a stance to shoot. Since he was going to die, anyway, might as well try to take down this bastard. The beast swatted Lonar away with its claw.
“No! What did you do to Lonar?” He fired one bolt. It bounced off the feathered flank of the beast. His face fell.
The beast looked at him then at the unconscious Lonar. It went over the hound and turned it over. The beast then started cackling, making sounds while looking at him and stroking Lonar. It sounded like anxious calls. This was dangerous; this beast felt threatened and would most likely eliminate the threat. Which was him.
“Don’t you dare do anything to Lonar.” Another bolt. It didn’t do anything despite being blessed by the precious gem his wife gave him.
The beast snorted and strode awkwardly towards him. It walked on its knuckles while curling its claws back.
He raised his crossbow and aimed at the head of the beast and shot. The beast’s beak deflected the shot. It wasn’t even scratched. Where should he shoot it? Should he stay and fight? Even if he run away, he would be dead. Where is your weakness, grakker!
His sight trailed down to the beast’s chest. “A dragon,” he gasped as his eyes grew wide.
The dragon stopped. Gerlam shot at its wings, hoping to at least make it unable to fly. The dragon flapped its wings, sending a gust of air that blew away the enchanted bolt and Gerlam. He rolled and hit a tree.
My son needs me to survive. He drew his blade but instead of fighting, he turned to run. He would ask forgiveness from Gernock for leaving behind Lonar. That was if he survived. As he turned, claws gripped his body. He tried to cut the claws holding him but his head hit a tree and then everything turned to black.
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Was he dead?
Aya only rendered the man unconscious before tossing him to the river. As much as possible, he didn’t want to kill directly. This was just how he operated even before he went to sleep. And from the time he awoke from his five-hundred-year sleep, all the kills that could be attributed to him were actually done by Five. Right? I didn’t kill anyone directly? Like the rocks will kill this person, not me.”
He looked down and saw the body floating downstream, carried by the powerful current of the river. A little further on, there was a group of sharp rocks. Yep, that guy is dead. A normal human wouldn’t survive that. Whoever that person was, he appeared to be going for the layroin as well. That was quite unfortunate for him then.
Aya would have let the man go but he recognized the Myorpior as a dragon. Without the prominent beaststone displayed on its chest, most people wouldn’t even consider the Myorpior a dragon. But it did have the beaststone outside its body and it could use Dragon’s Breath. Using their beaststone, dragons could extract all kinds of elemental essences circulating in their surroundings burn it, the resulting combustion was then released as the Dragon’s Breath. The most potent skill in every dragon’s arsenal which could destroy even the bodies of the Blighted Multitude.
He couldn’t let someone spread the news that they found a dragon near these parts. It would alert those who were chasing him that he was here somewhere. The emperor probably recognized the transformation he used during the tournament as a dragon even though he hid the beaststone. Its beaststone was somewhere near its belly which was why he didn’t get out of the crater made by Garett.
Aya screeched again. Carrying the layroin was tiring while flapping but the place where he left his bag was near. There, he would drain the layroin.
All in a day’s work.
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Gerlam sputtered out water. He saw a furry form over him. Lonar brought down his paw over his chest. He coughed water. “Lonar…enough.”
What happened? The last thing he remembered was that the dragon grabbed his neck. It was a dragon! He was sure of it; may Paximillon strike him dead if he was imagining things. A real dragon. He clearly saw the large beaststone on its chest. Only humans using beaststones have them partially exposed. It was written so in one of the books his wife brought along with her as she escaped her family’s house.
He struggled to sit up. Lonar nuzzled his back. He hugged Lonar. The loyal hound whined while rubbing its face against his. Gerlam then examined his body. His clothes were wet and torn. His dagger and crossbow were left upstream. He lost the expensive drowsing serum and even used his wife’s precious gift.
But he was alive. He met a dragon and lived. He got on his knees. Gratitude should be shown to the powers that be, to the higher beings that saved him. Being religious was not in his nature and admittedly he strayed away from Paximillon since the death of his wife, but surviving this day was nothing short of a miracle.
Lonar barked at him.
“Don’t worry, Lonar. Rest there for a bit. I have to pray to Paximillon for keeping me alive. And to His Servant, the First Emperor Krystfallen for staying the hand of the dragon, and keeping me in one piece. Praises be to him.”