Stereo Part 4: The Power & People

“No one is going to save you” - History of the most motivating words

Chapter 21: True Alyte

A silent chill rushed over the forest. So I ran, this time with Henry wrapped around my arms. I could hear his breathing. His presence made me wish for the cruelest, most savage Scorpion Sword to execute the swiftest and most disturbed sense of justice. But was it justice anymore? Disturbed. That was what I was now. Disturbed. The word rang through my ear, around my mind, and exited through my other ear. There was hardly any justice in this world. So then, I would be the one to deliver justice here. I couldn’t think like that, a single person could not hope to rule an entire planet.

An entire world. And not get punished for it. Just then, I felt a ringing in my ears and felt my stomach almost collapsing, I struggled to catch my breath, but I held it in, no longer feeling pain, but beauty. The beauty of music, the thing that could bring anyone together, I looked to my right, hiding me between the bushes, he lay limply, asking what was happening. I smiled, A young man was playing “Once” on a violin, his eyes closed, and I saw him, the only one left who wasn’t yet corrupted by this brutal conquest. This war. He was smiling, I was smiling, I could almost swear there was a smile forming on Henry’s mouth, despite his wounds. So why? Why was this young soldier happy? What does the word “happy” mean exactly?

To a soldier, it means surviving. To a citizen, it means living. To me, it meant lifestyle. You won’t swing a sword every day. You probably won’t go to work every single day. But you would do something. You will make an action, no matter how insignificant, it will be an action, nonetheless. Even if you’ll never be great, you will be perfect, because you survived, because you lived. I will be a lifestyle, how people shall live, indirectly making myself a part of history with most never having a single clue. I would be integrated there, whether I would be great or not. The music stopped, and the Kitsune didn’t notice me, entering the stolen Gyrocrafter. I now knew what he was. Not just a soldier. Not just a violinist. He was him. He found himself in the darkness. I was in the darkness, the dark of the night. I hadn’t found myself yet. He was him because he accomplished his goal, he was complete. He played a flawless song for his leader without fail. What did I want to do? I had only a single goal in mind. The objective, our objective was clear. The Alytes had all one big dream. A dream that included every single Alyte, not just oneself. The goal was simple, be an Ally. Be an Elite. Be an Alyte. Aaron united them. Thousands of years ago. Asteroid, Generator, Annextator, Predox, and Machama. He claimed his throne of power and won. He didn’t fall victim to corruption, he was an ally, to every one of the gods, an ally to every one of the kingdoms. He couldn’t lose, he was always going to win.

Every Alyte wants to be the one to exterminate the Barbarian and Terron race, but why was it the only goal? Be an ally of science and technology. Why kill when you could create and discover? Discover how Stereo worked and make life on this planet. We brought dozens of weapons and food to this planet, and the ALytes were wiped out, all dead on this planet. The remaining ones left on Merris were few and far between. For the people of Alyte planets, I owed the mission to them. Just this one mission, at the very least. The two Alyte planets that I lived on, were Merris and Arkien. Even the three remaining planets I’d never visited belonged to the Alyte cause. The Machama cause. The planets, Eversoul, Mousk, Fois, and Alyta. People were waiting for their friends and family to come home. I was waiting to go to the afterlife with my professors, fallen friends, and family.

I then remembered my crimes. I had been placed under house arrest for seven whole months. The government that clothed me when I was naked, the one that fed me when I was starving, the one that gave me contacts when I couldn’t even see myself, the one who gave me the chance to live a life, the one who gave me a goal to live for, the one named the Alytes, they were my actual family when I was a prisoner on Bartos Plane, the Barbarian homeworld. I would return the favor before dying, I would make sure of it. They wouldn’t let me suffer thousands of sword lessons for nothing! Not a single damaged blade would be useless, they were all damaged for a reason, for me to get better at what I loved to do. Destroy the evil plaguing our world, during the seven hundred years of Alyte’s government's existence, it had only committed four crimes and they didn’t try to hide it, unlike the younger Barbarian and Terron nations, with over fifty crimes against humanity each, respectively. I. Was. Determined. I going to do it, so I did it. Our war ends now. It was just a slit to the throat away, but what made me think they would rather have me than someone else? What did I do in my life? I needed to complete this mission, just one more task. If I don’t kill the Barbarians and Terrons, I will need to evacuate them, and make a threat. Yet how could I make a threat with just me and my friend? We weren’t powerful enough to exterminate two superpowers, we will need someone. Some people. Some species that could help us. I pondered for a long time, not caring about the chill of the night, it was getting colder every night from the first day we arrived at Stereo. I didn’t think about my plan for too long, however. I just walked through the dead of the night, with the only person I needed, Henry Rose.

“The battles were long, the peace longer, guess what people believed was longer?” - Warmaster Hontero

Chapter 22: Fort Defense

The cool winds were perfect for running in this weather. I rushed to the bakery, buying only the finest pastries after I was done with my running. It was quite a long trip, about twelve miles from the field to my bakery. I could always use the bus, but how would I be able to prove my worth to Morro Aca if I didn’t do something because it was too hard? Today was the day Clock Scouts would take a position on guard duty, looking for any foreigners and taking them in. Weighing in at 46 Midgrams and a height of 1’5 Morlongs, Hontero Verra would finally prove his worth. I heard the weighing system of the foreigners worked differently than ours, the intruders used measurements four times as much as ours. I took out a star-shaped piece of garlic bread, the fine coating of sugar made my mouth water as I opened it and gnawed on it. I swore I had a pastry in my right hand a second ago. There was garlic bread in my hand only a single second ago. Well, snack time was over, the next thing I should do was to go to another facility. That facility was a steakhouse, it was time for lunch now!

Nightfort was a massive city, it was a miracle I was able to choose only a single steakhouse to be my favorite. There were dozens of restaurants serving only the finest meals. They were all flavored and delectable. I could talk for dozens of hours about how much I liked my homeworld if I didn’t have to get deployed soon. I tried to eat as slowly as possible, delaying the process as much as possible, even if I signed up for the job. I looked at the empty plate in front of me, only smeared with sauces and grease. I wiped my hands with my napkin and exited the restaurant, leaving possibly the last tip I would ever give. No. I shouldn’t think like that. Twenty-six years of training, years of hardship. I was not going to fail now. There would be no excuse for failure out there and besides, it was a watch mission. My large muscles could deal with it. Not to mention, two large pikes on my back, ready to strike anything deemed a threat to my people, the Timmisians. Today, I would become a legendary Time Warrior. There shall be bloodshed tonight, in the city of Nightfort.

The climate near the city was quite cool, the perfect temperature for Time Warriors to fight in. I was on the ground, camouflaged as a tree, taking position near some bushes. Many people went by, none of them suspicious. I couldn’t lose focus. Time passed, and nothing unusual happened. The night sky could easily disguise Berserkers, the other native species on this planet. They were the ones who were illegally producing Moltagen after the Monosieus Contract of 4771, which included the prohibition of creating any type of artificial drugs and substances. There didn’t seem to be any of them here, however.

Interestingly, fewer and fewer Berserkers were showing up around these parts, which was unique. I expected to get some action during my first official mission. I signaled to the watchtower on my right, behind me. Morrex was armed with a Ghoul, a wide weapon with a circular chute to release the souls we slew for power. It was almost shaped like a ballista, but much smaller for our size. My other friend, Mero, looked to be loading his Foroscope, attempting to catch any intruders of Nightfort. Except, there was only one problem.

Interestingly enough, the young Barbarian heir escaped from the Time Warriors only to meet an entire city of their kind. “Just my luck,” he exclaimed under his breath. Anger was washing over him, yet he did not make rash decisions. He was a smart little fellow, you had to give him that at least. He stopped dead in his tracks. He saw a sniper attempting to annihilate him, Years on Bartos Plane caused him to know immediately, that he had gotten used to people trying to kill him, it was only natural, after all. He sidestepped just milliseconds before the shot fired, missing him narrowingly, and hitting a tree four feet behind him. He swore he heard a dying chirp just seconds later. There was no reason for him to retaliate just yet, he needed to wait until his weapons recharged, but he had only a sneaking suspicion that his foreign enemies’ weapons didn’t need to recharge, like his. He had to be careful, he had to play it smart. I know right, a Barbarian being smarter than, well Barbaric. There wasn’t much to explain regarding the nature and instincts of the Barbarians. You just knew. With his encounters with Alytes, he hoped their intelligence rubbed off on him and hopefully a drop of knowledge would save him at the right time. There exists no reason why Gatrous couldn’t do it if many other individuals were able to. Before he walked towards the city’s gates, the last thought was probably somewhere along the lines of I wonder.

In short of the days to come, Machara believed she could lead the Shamans to victory. True victory didn’t only lie in strength in numbers, which was why the newest Shaman Commander was ready to strike now, only forty years since the last attack. The void-like creature with hands and legs like Sykokins roamed the land around them. The only thing human about them was their most basic anatomy and eyes, but they could become something more. Machara took another chug of a familiar green drug, enhancing her figure into something more. Something barbaric. Something elite. Something terrifying. No, those were things that existed before Stereo was teleported into this world. Even the phrase Timeless would be beautiful, but not quite “out of this world.” She had to make up a word on the spot, which she had never done before, she was usually following orders from Sensei Furux. She, by some miracle, was able to. Machara uttered out of her mouth, “Mendless.” Or multiple mouths, two on each of her arms, one on her forehead, and two extra eyes on her shoes. She liked the new word. Mends could never be recreated, no matter how much a person would swear on god and country. So then, she walked towards the youth, ready to change the course of Stereo history, not giving a care about the world or what would happen next. It was the Shaman way, after all. Yet Machara had grown almost tired of being a Shaman, maybe she should be truly smart, and not a Pseudophile, the Timmisians called them. She would be more than a Shaman, a genius most called. Maybe something even a more logical word would be used in replacement. Yes, the Shaman invented another word on the top of her head, this time, it was “Logitan.”

Before the Commander did anything else, she approached the young Barbarian without scaring him. It was difficult to scare a Barbarian, so Machara didn’t worry about that part deeply. Sneaking up to people as a Shaman, especially foreigners, was easy, no one expected danger from their shadows, past lives that followed them everywhere they went, the exception being in the complete darkness. The Commander would just have to stroll behind the Barbarian and not make even as much as a squeak, which could theoretically alarm the smart lad, causing him to attack without mercy. They didn’t call them Barbarians for anything. The foreigner will be busy looking at this new world and won’t see how swiftly a Stereo native can strike, causing his downfall. Thought Machara. It had worked before, on multiple targets, just ask the prisoners on Sherre Island. The Shamans’ owner world, housing Timmisians, and brutal Shamo City criminals. It was always full. Maybe the Shamans were the true criminals. Of course, a Shaman would never think of themselves as less than worthy, their mindset forbids it. Maybe Machara could force this little creature to cough up some information, benefiting her kind, for the better.

Somewhere in the dark, Gatrous was sleeping, he was lost in the deep forest. He didn’t even know if he was on the ground or not, that was how confusing this location was. The Barbarian heir had used his cape as a bed, laying on it, but for some reason, he couldn’t even close his eyes. He was exhausted, he was waiting to get a chance to rest ever since the battle at the Barbarian Base had happened. He couldn’t think either, So he was in this weird dimension between consciousness and unconsciousness. It was by far one of the most painful and agonizing positions he had been in in his entire life, he just wanted this nightmare to end. Yet that made Gatrous feel good, for some odd ass reason. There wasn’t any benefit from suffering on a foreign and forbidden planet, but there was a benefit to experiencing hardship, it wasn’t the first time. He felt as though he could survive for weeks alone. He knew exactly what to do, what not to do, and how to execute his plans. He didn’t feel alone, he had himself. He needn’t worry about his current circumstances, so even if this place was like a second hell, Gatrous was able to manage, it wasn’t something he didn’t do before. Being a Barbarian requires tough situations and solutions. Things were looking tough all right. Even with the fire he started with the forest’s wood, Gatrous noted how the material was still dark and grimy.

“Just follow the steps,” thought Adam as he walked towards the nearest Terron base, he didn’t want to alert anyone where he and Henry were. For now, they were both hidden and in good shape. At least it seemed that way, Adam’s leg was aching quite a bit, and his friend was attempting to wrap a bandage around his ankle, but Henry knew more about harming enemies than helping friends. At least they could quickly eliminate any Terron who spotted them. But even that wasn’t going to be easy, the Alytes didn’t fret yet, however! Panic was against the traditional Alyte and Machama culture, and both realized by now they were Real Alytes by now. They had graduated from an elite school, but they were just now knowledgeable about their power. It was both impressive and dumbfounding. Of course, most things were, just look at the creation of the universe known as Stereo. Oh how a man could tame four mighty gods, most people pondered how. The question had bothered everyone, from Alytes to Kitsune merchants. Yet that wasn’t what was important at the time, they needed materials. Resources they could use on this brutal planet. What other challenging trials would the Alytes face next? They didn’t even want to think about it for long.

What the two Alytes were worried about was the fact two ranged weapons were rested straight at them. Two more time warriors thought Adam, his leg was healing, and he didn’t have to use a Milock device anymore. It was helpful while it lasted, before completely combusting on the dark-haired Alyte. He didn’t turn suddenly, instead the Alyte composed himself before forming a sentence. He was sure Timmisians handled the two weapons, and given his track record with them, that didn’t make him feel any better about the current situation. He could hear one, to the left of him, behind him. “Please, turn slowly, no sudden moments.” The Stereo native sounded like the officer who arrested Adam, cold and composed. The officer to the right of Adam spoke more directly, “What is thy business here?” He sounded like he was giving out a test question, not an inquiry. His voice was much deeper than the other officer's. It was almost like he was an automated machine. Since he was on a foreign planet, Adam wouldn’t be surprised if he turned to face an android or something along those lines. Today was going from bad to worse thought the two Alytes. They’ve been in these situations before, however. They knew exactly how to get out of them. Henry did something unexpected, even for him. Dropping his weapon, he answered the question with complete honesty. “We are just passing by this forest, nothing special. We’re trying to maneuver our way back to our ships and return home.” The officer on the left registered this statement as innocent enough and lowered his blaster.

The officer on the right, however, did not seem pleased. “What are you doing Artillian?” He whispered. “We don’t just let foreigners roam free in our town.” Art replied “I agree, if there wasn’t a problem in your statement. They’re not on our town’s property. They’re in the forest, just like we are, are we not, Mallion?” This seemed to puzzle Mallion since he didn’t give an immediate response, though the two Alytes couldn’t confirm it. After some time, he replied “Yes yes,” he turned to the right, before attempting to slash at Art, piercing his armor and stabbing through his chest. This, however, didn’t seem to worry the Timmisian too much, as he held up his weapon and pointed it at Mal, blasting him in the face, gold and bolts flying everywhere. A particularly sharp nail hit Henry, which he did not appreciate at all. He at least thanked Art for getting rid of that pain in the ass. He replied, “No problem, let’s get you guys fixed up shall we?”

“While the Sykokins had four arms, impossible muscles, a terrifying presence, the remaining Alytes were more disturbed and disturbing, with only two arms and two legs each.” - Heo Dendrick “In my ancestor’s eyes” published in 19921.

Chapter 23: Prison Break

“We had a deal.” Machara didn’t like saying things twice. Especially with an impressionable child next to her (the child did technically impress multiple people). In a block-shaped cell, Gatrous had thought he’d seen all of it when a black-haired woman and a man with a tail coming out of his head were arguing and trying to kill each other. Gatrous had seen the same scene playing out when he was in Bartos Plane, his hometown. He nibbled at a mozzarella stick he found on the ground, he loved eating those things. He especially the cheddar-flavored one from the Sujji company, they produced the best snacks when you were in a hurry to save the world. The man with the green tail coming out of his head looked like he had been forced to eat forty salads at once, his skin the same color as his extra limb. His pink eyes wandered to the tan woman, who held a baton and rested it on her chest, seemingly floating in midair. Stereo was a weird ass place, wasn’t it? Well, there were dozens of planets in the universe, and no one could argue it was more disturbing than the other gaseous rocks. Gatrous was stunned, he had no idea what to do, he pondered about fighting both of the natives to shut them up, but he was exhausted, even after eating his cheese stick, it wasn’t that nutritious. He decided to walk backward, one step at a time slowly, they probably wouldn’t notice him right? And besides, if they did, they probably didn’t have many weapons, right? And weapons that couldn’t kill the Barbarian heir, right?

He engaged in his plan, he walked backward towards the exit on his right, where the exit of the prison was, without the warden or inmate noticing what he was doing. He was only several feet from the double doors of freedom when he noticed a slight flaw in his plan. You probably noticed it yourself, Barbarians and children weren’t great at making ingenious strategies. Imagine a Barbarian child trying to do something clever! The good news was that Gatrous had been able to sneak out of the prison. There was just one problem, however. The bad news: the prison had prison-like features. Such as an automatic alarm that deafened Machara and the inmate, causing them to look in the heir’s direction, spotting him from afar. He froze in place, not knowing what to do, but run. While running in the yard, which was larger than the prison itself, Gatrous encountered more security systems, all of which were programmed to kill him rather than restrain him. Nice natives, he thought sarcastically while running out of breath. Just as he slowed down, in the dead center of the green courtyard, where walls he calculated to be forty feet tall extruded massive, square-shaped objects. He immediately assumed the objects were weapons, and he pulled out his Armadillo, ready to fire.

And with perfect aim, he missed because some fucking idiot decided to jump on him last second and tackle him to the ground, causing the blast to hit a tree right next to him, the sound was almost as deafening as the alarms. The figure turned him around and drew a short blade, it was Machara, but darker. Not to be rude, but she was the color of a shadow, the only way Gatrous was able to tell it was her was the fact he knew how to identify silhouettes perfectly. Cackle and Execute consistently complimented him on that fact. Just before she could draw her blade, she was stung right in the stomach, piercing Gatrous if he had raised his head just inched higher. Not only did the vegetable man have a tail on the back of his head, but he also had a tail on the front of his head. The worst part was the fact the Barbarian heir didn’t even seem surprised anymore, he was used to the most stupid shit happening every single day, and he didn’t want a break anymore. The action was fun. He lunged for his weapon and concentrated on the Stereo native closest to him, which happened to be Machara. He took half a second and fired, the recoil made him take two steps backward. The youth looked forward to seeing nothing except a regular bullet striking a nearby tree, which was now collapsing, but Machara wasn’t anywhere near. He didn’t worry about that, however, he looked to his sides but didn’t see Machara anywhere. All he saw was the fellow Shaman inmate, who had his nametag on the floor reading HELLO MY NAME IS Cheskker. It was his name, not that it was relevant to bring up in a fight.

What he didn’t appreciate, however, was a double-tailed man running at him at full speed, with a massive pike, ready to pierce the nearest thing he saw, which was Gatrous. The Barbarian heir hadn’t noticed it yet, but the prisoner had an extra foot, dissolving from his left, but still functional and handy, to say the least. Machara recognized the fact this was an amazing opportunity to tackle Cheskker, while he was distracted and most vulnerable to falling. As the bull-like man jumped, a shadowy figure lunged and tackled the beast right out of the sky. This would’ve been a good chance for Gatrous to run, but he was stunned, freezing in place. He wasn’t that surprised at what the natives could do, he was shocked, however, at the effectiveness of their abilities. Not only did Machara have the ability to turn into a weightless, unstoppable shadow, but she was also able to tackle a beast of a massive thousand kilograms. And what could Gatrous do? He pondered as the two violent organisms wrestled on the ground, showing no sign of elegance. Machara was a Shaman Commander, it would make sense if she was much stronger than her comrades, he could only hope. He could only run. Run. He was no more running for this little Barbarian. He looked behind him spotted his blaster, and lunged for it, while his two problems were taking care of each other. It seems, however, that Machara, the smarter of the two, retreated and focused her fury on Gatrous. He didn’t notice it until he turned around, when his hand was on the grip of the weapon, now a sword, as the Barbarian heir pressed the small red button, piercing the now legless, ghost-like figure floating in mid-air. His grin largerned.

He retracted his sword, not feeling as happy as he used to seconds ago, partly because of a bull-like man, which was now charging at him, with rage in his eye. Yes, eye, Gatrous noticed the inmate had a singular eye, which was shaped like he had two pupils. He did have two pupils. The Barbarian planted his sharp blade onto the ground, hoping there was a mine directly below him. Since it was in the sword, it made it easy for him to jump on it, even on a single leg. He had already focused on balancing, so he stared directly into the bull’s eye, ready to launch his sword, the Barbaric way. In three, two, one, NOW! The weapon directly hit the bull in the center of his forehead, where it sliced him, and all that remained was two slabs of animal meat, Gatrous didn’t want it. It was too green for his liking. He also didn’t like eating fish. Everything happened all at once, and Machara had escaped, probably running to her superior, It was in organic nature to run away from danger, the fear, the anger, and the hate. There was nothing wrong with this statement, however, but the Barbarian pondered endlessly about one question all his life. What if you were the danger that needed to be run away from?

“As the Doberman walked with its four paws and three legs, he saw the sky remain unchanged, like the rest of the city.” - “Thereix only exists to serve” by Theesis.

Chapter 24: Edge of the World

Sykokin flesh reeked. It probably tasted even worse. There were just some things you should avoid, unless necessary. Which also happened to be Sykokins, commonly known as the Fuckfaces. Or scientifically, what Adrian Ammo preferred to call them, Warforts. Seriously, they were a force to be reckoned with, it took about four SWW officers to kill just one of them. Now this Adrian guy wasn’t very approachable, he had a tall stature of seventy-two inches and two hundred pounds of weight. He wore a dark black cap that concealed his eyes with two large white dots on the design. Almost like he was always watching you in his mind. It didn’t help below those dots was a zigzagged-shaped line that went around the cap, making a face with the most terrifying dentures on the planet, even worse than a Sykokin’s. It didn’t help the officer hung out near bars and battlefields, always equipped with a ranged and melee weapon. His boots were heavy, making a noise almost sounding like bones getting crushed every time he took a step. His long face with a sharp chin had a grin that remained flat, with red eyes that stared into you, rather than to you. And for the times Adrian did smile, the Warlox Officer of Myrn city almost always expressed it with one of his at least two weapons drawn, likely ranged. Thus, earning the man the (in)famous nickname of “Sadistar.” It was very cheesy, but it was still charming. Maybe not for the criminals of Myrn City, though, they probably despised it. Even got shivers when they heard the name. Well, what could Ammo do about it?

Nothing but get a drink at Melby’s. It was cheap, elegant, and chaotic, impressively all at the same time. Sadistar picked a seat and rang the silver bell which made an annoying noise, it always did. He didn’t pay it much attention, Boros was coming. You see, Boros was a unique person by many standards. For one, he was almost as tall as the shelf of drinks behind him, secondly, and more interestingly, he was hot. No, seriously, in a literal sense, he was made of fire. Where his eyes should’ve been, were black, large grapes which stared directly into your soul. Sadistar’s cap and Boros’s eyes would be best buddies with their terrifying presence. Both men were wiping their noses with handkerchiefs, both the same dark color. It was no wonder, Adrian seemed to be Belby’s only customer, Boros didn’t look like the type of person to mess with, or to serve up a drink, if you looked at him, you would’ve thought you were on something strong. Like Moltagen. That wasn’t a good example. Moltagen was an enhancement, unlike other drugs. Just to let you know, Ammo wasn’t on any drugs or being forced to say that. Me neither.

The hot bartender had a breath like ash, with a hint of mints he probably overdosed on. Ammo wondered what the man did in his free time, he would be a fucking good blacksmith if he tried. No one wanted to be a blacksmith. And by everyone, he meant young men. Dying for your country while wielding weapons made by blacksmiths seemed a lot more appealing for them at least. Right now, two guys, one of them fire, were chilling and drinking at noon, with no worries whatsoever. They wished it could be like this every day, not just Sunday, but that was sadly not possible. At least when Shamans and Timmisians were alive, Ammo wished those two fuckers would just kill each other and let the Myrrians take all of their nations’ wealth and riches. In the end, Boros served Ammo forty-five shots of Manny’s and he drank forty-two of them, a new personal record for the sadist. He left a forty-five percent tip and walked out of the small bar, in the middle of the night, where neon lights and three-legged dobermans with four paws wearing silver armor barked at strangers. Also known as Myrn, the neon city of Stereo.

He walked on the cream-colored path leading to his apartment complex. At nearly every step, there was always a poster that partly blinded Ammo, which had been happening for several months now. It was a big problem, but not as big a problem as something else. This problem had bothered Adrian for less time, but it was far more dangerous (and annoying). It was a little fellow from Moltassa, the Moltagen planet owned by the Terrons. An MV1 Maverick build as well, you might recognize him. Meridian. Ammo didn’t bother to learn his last name, he wished to eliminate this intruder, not necessarily for the fact he was an intruder, he was using drugs. Don’t do drugs guys. I think Ammo doesn’t like drugs. Seriously. After a few seconds of getting blinded by an ad that was probably advertising some risque stuff, he sensed footsteps, How could you not? Meridian was a heavy ass robot. It would be impressive if you couldn’t (and maybe a little stupid as well). Both uh, organis-, armed individuals drew their weapons. Ammo had a classic Katana, Meridian had a fine Nui Scythe, which was suspiciously colored like Issac Kitsune’s outfit. Meridian was right behind the sadist, yet he made sure to make this was a fair fight, What fun was winning with no honor? Even Meridian learned that from his brother, and he usually never listens! Both men faced each other and stared without blinking much, attempting not to lose their focus. But it soon turned boring as the men felt like they were participating in a staring contest after some time, it was all about who decided to make the first move, and that person would be Meridian.

With a moderate dash and slash, Meridian engaged the battle and missed his first strike. It would likely be fatal to Sadistar if he were to be caught in a fury of attacks, which Meridian was great at, combining skills and spells. But he wasn’t exactly the best at striking his targets, which made him look harder to beat than he was, poor dude couldn’t take a break. Next thing he knew another Alyte machine would suddenly appear into the city and kill both him and Sadistar. At this moment, the Terron realized how stupid this mission was, he was trying to kill a Stereo native, so the Terrons could wipe out the weaker citizens and claim another city, but how was he going to survive this? They didn’t fucking tell him how strong this guy was. He likely just accepted a suicide mission, and the last thing he would see was an edgelord shooting him with a massive black rifle and he would meet an untimely grave for ultimately nothing, he was disposable, and his people thought he was disposable! Despicable! Or was that another adjective used to describe him? Or maybe it was going to be the word that would soon describe Meridian best.

His suffering was all from his mother to his brother’s death. The assassination of his father and soul, and the reaping of his love left a hole that could never be repaired. Or maybe the flesh he would claim from the Stereo sadist would be satisfactory to himself, he worked no longer for anyone, especially anyone who called himself a Terron or Maverick. It was not even hate he felt, he only wanted to feel himself. He’d decided to kill twice as many Terrons as he killed Barbarians and Alytes added up. The total amounted to sixteen thousand Terrons, he was in serious debt. And why wait? He could pay it all off, starting with Sadistar, which was blocking his first few steps to success, redemption, and beyond. Life was strange sometimes, wasn’t it? There were just some things you couldn’t change when you wanted to, and things you had complete control over which were trivial, yet Meridian would break this curse of mortals, he became truly terrifying. Unlike those deceiving Terrons who betrayed him, all for a single solid bottle of Moltagen, which they would guzzle down in just a few seconds at most.

As his anger was reaching the breaking point, he met Sadistar with another strike with a Scythe to end his life. The two fighters seemed equal in power and similar in strategies, it was an interesting battle if you had seen it, such contrasting fighting styles being played out yet Terroneo and Stereleo were two interesting martial arts. The Stereo natives were simply remarkable, they were swift yet they could execute enough power to block a fully armored Maverick’s punch, approximately ninety pounds of metal and iron. Every kick (only six in the entire battle, all delivered by Meridian) was blocked with a conveniently closed fist of organic flesh. Both men were surprised at this, Adrian was stronger than even he believed to be, which was simply impressive. Why not end this battle now? Imagine the power he had against this alien with even one of his smaller weapons, the Synopsin. It was pretty difficult to describe, but imagine a weapon made from the spine of a Sykokin with its sharp tail on the tip used to expel poison directly into your target. Sykokins weren’t known for their good posture so the sword wasn’t exactly what you imagined a good weapon to be. Still, the weapon looked cool and it was decent in a fight. Ammo could also brag to every other Myrrn when he beat his enemy with the spine of the previous enemy he’d killed. They didn’t call him “Sadistar” for nothing!

Mostly, punches were exchanged in the fight, with most of Meridian’s missing. The few he did manage to land were devastating for the Stereo native, however. It was a close fight, or closer than any of the two men thought. They originally planned to annihilate the other, without mercy. Everyone involved was not too pleased with the results and the reality which hit them. Therefore, this battle dragged on much longer than any of them anticipated, Ammo could almost swear the sun was rising in the west. So basically, they both wanted the battle to end but they didn’t let themselves lose and didn’t use their full power to kill the opponent. Just soldier things. The competitive spirit was fighting the bored soul. I could write a book about this novel. It would probably be done before the battle was done. At last, Sadistar caught Meridian off-guard and slashed his Synopsin in the middle. Of his head. Cleanly. By far the most satisfactory kill he’s done in his entire career. Yet it was a kill for no longer than a minute, as the metallic nuts and bolts reformed and a gust of wind appeared. The tiny tornado didn’t affect Ammo much, but his Sykokin sword was attracted to the pile of metal, he tried to hold onto it, but even his strength wasn’t able to keep a grasp and it slipped from his hands to the now reformed Sykokin-Terron hybrid, which was bigger, more terrifying, and infinitely more ugly.

While Sadistar was defenseless save for a tiny switchblade, “Meridian” didn’t continue the fight, he didn’t even look at him and turned to the opposite side, walking out of the city and leaving the Stereo native all alone. The Sykoron was needed elsewhere. Maybe to his execution. Maybe to his prison. Maybe to the road to hell. Maybe the place forbidden by the conventional Law of Mayhem established in 12011, the Terrons would be likeliest to break the law, since it impacted them the most. The creature could be this new Terron technology’s first victim. He could be its first superhero, but no one knew for sure, would be used as a martyr? Used as an example? Used to create chaos? Or to simply annihilate all of his enemies. The answer may not even be one of those listed above. What everyone did know, however, was the fact that Meridiaz was going places, probably not peaceful or pleasant places, but places nonetheless, like the edge of the world, Stereo.

“The athlete with the shortest legs usually wants to run the most.” - Adrian “Sadistar” Ammo

Chapter 25: Survival Skills

Only twice, two Alytes were lost in the world known as Stereo, the only non-Terron-owned planet which produced Moltagen. Yet it had more substance than all four Terron planets combined. Twice as much, if we were to be specific, this place was a massive target, yet it remained relatively safe, showing you how powerful the Timmisians, Shamans, and Myrrns were. Each major faction was on par, if not better than any of the three major factions in the Solar Tree, the Alytes, the Barbarians, and the Terrons. The former of which had only four surviving occupants on the planet. Yet they stayed for weeks for this long. While the Terrons relied on numbers and substances; The Barbarians relied on instinct and weapons; and The Alytes relied on their honor and emotion.

Abby was pretty cold in the northern part of Stereo, where the Shamans were located. They lived along the western coastline and had a single, massive castle, but she was able to finish a paragraph about everything Hazane had told her thus far. It was fun to have someone with you when you were wandering the world all alone, with a small chance of surviving. Abby had dark blue hair tied into a side braid, which was curled at the tip, making it look quite sharp. At this point, Hazane believed the woman’s hair could be used as a weapon, it wouldn’t even be the most surprising thing she’s seen on Stereo after leaving the Battle of the Barbarian Base. She stayed there after the battle had ended for resources, but they had eventually run out of course. She carried forty pounds of food with her, she realized how high she was as she was at her lowest point now, eating Barbarian food. She didn’t mind the bland, nutritious flavor, she despised, however, the packaging which made the food moist and sticky. No wonder Barbarians were insane, she would be too if she had to eat this every day. She ate dinner, which she shared with Abby, they both calculated they each ate four hundred calories worth of food that night. The Alyte’s pink hair darkened, just like the night.

Yet there was still a light, nonetheless. The woman’s pink rollerskates emitted a small glimmer of light which didn’t run on any type of energy, but hope. Abby couldn’t believe an outsider could live this long, let alone hope. She grabbed a nearby piece of chopped Shamawood and Hazane used one of her lighters. Both women heard a howl but they didn’t mind it, they each faced more terrifying challenges before. Instead, Hazane took a small container of food and roasted it over the campfire. It tasted a little better if she had to be honest. Abby started chewing on a stick. If Hazane hadn’t told Shamawood was edible, she would’ve thought Abby was taking edibles. The night went on quickly, little sound was to be heard. The next morning, the sun was the brightest Hazane had seen it on this planet, and her rollerblades? They were as bright as the sun. Once Abby finished her last twig of Shamawood, she put on her turquoise cloak and high grey boots. She also sheathed her Stunner into her left pocket, where it was hidden along with her other weapon, ‘Glect. The thin blade was a rapier, more classy than one might expect from a Shaman or a lady. But it was even more out of place when the woman was a dear friend of Machara, who liked to do things the brutal and merciless way. She didn’t even look remotely close to a Shaman. The only thing which could suggest her association was her blue hair which was ever so slightly darker than bright. There was one last Mormoose Soup container which Abby picked up and threw to Hazane, she savored it along the trail into another nation. Hopefully, the light on Hazane’s rollerblades wouldn’t dim, even become non-existent.

Cookie-colored squirrels were running up trees so short, that Hazane thought they were bushes. It didn’t help the fact they looked like food as the Alyte was hungry, starving even. The trail to Nightfort wasn’t going to be easy to traverse, but it was going to be necessary. Abby had a Timmisian friend, a good friend, one who didn’t abandon her, which was a rarity. There was one big problem, however. Literally at that, a massive mountain, surrounded by smaller, yet still large hills covered with snow which looked more like ashes of fallen soldiers. There looked to be something in the way, something huge, something not so terrifying, something that looked tasty. A native Shaman boar, to the east coast, neighboring the city known as Myrn. Two medium-sized tusks that swirled so much they could’ve been easily mistaken for hooks were the first features to get the Alyte and Shaman’s attention in just a few measly seconds. Large in stature, the organism looked exactly like a Sykokin. Hazane had dealt with many Sykokins before, so she put a hand up to let Abby know she didn’t want to hear what the thing’s name was or what it ate. She didn’t know what Abby wanted to do, but she knew she was dying to see how the animal reacted to getting stabbed with four layers of molten from the dagger known as Capsoul.

Now, it may seem strange, especially to someone who wasn’t an Alyte to try to figure out why Hazane had carried a dagger to carry out a potent amount of pain, but anyone who knew her would smirk with delight as she drew her iconic blade. It was unusually colorful for a deadly weapon, also strange as an Alyte tool, but it got what Hazane wanted to be done. Abby didn’t fire a glance at Hazane but instead kept her eyes on the red glowing spheres of the Ammaska as it charged toward the two of them. Instead of dodging like Hazane, Abby jumped on the animal’s tusk and onto its forehead, where she climbed to the top and pulled out her weapon of choice. It was more traditional, even by Alyte standards, and it was badass, its name too. Cron was four times the size of Capsoul and its sharp tip proved it a more efficient tool for taking care of the Sykokin-like creature as its head was pierced. Abby loved seeing the red, glowing eyes of each Shaman creature she killed, living most of her life being ashamed of her bloodline. She used to be proud of one Shaman, however, and her name was Machara Misch.

Despite, all of her anger towards her best friend, Abby still believed the Ammaska far more deserving of swift execution, Machara would pay for her crimes, soon enough. Just after the Shaman animal eventually lost consciousness as it lay in a pool of blood. Hazane was lying on the ground, exhausted after dodging the creature after it relentlessly chased her. After she gobbled the bottle and forgot to breathe, Abby offered her water, which Hazane thanked her for. I think it was safe to say that Hazane thoroughly enjoyed the drink, and the encounter slightly less. The path to the large mountain was getting shorter. The large, natural structure was only getting bigger. It meant that Hazane and Abby had to also get more powerful, the latter was knowledgeable of how cruel this planet could be, and she had lived on it for her entire life, yet she was much more dreadful than Hazane, whose rollerblades were still shining, but Abby was sure it would dim, soon enough. It always did, when life seemed to be going well, there was going to be something that ruined it, she just knew. Just like last time.

Abby and Hazane had reached the top, now the Alyte could finally name one thing she did that Adam or Henry didn’t, assuming they didn’t also climb a mountain this large. I swear, if they are up here around a campfire, I’m going to flip. Hazane’s thoughts weren’t too unique from the average Alyte citizen, she guessed. There wasn’t much on top of this mountain, but Abby acted like she was staring at a massive horde of enemies. “Sorry,” she said, “I have a bad memory here, please excuse me.” Hazane wondered why Stereons were so polite and formal. Please excuse the awful name for the natives. It was likely a goofy trait inherited from hanging out with Adam and Henry too much, they were quite influential and entertaining. She didn’t mind them, the three of them had only recently just met, but they shared all the same energetic traits which made them a perfect trio. Hazane hadn’t seen anyone feel such negative emotion in a long time, not even at the Battle of the Barbarian Base. Granted, she arrived at the battle late, missing out on most of the action. She didn’t even have a clue where Adam and Henry were. The last time Hazane remembered such a poor, broken soul was her father. While he died bravely, he wished he could’ve done so much more. Even more, than killing forty-six of the Terron’s most feared Titanasar. No, the universe’s most feared soldiers. The TerroWrist’s weapons. Even a giant creature like the Alyte Machama would be most terrified of facing those swift, brutal creatures. But something told Hazane that Abby had faced something even more merciless and cruel than the Titanasar when she saw small drops of tears expelling from her eyes, silently, motionless.

The hug should’ve been meaningless, Hazane didn’t know Abby, she never told her about what happened to her and her former best friend. But she didn’t need to know. The two of them were on top of the world, all they needed to do was to go East, through Myrn City and towards Nightfort, where a certain Timmisian would be awaiting them. It felt good for Abby to go on such an adventure ever since being locked in that Shaman prison for all those months. The two women set a campfire, ate their remaining meals, and slept for the night, knowing this would be their last chance to take a break. The stars on Stereo were beautiful, both Hazane and Abby agreed on that statement, who wouldn’t? The milky-yellow color of the speedy, flying dots only illuminated, no matter if the day was bright or if the night was the same color as a Shaman’s blood. The stars were going down now and Abby wondered if that was a sign of their adventure ahead. There wouldn’t be a second chance if the Shaman and Alyte failed, but they would succeed, Abby knew it.

“And so she fell, along with everything she believed in. The only thing which remained on top was now a memory, even if the victim didn’t have a brain to contain it.” - Abby Brooke

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Chapter 26: Unforgiven

“We made it.” Abby’s voice was strained, but at the time, it didn’t matter. She held onto her best friend’s hand, pulling her up. Machara was smiling, which was a rare occurrence. It truly emphasized how much this journey meant to the two of them. But everything difficult was over now! They didn’t have to worry anymore, they were at the top of the world, where nothing could harm them. The road to Myrn City was simply going to be a walk in the park compared to what the first half of the journey encapsulated. When Abby and Machara stood there, only for a second. A fucking second. The sun turned into an eclipse which melted the snowy mountain and Abby’s faith. Machara felt a tug on her leg as she was being dragged down. Abby heard a familiar voice. “You should’ve stayed back!” Both Adrian and Witherer’s voices were pained. “Damn it Witherer! You should be rotting in a cell!” Machara’s voice was in agony as she looked at the bull-like prisoner, who wrapped his tail around her waist, restricting her just enough so Abby couldn’t reach her friend. Adrian fired a blast which fired her hand, leaving nothing but a burning pile of ash. No matter what these two could do, it wouldn’t hurt as much if Machara fell. With her right hand, Abby pulled out her small blaster and hit Adrian directly in the head, he fell for several hundred feet before miraculously hanging onto a ledge, just meters from the deep, dark void. Witherer still had a tight grip on Machara and Abby knew he wouldn’t give up for anything. The two Shamans were mortal enemies. Just as Abby blasted his tail, he purposely jumped off the mountain, taking Machara with him, to the endless void below them. Once the Shaman crafters shot down Adrian with her friend, Abby was silent. She was on top of the world, but the lowest she ever was.

While a bit long, the first page of Abby’s textbook was complete, it would be a while until the two of them could use a copying machine though. At least Abby got stronger over those months, she even believed Hazane to be more skilled than Machara. The scary part was the fact that Hazane was an outsider, she didn’t even live on this planet! There was something peculiar about this partner, Abby didn’t even sense if Hazane had a chance of dying. She was so hopeful, even in the worst situations. She wondered about the origins of the Alyte. She thought of traveling to an Alyte planet to see how these warriors were trained. Abby had blue hair, she could probably sneak in and get the practice to annihilate the Shamans for dooming her former best friend. Besides, the Battle of Merot Bridge should’ve been enough to keep Shamans in their place. They should’ve stayed in the Har Cave, forbidden from the outside world. Their skin should’ve stayed pale, their flesh withering, and their bones breaking. The Shamans also wanted Abby to stay mad. Damn it! Every time she tried to think about this subject, the anger always consumed her. It seemed to get worse and worse every single time. The cruel hand of hatred squashes the brittle heart of Mortal. Abby heard the legend dozens of times! Emotions always played mortals. Now, the emotions had not only manipulated Abby’s heart and faith, but drained her, her weakening legs, thinning arms, and broken mind only reinforced this statement.

Enough with the paper, there was still a second part to this adventure, even if it wasn’t as difficult as the first. Damn, Abby wondered how many steps she took in her lifetime. Maybe going back to the Shaman region to search for Machara wasn’t the smartest idea. Well, Stars, or Stereonians or something like that, according to Hazane weren’t the smartest creatures in the universe. They still were able to transport themselves into a different universe, even if it took them forty million years of technological improvement to do it. That was at least one thing all three of the world’s superpowers were able to agree on, even if it was only for one time. And if any soldier could do it, Abby would be the one. She didn’t think she was narcissistic, but she was the best person she knew! Stronger, faster. Smarter, passionate. Not only that, the asset known as Hazane was by her side, maybe not as good, but better than Machara. At the thought of this, Abby felt immense guilt, and she was sure it wasn’t Shamans manipulating her emotions. Before leaving, Abby put out the campfire by stomping on it, letting out all of her anger, which mostly came from herself. She woke up Hazane and the two continued, without realizing the fact there would be many more challenges in coming, making it as difficult, if not harder than the first sixty miles to the Shaman mountain.

“Under the sun, there is light, under two moons, there are millions of stars.” - Isle Kitsune

Chapter 27: We Chosen Few

Plaguerunner readied his Arc Pistol, preparing a revolution. As Issac Kitsune was in his private room, eating quietly, he raised his mask, revealing his red eyes. Not just any eyes, the rare despair found in few Kitsunes. The Ares Lord took one final bite of his chewy white bread and stood up, opening the double doors and revealing himself to his entire army and the cruel nature of Stereo. Everyone was outside, armed with a melee and ranged weapon, doused in the acid rain. The conditions each of them had endured were so unbearable, that they had gotten used to such unfortunate circumstances. They didn’t shiver at the cool touch of the moisture. They did not feel a burn at the chemical mixture. At least two hundred strong, Issac liked his situation. He was always a man who preferred quality over quantity. He sheathed his famous Naginata, which only seemed to get dirtier with every enemy he slayed. He remember when he slaughtered Captain Raptors, he had thought it was his greatest achievement. He didn’t believe he would do so much more, in such little time. He raised his right hand and yelled the famous Kitsune incantation. “ARES! WAR! SURVIVAL! LIFE! REIGN!” Everyone was chanting it now, how could you not? Issac was a true force to be reckoned with, even if his twentieth birthday was just right around the corner. Twenty years, twenty-hundred confirmed kills thought the Ares Lord.

Plaguerunner always adjusted everything that could be changed to the color green. It was his master’s favorite color, after all. Green rockets, green boosters. Issac hated the fact his ancestors chose such a gray planet to rule over. Monwaurk hadn’t a single organic part about it. It was constructed thousands of years ago, created by the original Ares Lord and his fourteen comrades. The work was impressive for fourteen people, but it was still quite small, to say the least. There wasn’t anything that distinguished the world from other metallic planets, which made it quite helpful in keeping a low profile when Issac’s elder brother took control for a short time before his untimely passing. Stereo was like a chemical mixture, some of it beautiful, some of it gray and dull. Properties of metal loomed in all parts of the world, but there were still some beautiful monuments that would surely attract tourists, maybe in a few decades or so. Once this entire world was conquered and if the natives were ever so kind to accept outsiders onto this world. For now, the main problem that was bringing down kItsune spirits was the fact there was a malfunctioning engine. It was on one ship, but it was quite a large engine. Trying to fix it would take some time, but Plaguerunner wouldn’t disappoint his lord, he would do it for him, and every person the man ruled. The Ares Lord would be the one to stop these Moltagen operations on this damn planet. The Kitsunes would go down in history as one of the most famous Terrons in the history of the Solar Tree. They may even be able to overthrow the TerroWrists and take all of the stock holdings for themselves, they wouldn’t get addicted to the substance, they would become one with it. They would become superhuman. But they had other things to worry about, especially Plaguerunner. The Terron engineer jogged towards the massive Gyrocrafter, inspecting his engines for errors. Almost like how he would identify and conquer all of his lord’s enemies.

After a few automated checks, the engine of the large Gyrocrafter looked to be a trap, There was a very dangerous explosive found on the back of the vehicle. He remembered the Qulan Crew had retrieved the stolen ship, meaning it belonged to the Barbarians. They were the only ones the Qulan raided, they were usually easy to steal from. Interestingly, they invested in traps rather than improved security. And they call themselves “men,” thought the engineer. He could believe the Barbarians could do something as stupid as this. Especially to Terrons, the superpower with the most technically advanced individuals, not only that, but they were also the smartest. It wasn’t something snarky just simply said by Plaguerunner, the statistics showed it, not even from a Terron device could the results be shown without deception. Well, now that situation was done with, every Terron ship was now ready, without bombs this time. The Ares Lord raised his Naginata, which seemed to shine extra brightly in the cold rain. The reaction it received was a flurry of raised blades by every remaining Kitsune. While the Ares Lord had experienced every emotion he could, from joy to pain, he knew it was worth the trouble. He had an entire army of loyal soldiers, brave warriors, and true friends. In his darkest times, they were there for him. In the events to come, he knew they would accompany him again, in his darker times. Issac Kitsune, the Ares Lord, would have everyone he needed, in dark times.

Plaguerunner was an amazing engineer, but he had only done his job. The glory of victory and honor as a Kitsune was worth more to him than any copper, gold, or weapon that he could stash. His black outfit was great in the cold rain, he needed all of the heat he could gather. Even under all of those layers of armor and clothing, the man had to admit this planet was a fine specimen to kill off the weakest of the Solar Tree and see who survives these tests of nature. While the young master was quite honorable, he was no match for the Machama graduate at the battle. Such an unnecessary waste of life, the Barbarian Base was already destroyed for god’s sake! Bloody hell! Organisms have evolved so far in technology and yet they fail to do the most simple things and think of the easiest solutions. And to think the TerroWrists had engaged in the battle as well. They should’ve known better than to fight such a useless battle. It was embarrassing to be considered “worse and weaker” than those foolish morons. Their only upper hand over the Ares clan was their technology and strength in their large numbers. While Plaguerunner lost sleep trying to find ways to overthrow the king of the Terrons, he soon realized why the TerroWrists gained the reputation they had. It was not long before he manned the cockpit of the Gyrocrafter, and he remembered to thank the death of the Alytes for this ship. After making sure everything was in prime condition, including himself and the rest of his fellow Kitsunes, he made contact with his lord. “M’lord, everything has been properly adjusted for your command. There will be no technical errors during this little “mission” you have prepared. I promise to serve you in any possible with every action or word I say.” Issac loved Plaguerunner, his childhood friend was an enigmatic genius, even more so than him, if he had to be honest. He believed he was the smartest Terron which had grazed the Solar Tree, solar system, or universe. It didn’t matter what you called it. The masked soldier was more productive, difficult, and ingeniously stranger than any TerroWrist, Barbarian, or even Alyte which had been born organically. Issac counted in his mind, would his best friend be able to break a personal record? He was able to mobilize an entire fleet of Gyrocrafters in less than two minutes. Issac pondered on the best way to execute the fools who believed they could get away with slaughtering his remaining brother. Isosceles would look down on him from the sky, both would be smiling as the hellspawn that was the Alytes and TerroWrists when they were getting bloodied and beaten with only the cruelest methods of vengeance.

Still, even if it was very shortly, it was a long time until the vengeance would be unleashed. The wise thing to do in this situation is to focus on getting work done. Plaguerunner and Issac loved that. The two Kitsunes loved seeing progress. It was why the Ares Lord loved history and empires. He always played board games with his older brother, most of them based on true, historical events. Another thing he thoroughly enjoyed about work, was the reason he and Plaguerunner were best friends since their early childhoods. They would spend hours with each other trying to get their school projects done, and Isosceles would beg them for him to play too. He believed it was the greatest thing anyone could do, set a goal and watch as all of their hard work went into a project that would eventually last longer than even them. The Ares Lord had personally set Plaguerunner as his right-hand man, he was now more than an enigmatic genius who studied near the playground. He was officially endorsed by his lord, and more satisfactory, his best friend. The squadron of twenty-eight Gyrocrafters and Barbarian ‘flamers were ready to be launched and activated. Alyte, Barbarian, Storyin, (that was what the history book he stole from a Stereo native said) it didn’t matter, all of them would perish. No one would survive this brutal attack. The Terrons would have their revenge. More importantly, the Kitsunes would have the pound of flesh and blood they longed for since their last, bitter meal at the Battle of the Barbarian Base. Foxes were hungry little creatures, weren’t they? Well, it would be a little while until they would be able to feast on that meal, Issac had a personal grudge.

“The deepest ditch will be the hole in your heart and the biggest void will be in freedom with your hollow brain.” - Adam Aero

Chapter 28: Deep Ditches

Just when I thought we were out of danger just for even a single moment in time, they arrived. Yes, the time guys had arrived. This time, there weren’t just two officers, there was a squadron, six of them I counted. All of them weren’t exactly hostile, but friendly smiles didn’t graze their faces either. At the thought of hostility, I realized Henry and I weren’t exactly the most approachable-looking people in the world either. We had several weapons on us, with each of us wielding some of them in hand. I signaled for Henry to withdraw his weapon, to be fair, I sheathed my blade first. At the sight of this, my best friend hid his long blade on his back, this seemed to please the mysterious Timmisians. I liked the outcome of our actions so far, we were becoming less hostile with this species, if not slowly. The Timmisians took one step each, in perfect coordination. The one to my left most spoke first “Let them be, my legion.” He conveyed the statement in a powerful, but negotiable tone. The man had an interesting voice, it sounded like he was being tripled, probably had the power triple of ours too. His two hands on his clock-shaped head were supposed to be his eyes. It was easy to find out why the man was dressed so finely, he was in command of the small squadron, and he deserved to be in a position of power, as I shortly later found out after properly making allies with the Timmisians. He spoke one last time before I got a chance “Adam Aero, such a young fine squire you are.”

“May I ask if you identified me before I got on this planet?” I tried my best to sound formal and professional. Hesitating for a small moment, the figure stood forward and spoke in a calm voice which made me relax, only if it was for a small moment “No, landing on the Timmisian border, our receptors identified you and your surface-level information. We reviewed both of you, individually.” At this point, sweat was trickling down my cheeks and I opened my mouth before Henry interrupted “Ah, that is some fine technology you have created. May I ask your overall opinion on us?” It was disturbing to hear Henry speaking like he was a businessman instead of a hardened warrior from Machama. Honestly, I think it caused the sweat gland to trickle down my cheek faster. If I wasn’t going to get used to it, I could appreciate how natural Henry sounded, he conveyed the statement in a way that didn’t sound forced at all! The Timmisians turned to their leader, who hesitated for a second before speaking. “I must say, such young knights with much potential wouldn’t be on the list of people we were expecting in the Versalies Ditch.” I got a little impatient with the group, I preferred not to be called knights. I’m pretty sure we were much more technologically advanced than those soldiers from medieval Europe. I didn’t dare mention my preferences to the Timmisians, however. This was the most dangerous level of a chat, the way we responded would either make or break alliances with the wandering group. They were small in numbers, but it wouldn’t feel nice to be outnumbered in a battle if we were to irritate these folk.

After a few moments, the leader of the troupe decided to do something “interesting.” He had the bright idea of throwing a five-foot sword at a young man he just met and he did this unironically expecting me to catch it. I didn’t. Don’t say I didn’t try, it grazed my hand, so I like to think I get half credit for the whole ordeal. Even though my hand was blazing in pain, I didn’t show it, my bloodied hand raised the weapon high, where everyone, including Henry, could see it. My blood faced the sun now rising, signaling it was the start of the day, and I had a sneaking suspicion it would be the beginning of something even greater. Ignoring the pain, I asked the man’s name in the most professional tone I could manage at the time, “Sir, may I ask your identity?” In response, he said “Very fine question indeed good sir. For now, you may refer to me as the one called Almo.” “And I am Adam Aero,” I responded “Pleased to make your acquaintance.” “If I may, I am Henry Rose.” My best friend responded.

To respond to our introductions, Almo named his five companions. “They are called, Mallo, Fallo, Trinis, Minis, and Finius. We call ourselves Breakout. I apologize if any other Timmisians have been giving you trouble, I can assure you not all of us are prone to anger. They simply don’t comprehend the correct course of action once they meet an outsider. We, on the other hand, are well knowledgeable about different people, all of us belong to different guilds, where we all just met months ago. This is the first real hunt we’re all doing together out of training.” Even though it was a significant amount of information to digest, I was still interested. I could tell by body language these men were not like any other TImmisian I’ve ever encountered thus far. First of all, they did not have clocks for heads and hands for faces, they looked just like us. Eyes, ears, noses, mouths, all of it. They looked like either an Alyte, Barbarian, or Terron, it didn’t matter. They could easily pass as the same species. The only way we could identify the Stereo natives was due to their insignias which sported a logo of a large golden clock. The hands were struck at half-past twelve. Every logo looked to be the same, save for a few misprints which changed the time to half-past eleven. For once in my life, I thought people couldn’t simply be identified by their faction, but only by the actions that speak for themselves. I had grown.

As we followed Almo and the rest of the pack known as Breakout, I couldn’t help but admire the beautiful landscape of this planet. When it was raining, Stereo was a natural looker. There was little wind to disturb the peace yet enough to maintain the active life that inhabited this large planet. While some creatures showed themselves as predators and beasts, many more appeared as beautiful insects and lively animals. I don’t know how to put it, but these animals looked “smart” somehow. Don’t ask me why, even if I don’t know how. They just looked smart, okay? Along our journey, we took several breaks and stopping points, Timmisians were more prone to eating, I guess. They ate mass amounts of meals while we Alytes barely ate two meals a day, the difference was quite telling. We didn’t eat much, but we did eat something. One can of Mormoose Soup was always tasty, especially if you share one with your best friend until Henry said it would be an indirect kiss if I drank the same soup he did. The branch over the fire was tasty too, I guess. The first night I spent with the Timmisians turned out better than I had originally expected. They were very quiet when sleeping, barely even moving an inch. We slept on the cut trees we chopped down to fuel the campfire. We traveled the entire day to take a rest in a place that looked abandoned. The land still appeared fresh and tender. I could hear the ocean and wind clashing around us. There was an eerie sound that could be heard randomly, I had a feeling it wasn’t nice. The sound reflected the hostile environment we’ve encountered during the time we’ve been stuck here. Our ships were destroyed, but our hope yet faded.

While the wooden trees of Stereo were stiff and hard, I fell asleep in seconds. Walking for such a long time in the planet’s climate wasn’t fun. At all. The least of our problems were the native insects, but still, they bothered me every time they tried to get a suck in. Do. Not. Take. That. Out. Of. Context. They were trying to suck our blood, to clarify. I’ve always pondered on the mind of insects. Do they enjoy the pain you’re enduring? Are they simply doing it to survive? Those questions always faded immediately, especially when I was sleeping. I rarely experienced dreams while recovering. Today was another common occurrence. Awoken from the sun I believed to be brighter and hotter than Merris’s, I faced another direction until my closed eyes identified a spot that wouldn’t blind me. I opened my eyes to find out I was looking at a tree, cut down by Henry when he was trying to cut it down with his sword. It fell on him. I was pretty sure my best friend was knocked into the next morning after that. Literally. Hearing metals clattering, I sat upright and stared to my left, where the sound came from. In a ditch, Finius and Almo were battling with classic, four-foot swords. Nothing else was in play, just two Allumium blades clattering repeatedly. The Timmisians showed unique fighting styles, even when comparing just the two of them. Finius was much faster, trying to hit weak points. The way he fought was much more to my liking, I preferred speed over most components. What’s better than catching your enemy off guard and dodging most swings? Finius wielded a much larger blade from Alyte Speedsters. It was a classic sword, giving Henry’s a run for his money. It took an exquisite amount of strength to wield such a beautiful weapon. It was even more impressive for one to swing it in such rapid succession, with little to no faults or hindrances. Almo, on the other hand, wielded a small dagger. He took a few steps back regularly, he preferred ranged attacks, parrying each of Finius’s rapid attacks. The tip of Almo and Finius’s weapons frustrated the latter, he should’ve been the one with the range advantage. The battle finally conceded when Almo disarmed Finius. I slid down the dirt ditch and clapped my hands. Finius took this as a sign of sarcasm and immediately picked up his blade before pointing its sharp edge toward my neck. Talk about a sore loser. I showed no signs of fear as he lowered his weapon, Almo laughing next to him. Something told me I was going to love this group.

Henry challenged Finius. My goofy friend loved sparring with anyone he considered worthy. The two men were of similar skill levels on top of that. They both wielded larger-than-life swords and wielded attitudes sharper than those weapons. You could say anything about this duel, but you couldn’t say it wasn’t entertaining. My eyes entered and located the two of them sparring with each other. The duel between them was maintaining my attention. Henry delivered heavier slashes but Finius was quicker with his blade. I’m pretty sure their weapons made more contact than the times Henry and Finius blinked and added together. While the duel was ongoing, Finius slashed at a tree, which I assumed was to show a display of dominance. Almo approached me, which would later be much more interesting than Finius’s angry fit of tree abuse. He pulled out the sword I was given without me even noticing. Remember the one I almost lost my hand over trying to catch? Yeah, that one. The massive sword appeared the perfect size when wielded by the tall Timmisian leader. He threw it to me, and I caught it this time! Oh, without me severing my hand too! Granted, it was kind of hard to miss a five-foot sword when you were six feet away from the thrower, but I digress. He walked closer to me, my attention focused on him. The bearded man spoke softly. “The way you fight is magnificent! I’ve always preferred swift attacks and you exhibit those skills every Timmisian wants to learn. In a way, Alytes and Timmisians are quite alike. Both species are fast, swift fighters who iconically use short swords and heavy blades. If I could get you to wield a large blade and your friend to become faster with his weapon, I’m willing to bet you two would be unstoppable.” I had never seen anyone be so genuine “Thank you, but I’ve never tried to wield a blade larger than four feet tall before.” Almo smiled before speaking in his usual tone “There’s a Terron base we located just across the Myrian Ocean, you could steal a ship and escape this planet, or do you wish to do more?” I smirked shyly “Do you expect two young Alyte men to do anything less than what would be the most chaotic option?”

“At last, he survived with a wound on his face and a scar on his brain!” - Execute

Chapter 29: King

“Barbarians, do you see now?!” He wasn’t sure his fellow warriors could see now he had blinded a dozen of them by slashing at their eyes, but the Barbarian prince was now a king. His father had finally retired. He smirked as the golden crown fell from the blue beam, landing softly on his head. Gatrous smiled even harder when he saw the remaining of his Barbarians raise their weapons to their king. “We are sorry m’lord, of course, someone of your ability would be able to beat all of us in such a brutal manner,” one soldier was holding his broken arm while breathing heavily. “It is fine my friends! Only the strongest of us are alive now. All of you should be proud of yourselves. As a Barbarian king, I recommend we swarm the Kitsune resting point, they won’t see it coming. Does anyone object?” No one raised their hands, Gatrous continued his speech “Located at the center of the Myrian Ocean, there lies an island where the Ares Lord lies. We shall show them what happens when Terrons disrespect and loot us. And we shall-” Before the young man could finish his speech or even sentence, a projectile struck him. It was dark and heavy. A shadow orb had the king on his knees. Another one came! The Barbarians were not ones to fear and they proved it by running toward the source of the danger. Machara. What followed was dozens of male Barbarians aged sixteen to sixty-four running towards Machara. Some of them didn’t even use their weapons, they used their bodies. Running through the Shaman, they hoped their feet could spill some blood as a stampede tried to silence Machara. It didn’t work. While suffering dozens of wounds, the Shaman’s projectile orbs took down most of the Barbarians. Just when she thought she was done, Machara heard a whistle and turned to its general direction. Gatrous gazed at his rival before pointing in front of him, where a dozen more Barbarians rushed Machara, hoping to seal her fate.

The king’s Elite Executors were unlike the others. They liked the thinking game, they kept their distance, but Machara didn’t have the advantage. Every time the Shaman even started to form an orb, the Executioners would throw a small dagger, disabling her for a few seconds. Even when she successfully formed a shadow orb and fired it, the Executioners’ weapons had a job of their own. Making contact with the energy ball, one Barbarian’s weapon absorbed the true power of the projectile, it only made his weapon stronger. Machara bit her lip carefully, before gazing to her right and running to the east. She ran faster than she had ever before, there was a small boat at the pier of the beach the Barbarian king became crowned. Gatrous reacted in only milliseconds, he followed the Shaman and the rest of the Executioners. The sand pricked the woman’s black boots, the small crabs latching on hold of her, but she made one massive jump, across the water and into the wooden vehicle. Gatrous tried to mimic the Shaman, but his chin slammed into the rim of the motorboat and he fell into the water. That, however, didn’t stop the king as he clawed his fingers into the wood, boosting himself up and climbing onto the vehicle instead of under it. Machara elbowed the young man before he slammed down with both of his hands, and the Executioners jumped too. The total weight of the Barbarians caused too much for the small craft meant for only two persons, Machara slipped down the side of the tilting vehicle and into the water. Gatrous wasn’t done just yet, he jumped into the water and tried to follow suit, but before he knew it, the woman was now a formless shadow, escaping his grasp.

He climbed the boat slowly, looked to his Executioners, and said “Fine job.” After the adrenaline rush had passed, Gatrous felt an agonizing level of pain, his eye had been scratched by Machara. He fell to his knees, as the Executioners rushed to his aid, they heard a deafening sound followed by the sound of gunfire. Airborne ships were firing upon them! They didn’t recognize the logo of the ‘crafters and they had no way of fighting back! They pulled Gatrous into the ocean, where most of the bullets were reduced to nothing more than mosquito bites. After twenty long seconds, the ships held their fire and continued to their destination. After confirming Gatrous was alive and well, they pulled him onto the boat, where they sailed across the ocean, with a king with only his most loyal companions.

“I fear not the blade with the sharpest tip, but the one with the shortest handle.” - Finius

Chapter 30: Journey

“Very well then,” Finius said his goodbyes to Adam and Henry as they boarded the large sailboat. The red-haired man looked back and gazed upon Finius, who replied “Is something the matter?” Aero was quick with his response “No, there is nothing wrong, there’s just one thing bothering me.” The Alyte revealed the long blade that was given to him by Almo. “I haven’t mastered the art of wielding such a long blade yet. Maybe you could teach me a few tricks?” Finius expressed a suppressed giggle before answering “Well, I have two sisters awaiting me across the Myrian Ocean, I won’t say no.” Before the swordmaster set his first steps into the wooden vehicle, Almo spoke “Well, I’m the one who gave you that sword, am I mistaken?” Both Timmisians laughed out loud, and Henry joined in. “Sure, you can come along too, old man.” Finius climbed downstairs to the cabin of the boat, Almo turned to Adam who was on the first step of the stairs, and said “Finius is a normal man with normal responsibilities, I however, have an entire country awaiting me.” With that, the two Timmisians climbed downwards, into the dark, contained cabin.

While it took some arguing, Henry finally got the chance to operate the boat. Somehow, Aero was able to be convinced of the white-haired man’s ability to maneuver the vehicle in a way that didn’t involve sinking everyone on the vessel. It was probably the fact Adam had a migraine and rested in the cabin downstairs, when Henry started up the vehicle and blazed across the Myrian Ocean, at the highest speed the little boat could manage. Finius and Almo were brave men, but their hands twitched uncontrollably when Adam told them his best friend was operating the vehicle. Well, everyone had fears, even warriors as great as Finius and Almo. The journey was short, so everyone had agreed not to bring any food large enough to add unnecessary weight to the small boat. Henry heard an ample amount of conversation in the cabin from his position. While the man enjoyed the badass nature of duels and Alyte war tactics, he didn’t forget to appreciate how beautiful nature could be, especially if it was on an alien planet. To be honest, Henry likely took the job since he had to do minimal work (and not the fact he was embarrassed after being beaten by Finius in their duel). After two hours on the water, Henry spotted a small island and slowed down, hitting the shore, and causing the boat to shake for a short period. The men in the cabin were alerted immediately, Finius spoke first “This isn’t right, we usually arrive at our destination in one more hour.” Adam responded, “Could it be the fact Henry was pushing this boat to its limits?” Finius defended himself quickly “Do you think I'm a moron? I know how to calculate speed.” Almo joined in the conversation “Of course not Finius! Why have you gotten so angry as of late?” The Timmisian swordmaster looked down, “I apologize, let’s find out what’s going on.” With that, the three men exited the cabin to the top floor.

“Henry, are you sure this is the correct island?” Adam said, piercing a glance at his friend. “Of course, it isn’t!” Finius said, forgetting about his random fits of rage. Finius kicked the sand on the unidentified island. He bet he looked so cool in doing so. And with that, Henry, Almo, and Finius reentered the boat while Adam noticed something interesting. Me. He looked at the purple stone and picked it up. It was transparent and the shape of a star. It was slightly cold, glowing a small amount. He noticed the object was shaking ever so slightly and threw it to the ground in front of him. A few seconds later, when the man had wisely hidden behind a nearby rock, a burst of light exploded, lasting only a few short seconds. The Alyte stared from above the rock, now a Shaman. He too looked exactly like an Alyte, Barbarian, or Terron. He had a black cloak with a white top hat, his soft face reflecting his pale skin. I didn’t remember much of what I did with my first encounter with Adam, but I do remember immediately tripping on a rock and landing face-first onto the sand. At that very moment, Finius and Almos heard a thud and the former came running back on the island, unsheating a sword and pointing it at me. The next few moments were a blur, but afterward, I recall Adam and Finius going back onto the boat, with me tied up in the cabin.

“You know, I haven’t even done anything yet right?” I was getting quite frustrated with how these four were treating me. I thought people loved tophats! This is evil, this is unjust, this is tophatphobia! The worst part was the fact the Alytes were giggling like crazy and the Timmisians each patted me on the back. Okay, maybe that wasn’t the worst part, the part after the swordmaster spoke was, however. “The Timmisians would love to buy such a unique looking SHaman such as yourself. I’m willing to bet they would pay a fine amount.” His blond hair flew in the harsh conditions of the Myrian ocean. Speaking of the ocean, it decided to fuck all five of us simultaneously. I heard a small thud before I flipped over in my chairbound state. I wasn’t exaggerating, I ascended onto the wall before flipping four times into the back of the boat, before finally getting the taste of the floor. Being a Shaman, I knew exactly what happened. It was the Shauckwaves fucking us up again. Even though they were kinda fun to experience, getting hit by one on a moving vehicle, especially if that vehicle was tiny, was not fun. And of course, it had to be water as well, where the natural disasters were most effective and destructive. I love my luck.

After everything got situated, the rest of the journey was very boring. There were no Shauckwaves to witness for entertainment. Though I doubt the Timmisians and Alytes were sad about this fact. The swordmaster decided to remain in the cabin for the rest of the boat ride, watching over me. At this point, I just wanted to sleep. Being a hyperactive child (and adult), I never wanted to remain stationary for a long period, which is why I had trouble focusing in class. This guy though, was paranoid as hell. He ate in front of me and slept in front of me, his dirty blond hair still moving around and about every time the boat shook and zagged. He even took off my tophat, revealing my purplish black hair. His hazel eyes met with my hazel eyes. Just to let you know, I won the staring contest. After an hour of capturing me, the group of four had finally reached their destination. I was not at all happy, as you could see (if you were there). After a few minutes of thrashing, trying to escape the grasp of the men, I was finally restrained by the redhead’s blades. It was quite impressive to see technology from off-planet territories. I stopped resisting and breathed a heavy sigh. Or it was probably forty since I was so exhausted. I could see the sun, it looked like the melting yolk of an egg. Well, it was better to be sold in the afternoon than at night. I guess I’ll get sold and possibly tortured, I had a good shot at life.

While I was still tied up, the rest of the gang exited the boat, at least they were nice enough to bring me with them. The white-haired man tried very hard to conceal the massive fucking grin on his punchable face. His redhead friend wasn’t very tolerable either. His armor was cool, even if I had to admit it. The port was made of cobblestone, as expected, and the walls were a dull color, just like all of the other piers. My purple attire would look foreign in a Timmisian city. Once I was dragged to the top of the stairway (with no troubles like falling on my side, the redhead accidentally falling down the stairs, the Timmisian swordmaster accidentally tripping on my sideways body and falling into the water, and the white-haired man accidentally cutting a man’s painting in half.), my life flashed before my very own eyes. Yes, I was about to get sold and tortured, Nightfort was a fucking amazing city. If I was going to die here, I wouldn’t complain. Seriously, the golden sun only illuminated the tall buildings of the closed city. The birds I couldn’t name flew perched upon the creative logos of the eateries. The heavenly smell of water triggered my inner child. Stupidly, I tried to make a run for it, forgetting I was tied up in metallic blades. That’s the fourth time I fell on my face on this journey alone. But this time, I tasted the rich concrete of a thriving city. It was better than any inedible material I’ve ever tasted before.

Think of the biggest city you can think of. Also, imagine the most organized town you can believe in, and let’s do some simple math. Add the former and the latter to get the Timmisian capital known as Nightfort. While I walking around, something strange happened. One moment I was going to get sold, the next moment, an unexpected Shauckwave hit the center of a nearby building. It was destroyed immediately. No one had time to respond to the disaster, only to stare at a structure cut in half, with debris falling to the ground. I heard the redhead speak in only a slightly panicked voice “How in the hell did a lightning strike hit a closed city like this?” The blond swordsman brushed his hair before revealing his uncalm emotions “Shauckwave, and to be honest, I have no fucking clue.” I looked to the other Timmisian “You need not be alarmed! It was only on-” Another Shauckwave was quick to silence him. “Bloody hell! There aren’t any lightning strikes in Merris or any other Alyte planets. What is it with this planet?” The white-haired man said it in a tone that indicated the fact he wanted everyone to calm down. I was surprised he wasn’t freaking the fuck out. If you knew me, you knew I was great at seeking opportunities and taking them. You would also know I was a complete dumbass, and when you combine the last two sentences, you got the perfect description of me. I slid back down the stairs and fell into the water, now murky and dark.

“With an eye as big as a wheel, he stood still with his metal structure, still looking more humane than some people I’ve previously met.” - Adam Aero

Chapter 31: Water War

I was just starting to like this planet. Before anyone asks, it wasn’t a thump on the journey that bothered me. No, it wasn’t even one of Finius’s snarky remarks. And I even accepted the fact I was going to be stranded on this planet for a very long time. So you must be thinking wow, how is there something that can still piss you off even after everything you’ve been through? Well the answer to that question was standing, or should I say, swimming in front of us. Swimming still didn’t sound right. So like, it was this metallic serpent-shaped, looking thing. I ran out of smart and creative things to say. His metal head was a deep red color, with pincers for teeth. His two pincers looked like they had an energy source coming out of them, blue-green. He had a tail, which looked even sharper than Finius’s tip of his sword. There was luckily no deadly energy source looming around it. I was able to describe the physical appearance of this creature very well, how do you ask? The prisoner I found trapped inside a necklace decided it would be really funny to force himself on his side when Henry was experiencing an extra awful series of thumps. One of those thumps forced the boat into a verticle angle, yes straight up. Unfortunately for me, the tied-up Shaman rolled down, knocking me off of my feet, and crashing through the cabin’s door. While I was still trying to recover from what happened, there it was, what Almo identified as an Icor. It looked exactly what a technology scientist’s wet dream looked like.

I, however, was not aroused in the slightest. Look, I have a fetish for death, but if it applies to you, then cool. I don’t mind it. I was not about to stand on a tiny boat while a mechanical serpent tried to fry my brain with green electricity. Yes, I was dumbfounded when I found out too. I drew my blade completely. I unsheathed it from my long blade from the massive scabbard, I remembered to thank Almo for his two gifts. It traveled into my hand before the thought occurred to me. Why the hell did I release a sword against a thirty-foot-tall mechanical predator? I was always a do first, think later kind of guy, but this was pushing it. I wasn’t able to go back on my decision and sheathe my blade since, you know, the predator did what any predator would do. He (or she) lowered his (I’m not calling him her anymore) head and sunk his teeth right on his prey, which was not ideal for us. Instantly, his white, metal tooth divided our delicate little boat in exactly half. Henry, still somehow oblivious, had finally gotten the idea that maybe something was wrong. He pressed a button that he thought was for autopilot (which we would later find out it was not) and looked at the Icor. His response was quite reasonable. “Oh shit.”

After dodging out of the way, I thought of myself as pretty cool. I was on the brink of death, but I still felt badass. Is that weird to think about? Well, if it is, hello. I am Adam Aero and this is my life story. For the first exciting chapter, I will describe how I heroically killed an Ichor (with a little help). Looking around, I realized how limited my options were when you were on a shaking, broken half of an already small boat. Even though I didn’t have any useful gadgets on me at the ready, I did have Finius and Almo, who were ready to say the least. Trying to look fearless, I drew out the massive blade Almo had given me, which I later named Foreigner. I was panicking at the time, I didn’t have a lot of time to give my weapon a cooler name. Believe me. The sea serpent retracted his head (and teeth), and due to my beautiful luck, he targeted us, presumably because there was more metal on the backside of a Timmisian boat. You had to take count of everything on Stereo, there were more dangers to face every day than the number of minutes in a day (which was one thousand forty, to be exact). The Icor was just one of them (I just realized I hadn’t explained how you pronounce the name of the mechanical being, I don’t know how to spell pronunciations, but to the best of my knowledge, the name was pronounced “e core.”) ENOUGH RAMBLING. After what felt like an eternity, Finius jumped in the water. It wasn’t a cowardly jump, it was a hero’s launch into battle. He swam in the freezing water and climbed the scales of the Icor. The metal must’ve felt cold, but Finius didn’t show it. Almo snapped, literally. I was phasing out, so it was the perfect time for the Timmisian to summon a line of yellow thunder. Somehow, our half of the boat had shaken more than before. I looked at Henry and the prisoner. He was having difficulty trying to tie him up with the boat’s emergency ropes (My blade had gotten lost in the sea and washed away, fuck). Not to worry, Alytes were amazing at being resourceful. I still had my Timmisian blade, it was a cold gray with a thunder pattern the same color as the burning solar eclipse in the distance. I recalled the thunder Almo had summoned, not only did the move distract the Icor, stunning it for a moment, but I also saw Finius, angrier than ever before. There were bolts of lightning consuming him, he had purple eyes, in contrast to his regular dark brown. His dull blade had transformed into a medium-sized dagger, welded by the Stereo gods themselves. For the first time, I saw metal stabbed in a way that looked badass. Though the serpent’s scales were the same material as Finius’s newly crafted blade (I presume) it pierced the Icor’s body, making it whine in a deafening cry of agony. Henry had the bright idea (no, I wasn’t being sarcastic) to throw his medieval sword at Finius.

And it worked! For the first time in a while, one of Henry’s plans had worked. It looked beautiful. Even in the swordmaster’s raged state, Finius presented a snarky smile, showing his sharp teeth. I could see him being a blond, sharp-toothed, purple-powered, energetic monster. I always believed in him, even if he didn’t even acknowledge my existence. Trying to feel like I was doing something useful, I followed in my Timmisian friend’s footsteps. Surprisingly, the water was not as cold as I had originally thought it would. However, that might be attributed to the fact Alytes were known for being efficient in colder temperatures. The moment I stared at the Icor in my current state, I realized what I was scared of. Climbing a metal predator with wild electricity flowing from the sky and sea. Please suppress your giggles, there were many Alytes who had an irrational fright of lightning. Yes, we did use electrical-charged blades, but nature can be crazy at times. It didn’t matter if you were on an Alyte planet or a foreign planet, gods like to see us mortals suffer, I can only assume. Yet I would not suffer as they (presumably) intended, I swam quickly (but not too swiftly) onto the Icor’s right side. He twisted his neck towards me, but Finius’s attacks had strained the beast’s mechanical parts to the point it harmed him to move. He was stuck in an uncomfortable position where he could not even look downwards, every neckbone must’ve hurt. I took this opportunity to climb him before hitting my chin on a metal edge, as always.

I didn’t hit my chin on the scales of a mechanical being before, but I did do something stupid, as always. In all honestly, I think I should make a book on every mistake I’ve ever made, it would be a fun way to make a quick buck, don’t you agree? Well, let’s maybe save that discussion for another time, my treacherous climb of the Icor was far more interesting. To get one fact out of the way, no, Finius didn’t even try to help me. He was too busy scaling the side of the serpent to notice me, hitting his cool stick at anything that could be deemed a weak point. I swore I heard Almo repeatedly yelling from the (half of the) boat that stabbing metal directly with metal wasn’t his brightest idea. I don’t know if Finius had any bright ideas. As of writing this piece, at the end of my journey, I don’t recall a time when my Timmisan swordmaster friend shared a piece of his mind that made me say “Ah, this is a fine idea.” No, unless I have dementia, which would be unfortunate. Still, the long-haired blond kept at it with his metallic clattering clash. Was that a tongue twister? While I jumped towards a steep ledge on the Icor, a thunderous blast shook me, and the sea snake. He tilted forward unexpectedly. I almost fell off but I managed to catch another curve with my right leg. It was a good thing there was a heavy downpour of rain to cool down the sweat I gained from this unnecessarily intense dilemma. From there, I was just like the painful Stereo day, continuously moving, no matter what happened.

After several attempts of trying and failing, I developed a steady pattern of movements, just like what they taught me at Machama. The Alytes were the smartest, Barbarians strongest, and Terrons the most insidious. Steady now, there was a reason why geniuses were always most (in)famous when they had reached a particularly elderly age. If this was going to be my first and last time on this planet, I would want to savor these moments, they would make great memories (and boasts). Just repeat the same process. Move a leg up and grab a surface with the opposite hand clenched in a fist. Rise. Grab. Jump. Rise. Grab. Jump. Now let’s avoid anything that may serve as an unnecessary distraction. I had grown numb to the purple lightning. Finius’s rage hadn’t changed a bit. Almo was adding fuel to the fire (hopefully igniting the Icor and not us). Henry had finally restrained the Shaman prisoner. It had been a smart idea, he used the gum in the cabin and tied the man in bright pink taffy.

I probably would’ve killed myself by rolling off the side of the ship (Henry didn’t think about that) if I was bested by some bubble gum, but alright. As for the more urgent situation we were facing, Henry did something only my best friend could do. He shouted in Russian and diverted the Icor’s attention. I like to think we share one brain cell. I didn’t know what he was going to do once the beast’s focus was on him entirely but I didn’t waste the opportunity we had. I signaled to Almo to summon the lightning at a more consistent pace, but I don’t think he heard me considering the fact four thunderous strikes shattered the sea in rapid succession, I swear to god the Timmisians were fucking with me at this point. The Icor thrust his head downwards, which made it far easier to climb on top of his head with the extra momentum. That was the end of the good news, the Icor had sunken the green substance onto Henry’s half of the sea vehicle. Only then did I realize the mechanical giant had used Moltagen. Deadly in large amounts for regular people, I wasn’t surprised to see the fact something like an Icor would be able to tolerate the material. It could be very dangerous when used as a weapon of mass destruction.

Henry, luckily doing his 7th-grade homework, evaded the area of the Moltagen’s reach. As expected, Timmisian wood was still wood, and it succumbed to ash in the presence of the green substance we all know and (don’t) love. After the second direct Icor attack, Henry decided to copy in my footsteps, when I was following in Finius’s footsteps. Henry’s turn to scale the scales was pretty smooth, just don’t mention the part when the Shaman rolled into my best friend and knocked him off his feet, hitting his chin on a metal anchor (He still denies it was painful even to this day). Sure, he didn’t exactly prefer the water (he came from an ocean planet, he must’ve had an agonizing childhood before meeting me), but he was able to let go of this fear. It only took a few seconds of hesitating. Unlike me, Henry liked to do things as fast as possible, no matter the risks involved. A quick mission could be a good mission, but in this case, I wasn’t going to risk anything and get ground into pieces by a living chainsaw. There was a little problem, however. You may already caught it due to my continuous rambling about useless details (I promise to stop now, this journey is my biggest accomplishment, and you can’t blame me).

The little, (literal) charming bastard had managed to break free of his bubble gum restraints and threw the boat’s futuristic steering wheel at my best friend, who was currently on the neck of a mechanical sea snake, a snake who had overdosed on steroids. That was a sentence I didn’t think I was going to say today (or at any point in my life). Unfortunately, this led Almo to focus his summoning on the Shaman, zapping and silencing him. That wasn’t the unfortunate part, the waste of time was. It was only a few seconds, but it also took a few seconds for Henry to slip off the Icor’s back once it narrowly missed him with a flash of Moltagen, with no spells to prevent this from happening. Before falling into the deep sea, my best friend threw his remaining weapon at me, a white axe had made its way around my right hand. I used it as a third arm and struck at the Icor’s side. He let out a painful screech while I thrust upward with my left foot. I switched the location of Henry’s ax to my opposite hand and repeated the process. This task was in no way “easy,” but it was doable for me. It felt like an eternity, but I finally reached the top before a thought zapped me like one of Almo’s spells. What now? It was a simple thought, but a good question. Finius was already on top of our danger, what could I do to help?

I clenched my fist harder, recognizing the white ax in my hand. I rushed toward the Icor’s forehead without a plan in mind. There was nothing I would like to do more than to exact vengeance on this metal moron (Okay, he was kind of smart by attacking us, but still). Before I bashed the creature in the head, or some other awful idea, I stopped myself abruptly. “Finius, do you think anything would happen if Almo’s electrical powers would hypothetically come in contact with a weapon like this?” Henry’s ax had a unique trait to it, elemental absorption. In extreme environments like the cold, weapons like these wouldn’t rust or get stained. However, in other situations, they could be infinitely more useful. If you were traveling around a volcano for whatever reason, liquid and plasma fire and lava and other hot substances would be stored in the weapon of choice and become potential energy. Or more appropriately, if some electricity were to strike Henry’s axe, I bet that could be useful. Of course, I’ve never been struck with lightning while wielding any weapon with the ability to absorb elements, but it was worth a shot. Surprisingly, Finius was still able to make sentences in his raged state. And they were composed of words I could understand! He signaled to Almo and pointed to me, which made me sweat for the first time in the downpour of rain. I didn’t want to be struck by lightning, but here goes nothing-

I didn’t even finish my thought. Surprisingly, the ax absorbed the electrical energy better than I thought it would. Yes, I’m surprised a weapon crafted to trap power had worked its magic perfectly. Just say it already, I have severe trust issues, when you have a friend like Henry, I can only assume it’s normal. No, don’t say there’s something wrong with my writing. The head of the ax only had the conductive material I forgot the name of, not the handle. If I remember to update this book then I’ll identify what material was used for these conductor weapons. Of course, the first thing I did as a young, eccentric Alyte was to bash the Icor’s head in. I’m not going to sugarcoat it. I’m not going to word it smartly like “My thick blade had penetrated my mortal enemy’s defenses, sealing its fate for good.” The truth was: that I got a shiny new stick and poked at the funny snake until I killed it. What I’ll go into though was the effects of my flurry of attacks. Finius had looked at me in the most disgusted face I’d ever seen on him. I guess even in his enraged state, he still had the same relations with people. I’ll remember to ask him a shit ton of questions after this ordeal is over (assuming we don’t die). With each direct contact, a small burst of energy exploded. Purple sparks looked very cool on top of moving metal, I admit. Although the seizure-inducing effect was sparkly and impressive, the Icor didn’t seem to mind much. The most he reacted was when he let out an annoyed growl. It could’ve been a burp I don’t know. To this enraged Finius, my strategy of repeatedly beating my enemy like a Barbarian had disgusted the form to the point of putting my Timmisian friend back in control. That was a start, at least.

The blonde man had his regular eyes, not purple or enlarged, just like I liked my Timmisan cold-hearted bastard. I had a feeling he still didn’t like me. “Bloody hell, even Miriu doesn’t like you.” Finius would never change. “Miriu?” I bet my tone would piss him off even more. “For the love of Stereo, forget about him, he’s still better than whatever the fuck you’re trying to be.” Finius sniggered. “We’re still on the Icor, remember?” Finius reeled at my comment, his eyes wide before drawing out his sword. I was curious, if you weren’t supposed to bash a serpent’s skull in to kill it, how do you beat it? After I saw Finius manually drill his screwdriver-like blade in the Icor’s skull, quickly adjusting the position of the weapon into the Icor’s skull, enabling an internal kill switch, I finally comprehended why my Timmisian friends liked their lives on this strange, large planet. The Icor’s eyes turned dead, like a dead channel. I hope I don’t get copyright-struck for that one. His posture remained stationary, bent. Climbing down the beast’s metallic scales, I saw Finius, jumping directly into the cold water, no longer affected by Almo’s summoned lightning. Taking the safer route, I slowly climbed down the beast. I dipped my legs in the uninspired sea and swam back to my half of the boat. “We still have half of a boat, don’t we?” This response provoked Finius which led him to respond with “Even the boat doesn’t like you.” I thought he was going to follow it up with another one of his snarky remarks, but he looked to the half of the boat that had taken its adventure. I spied Henry swimming with the prisoner attached to his back, they both looked miserable. Pulling him up, he finally got the Shaman off of him, though he was still tied up. Finius stared at him before preaching “Your dumbass isn’t smart for tying him up with bubble gum, what are your people like?” Henry smirked before responding “We’re still on the boat, remember?” I sniggered before quickly following it up with a remark of my own “For the love of Merris, forget about Henry, he’s still better than whatever the fuck you’re trying to be.” The laugh at the half-broken cabin was worth the most dangerous gamble of my life, except the one that got me put on house arrest for seven months.