Dark clouds covered the sky till the horizon but not a single drop of rainwater touched the dry and desolate lands across his field of vision. The tower made of pile of junks and jutting metal struts overlooked the plains, spotlights sweeping across the landscape. An explosion rocked in from the west, plumes of smoke bellowing out from the sites of devastation.

The warrior sat on the edge of the dirt ledge, hands by his sides, legs swinging away on air. There was still a long walk ahead of them and the brief respite from the fighting and violence of the war was something he had much needed.

A voice from behind asked, “What are you doing?” He turned to see the young man his age, a blonde haired, thin built, sharp faced teenager, who took a seat beside him.

“Hey, Luviet,” he greeted, before turning back forward to face the tower in the distance. “Just enjoying a little quiet.”

“Isn't that a little hard in a war zone?” Luviet asked, swinging his legs in tandem with his friend.

From his coat, the warrior took out a pocket watch, the circular engraving on the titanium frame had been kept unscratched, even throughout all the battles.

Luviet asked, “What's that?”

“A gift. From my big brother. It's got my real name on it. I might never see him again.”

“See who? Your brother? Or your real name?”

“Both, I guess.”

Luviet slapped his friend across the back. “Well, you've got a brother, right here. And when you're ready, you can tell me your real name too.” The pair looked out towards the tower as another explosion echoed from place unseen. “When this whole thing is over, you, me, and everyone, we're going to live happily ever after.”

***

“Watcher?”

“Yeah?” He broke out of his daydream, head shaking.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” He stood before the last flight of steps before the peak of the ridge. The Twins were setting over the horizon to their west, the double stars lit the sky in a dizzying array of red and orange. The Watcher looked out over the rope rails of the mountain path to the glowing Tower in the north. “I'm just remembering better days.” He turned back to face Kathleen, who had already made it halfway up the last flight.

She had changed into a pair of long brown pants and sleeveless shirt for the climb, long hair tied tight into a bun. “Well, we're almost at the top,” she said, panting as she did so. “Let's be quick about this. I want to head back and rest my legs.”

He quipped back, “You don't exercise much, do you?” He continued the walk up.

“What's that suppose to mean? I exercise plenty, I'll have you know.”

“Taking a stroll around the house does not count as exercise.”

“It's a really big house!”

They continued their banter on the way up. He had grown to like Kathleen's company. She was definitely a person of noble descent, as stereotypical in physical capabilities as nobles were. But she had a lust for adventure that he had not seen in awhile. A want to not just see more, but to know. She had plenty of knowledge from books she had read through her life and was not afraid expand on them and challenge their ideas. A drive for exploration.

As if to prove his point, she stopped mid-climb to pick up a blue, rose-like flower. “Prigmatia,” she explained the plant. “They use these for blue dyes. I thought they'd be much nicer to touch though. It's a little sticky.”

She continued to explain the floras of Tearha to him, always being a few steps ahead, as if to fight the notion of her cushioned heritage by challenging him in speed. He let her set the pace and she reached the peak before him. When she turned away from The Watcher to face the Valley of Titans, she stopped in her tracks and silence fell on her.

The Watcher raised a brow at her lack of motion and noise, asking, “What's wrong?” Worried, he jogged the last few steps up to her side. The moment the Valley of Titans came into his view, he braked to a stop and let out, “Oh Leana... I wish you could see this right now.”

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The valley extended and circled into a giant basin below, plains of dirt and sparse grass littering the land. But the creatures that swayed and stood within the basin were the focus of their attention. Four human-shaped Titans stood height-to-height with the peaks of the mountain ridges over a thousand meters in height and almost two hundred meters shoulder-to-shoulder.

Kathleen let out, “Sentient Titans...” Before losing breath again.

Rock giants, their bodies were made of grey marble that shimmered in the dimming light. With legs and arms as thick as buildings and bodies thrice that, The Watcher would have thought of them as nothing more than stone statues had their mouth-less, sharp octagonal heads, with a single dark glass sphere eye, not been turning at an excruciatingly slow pace to survey the surroundings. At each of their joints under the armour of stone seen through sparse gaps were gigantic titanium gears and a rigid metal frame that held the internal skeletal structure of the creatures. There was a set of giant dirt footprint visible in the middle of the field of grass behind one of the Titans, suggesting it had moved a step forward some time in the past. The print had long since grown over with shorter grass.

Kathleen pointed across him and exclaimed, “Look!”

He traced her finger's direction. The line of the ridge had been dirt trudged, sided by grass. The path to their left followed along the ridge until another set of steps cut it off. At the bottom of the steps, a stone hut was built into the side of the land, held horizontal by a wooden balcony and platform.

He asked, “You think that's where the Titan Ranger lives?”

“Most likely,” she replied. “I don't really see why anyone else would want to live up here.”

“Well,” he stated as he started their walk towards the building, never taking his eyes off the magnificent giants of the valley. “The view is terrific.”

The walk was short, and before they knew it, the wooden planks of the makeshift path was creaking beneath their feet as they stepped up to the door of the hut.

Kathleen said, “Maybe I should do the talking.”

“What?” The Watcher exclaimed. “Why? Aren't I the leader?”

“Since when?” They crossed glares for a moment before she sighed in defeat. “Fine, but don't say anything weird or stupid.” She knocked the door on his behalf.

A short moment of silence fell before them and he felt a chill ran down his spine as he thought of how the sentients that were the size of mountains behind them were not making a single noticeable sound. How could such huge things make so little noise? He thought, before laughing internally as he realized he had made an unintentional dick joke.

Then, a female voice called out from the opposite of the door. “Who's there?”

Kathleen shot him a stern glance. “Don't say anything stupid!” she reminded.

“Don't worry, I got this.” He cleared his throat and, through the door, raised his voice slightly. “Hi! Have you heard about our lord and saviour, the Flying Spaghetti Monster?”

Immediately, his companion sent a hard slap to the nape of his neck. He stumbled a steps forward, only to find his foot caught in a gap between the planks. He reached out to stop the fall against the door, but, as if luck choreographed the world against him, it swung opened and he landed face first across the threshold.

“Ouch,” he understated. “That really hurt my pride.”

Kathleen said, “I don't think you have any left.”

The female from the hut said, “And I don't know what a spaghetti is, but it sounds disgusting.”

He defended, “Oh, you'll love it.” Slowly, muscles tensed from age, he got to his feet. He stretched his back with a crack, ignoring the stinging pain on his bruised nose. “It's this little stringy noodle. A little slippery but you top it with sauce. It's fantastic. I'll make you some next time.”

The young woman crossed her arms. She wore a plain, long-sleeved white buttoned shirt, mossy green leather pants, and brown leather boots. A crimson red scarf wrapped around her neck and reached to her waist, dancing around her lean figure and gymnast body. Her long hair of shades of ash brown and gold was tied neatly in a ponytail. With opal eyes, freckled cheeks, sharp chin and scar-free skin, she had a face five years younger than the rest of her body.

She held a long barrelled rifle in her hand with what appeared to be a lance head attached to a grenade launcher. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

Kathleen stepped between the two to address her. “I'm sorry to bother you. My name's Kathleen Ambershey, and this is my companion, The Watcher. We're looking for a Titan Ranger who lives here.” She extended her a hand.

The woman took the handshake. “Luce. Lucinda Baerrinska. But I'm afraid you're out of luck. There had never been Titan Rangers living on the ridge. Just me.”

“Baerrinska?” Kathleen said, confused. “Isn't that the name of 'The Walker'?”

The Watcher asked, “Who's that?”

Kathleen explained, “She's the first person to ever cross the Leviathan's Helm from Katoki to Eltar. She also took the mantle of the leader of the Titan Rangers after helping to bring the organization into the modern cycle.”

“Former leader,” Luce corrected. “I'm retired.”

“Retired?” The Watcher exclaimed. “How? You don't look a day over thirty?”

Luce glared angrily back, fingers twitching towards the trigger of her rifle. “That's because I'm only twenty-three.”

“Oh! Uh... that's um... great! And um...” He turned to Kathleen for help, only to see her with a hand over her mouth, suppressing the giggles. He cleared his throat loudly, “Anyway, I'm here on behalf of a resident of Valendra. There's a Titan buried underneath the forest there and she would like to have the site mark for protection.”

“A buried Titan?” The look of annoyance on Luce's face disappeared almost entirely, replaced with a hint of curiosity. She closed her eyes in contemplation before nodding, “Very well. I will send a letter to the Rangers at The Yard. I will have them meet with the residence of Valent to discuss this.”

“Wait a second–!” The Watcher stopped her. Adelaide had not said anything about having to meet with the citizens, and he doubt she wanted her life in the forest disturbed further by humans from the town. “There's a little situation here. Is there any other way to–”

A gunshot echoed through the valley and his eyes went white in shock. For a moment, he thought Luce might have shot at them, but the woman had the same look on her face as he did.

Kathleen jumped with a shout, screaming, “What in the Titans was that?”

The Watcher turned towards the valley and the wandering sentient. “It sounded like it came from the south.”

“No,” Luce corrected. “That was an echo. The shot came from the north. The town–!” She pushed past them and ran out of her house.

They followed her as she hurriedly climbed the steps up to the line of the ridge. The trio looked down towards the plains and, with smoke tails whisking behind, a lone rider galloped towards Ra'Kalen on horseback. Even from his far away perch, the dark figure was unmistakable.

The Watcher let out, “Nadier.”

Behind the dark elf, a line of people followed from such a distance that they were no more than dots on a map. A small spark of light, bright in the final shadows of daylight, emitted from all but one of the figures.

Luce noted, “Muzzle flash.”

A second after she said that, a volley of gunshot rang throughout the landscape, echoing into far behind and beyond the valley.

Kathleen's voice was almost a whisper of fear, “The Long Arm.”

The figure of Nadier fell off the horse at the foot of the town.