I raise my head and taste the air. A hint of fear drifts over from the nest of dead trees.

Each inhalation brings a taste of that despair. The plates on my back crack in anticipation. I want it.

I turn and snap in warning. One of the lesser runs away. It stood too close. I taste its fear. It is lesser and not worth my effort.

I was lesser before. Now I'm more.

Standing proud, I scream upwards. All around me should beware, for I am strong. The other lesser kin cower before me. I like it.

I stand high, watching lower. There is prey. Strong prey. Strong but weaker. I am confused.

I see something. It hurts to look. The soothing is pushed away. It burns.

I am no longer lesser. I do not fear the burning any longer. I am strong.

The lesser cower and whine. Run from the burning. I also used to run from it. Now I fight it. I do not fear it. I hate it.

I shout. My anger is manifest. My rage destroys the burning. The soothing returns.

I bare my fangs at the prey. I will destroy it.

The prey turns to flee. One who is strong but also weak leads.

It controls the burning. The lesser kin are too scared to get close. They are weak.

I roar. My magnificence covers the land. The kin fear me more than the burning. They charge.

I watch the prey who is strong but also weak. It controls the burning but also the soothing.

Is this why it is both strong and weak? I wonder.

I look at the other prey. There is something else.

I taste the air and look closer—smaller prey.

Something strange with the smaller one. It smells of fear. Natural.

It also tastes different. Unique.

I want to charge over and taste. I stop.

I see further now. I am no longer lesser. I know to wait.

I look at the nest the prey moves towards. The dangerous one is there—the stronger one.

Eating it will let me grow.

It turns to look at me. I bare my fangs in its direction. I am not afraid.

It is bigger than the other prey. This is normal. It is strong.

Something nearby. I look over.

Slit eyes watch my own. I show my teeth. The strongest of the lesser lowers its head.

It is not as strong as me. It submits. This is natural.

It is stronger than the others. It can see further.

I growl low. It hides from sight. This kin is sneaky.

It will help me catch the little prey.

Movement from the nest. The big prey has come down from the dead trees.

Does it seek to snatch my food away?

I roar to the kin. They charge with me.

I will devour them all.

* * *

Thanos saw numerous shapes and figures on the walls of Mysthaven, silhouetted by the many lights of the village. It seemed that even without the sentries' report, they were still aware of the impending threat.

He shouldn't have been surprised. The roars and noise generated by the horde of creatures hiding in the darkness weren't exactly subtle.

As they ran, he couldn't help but feel helpless, caught up in such an incident without any means of doing anything about it. With how useless babies are at anything, he wondered how humans had managed to get by as a species.

He couldn't help but appreciate his ancestors who had to survive in less civilised times, carrying such tiny burdens.

He thought about how many didn't make it in the natural competition of survival of the fittest. The fact that he was here today made him realise that all his ancestors were the survivors and that he was standing on the shoulders of champions or else he wouldn't exist.

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It was quite a sobering thought with the current events, and he hoped that the people of Mysthaven would also be the victors today.

The sling bundling him was pretty thin, but the thick blanket and his mother's body kept him warm. He didn't notice the cold of the night as much as they ran into the darkness. His mother's exhalations visible as she ran showed the chill in the air.

Her heavy footsteps made it harder to use his tiny hand to keep the sling from blocking his view of the front. Still, he was grateful that they seemed to be keeping him safe in the middle of the formation.

After about thirty metres, they hit an issue. Marcus was at the front carrying his large blade like a spearman as they ran forward. Blasts of light shot out periodically from the front-facing blade, giving a clear view ahead.

At first, creatures caught in the light would screech and run off to the sides back into the cover of darkness. This made him feel a sense of hope as it seemed they would make it back to the village unmolested by these monsters of the dark.

Unfortunately, his fate didn't want to work that way as the Terror in the distance let out an ear-piercing scream. From just this scream alone, he could see why it got referred to as a Terror, but he suspected there was more to it than the oppressive sense of fear it brought.

This scream seemed an order of sorts as the creatures circling in the blackness suddenly threw themselves at his group, no longer seeming to care about the protective light they ran from moments ago.

At his best guess, they had only gotten roughly fifty metres to Mysthaven, about half a mile away. Seeing the distance they still had to go, his heart clenched as combat broke out around him.

Above him, his mother moved with an unnatural grace as she notched arrows and let them loose, each twang of the bowstring buffeting him with the wind.

The arrows were coated in pale wind essence as they shot into creatures left and right. She even threw the odd dagger when there was no time to use the bow.

Having him strapped to her chest didn't seem to impact her use of the bow as he watched arrow after arrow find their marks in the swarming creatures with machine-like precision.

She wasn't alone in her attacks as his father and the other two legionnaires cut a bloody path through the mob of creatures.

His father acted as a vanguard for the small group and was the most eye-catching to look at. The dual blades of his weapon were glowing bright, with a light on one side and the opposite side being a dark shimmer.

He knew these were light and dark essences, respectively. This contrast even seemed to affect the man himself, as half of his once dark hair was now a glowing shade of white.

Thanos had often thought Marcus to be a bit of an oaf at times, even though he adored the man, as he looked a little bearish in how he carried himself around the farm.

The father he saw during combat was anything but as he spun and flipped nimbly through the air, felling multiple monsters with each blade swing.

Looking closer, it seemed like his father was almost ice skating, and Thanos wondered if it was some kind of movement technique related to the darkness essence that so obviously wrapped around his feet like trailing smoke.

He watched as his father swung the blade around to his left, cutting through some kind of bat-like creature. Another pounced at him from the right, and he wanted to shout out in warning, but he needn't have bothered.

Acting like he had eyes in the back of his head, Marcus rotated further left, so the dark blade lagging behind his left side was now sticking up in the air directly behind him. He crouched and, like he was wearing skates, slid across the ground directly under the creature, bisecting it as he passed.

He watched in awe as his father propelled himself upside down into the air and rotated like a spinning top, the two blades reaping life as he moved. Somehow, he had managed to land on his feet, sliding forward with his strange movement technique to dispatch more enemies.

As he watched in stunned silence, he realised that every move was planned out in advance. Several times, it looked like a monster would get past his father's fluid attacks only to be suddenly caught by the other side of his weapon.

The fighting on this level was a blur of motion, but he could get the gist of the movements if he focused hard enough.

It was then that he realised these weren't openings due to sloppy fighting skill on his father's part but that there never were any openings to begin with. It seemed that Marcus was always in the right place at the right time, and it was now evident that this wasn't a coincidence.

I really want to be like that when I grow up.

He knew then and there that if he could survive, he would get his father to teach him how to use a twinblade. The weapon might have apparent downsides, like fighting in confined spaces, but he felt it was king out in the open.

He could only imagine the havoc caused on the battlefield by his father in the past. He couldn't help his blood boiling as he watched Marcus, which helped to take some of the building dread away.

The two men on the sides were also doing their fair share of damage, assisted by his mother's bow.

She had run out of arrows quite quickly due to her insane rate of fire. It didn't seem a problem as she continued to fire out conjured arrows made of air or water.

He didn't think water would make for good arrows, but it didn't take him long to realise that his thinking was limited. With enough pressure, water could cut through metal like a hot knife through butter.

His mother used this principle in her arrows as they blasted small holes through multiple enemies. He couldn't help but give both of his parents a thumbs up. They were powerful.

At first, he was confused as to why his mother would even bother using regular arrows in the first place, but it made sense once he thought about it more.

A person's core was like a battery where you stored essence ready to be called upon and used as needed. Whilst you could store a great deal of essence, he knew from Turok that it wasn't infinite and depended on various factors like the type of core, cultivation realm and method.

Regular arrows allowed her to use less of her essence and extend her combat longevity. She still coated the arrows in wind essence, but he knew that would use less than creating a whole arrow out of it.

She also had some fancy footwork used to rotate quickly, dispatching trailing creatures like she had eyes in the back of her head. Perhaps she would be even more graceful, like his father, if she didn't have him strapped to her chest.

Frustration built at him not being able to do anything and that he might be hindering his mother's ability. He cursed that he didn't have more time. If he had formed his core and had some essence techniques, he might have been able to at least help.

It was probably just wishful thinking, as he would still be just a weakling at the start of his cultivation journey, but at least it was something he could do apart from being baggage.

As he looked off into the distant village, he couldn't help but send a silent prayer to whoever was listening to help see them through tonight.

He had grown quite fond of the village and the simple people here, and even if he had to die, he didn't want to see it destroyed.