Year 235 AF (After Fall.) Time is not measurable. Summoned was I by an elian girl from the grassland. Her vows. Her thoughts. Her ransom. All came before yours truly. Such a cliché it was seen in light novels nowadays. However, the method of execution was unexpected. O the incongruity. So where is my welcoming party? I was in confusion. Boggle by a set of unwarranted summoned sicknesses. These three afflictions show no mercy to me as I stand holding my knee confronting the onslaught of weakening infelicity. Satire may had become my best ally.
The great gate stood before me. In the shadow, staring at the highest peak of this stone passage, mesmerize by its grand features, it had hold my balance in my state. Not before long, the knees had given up on I. And for I to stumble unto a decoded pismire hill, shock was not my first account. A colony of insects known as aurants came rushing out they did in full amount. Not to attack me who was the intruder. The creatures came to feed on the anguished that laid before the feet. Generously was I ignore you see.
These creatures ate on the long-prickling aura. A present between the dimensions and me bod that fled from the opening of the welkin. For surety, the realm should’ve close the in-betweens. There’s no other validity. I would assume that possible assumption.
From a stumble, a shown of humbleness, there’s seem to be a glitch. “Am I in a video game?” Assuming that the static flicker rates in my eyes were adjusting into this world. As much as a man who is heavily tired. To close the shadeless lens, and to see sparks of lights for the random seconds. Air pressures to me body were quite intense. The fall did leave some bruises but it was minor detail on my terms. However, a sanative magic would do nicely to start the day mayhaps.
It had took approximately three minutes before my eyesight came to good. From that time period, I have deliberately saw strange things to curves to linear lines. Strange letters of artworks, numerals and designs. Clearly technical. Not much information was given from the object of interest. A small status of the gate pop in front of linear lines. The eyes focus. Here was the immovable barrier:
Name: Babalonian Gate (The Ninth Ahsyred Passage)
Health Points: 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000
Class: Intellectual Object
Skills:
Heart Tracker – Read enemies’ Biorhythm, State of Affairs and heat signatures. Recovers durability.
Field Rally – Convoke random Babalon Ghosts, Babalon G-Hosts, and Babalon G.H.O.S.Ts onto the battlefield. Skill exclusive; only operational if class attacks are restricted.
Auto-Ability:
Mana Redivination – When enemies heal, in an interval of 2 seconds, recover HP and TP by 1%. Whenever enemies self-damage, heal the enemies’ MP and AP by +8% in the vicinity equal to vision; Unaffected by ailments. Cannot Attack. Cannot be Control.
Godskin Endurance – Survive HP at 1, damage immunity for 5 seconds if nine or more enemies are in the vicinity. Activation only once every four minutes. Unaffected by explosions. Cannot Attack. Party’s skills and abilities cannot be swap by the enemies.
It seem I had crashed this glitching, bugged prototype menu within the three minute frame right after guessing in closing the game windows. Not much was given about the highly detail stone structure of my make in the days of yore. There was an interesting ability possessed by the object.
“Mana?” The isekai in me was curious. Just to think about it did no justice. Therefore, have I try a magic move. Something that an isekai would do. Boy, am I a fool! What came up was no other than a fire art called Inkindle. A once jotted thought on paper. A horrendous and embarrassing yell. It sounded harsh and rejected. For it was the greatest cringe bestow unto a grown man to commit such a childish thing! Even a trademark of a pose was darn crazily shameful. I felt guilty more than the Marvel men.
Enough with the hooligan of plays. I now know I inherited no magic in the land of fantasy. Surely a poor man like me would proceed to wonder why I was brought here in the first place. Where is that girl who prayed? Who deliberately, intentionally asked me three hundred and twenty-eight times for help in my noggin. Has she went quiet? The suspense was killing a hobo’s tendons not knowing what to expect. Suddenly, a few second clicked and I answer my own questions. Of such a thought, it reminded me of an old friend who had committed suicide from his own shame and misery.
Yea, the college years, the best years, the intellectual years yet idiots. To be summon in this vast world of brawns and brains, what more can one want. O no different than the old days of our dwfn. We buddies dreamt of going on an adventure like those pride isekai light novels. Aren’t I one happy fella to arrive as the first. Perhaps not.
I inspect around my restricted scenery with these foggy eyes to get a better visual of my current placement. My survival instinct have kicked in. There were no people of the land present. Pass the rolling hills? Below the pit of the great abyss laid in the northern center of the isle? The sky capitals hiding in the great winds? The places of worship? Or was the people in the greenwood below the whitening cathedral? I was not certain were I was to be greeted til hearing a group of screams from above in the direction of the sun. Quick was the surprise.
A mad man ran from behind. Fast was his foot work that over impedes a hobo’s mind! A thrust of a sword of sheer force. The bloody steel touches my warmth. That man’s sardonic smile has wreck a poor man’s posture and the cheek was cut. Oh, what to do, what to do. In ripples, it brings forth.
Has the One spoken in that moment. Words of seven and three of wise. Welcome to the world. Find thy solemn.
No more than three seconds until I regain my consciousness. Had the deadly thrust retreated from my face of a heavy disgrace. Was this stranger not done. Spins and side feints, of quick foot burst follow Taichi No Tori No Kamae and Migi Gedan No Kamae, Japanese sword stances. Wore proudly of his hidden war paints. Unorthodox fencing skills dormant with both hands. Intricate styles of connections. The mocking man counterattack, move in close-quarter combats. For it was a good thing for me to lock me foe’s reached. Dangerous is he. Pin out with multiple Haidong Gumdo techniques. Chungmyôn begi, makki and naera mainly.
His three lackeys put pressure on an innocent man, yours truly once again. Forcing myself to distant from the odd unorthodox swordsman. They were no pushovers. Barbaric but smart in reading their preys. I am glad the memories are kept. A remembrance of what my father taught me. More or less, my teachers are from old kung-fu movies. To not be slayed with the active sicknesses. Not a practical lesson to obtain the power of fantasy foey arts. The entertainment industries. Though was it too, some usually, derives from actual usefulness.
“Let it be.” said me, a vagrant in a new cosmology. I was deceive by their looks. A stereotypical feeling of those weak uncanny facials. Was I unprepared. The enemy spake.
“I, Mellork Bento Ferinaus En Veinheilm, general of the Bandit Kings, former commander of the red-umbrella police force demand who’ve summoned you, spaceman? By what moniker thou goest by?” Mellork questioned. Oh children. What big words. Must I play along? Probably would be the safest bet speaking in the old language songs. With my long silent, I kinda drove him agitated. For good measure, I answer after a few good clips gathering my thoughts.
“I, Hobo the Fifth Theo’bc Cliene Jorn Barsawlow Mew Mew Poetry answered thee. Silent is ever a great prophet. Wise man uses their brain.” I wondered. Should I be saying that of course? Knowing that the intellectual public would backlash. Silent is not a great prophet if in an Orwellian society! Yea, indeed it is. Had you not listen to me at all? Silent is ever a great prophet. Wise man uses their brain.
The mortal irises open wide just as men stared in death’s gloomy face. Partial fear burst into adrenaline. Have I rally my leg holding the flesh and pant, lifting myself from a worthless gig. The sandman and mister numbness would not let me go. The slab of bones girding upon the knee. There was not much what I can do for which thou hast heard.
“Huh, Theo’bc Cliene Jorn? You bastard!!” Mellork went on the offense. A straight-on fierce thrusts.
All I could implement was some awful edgy edgelord’s dodge. Pretty sure he knew I couldn’t defend. Savoring of all my hardship in taking his sweet time consolidating my unfortunate event. Too peculiar. Constant changing his weapon from hand to hand. My leg was about to surrender from the summoning sicknesses. Of busy-body eyes, did quick glances of these multi-task and saw the mercenaries launched to finish their objective.
I heard cries from up high, in the mid sunlit sky. How should I know what that implies from this awkward rhyme? And so they point. And point and point and point. Too busy dealing with the baddies’ hidden sickles and some of their pungent. It was a constant surge from above so I had to at least quickly check. Behind the rolling prairie, a detection in the large grasses. It was disturbed by more than just the wind from the eye of the hurricane. The people from above saw a devious plot. A group of artillery men making their way around my constricted view. Am I in trouble.
In the jail cell hang from above.
“Darrio isn’t wasting any time. Phatso! How many skin shield you have left?” Zena asked.
“Only two broken parts.” It was just enough for an okay covering. Zena, Phatso and Mace quickly devise a contingency plan but notice she, something loose under her clothing that it might just work instead of relying on her brother. Leftover magnetic gum bombs tucked under her bosom. For once, her jerk rival’s prank came to good use. A sprinkle of summer rain shower flew from the smoke wall. A strange deadmen’s wailing hum from the whirlpools. Had it made Callecken and Yasami worried.
A grandiose service from descent? Manni was uncertain.
I don’t know what is going on in the sky. They’ve been quiet all of the sudden. That great commander’s unorthodox fighting styles are a nuisance. You couldn’t read what he is about to unleash. Mixing the best in all of stances with the carrier of fencing skills. While telling you readers this, a fleche fire at will. No grace, full power in the Achilles’ heel!
A cheeky bastard tries to slice my left ankle with a janbiya from behind. A pincer attack with the other two men in the front. Mellork retreated after a thrust. The front men’s weight was the culprit. Have I slip from the impacted strikes. My foot raise and the janbiya miss. This fall, coming soon. I technically guard with kicks and shuffling fists, and elbow one of the lackey under the nose of some random trick. Me head was defend. Traded blow me did that have gotten my right arm cut in return. Clearly, it wasn’t awesome. I fell to the dirt and the wound was stretch. The irises flashed.
The cheap fellow spin and crash into the aurant’s hill screaming and moaning. “Aiihh yaaa!”
With haste, a beggar like me roll backward seeing Mellork trying to connect another deadly lunge and miss. These enemies don’t know when to give up. Bang! A knock to my shock. The artillery unit fire the mobile mega muskets. A dreadful strategy. They lived for the danger. It was something I sense out of them recently. The small explosion did no changes to their commitment to silence me. Still engage and their movements are in unison. Have it not slow down. Each with their own special quirks, duties and roles O fellow. These actions of theirs playin me like a cello. When has a hobo became a threat?
And to think that they would stop from the minutes of our fathom fight, both lackeys who wears in similarity, of partially cover steam engine armors, with the heavy cloaks die in black from a third rated parlor, and a steam engine mask to conceal the mouth and nose, they bent immediately from my front and back and gave way for the artillery. The mega muskets aimed at me. The slow seconds heaved as the muskets came into my vision when the man in front dropped dedicatedly.
I must do something but what?! There is no covering. My leg is numbed. What is effective? Use their own dread strategy against them! So I match the baddy in front who in flow with the matrix. And soon as I came to meet his face, my countenance was shown as this:
( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
But of course, I didn’t carry that emoticon’s smile. It was more a scribble of unsurety to use him as a meat shield. The steam engine armor probably won’t penetrate. Was the baddy pirate surprise of this take, to bend from the side matrix seeing me, who is falling down just to match his speed. Has he sweat with the shock eyes. Knew truthfully, a gravely mistake and turn the eyes around to see the artillery men of the slow seconds. The sense of foreboding.
“Fff—!” Fudge!!! He said, I hope. Fudge means nonsense children. It was too late for the baddy. The musket cannons have been fire but did his worst to get out of that lock. He was injured and flew quite dramatic above.
Help. I fallen and I can’t get up. The fourth shot ricochet some nearby white rocks. It fling a large piece onto my shoulder blade disrupting my movement. The steam engine brother from behind, was he also hit by his identical twin, went ahead and spin, technically gather the makeshift weapon and raise his sword up high from below me, forward in his light foot jump not for cowards.
“For brother!” he exclaimed with the magnify slow power!
Believing my fate would end so soon after arriving in another world, I muster all the strength in my leg to go against the will of mister sandman, my right foot of justice kick. He went off balance by the weight of his foot. The steam powered weapon miss my head by ten inches. The baddy lost control of the steam pressure, rolling away from beside me picking himself back up from the dirt of at least six meters without a stop into a run. This tactic of his, in a one-eighty curve heading behind Mellork who was about to be in grasp!
There is an opportunity for Mellork’s secondary attack. Fat chance am I gonna let it happen! I went ahead and use my upper body strength. Pick myself up and perform a one-thirty air flare into other unsignature move sets, that look like a variety of flavorful flying kung-fu bboys. Maybe wire-fu is the taste of today’s era. Though the 90s are better. From shuffle contacts to the foot of lightning was about to slam his head with yelp of Bruce Lee. Mellork was cautious of the skills I deemed exhausting in efforts, EIE. The unorthodox swordsman raise his sword to defend with the sharp edge pointing upward. The Japanese art, Suwari No Tori No Kamae was the chosen method.
Had I no choice. Discontinue my EIE using my own hands to move me leg away from the blade while spinning in the air. And sure dost the seconds slow as I release a drop kick from under the weapon unto his face. It was useless. There was not enough strength in the feet. The warrior did not faze and retaliate. I lead to another reason signature set to balance my fall that has it led my hand wide open.
It was his strike. The Sasagakure No Kamae. With his hand in front of him, Mellork enters my state. A Brazillian grab that caught my left arm with his right, pull and lock me between his breastplate as he thrust his weapon from aside. The numbness was unbearable. For every action, misses sleepy leg sleeps. I could feel the slabs of my bones crushing from the neck down to the feet. O a deadly foe indeed.
We were falling. Still, he holds true to his sardonic smile. And as that was not enough, the fleeting pirate came out from behind and swing the mighty pendulum. A shoddy steam engine sickle that cuts the wind. The weapon howls to the west of he. When you gotta survive, you promote the necessity.
I dislocate my right arm. A desperate action to grab some dirt and throw it to the man’s scornful face. Crudely it sting as the general let go. Down I descend not of lies. Redirect the bod around Mellork’s custom sword, jolting the general’s chin with the sole of my dirty left foot of pride. The hideous man miss the execution. What is this? It made no sense. To decapitate his own allies? The weapon went through Mellork’s body had the wind embodied.
The powerful force skid me along the animal road. The hands latching onto anything viable but all I can muster is with the left palm and friction. The sandman say nay to a poor man.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
“This is no cartoon. Bullocks, this is hardcore fantasy.” A gasp of tiredness. With what I learned, little did it avail.
Mellork calls off the hasty attack. He was furious to be kicked in the chin and spit out the tongue’s blood. The mouth shut. The fight had lasted about an hour. It was getting late. The sun drop quicker within the eye of the hurricane. A boatswain came to inform Darrio. Six of his ships were destroyed. The ill news made Darrio madder than a hornet and went to command the main fleet. A radio unit brought an ear piece and telegraph to the general.
“I have no more patient. Finish him!” The transmission was breaking up.
“Very well. Ten-Eleven.” The swordsman shuts off the device. Have he came closer to me and spake, “Thou art no summon. A folly hunter and thus a prey. Why I manage to rally the call?” He step on my left hand and smear it into the fae ground. Like what all good authoritarian does, stomp the plague boot into my face to hold me in place. “It was your mistake to be here. Good day, spaceman.” Mellork came to slit the throat!
In God speed, Peter approach Mellork quickly from across the wet plains, quick as lightning, put the artillery men to sleep in the process. He attacks in lightning accuracy not just once nor twice. Fifteen strikes within three seconds that gradually push the general back and into a stalemate. The fifteen year old boy exchange powerful blows with Mellork but did not even faze him.
“Hello teacher.” Peter greeted. Mellork didn’t bother to respond. Shove the boy with the hilt of his weapon four meters away.
“Now Coral!” There was a device on Peter’s neck that had he pressed. Coral was interrupted by a pack of wild prickly boars. He fought them off with a special knife that flips the pigs upside down, swing around the animals and laid on top of a hill. Fastly, lock and load the great weapon from afar. The serious eighteen year old boy, a Bes Archery class-type, initiate the plasma rifle rig. The blast shook everything in the peripheral sight of the archer. Mellork and his goons nearly dodge the clean explosion. Were they forewarn from the glare. The enemies spread out.
The magnetic gum bomb was set. Zena covered the elian as leftovers stretched out the skin shield. An unusual sound was heard from above the altar and alert Mellork and the other lowly units. The structure was too thick to dismantle. The adamantite metal creak, crack and bend into a rough ball as the gang rolls down the steep hill in wrath. A fair share of labor is needed when stampeding the Bandit Kings along the path.
Hilarious was it to some, their turtle ship arrives to save the day firing magic cannons at stationary turrets. Zack, their helmsman, row the turtle ship across the Grassen Prairie. Coral ran and hook shot the side of the ship with many of his gizmos. The clump metal ball twirl and crash onto the main deck. All that was left was Peter and Nuj.
“Ten years of training, Teach. Talk of righteous and being wary of blind justice. Now you join the dark side, selling boys and women as they were some commodities.”
“The world is more complex than you think rookie. I’ll leave it at that.” The unorthodox swordsman attitude have changed. In one pull, he peel off his false face stripping off the extra flesh. Under the tone was a mask he wore.
“Cockatude Mask.” Peter was a bit disgusted by the performance to slowly ripping the face. An accursed ability of the mask.
“Buddy, save your reunion for another time. I sense something dangerous within the sea. Wrap up and get that man on ship.” The sword talked. Mellork was pretty curious.
“Did you stole that bane, apprentice? Such rare weapons does not fall in the hands of children. Hearken. A curse I sense. Do you not?” He looked, stared at the weapon. A plain sword with a strange face as it’s guard. The mouth located on the hilt. Two dull yellow eyes that doesn’t glow in the night but shine in the morning.
In this world, talking relics of war are known by this common name. Banes were created by the musician elvessals. Weapons and especially musical instruments forged with a will of their own. All banes starts with Star- in their names. The weapon Peter carries is called a Star-Light Dragon Sword. There are many of these banes hidden around in the OriginS peninsula. And pretty much all of them has their own dramas.
“A thief asking about the sword? It’s not like you to want to know such trivia matter. Simply put. The sword came to me from his own market imprisonment. Those who let anger loose when holding the sword will mutate into a fell dragon. Besides, I can control my fate.” said Peter. The sword scream out loud because of the boy’s stupidity! “Petteerrr!!”
Mellork didn’t waste the minutes and interrupt, “No kid. I know what makes you tick.”
“You idiotic buffalo! Don’t go giving away the secrets! The last thing I don’t wanna see is you being kill as a fallen.” madly consulting Peter the bane did.
“Sorry, sorry. I can’t help it. I was trying to be cool.”
“Sure, be cool then. Go ahead, and tell him that your lightning skills are only marvelous on wet fields at hyper speed.” said the Star-Light Dragon Sword.
“Noted.” The general took to note.
“Teach knows now. Why did c’you told him that?!”
And the bane respond, “Karma.”
Mellork notice the signs. The special hurricane was becoming unstable. He have to act quick. And while Peter and the bane still determining the right course of action, he strikes while the iron’s melted. The great commander’s movement is different. More unreadable than the battle against me who is actually laying on the floor listening to the conversation. Oh please.
“Your chest, buddy!” quickly yelled the sword. Up Peter swung the blade to guard his upper chest. It was no crazy thrust. Both weapons of old clashed as of rivers and lightnings, was the mad man’s weapon having the affinity. Being pushed by the weapon to close the distant between Peter’s breasts. Without hesitation, the boy unleash the fifteen strikes though Mellork had the advantage.
Shell blasts from the turtle ship came upon them. The dust and dirt flew. The grasses destroy. The shot debris misses me, momentarily. The white rocks maim and fling that has made the unorthodox swordsman cover his eyes as he jumps away.
“Buddy, the man!” Peter came to carry me but I was very heavy and his knees were shaking. Because of the confusion, the destruction of the environment, and the shower of pigments confirmed in the air, the mist covered our tracks as the boy tiredly escape unharm.
“Boss, word from Darrio. He needs you to command the third fleet.” said the coughing radio unit. The communication on Mellork was fried from Peter’s electrical currents.
“Tsk, run boy. Get the other units to the ship!”
“Sir!!” spoke in unison from those that were still standing.
We were on the turtle ship. Was it hectic for only thirty-three members. The young knight laid me down on deck, face-down. Have my legs and partial of my hands and arms gave up. I couldn’t move much ‘cept the pinky, the head and features, the throat and the belly. No more strength. Imagine trying to move it all and the body won’t compute.
Peter yelled to Zack, their helmsman. “Ride to port cave and where is Fox?”
“Fox had run away. A letter addresses for you to take his post, captain!” answered one of their shipmate.
“Buddy, forget the old man. Be wary about what’s from below.”
Rain showers bleed heavily from the side of the anger wall. Natural lightnings strikes bend towards the whirlpools. Multiple maelstroms has erupt. A moaning bell cry was slightly heard from their hasting actions. The guilders stood still.
“What was that?” The noise spook Callecken. Zena and the others went to side of their ship to scout the windy sea as they escape from the two predator ships. The goons under orders from Mellork target the guilders.
The Bandits Kings are ready to leave from their hidden port. Everything was under control after the sabotage that Peter’s guild did. “Get those sails up now!” Darrio mustered the work of his pawns and a bell moan came again. A sonorous hum. Eerie enough to frighten full-fledged squadrons. The king look down into the watery abyss. In the maelstrom, the fear gazes back. Others looked into the nothingness. One by one, it frightens them from the moment, the rain showered, the creak of woods, the plots of droplets, the shadows in the watery abyss. A smiling figure force out of the salty waters!
“A gyinosha!!!” yelled the crews overwhelmingly!
Out came Kassidy from the watery graves. Oh, how terrifying she looked with that strident cries of hers’. My goodness, she was a huge asset. One-quarter of the size of the warped isle where her face stand. Facial of a mid-age woman and body as the head of a squid. Her eight octopus-like tentacles flew and taken two ships under Darrio’s main fleet. The men scream as they fall into her wide mouth. Smell of decays and odors beyond death’s imagination. Some have beg God to save them. The sea beast’s long and dirty hair stretch for miles like tentacles of jellyfish for those who escape the female’s reach. It has a hunger for mammals and they are many of her preys.
“Damned you to hell, Kassidy! You eydols even sent your wicked experiments after me?! Release the wind anchors!” shouted Darrio holding onto the snap line as they flew off the port cliff.
Dark torrential rains near the bottomless wall blinded the bandits of war. The flagship is raised and rode the current of air in their favor. Loaded the artillery and aim and fought back with resentment. Cannons, rifles, magics, bombs and all the fantasy tropes lit the shade of fire lights.
“This is madness.” Peter watches as the surreal battle went on.
Has the two predator ship made contact with the Gray Fox guild. Callecken and a friend named Jarvob ignite a humongous cannon they bought from a retail store. Yea, has it release a potent burst but slow was the travel of the special bullet Job that they named. Too slow to be consider profitable. Was it mainly reinforced with cheap metals. A stream of fuzzy lights of fire exploded and their huge arsenal flew off deck. The predator weapons barrages the sky. The enemies laughing was loud that even I could hear them while laying dormant on the wood face-down. But when I thought what will happen to me, who is getting step on, mostly by men, would I prefer the women instead, there was a linger of silent.
The bullet travels slow and miraculously hit the attended target. It was no ordinary blast. A magnificent explosion blew out larger than life. Only a craze explosion enthusiast would approve of it. The heat rally the winds against their favor and both men, Callecken and Jarvob, arguing among’st themselves.
“Captain! The tunnel is shifting! This ship won’t make it!” yelled Phatso who has been keeping an eye on the Ashen Tunnel. Peter was frustrated. The guild was running out of time. A deep geyser from below blew and knock the guild away from the quickest route, The Gaer Hills.
The gyinosha notice an exotic smell. A tasty smell. A savory smell. An addicting smell. An erotic smell. The smell of a hobo. Her eyes were fixed on Fox’s ship from the distant. Had more of Darrios’s crew fell to the beast. Of sacrifices that never meant to be made.
“I have no more patient, Kassidy! Fire the satellite cannons!”
“Yes, Chief Bandit! Apport, apport. Cali has not landed. I repeat, Cali has not landed.” respond another radio unit. High above the storm was a stationary battle ship of high upgrades. The stress men at work launches the weapon aimed downward. “Let it rip!!” You could call it a “physical laser.” An energy beam of bright green flash follow by a gradual color scene from yellow to white then blue.
“Brace yourself!” saith the bandits. The sound effect buffered the ears.
The strength of the advance weaponry was at seventy-two percent. The plasma hit its mark and Kassidy descend into the maelstroms burned. It was not safe during the stale minutes. Darrio hear the hum below the sea. The heaviness of splatted rains from the deadly storm; those rampaging malevolent pools of waters gashing and gnawing; the many forms of far-off creaks of old woods; them remorseful mouths of his grandiose troops’ agonizing statements; the stillness in silent; and yea, within the occultic black mist made of vapors was the horror.
Kassidy spiral her way out of the salty waters! The she-beast launch pass the Bandit Kings, damaging the flagships, and spring towards the guild in such an effusive state contrary to the ocean’s current. Peter and his gang got the horrifying grand view first seat. Darrio took advantage of the situation and escape with the rest of his fleet. Was the vortex weaken.
“Holy cows! What are we going to do, Peter?!!” Wekster, another friend of the pack asked drastically. Was he softly stunned in his posture verses the queen of the whirlpool’s gaping mouth, open wide, latitude. In response, the boy call out to Coral, the cool level headed teen that teenage girls will fall for. Coral was busy loading his jumper guns. Zena took the elvfyn inside their durable turtle ship and somehow everyone forgot about me dying on deck. What could go wrong?
“Zack, row faster! We’re inches from her mouth man!! Her mooouth man!!!” Callecken, Mace and Jarvob screaming out the top of their lungs facing against her breath that had prolong around the turtle ship. The predators were gone.
“Will you three just shut up!! You’re making it worse!!”
The guild’s nitro boosters one, three and four were damaged from the chase. Booster two was clutching. A malfunction piece of equipment no matter how many time Zack have rev it. Coral kept his cool and threw one of his jumper guns to Peter and Weskter. “Way ahead of you.” said the archer. The two of them hang from the spider ropes to break their recoils and for a clean shot. Coral maneuver into a stable corner with a small roof for his.
Weskter alert the helmsman, “Zack! Turtle Juuump!!” The guilders on deck passed on the message to those inside the turtle’s shell. The helmsman knew of its meaning and quickly he turns the ship with his finger-weaved spells. His perceptive acumen never failed him. If did, they would all perish in the blink of brim. Boosters and fantasy nitro reserves readjusted. The profile of the ship shown to the molasses squid. Zack shift gears and ahoy. “Hold on your tinfoil boys!”
The three noble stooges fire their weapons into the mouth of the squid-beast. The blast pop and flew under Kassidy’s nasty ring tongue. It exploded with a force unimaginable that spook the lungs. The turtle ship jump in the mist of being crunch! Death felt cheated. The geysers were in animations and part of their ship’s engine exploded from the epic bounce.
The chef yells out, “I’m going to kill those crabs.” Of course. Having knifes and forks flinging and poking around in the caboose when you’re in the middle of it. Kassidy tumble from the side of the cliff, breaking chunks of mountain rocks and soils back into the watery abyss.
“You boys and your turtle jump. You nearly killed us as well.” Zena was much against the boys’ ideas of fun. She came out from the cabin but she notice something was amiss. “Where is the man that was laying on deck?” It was a while until some intelligent was registered.
“OMG!!!” spoke all out on deck.
“I thought he was with you!”
“No, Doc came to check his vitals!”
“Nah uh, the ladies took’im to the infirmary!”
“No way, last I saw him, he was still a vapid corpse!”
“So much for No Man Left Behind.” It was joke Callecken produced but his pain was unbearable so he laid down. Peter and Zena looked everywhere. Our main character was not found. Down, sewn in the sea, there was a lonely whirlpool. Has the guild guess of the possibility. That indeed our hobo bounce into the whirlpool. A whirlpool that spins in reverse away from the rest, surrounding the hidden isle. And so, they salute his death asking not to be haunted nor make life miserable for the guild. Explaining to the elian girl will be troublesome.
Kassidy came out once more. Battle with more than her gores. Up it went, her hair fly and form that of ships. With magnify cannons of the dark depths and the abyss. The spew of liquid threads chained to their turtle ship. The squid launch horrors at the gang as Davy Jones’ locker have been open.
“The spider that hunts.” Peter’s The End?
We all know readers, an actual main character does not die in the early chapters because am I speaking to you right now. An awful red-herring. The whirlpool should’ve been the simplest clue. It was a genuine portal. Fairly a portal nevertheless, to an abyssal forest. In the forest, was it of midnight. The sky too exist inside and is of a starry night sky.
The breaks of branches and greens and piles of leaves, breaks my fall of this late summer’s eve.
I couldn’t believe. Have I survived. For a hobo who never took swimming lessons. O good heavens. A wake in me, stir the great bank, three lights are in session. Curious was they to come before, to the muddy steps of Eushural that led to a small woodland shrine. Oh they thal and curious of I. Dull balls of lights.
“Please don’t leave us. One hundred years of darkness is too long.” The young voices of the sprites sob. How would I respond? Surely something would come to my mind. The shivering, the healing of my cuts, the rejoining of my sockets, the hiding in the clothing, the sandman have quit his job. Have I became a father rooster. What good does a father say to his children? If there are any left.
“One hundred years of being in the dark is indeed too long. Eons as the void is mentally longer. A path of brightness is always shown. Most will grab and I am not one of them. And so I walk through fire, trial and tribulations. That portal, that light is above thee yet you sprites are blind not to escape. Dull and unnurture like those who are about to be fallen. Oh the Memyria Gate cried for your fate. Must be conjecture to be hated for naught. And you three hides away in the covered dark. Shown a little compassion and the world turn against you. Thou needs courage little lights. O sprites, the devils ride your tail. Can thine hands be strong, to hold the sword, and spill not the blood of thine hands? And if one hast done, will thou not be the ones you named? Oh, you little anime sprites, in pact I make. ‘Tis blissful to be with three. Three shall it be. All shall happen in threes.”
Oh goodie! I have no idea what I meant. Sometime I am astonish that I could blabber. Have I made a pact though was it not a contract as stated from the loose game system. A jingle out of nowhere erupted that sounded like I acquired something interesting other than the standard items. The sprites tag along. One hides behind my neck. Another hides in my inner pockets. The last hides in my dirty knee pad.
The bank started to shake. The calm water is clingling and tangling from the might. The quake trembles the surrounding in clear sight. The old house shrine on top of the muddy steps of Eushural, made of woods, plants and rocks shook. The shrine of prayer heard the pact of sincerity and the mammal broke through the lake.
A cloud whale appears! Was the creature hunger for seaweeds. The misty clouds blew out of it’s nostrils and whirly gases fell out of it’s mouth. Another jingle erupted. Have I acquired a battle mount?! What is this?! There was a thread. A shiny pearly thread. I the host connecting to the mammal for some minutes before disappearing. A visual form of equipping. Probably signifying that the mount is equipped somewhere on my status screen that I have not discover about. Little boys favor dragons and robots. Little girls favor unicorns and fairies. Well, for a hobo, we favor whales and manatees.
On the side of the cloud whale, there was some sturdy holes and smooth corals where I proceeded to climb. Rock climbing finally being put to good use. We flew out of the abyssal forest.
The turtle ship was barely functional. Additional engines had blew up from the engagement. The wicked beast gave all she got. The Ashen Tunnel was closed. Peter felt graved that the damaged ship cannot traverse through the vortex. Had they did suggest the rock passage. However, the Babalonian Gate is always closed and there is nothing on the other side. Have many assume the gateway was for aesthetic purposes. The people of the land know very little about the antediluvian artifact nor how to open it. There it sit, aging away like the Galaytea ruins. Cold and lifeless to many, born at the start of age. No aura seep through the old structure.
The talks have led into the turtle’s shell. It’s worrisome to many of the guilders that their fate would end so young. And before finishing their last song, Manni rush up to the deck avoiding the guild’s accountant who was placed under her watched. The elvfyn child remembers of a story her grandmother once told concerning The Old Tales of Alswragod. Has the poem spoken much about the Babalonian Gate and the rhymes that lead to opening it. The accountant chase her up into the cabin.
“Blondy!” Manni calls out. It was no mere mirage. Horrors and readers’ speculation. Gun fires from every directions. The legendary turtle was destroyed and decayed far away from the reverse whirlpool. Phatso was nearby. Told the elvfyn to go back inside. The fried rope slid across his face and what was heard, a scream to Peter who is unaware of Kassidy’s horror beam when reloading.
A bright bloodlust of red searing braker taker laser taser! Woods and metals disintegrated. Leftovers are filed in embers. The child ran to the injured captain blown away by two others. At first, Manni hesitated. How brave the elian became ever since she took this quest with a purpose to grow up.
Peter denied the nonsense Manni provided. Slap! She slap him and the bane just stared. Had she insisted for the fifteen year old boy to listen to their elders. The boy was giving up. There is nothing else that is possible. It would take a miracle. And Manni slap the boy once more. Slap!
“. . . It will. Trust me.” One look in Manni’s eyes, she was serious with a determination to live. Her personal mission cannot end like this. Suddenly, the whale burst out of the reverse whirlpool. Has the gang saw the aura finback struggling to be free. It give the boy some faith. “What’s to loose when hope is all we got. Zack! Ride to gate!” The helmsman turn the ship around confused.
Me hunch was strong. The gyinosha sensed me on the mount as I came out of the reversed whirlpool by the power of friendship. A cringe sentence I deem worthy in the good palm. The molasses squid lunge back into the water and was the guns and cannons have ceased. I need to think of something fast to deal with the scientific beast. Paneling through the memories of what I wrote about cloud whales, non stand out other than sail horizon. The daydreaming in six grade of middle school; sketching some animals in a science technology class, kindergarten drawings of flying whales with wings who eats fish made of clouds. How original. Me head was in the clouds. Oh? ‘Tis clouds.
“These finbacks has muscle memory above their nostrils.”
It was possible, and so was it check. The mammal grew wings. Aura wings intact. The strange whale has potentials indeed. He He He. Now, I don’t need a pistol, give me bold satires and a pencil. A guarantee, I say thee. If you really wanna roll with me, better find a piece of your harmony. Sensitivity of the memory gland from the cell in touch of me hands. Came children’s imagination. Well, I ain’t no secret masons. But a starving Tibetan raven. Smirk me. It’s on like an isekai Donkey Kong!
"Fairy Dance" by Yuki Hayashi / from the album: Yuki Hayashi Best 2
The female came out of the depths fiercely for a tug of war. Kassidy’s eyes in spite went wide, spits her blood in full demise shattering the mini botches of elemental light glass. Different blood types and degradation stain what is left of the barrier. Then up she flies her hair that of sunken ships, whisk the dark power of the watery abyss. The bloodlust barrage is commence. A fire of horrors of the dark blitz. The war of whales and squids.
Do a somersault!
Foam clouds hanging above the mammal’s back became potent weapons of a multitude of battleships. Of clouds that form, mimicking materials keenly and structures which is build unfathomable. Some are fantasy, some deemed as reality, and some bizarre in designs for a few rarity. A whistle I feign at a low tone. A controlled breathe to hold back a cough, to signal the mammal and off the male sent barrages of ballistae missiles and cannons from heaven! The cries of both beasts. The battle of two great creature of the deep. Cameras moving from one end to the another and then back again. Follow it down quickly behind the scientific creation. Irregularly it repeats itself. Shook those camerman just to be in the middle of the actions. Lagging was it to some, fearing for their own lives for your entertainments.
I was having a blast. It felt like going on an adventure even a crazy militant would want to ask for. But hobos do not show this excitement on their faces. On we battling in the sky in motion with the closing hurricane. Ride the wind I did. Kassidy went 2.0, the raise of her octopus-like tentacles. The guild have enter the gate.
Do the barrel roll!
The somewhat glowing whale, a glow that is shown in the afternoon when peace is meet, got out of harms way. The power of friendship, cringeship was dominant. The barrel rolls into effective use of weapon recoils, forcing me and the finback in a three-sixty tilt till another high-power discharge. And did it did that the mammal and I twirl in reverse.
Ammos and ammos of smokes gushes out. Many weapons and cannons overheated. Those attempted barrel rolls were no lies. Kassidy holds no ground of her last resort. She stretch her flesh and thwart her tentacles. It whomps the side of the whale’s head and have I almost fall off the good beast. The female is tire of chasing preys. One look at her, the squid is exhausted.
One last round should end it. The final confrontation, the sequence begins in episode three. The ending will I leave it up to the imagination.
Kassidy is killed. A strange sound effect I heard but couldn’t confirm the meaning from the ringing in my ears. The walls of the hurricane had shrunk, nearer to the linings of the island. Spaces are becoming unwrap and an isle it shall become. With the colorful rocks shines on the Grassen Prairie, it gave me a clue the guild had enter the unknown. Strange that the great pit in the northern center of the isle disappeared entirely. The creepy giant that seals the abyss change position and again frozen in suspended animation.
The whale brought me to the gate. And there I stand where I had been summoned. Much quieter than previous. A personal isle of make-believe away from the city. Looking back, how would one call their mount to return into the inventory assuming that is the chosen methodology. Why not pretend it to be as a pocket monster? My hand went forward where the mammal sings, swimming in the atmosphere. A direct soft yet brittle little light appears. The whale descend to me and disappear.
There are two versions in opening the gate. One, have I forgot. Silly hobo, tricks are for kids. But the other, known as bright as daylights. A jingle accommodate with an oddly-catchy funny dance in which I present before the gateway into the An. The jingle lasted nine seconds. With me arms and alms open to receive to cold unloved gate I command, “Open Sesame Seed.”