Zed tightened his grip on the handle of his tomahawk. He was crouched behind a fallen tree, its girth almost as wide as he was tall. Beside him Jason rested his arms on the fallen tree like a man without a problem, staring at their current quarry.
“So,” Zed said. “Remind me again. Why exactly did we leave the others to come and stare at two monsters humping each other? Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for nature and its inverted beauties but I never took you for a pervert.”
Already accustomed to his random babblings, Jason didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. The moment he’d found the creatures in this state he’d been waiting for a pointless remark.
“That,” Jason said in a low voice, gesturing at the creatures over twenty feet away, “is called a Moscovian sloth.”
Zed cocked his head to the side. “Nope.”
“What do you mean ‘nope’?” Jason asked, turning to him.
“Can’t be a Moscovian sloth,” Zed answered. “Look at the thing. It looks more like an overgrown Orangutan if it was dropped on its head as a child. That’s a Moscovian Orangutan.”
Jason shook his head. “That’s not the point,” he said. “The point is you’re going to kill it.”
“Oh.”
Zed returned his attention to the beasts and shuddered. His earlier assessment remained true. The monster on top was eight feet tall and covered in orange fur that looked like spikes. But rather than having the simple head shape most primates had, there was a depression at the back of its skull, like someone had taken a particularly blunt object to it.
Beneath the monster he could not see it’s mate and it’s hip was thrusting away with the exuberant vigor of an animal starved of sex for so long.
“That’s one horny monster,” he said to himself before turning to Jason and adding: “What do I get for killing it?”
“Corrections,” Jason said without batting an eye.
“Corrections?”
“Yes.” Jason looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Corrections. I’ll see the way you fight and tell you what you’re doing wrong.”
“I thought you’ve already seen the way I fight?” Zed asked, his mind flashing back to the monster in the building from a few days back.
“That was then,” Jason answered. “And I wasn’t watching for errors. I was waiting for you to use magic. So your errors then were the fact that you didn’t use magic when you were supposed to. Now that I know you don’t have any magic, I can assess you better.”
Zed nodded. “So once you’re done assessing, what next? Spellforms? Another rune lesson?”
It had been a few days since his first lesson with Oliver. They practiced twice a day, sometimes stretching it into three times and Zed was yet to sense aura. Each time, his attention ended hovering between that odd feeling of smoke and mist. His brain and body always told him there was something there but there was a part of him that just couldn’t connect to what it was. It was like solving an equation properly but stuttering at the final answer.
His only sign of progress was that he no longer sweated as much and no longer came out of it looking for air like a drowning man. He was even getting quite accustomed to the lesson, easing himself into a trance like state quite easily. If Oliver could finally learn to stop saying weird things, like asking him to remember the taste of his mother’s food, he’d be perfectly accustomed to it.
“No rune lessons,” Jason told Zed. “And no spellforms. Magic isn’t like school, you can’t dedicate yourself to more than one discipline at a time, especially when you don’t know something as basic as aura sense. Once you’ve learnt that one, you might be able to learn a spellform with enough time and dedication. For most people, it’s either spellforms or runes, and once you find your specialization, connecting to other types of mana feels like just a waste of your time.”
“Alright,” Zed said, vaulting over the fallen tree. “I just don’t know why you’re sending me after two monsters when you know I can’t use magic.” He was only two steps away when he paused and looked back. “They’re both Beta rank, right? I don’t want to go in there and find out they’re actually Rukh and this is just your excuse to kill me.”
“Beta rank, yes,” Jason confirmed. “And it’s only one monster you’re going to be fighting.”
Zed looked at Jason in confusion. He turned his attention to the monster and its mate was considerably harder to see. All he could note was its color, and even that was hard to see. It was like the monster was hiding its mate from the world.
“So what?” he asked, turning back to Jason. “One gets totally knackered after a good thumping? My money’s on the male because that’s usually how it is with us guys.”
A slow grin stretched Jason’s face and he looked like someone trying not to laugh. When he answered, Zed would’ve liked to say his words were the last thing on the list of things he’d expected him to say, but the truth was they weren’t even on the list.
“Sorry to take away your fun,” Jason said, still smiling, “but there’s only one monster there. The other one’s most likely some unfortunate animal, judging by its aura.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Jason’s jaw dropped. “Please don’t tell me a monster’s humping a poor defenseless animal,” he said, easing back to the fallen tree without turning his back to the monster. “That’s practically rape. Oh, no. Is that why I’ll only be facing one. It’s going to hump the animal to death, isn’t it?”
Jason shook his head and let out an actual chuckle. “Not at all. Moscovian Sloths don’t have a mouth, not in the way we know.”
The shock and amusement slipped from Zed’s face as realization dawned on him. “No,” he said, refusing to accept it, his expression growing aghast. “It can’t be.”
“And yet,” Jason said, his smile ecstatic. “There it is, as clear as day.”
Zed looked back and couldn’t see any sign of the other animal again. He gagged once in growing disgust.
“That’s just wrong,” he shuddered. “That’s just very wrong.”
“True,” Jason agreed. “But that’s just magic. Some monsters can fly. Others look like abominations that should not exist. And a Moscovian sloth eats through its genitalia.”
Zed groaned.
“You know you didn’t have to say it,” he complained. “We already know I figured it out.”
Jason gave an apologetic shrug but there was no apology on his face. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
“Just thought I should make sure you know,” he said. “So that if it starts thrusting its hip at you, you don’t get the wrong idea thinking your wit and charming personality are a cross species thing.”
Jason laughed when he said it, the sound of his laughter drawing the monster’s attention.
Zed turned to Jason horrified at the fact that he’d given away his element of surprise and gestured angrily at the creature.
“Look what you did!” he complained, no longer keeping his voice low. “You took my element of surprise.”
“You never had one in the first place,” Jason chuckled. “Now go get your work done.”
Zed turned to face the monster and found it actually had no mouth. He twirled his tomahawk once, then approached it.
The creature took three loud steps forward, propelled by large forearms, beat the floor to a tremble and roared at him.
It was the most inappropriate roar Zed had ever had the displeasure of experiencing.
“If there was a monster court of law,” he mumbled to himself. “I’d sue you for sexual harassment.”
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New Quest: [Moscovian Sloth]
You have stumbled upon the peaceful meal of a mana beast and have drawn its attention. There is no greater threat of a monster than one that has tasted the blood of a sentient being. Do not allow it become one.
* Objective: Defeat [Moscovian Sloth] 0/1.
* Reward: Mana Beast core.
----------------------------------------
Zed met the monster with a swinging tomahawk and a suppressed fear. His first strike missed and he doubled with another. Each time he swung the monster moved with a precision he didn’t like. Its movement was too accurate for something so large.
When it chose to attack, it was in a way completely expected. It swung its massive arms, like a child playing with the air. The gust of wind each blow carried had Zed on the back foot, and he was forced to evade, while looking for a way forward.
Experience that was not his told him that opponents like these, with massive swings and perfect evasion couldn’t be handled easily. The only way to take them was with counter attacks.
He watched the hulking monster come at him as he absorbed the piece of information and refused. The sheer size of it was enough to dissuade anyone from approaching. To counter attack was to walk into its reach knowing the full potential consequence it entailed should he fail.
But as much as his fear demanded he turn and run from something that was beginning to remind him of a moving helicopter if it was all muscle and its fan blades were made of stone, he wanted to be stronger. He wanted the kind of strength that allowed him live in a world riddled with monsters without having to worry about a change of clothes each time he fought. He wanted the gift of creating fire with just words.
So counting on his regenerative attribute, he darted back into the monster’s reach. He ducked under an arm, trepidation dripping down the back of his neck, and came up on its other side. His tomahawk was ready and he was halfway through a swing when the monster moved again.
The creature casually stepped away from Zed and brought both hands up. Zed only had enough time for one action. He could match its attack, swing with all his strength and hope his tomahawk met it before its hands came down, or he could run from it.
Mages do not run, he chided himself, the words coming from the memory of an angry man that was not him, motivating, pushing him towards greater heights, for only in discomfort can a man grow and thrive.
Zed terminated his swing and dived out of the way.
The monster’s blow hit the earth and shook the trees around them. Its hands created a crater where they landed and Zed watched in terrified surprise.
“Mages don’t run?” he scoffed in disgusted. “What a load of bullshit. I bet that’s how we get dead mages.”
The monster roared at Zed again, and a sense of filth filled him along with his fear. It was akin to watching something disgustingly indecent while fighting a creature that could take a person’s head in one blow. Which it was.
This time, rather than wait for Zed, the creature charged forward. It moved with the wobbling grace of the primate family with arms too long and legs too short. It picked up a tiny earthquake as it came, crushing leaves beneath its feet and bodying trees as if it could uproot them with a simple shoulder check.
Zed re-evaluated his situation when it actually did. It smashed into a tree, throwing it off with a violent fuss. It ripped the tree along with its root from the earth and tossed it into another.
“Well that’s definitely not good.”
Unconsciously Zed found himself looking around for Jason as he backed away from the creature’s approach and didn’t find him. It seemed the monster was his to suffer alone.
With a small force of will, Zed reminded himself of the stakes of the fight. Learning to sense auras was a gift they would give him regardless of the outcome of this, but spellforms and runes were a different conversation. He was certain they wouldn’t be very willing to teach him if they thought of him any less than they already did. So he steeled his resolve, set his feet firmly beneath him, and threw himself into the monster’s attack.
He ducked a swing and came up on the side. Another swing came at him with the roaring wind in his ear and Zed rolled along the ground. He came up, guided by instinct, and barely avoided the kick of a short leg. The attack came at him, improvised, and the monster wobbled awkwardly.
Destabilized as it was, Zed saw his chance.
He put his weight behind a one-handed swing and drove the blade of his tomahawk into the monster’s back.
The weapon struck with Zed’s weight behind it and rebounded. Then the monster batted at him as if chasing off a fly and, while it missed, the wind from its blow ruffled Zed’s hair.
Zed backed up, staring at the blade of the tomahawk and at the monster. This matchup, he realized, had been planned.
Jason had placed him up against a beast he could not cut; a beast he could not win.