Then, it vanished, as if it weren’t even there. From the distance Myron heard the mutterings of the wind. He stood up. Past a bend a soft shuffle reached him.

Syl sprung up. “[Alloy body],” Myron uttered, Dakini and Mery perked up as well. Rhamon didn’t notice, lost in the world that is Hana’s obsidian eyes.

Around the shape of the jutting earth a haggard form came.

An Aimon with two heads, on necks of brown flower stalk, with petals blooming out at the base and round buds for a face, one of which was half missing. The living flesh squirmed like a thousand worms, stitching itself back together.

It growled when it laid eyes on them. The rest of its body followed, four short and thick legs, on a stocky body. Vines grew on its back and fell like bandages and loose cloth down to the ground, dragging up dirt and oozing a neon green liquid from their tips.

A stumpy tail moved with force biting into the earth and sending chunks at them, Dakini’s tails plumed out into gigantic sizes and caught the loose stone.

From behind the Aimon a massive clawed hand appeared. Twice as tall as a human, with its fingers turning sharp and black like the night. It wrapped around the Aimon which put up no resistance, acid turned into the body of a snake and the hand without eyes slithered down the slope with its prey paralyzed, ejected full of venom.

“What was that?” Hana asked when some time passed and the perimeter had been checked.

Myron frowned, staring holes into the ground.

“Collateral, most likely.” He assessed and looked to Syl who stared back. She clenched her fists and nodded. “It has to be.”

“Fucking Politics.” Myron ruffled his short cropped hair which has grown to be at least one centimeter tall at this point.

“What do you mean?”

“Look, The Region north of Oak-land burned to the ground, and from the Region to its West a flood of Aimon burst forth, in a battle which we took part in.” Myron started but then stopped. “Actually, Syl, care to explain?”

“That Particular region was a risk factor. None should have entered it or gone near it, but Taher forced Aimon to run for refuge, that broke the teetering balance. Five Dual Type areas all separate from one another, existed in closed ecosystem, bound by the Earth Primary Typing.”

“From reports I read, Nothing above Second Tier reached the Ducal Territory.”

“Yet those three that did where enough. All it would take is one particularly cunning Aimon to strike.”

“Enough of this.” Hana interrupted. “I get it, what do we do?”

“What do you mean?” Mery asked.

“The Wild is dangerous. We need to go to the Baron’s Safe Zone. We won’t make it out here. If one Yellow Rank Aimon has been forced out of its land. We’re doomed.”

“Hana, love. We can’t do that. We’re wanted men, and women.”

“I agree. We should just go further south, and hide.” Syl nodded.

“HA! As if we’re going to dig a hole to hide in.” Myron crossed his arms and laughed but Syl was not. “Syl, Rhamon. I don’t know what Ideas you have in mind, but we’re going to those cities. Even if we have to force our way into them.”

“Why? What safety would we gain, Myron?” Syl glared at him.

Hana shot up. “There is always safety amongst a crowed. Not to mention, that I’d much rather have to contend with Human problems than Aimon. At least the Human mind, I can understand.” She said.

Myron chuckled some more. They turned to glare at him. “What are you laughing at?!” They both shouted.

“Hana, you don’t understand the Human mind at all. Not any more than the rock understands the nature of death. No one does. Uhpuhp! Don’t go shouting at me. Let’s try to be civil.”

“You’re being impossible. Are you in support of my proposition or Syl’s?”

“It’s not yours or Syl’s. Don’t phrase it that way please.” Myron turned to Rhamon. “What Tier is this region, or was this region before the Baron begun his forceful colonization of it?”

The King Bull sighed. His nose piercing trembled at his breath. “Undetermined. At least Yellow, but it’s not been explored. It could be Green.”

“So it could be a Fourth Tier Region.”

“That sounds awfully impossible for us to deal with. Don’t you think?” Hana said and Myron shook his head.

“Not really, no. I think, that both you and Syl, and Rhamon for that matter, though you’re lover bull and I’ll accept your retreat this time.” Rhamon snorted and frowned making to stand but Myron waved him away, unbothered.

“I’m going to go to the Baron’s cities, because I want to see them. I think they would be interesting. I am also going to continue marching on through the wild, and wherever the road takes me. Maybe there is some interesting landmark in this place or some mind-boggling view that I must watch.”

“In short, people. I am going to live my life. Fuck, I don’t care about the risk, or Green Tier Aimon. If I’m too afraid to go anywhere because ahead is danger and from the back I’m being hunted then I may as well die right now.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“That’s extreme.” Syl said. “I’m not suggesting we stop living, I just want us to be safe. I’m not strong enough to protect you from everything that may come. Isn’t training and knowledge the entire reason we allowed Rhamon and Hana to entangle us in their mess?”

Myron did not get a chance to respond. A cracking boom sounded in the distance and the world lit up for a split second. Lightning reached up into the sky and spawned black clouds in its passage.

The earth then shook with a groan and the wind picked up. It lashed Myron in the face and forced him to close his eyes. He resisted as best he could, when he saw a tall shadow fly overhead.

A rumble; a growl followed it’s passing, and the slap of a mighty tail cracked. Myron fell to the ground, so did Hana, yelping. The shadow took off into the distance where a fight was sure to be happening.

The group unilaterally decided to move out of their camp, and to keep moving until they felt safer. The fight was eastward, from where they had come from, so west remained the only direction for them to go.

They packed up and left.

More clouds gathered as powerful explosions rocked the ground and thick trunks of lightning fell down from the gray skies. The group traveled at a quick pace, until the battle stopped. “Is it over?”

Myron asked when a Roar rushed up the hills like a torrential river and fell upon them. A reverberating booming noise, guttural and dominating.

“I say we keep moving.” Syl suggested and Rhamon nodded. Myron acquiesced as he sensed the tension within his Aimon, he saw it even, in their shoulders and necks. He, weirdly enough, didn’t feel much of anything.

The shivers has passed over him and through him, but their impact didn’t stick. Maybe it is the skill, calming him, reaffirming his purpose, to make it to the city, to keep moving forward, or maybe, he’d simply gone crazy.

At the end of the day his actions would never count at sane in the social confines of Modern Earth.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Metal boots crunched down on soft grass until the came to a stop.

Holdyr looked on at the change of scenery before him, to his right the flowing river, to his front the weird land of the Gummie Barony. In all colors and shapes, bouncy and whimsical.

He spat on the ground.

Behind him, his soldiers came to a stop, Tomin and Syvan, at the back of the entourage struggled to keep up.

“We’re pushing forward men. No lunch for today. We feast at night on freshly skewered Aimon meat.” He ordered and pushed on.

They had seen not a hint of their target’s tracks even as they walked through the night, and reached the edge of the Duchy’s territory.

The wall of muscle, the giant of a man, who set a terrifying pace for his soldiers hoped to find something within these lands.

He had started with a delay and ever moment counted. If only the Duke hadn’t dumped upon his soldiers the responsibility of those two.

He didn’t even need to strain his neck to get a look at the two failures. None better than the other.

Syvan had the muscle and the training, he could keep up, compared to Tomin who couldn’t by a long shot, yet the older brother didn’t. He was without spirit, his eyes hollow just as his chest. His Aimon pulled away from him.

Holdyr shook his head. The young man simply didn’t understand that Humans did not need Aimon to be great, to be powerful, to be kings of this world. He would learn with time.

Up ahead, a smell permeated the air, in the wet breeze, of a rain that had passed, a flash flood of sorts.

The mountainous man crouched down, and his knees hammered the dirt. He dug his fingers and plucked a piece of the land. He tasted it and rolled the dirt in his mouth, crunching it beneath his mighty molars.

There was a distinct flavor to ground saturated with Aether, something which men like Holdyr could taste, for he and his fellows spent years upon years training their senses and their bodies in secret and torturous ways for the benefit that they brought.

“Gather your spirits men, pay close attention. We’re entering Aimon territory. A fight has been had. Grass Type, Lightning Type as well.” Holdyr ordered and the company sharpened.

Some branched out in a rush, noses sniffing for the ozone in the air.

Once they came back with affirmatives half an hour later, running kilometers back and forth in that span of time without a hitch in their breath, Holdyr nodded.

“Be wary. There is something in this land that speaks of strength.”

“Above Tier Three, Sir?” One of the men saluted and asked, standing at attention.

“No, no, they were barely in Tier two, the presence is weaker than the other two, the smell is almost imperceptible, the only reason I catch it now, is because I have felt it before.” Holdyr said and frowned. A wound in his stomach, a mess of scarred flesh through the stomach and out the back, tensed.

“A Dragon was here.” His voice like gravel and heart of cast iron, Holdyr moved forward. Neither hearing nor seeing the tense atmosphere that fell over his company, or the utter despair in Syvan’s face, as his eyes flitted about, searching for a chance to escape.

“Syvan, why are they so worried? If it’s only Second Tier, they should be able to handle it, right?”

“Dragons, are not mere Aimon, brother.” Syvan whispered. His neck down and shoulders hunched above him, his hands close together, bound my a link of chains.

“What do you mean? Aimon are Aimon, and the Tiers categorize them according to power.”

“The Tiers are a Human creation that made sense of the way Aimon change as they grow in power. What we are talking about here is Type, that which imbues the Aimon and creates them from the Aether. Fairies are considered special, they are incredible rare, and coveted by those in the higher circles. Psychics are special for their are intelligent and capable of speech from their birth, like humans.”

“What? I thought that was just… a story to scare kids away from Psychics, because they are able to peer into brains and haunt dreams.. You know, and other horrible stuff.”

“No. Don’t be dumb.” Syvan looked at his brother affronted and shook his head.

“Listen, Dragons, they are the real deal. Dangerous, prideful, powerful. You don’t mess with dragons and they won’t mess with you. They are supposed to be reclusive, hidden. Solitary hunters but they live in nests.”

Tomin nodded. “So we gotta get through this fast, and not look back.”

“That is exactly right…” Syvan said and looked down at his legs, worried.

“I wonder if we’ll make it.” He added, downcast. The gap in his chest brought to the forefront, his missing Aimon apparent in his every moment. A hole that will never be filled, their fates unknown. His strength gone.

Everything Syvan Oak had worked so hard to accomplish, down the drain, lost forever.

“Are you okay? Brother?” Tomin asked, apprehensive. What relationship they may have had ruined by his older brother’s schemes.

“I’m not.” Syvan picked up the pace. The two of them had been left behind. The sound of his feet became harsher as they slapped the ground of this new land. Dark purplish-brown, squished under his boots.

A lonely blanket draped over his shoulder back. “I miss them.” He muttered, not courageous enough to admit that to Tomin. He never expected such feelings to come over him. Aimon where tools, training partners as well, and he had lived with them for a long time, but tools none the less.

He had fed them, and given them intelligence, language. He was their god. They lived to support him and his goals, that was their reason. They talked little, mostly working through tugs of their bonds, and thus he knew nothing about what they did when he wasn’t looking, and he never cared to look.

The less he saw them as people the easier it would be to send them into battle, to have them murder for him, to give them up when something better showed up.

It didn’t work out as he thought it would, their eventual separation.