MYRON’S STATUS

Tier: Unearned

Level: 3!

Distributable Points -> 2

Path: None

Aether: 5/28

Bonds

Syl - Level 28, Emeramantis Queen - Plant/Metal Type

Mery - Level 5, Pygmaleon - Fighting/Water Type

Attributes

Explosiveness - 4!

Might - 3

Tenacity - 4!

Instinct - 5

Focus - 9

Impact - 6

Spirit - 4

Clarity - 10

Skills

{P} Heart of Purpose (lv2) !

Myron ignored the second level up he had had in less than a day, and instead felt his little monkey brain go ape-shit at the natural increase in his Explosiveness and Tenacity. A Small increase, true, but he could already tell the difference it was having on his body, his muscles numb and his heart rate falling.

He could also feel a slight push, a membrane like wall stopping his Focus from reaching the peak of humanity, but it was close, and closer still. He knew he could do it.

If he could do so in one of his Attributes he didn’t see why he couldn’t do it for all of them. Heart of Purpose was an understated skill, but he believed in its potential. Thus the potential of every other passive skill gained at the limit of humanity without Aimon.

That’s the only real reason he ignored his level ups and the two free points he could now distribute. Though the rush he could anticipate from dumping many points into a Single attributes almost overwrote that ambitious goal.

Adding to all of it, Myron was glad to see that his Passive skill, had gained a level. Myron figured at that point that the Cap for such a skill would not be at Level 10, for sure. Seeing as how it took him nary a day to increase it’s level to two, that would have been too easy.

It’s description didn’t change in any way, so without the ability to know how it had gotten better with the increase in level, he let the issue drop and moved on to the most exhilarating addition in his Status. Mery’s Bond.

BONDED OF MYRON

Name: Mery

Level: 5! Pink Orc

Tier - First

Type: Fighting/Water

Attributes

Aether: 20/20

Shield: 35/35

Strength: 10

Agility: 10

Intelligence: 5

Control: 8

Abilities

Surge

Water Whip

Healing Soak

Hard Right

Head-butt

“You’re pretty unique yourself, Mery.” He said to her with a smile, lifting his face just barely from her breasts. Myron felt like he could sleep there forever. A stark difference between his much more domineering showcase just moments ago, the humor in which was not lost in the newly awakened Aimon.

“Fighting and Water. Only one in my Tribe.”

“Yeah, I saw Fire and I saw Earth in that attack. I hope Syl is doing good. If I had to bet, then Metal is weak to Fire and she is thus at a disadvantage.” Right as Myron said those words a surge begun and traveled through the bond he shared with Syl. Who was very much still alive. Suddenly he could feel her, a dozen kilometers away, resting, safe.

“It was Water that gave me Intelligence. Cunning, Irnet called it. I know now, what she said to me when she bit me and mocked me. I remember the sounds, and make it into words.”

Myron frowned and made to push himself up, to face Mery better but she kept him down in her hug. He shrugged after a while, content to show his discontent at the treatment she had received through his Bond. He had a knack for it.

“Irnet deserves a beating herself then. Did she fear that you would usurp her if you ever grew to be strong, or well liked by your tribes-people?” Myron asked.

Mery nodded. Then shook her head with a self deprecating smile plastered on her tusked jaw. “I could never. She is too strong, has consolidated. Only her, no Humans until you.”

“Why did you attack us, now that I think about it. Just to mate with me?”

“You entered our territory. The we saw you, Human. Irnet thought that with another Orange Tier, we could defend from the Humans. The Fire humans are deadly. Our home is lost.” She sadly declared. Myron understood that she spoke of the future, a future that she saw as certain.

“You called? Little Thief!?” A raspy voice called out, and an Aimon with sagging skin, a cloth over her genitals, white hair that ran down her back and a hunch in her posture, with wrinkles all over her neck, appeared.

“Crone!” Myre shook Myron off, though he didn’t need her to do so as he stood himself. Anyhow, she stood in front of him, her emotions spiking. Myron did the only sensible thing and went to pick up his clothes. He may not be ashamed of what he was packing, but he didn’t feel the need to give out free shows to anyone and everyone.

“No she didn’t you old coot!” Myron called out as he dressed himself, nearly tripping over his pants in the process and hopping until Mery held him in place and he finally put them on.

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That was embarrassing, he thought, but pushed those thoughts away, to focus instead on the confrontation of two Aimon.

“Give him to me. I fought for him. I had my sisters die for him.” Crone growled.

“No.” Mery shook her head. Her words were still jumbled, she would find it hard to respond in any depth, yet it didn’t matter.

“What she means to say, is that if you had truly fought you would be dead. Because I can tell Syl is still alive…” Myron did a quick check in his status even as he felt Syl approaching their position at a rapid pace. He noted that her Aether was replenishing and her shield points were very low, but they had not been broken. “And recovering. You’d be dead if you had fought.”

“Human… I’d curse you, for the gall to speak up during a conversation of your betters.” Crone seethed but soon hissed and kept her anger to a bubble. “Yet you do speak the truth. She was strong, stronger than Irnet in fact, despite the Type disadvantage. I ran away, I can concede that much to my future Partner and youth giver.”

“Over my dead body.” Mery growled, her eyes shining with a violent gleam.

“It will be. After I force him to break his bond with you…. You’ll get to live five days at best, if the fire Aimon of that Taher bitch don’t kill you first. Maybe they’ll play with you a bit if you catch their fancy.” She chuckled at the grim joke, never once smiling though.

“Now, I can’t have that granny. Mery and I… We have a thing going on here. We can go far, I can tell. I don’t know where, since I know nothing about this world, but I’ll be the judge of my own success, and I’ll protect my people as long as they are willing to stick with me.”

“How do you plan on doing that? You weak little creature? I’m Level 9, at the edge of Consolidation. Half a Tier stronger than that little mongrel. I have fought with a Trainer and against Trainers before. I have sparred against Irnet, and against the Frog Kind of the Frog-King. You are green, a newborn Trainer. And her? What is she? Should have been a stillborn. A mutation. Never has there been one so weak, so weird.”

Mery faltered, before a great anger overtook her. Myron reinforced those emotions. She wasn’t just another mutation in the tribe to be mocked and shunned for her natural advantages against her people. She had gone from under the leadership, stolen their target, used him to her benefit, though the exact details entailed a more submissive stance, and now she was going to fight to keep her Trainer right where he was. Her reasons for doing so were clear and justifiable, selfish or not Myron would not even think to hold against her the will to live, to survive, and to thrive. She had outsmarted them all, and secured herself a life unlike what her tribe could imagine.

Myron stepped up calmly, past Mery and towards the old Aimon. He didn’t even know if Aimon aged in the wild, but this one, was close to Withering away as Syl would put it, and signs of age where showing. Maybe they had on Syl as well and he just couldn’t notice with all the blood and all the other things wrecking havoc in his mind.

“You’re gonna surrender to me? Or what? You plan on bonding with me as well? Three bonds may be a Little much for your birches, young Human. Not that I dislike that ambition.” She reached out and cupped his cheek. Despite her hunch she was taller than him, and she imperiously graced him with her touch, the blood of her fallen comrades smeared on his skin.

So when Myron did the following, it caught her off guard, and that would be the understatement of the century.

“Oh look!” He deadpanned and pointed to the right. She did as asked, and saw his pointed finger close and turn his palm into a fist which he quickly turned around. With all the torque he could muster he decked Crone in the face, feeling his knuckles tear open, as well as the satisfying crunch of her nose giving way to his fist.

“Mery. [Water Whip]!” He shouted and leaped to the side twice. Crone held her bleeding nose and tried to reach after him, too disoriented to do anything about the whip of water that snapped, with a crisp thunder, in the air and tore open a large gash on her side. “Jump back.” He said as he saw an orange energy morph into a pyramid around Crone and she charged at the real danger here, Mery. But noticed that she had already put distance between them. “Whip the legs.” He continued, now behind Crone as he picked up a stone.

The Whip clashed with the Fighting Type energy and slowed the relentless charge but without having the effect Myron wished. Crone remained standing.

“Gain more distance, roll to the side.” She did as asked and rolled twice, then thrice when Crone kept coming, but eventually, when she was close enough, the ability stopped and the cone dispelled. The charge had run out. Crone jumped and spun before coming down with a flaming orange kick. “[Hard Right] on the Kick, into [Water Whip], Neck,” He said and Mery did as asked, the two fighting type moves clashed, causing damage to both, with Mery being pushed back. But dutifully a whip roused on her arm and snapped tight around her neck. “Pull into [Head-but]!” He said and she did just that. Crone heard him of course and used the Ability herself.

The old witch got the better of the exchange and Mery was pushed back, without her whip dissolving and thus tearing up the flesh of her neck as it was pulled apart. It healed the next moment, just like the gash, and the cracked nose, her shield essentially tanking the hit.

Crone growled and [Karate Chopped] with both hands towards Mery who tried to dodge but the close proximity didn’t give her the time. Both hits landed, one in the shoulder and the other right where the previous one hit. Myron heard the crack of bone before Mery’s arm slumped down. The old Aimon straightened her back and jumped up, spinning. With the heel of her foot - burning with the Orange energy of fighting type moves - she cracked Mery’s skull and sent her skidding across the floor. She prepared another charge and with half a dozen steps that dug into the dirt she was right above Mery who struggled to stand. “[Surge]!” Myron tried as a last resort to push Crone away, but she simply ducked, grabbed Mery by the ankles and spun.

The massive log of muscles that was Mery flew into the sky, spinning about, completely disoriented. “[Surge] down!” Myron ordered and Mery got control of herself. She pointed down with both palms open and a torrent of water fell like a waterfall atop Crone, drenching her and slamming her into the ground. Which turned into mud at the deluge.

“That’s right, [Head-but] that bitch!” Myron pumped his fist, still holding onto a rock, and took pleasure in the crack of Crone’s skull as Mery landed on her.

The mud around them rose and slammed into Mery, knocking her to the ground before a spear of wet earth drilled into her flesh, picking her up and pushing her away from Crone. Who growled with anger, presumably at the lessened control she had over the earth around them because of all that water.

Mery stood. “We can do this Mery, we have her on the ropes!” Myron encouraged and lit a fire under his new Aimon partner. Crone chuckled. “As if!” She held her belly and shouted to the skies, missing the rock that flew at her and straight into her dome completely. Blood fell from her skull as she stumbled before it healed. “Fuck you!” He pointed and laughed uproariously.

She snapped her eyes up at him. Burning with all the hatred in the world.

For that split second, where her anger rose past the levels of her control she would pay, she hesitated. She ought to kill him first she thought as she ground her teeth.

It was then that without verbal communication a raging wave, crashing into itself and foaming like a rabid dog, rushed towards her. She kicked out two boulders of dirt but they simply turned into mud as they dove into the surging water. With its full power, the small -directed Tsunami - crashed into her and swallowed her whole. ‘[Surge] again!’ He shot through their bond. It was a combination of feeling and imagination, of the imagery he wanted to see, brought into reality through their bond and Mery’s unyielding faith in Myron’s correct guidance. In this battle, they were in tune. He felt her emotions, he knew that she had wanted that [Head-but] before, and called it out, and she felt him demanding the Surge just now and performed.

Mery rushed in, after Myron’s non-verbal directions, now that he had revealed the fact that he could communicate through the Bond with Mery, there was no reason to keep shouting. With a whip of water in one hand and a right fist of fighting fury Mery rushed Crone. With the whip she targeted her eyes and blinded her just enough to dodge the coming barrage of rocks the size of her head. Not all of them of course as there were a dozen. She took the bludgeon strikes in stride.

Mery lunged and tackled the older Aimon to the ground. Saddled her waist and punched her skull into the mud. Once then twice, then thrice. Her head dug deeper and deeper into the earth, cracks spreading out further and further like the web of a great monstrous spider. Myron joined not much later and did what he could, keeping one of Crone’s arms tied down with all of his weight.

He let Mery take out all of her rage. She whipped Crone, punched her. Until her Shield points were down close to Zero. She stood and hopped in place. Her forehead burning with Orange type energy. She cracked her chest with a devastating [Head-but]. Crone whizzed blood and bile and fell unconscious. Myron turned her on her side before quickly taking Mery into a hug and pulling her away from her downed opponent.

“Take a breather, Mery. Breath, rest, enjoy. You won. Don’t wallow in hate.”

“She hurt me.” Mery said through bated breath. Tears of hot pain and aching glory rolled down her cheeks. “She hurt me a lot. Yet I won.” Mery said and fell to her knees. She hugged Myron’s waist and berried her head in his lower belly. He cradled her head in understanding.

“I see.” He nodded grimly and separated from Mery. He took a deep breath and bent down to grab a loose stone. He felt its wetness from all that water and scraped away the mud. It shone under the light of the moon and the stars just a little. It was jagged on one end and round on another, gray and unassuming, with a white stripe and a green stripe floating through it on the circular side. It was just a rock.

“Mery. You’re mine, you’re my Aimon. You’re my partner, and this woman hurt you. She’s your enemy. I understand.” Myron said, to himself and to his Aimon, for all ears to hear. He hesitated, he knew there was no going back. That boar, with Syl? It had been an animal more than anything. Myron now knew the difference between the awakened Aimon and those not yet Bonded. He still felt it in his core, in his soul. Crone could have been his teacher, or friend, in this world and the old one.

Maybe she could still be. He had the power to keep her alive, to keep her in line.

“I don’t want her. I want you.” He pointed to Mery, and then to Syl.

“You guys are my new family, my only family. Maybe I’m being too sentimental for my own good, trapped in the nostalgia of stories and games from my old life, and my younger years. Treating you like I would expect Pokemon to be treated… Or maybe I’m riding high on the glory of our horizontal tango, where I turned held the reigns and eventually bonded with you, a feat that would inflate anyone’s ego… I don’t know which is which. But I know what I feel…. So here goes.” He continued and then looked right at Mery.

“Your enemies, are my enemies.” He pulled his arm back and bent his knees.

With all the force he could muster he splattered Crone’s skull with the rock in his hand.