A lone figure trudged through the endless white of the snow plains.
He wore a wide-brimmed cowboy hat pulled low to hide his face. On his chest, pinned to a tattered leather duster, was a shiny piece of metal. It was a crest, specifically a Rank 2 one.
Species Name: Caracal-Lynx
Description: Tall and lean with long tufts of black fur sticking out from the tips of his ears.
He hadn't been sold as a slave. Instead, he had simply created a portal and walked into it out of pure curiosity. He had woken up in this frozen graveyard and started walking.
A group of six wolves on patrol spotted him. They circled him quickly, spears pointed at his chest.
"Who are you? Speak up or we'll gut you right here," the lead wolf barked.
The cat didn't say a word. He just kept walking, boots crunching in the snow.
"I said stop!" the wolf yelled, baring his teeth.
"This is your last warning!"
The wolves charged all at once, but the cat's hand moved faster than the eye could follow.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Three shots rang out in the cold air. Three wolves hit the snow before they could even scream. The cat stood there with a heavy iron revolver in his hand, smoke curling from the barrel.
He reached into his mouth and pulled out three of his own teeth. Because of a regeneration strand he had taken from a beast long ago, new teeth clicked into place instantly. He loaded the teeth into the cylinder of the gun and kept moving.
Strand Identified: Odontogenic Regenesis
Source: Dire Crocodile
Trait: Continuous dental regeneration. Teeth regrow within seconds of loss. Regrown teeth can be fired as projectiles from compatible firearms.
He didn't get far before a massive army of wolves blocked his path. Hundreds of them stood in rank, led by the same wolf leader who had kicked Lemony off the cliff. The leader looked at the fallen patrol and then at the golden crest on the cat's chest.
"A Crest..." the leader said, his voice losing its aggressive edge.
"You aren't a sacrifice. You came through a secretive gate, didn't you?"
"I'm just passing through," the cat said. His voice was cold and dry.
"You're a Rank 2 Scion. Look, Gunslinger. We don't want trouble with your kind. If you want to leave, I'll show you the exit myself. Just go back to the real world and forget you saw us."
The Gunslinger adjusted his hat.
"I don't feel like leaving yet."
The wolf leader growled, but he didn't attack. He knew a Rank 2 could wipe out half his men before they even got close.
"Listen. We have business here. We have to destroy a base built by trash survivors. It's a cleanup job. If you stay out of our way, we stay out of yours."
The Gunslinger looked toward the distant mountain ribs. He looked annoyed, as if the whole conversation was a waste of his time. He didn't say anything else; he just turned around and walked back into the shadows of the rocks.
The wolf leader watched him go until he was out of sight. He spat into the snow and turned to his army.
They weren't just here to kill. They were here to harvest the strands from the survivors.
Every creature in that hidden base had a soul that could be turned into power. If the wolves took enough strands, they could rise through the ranks just like the cat.
"The three days are up! The preparation that Sir Lancelot told us are finished. We move on the base now. Kill every last one of them!"
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Koro, Ve, and Pippin crouched behind a rock. The massive bone walls of Fort Rib loomed over them. It was a dark, ugly place that smelled like old blood.
"Why didn't you tell the others we were doing this?" Ve whispered, checking the edge of his blade.
"If we have a plan to take this place down, shouldn't everyone know? It would give them hope."
Koro didn't look back. His eyes were fixed on the guard towers.
"I don't trust everyone back there. Someone is always looking out for themselves. Especially that old man, Horg. He's lived too long to be honest. If he thought he could trade our lives for his safety, he'd do it in a heartbeat."
He turned to the tiny creature sitting by his feet. Pippin was bundled in so many layers of dark cloth he looked like a rolling ball of wool.
"Pippin, you're up," Koro said.
Pippin gave a small nod, his goggles reflecting the dim gray light. He took off, moving across the snow so fast and so light that he didn't even leave a footprint. He found a small drainage hole in the base of the bone wall and squeezed through.
Inside, Pippin stopped and twitched his nose. He expected to hear the shouting of soldiers or the clanking of armor, but it was quiet.
He scurried through the corridors, hiding under floorboards whenever he heard a sound. He reached the main courtyard and blinked. It was empty.
The stalls were deserted, and the fires were nothing but cold ash.
Why is it empty? he whispered to himself.
He kept moving toward the operator room. He only saw two wolves walking the perimeter, and they looked bored. He reached the tower and climbed up the back wall, slipping into the room where the lighthouse controls were kept.
There was only one wolf there, leaning back in a chair with his eyes closed.
Pippin didn't see any other guards in the towers or the hallways. He checked every corner, thinking maybe they were hiding to spring a trap, but there was nobody.
He didn't have time to wonder where they went. He jumped onto a stack of crates and reached for the main lever. The wolf in the chair snapped his eyes open.
"What the—"
Pippin slammed the lever down. The massive lighthouses outside flickered and died.
The wolf lunged for him, but Pippin was already out the window, sliding down a banner.
"Intruder!" the wolf yelled, but his voice sounded lonely in the empty fort.
Outside, the darkness was the signal. Koro and Ve didn't wait. They charged the main gate, Koro using his massive shoulder to smash through the rotted wood. They burst into the courtyard, weapons ready, expecting a hail of arrows.
Nothing happened.
Pippin dropped from a ledge and landed near them, panting.
"It's empty! There's only three of them in the whole place!"
Koro looked around the silent courtyard. His heart sank. If the army wasn't here, it meant they were already somewhere else.
Ve growled, his fur bristling.
"We don't have time to think. Let's take care of these three first and see if they can talk."
The fight didn't even last a minute.
Koro smashed his fist into the first wolf's chest, sending him flying into a bone pillar with a sickening crunch.
Ve moved like a blur, blade flashing once, twice, and the second wolf was on the ground clutching a slit throat.
The last one, the operator, tried to scramble away, but Koro grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and slammed him into the dirt.
"Where is the army?" Koro roared, his face inches from the wolf's snout.
The wolf coughed, spitting blood from his split lip.
"Already... already there. You're too late..."
Pippin stepped forward.
"They're heading to the secret base, aren't they? Someone told you where it was."
Ve turned sharply, his eyes wide.
"Pippin! Don't tell him we have a base!"
"It doesn't matter, Ve," Pippin said, voice trembling.
"Koro was right. Someone betrayed us. There is no way an old tortoise like Horg survives a wolf patrol while a flier like Sissy and a fast cat get caught. He gave them the location to save his own shell."
The realization hit Koro like a physical blow. The anger that rose in him wasn't just heat; it was a cold, sharp blade.
"I'm going to kill him."
It wasn't a threat.
It was a fact.
"I am going to rip that shell off his back with my bare hands."
Without another word, Koro turned and bolted. He didn't wait for Ve or Pippin. He ran with a desperate, wild energy, heavy boots hammering against the frozen earth.
As he ran, his mind slipped backward.
He remembered the smell of smoke from decades ago. He remembered the screams of his siblings when pirates attacked their old village. He had been out hunting and had seen the smoke on the horizon, running just like this. He had been too late then.
Not again. Please, not again. I promised I'd protect them. I promised Crysorgo.
He pushed his body past its limit. His lungs burned like he was breathing broken glass. The wind whipped against his four eyes, blurring his vision with tears of rage.
"You coward, Horg! You pathetic, selfish old man! I'll kill you! I'll kill all of them!"
He rounded the final rib that shielded the entrance to their home and skidded to a stop. In the distance, thick black smoke was curling up into the gray sky.
The silence of the mountain was gone, replaced by the rhythmic sound of wood splintering and distant shouts.
Koro's knees buckled. He dropped to the ground, his hands digging into the snow as he watched the smoke rise.
"No... No.... I was too late."
The base—the only home he had left—was burning.
Koro slammed his fists into the frozen earth again and again.
He shouted until his throat felt raw. Then, he just stopped. The energy left him all at once. He rolled onto his back and stared at the gray sky.
"They're burning you survivors like trash. But I don't believe you're trash. You look like a normal creature to me."
Koro bolted upright. Standing a few feet away was the cat in the cowboy hat. He was leaning against a jagged bone shard, his long ears twitching.
"Who are you?" Koro grunted.
The cat adjusted the brim of his hat.
"A man with a gun and a long walk ahead of him. You can call me the Gunslinger."
"Why are you even here? Just leave me alone... I'm tired of this. I'm done," Koro said.
The Gunslinger didn't move. He just looked toward the rising smoke. "I know. I know just by seeing your pathetic face. But why would you stop here when you're so near? You've got legs. You've got a pulse. Staying in the snow is just a slow way to die."
Koro sat up slowly, wiping the soot from his face. The Gunslinger was right. He couldn't just sit here while the fire was still burning.
"How about we team up? I've got an itch to shoot something, and you look like you need a path cleared."
"Whatever you want," Koro said, standing up. "Just let me get my hands on the traitor."
The two of them took off, racing toward the pillars of black smoke.
Inside the hideout, the air was thick with the smell of burnt hair and copper. Over fifty creatures had been slaughtered in the initial rush, bodies piled in the center of the hall. One by one, the wolves extracted the DNA strands from the corpses.
"Look at this one," a wolf laughed, holding up a faint green strand. "Increased hearing? That's it? How am I supposed to rank up with this garbage?"
"Just keep harvesting," another replied. "A hundred weak strands make a strong one eventually. We'll be Scions by the time we finish the pile."
On the far side of the hall, Old Horg was shaking. He stood next to the wolf leader, his eyes darting toward the exits.
"You said I could escape. You said once I showed you the way, I was free to go."
The leader didn't look at him. He was staring at a massive door at the back of the hall.
"After everyone dies, including your leader. He locked himself in there. It's a password-protected vault. We can't break it from the outside."
"I hope you can solve it," Horg said weakly.
The leader grabbed Horg by the neck, claws digging in.
"Do you know the password?"
"No! No, I swear! Only he knows it!"
The leader shoved Horg away and spat on the floor. "Fine. If we can't get in, we'll make him listen to his people die. Kill every creature we find behind the other walls! Make sure the screams are loud enough to go through that bone door!"
He looked around the cavernous home.
"I can't believe trash like you lived here for decades."
"Centuries," Horg corrected.
"That's a long time to wait to die," the leader sneered.
Suddenly, a wolf at the entrance screamed. The sound was cut short by a heavy thud and a sharp crack. The leader spun around, drawing his sword.
Through the smoke, two figures stepped into the hall. Koro was covered in blood, and next to him, the Gunslinger was already reloading his revolver with his own teeth.
The leader's eyes widened.
"You... you're back."
Koro didn't look at the leader. His gaze locked onto Old Horg.
"Horg! I'm here for my promise."
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Four days had passed since the fall. Sissy was finally able to walk again, though she leaned heavily on a wooden staff. Fiji, the Mossback, walked beside her with thumping steps.
Sissy had Lemony's red coat wrapped tightly around her shoulders. It was stained with dirt and blood, but it kept the chill away.
They rounded a pillar of stone, and there it was. Lemony's body was still lying exactly where it had landed.
Sissy's knees gave out. She fell into the dirt beside him and started to shake.
"I am sorry," she whispered.
She reached out to touch his sleeve, but her hand stopped. He looked so small down here.
"We bury now?" Fiji asked. He pulled a heavy, rusted shovel from the folds of his stone skin.
Sissy wiped her eyes and took the shovel. She began to dig into the hard, grey earth. It was slow work.
"Was he friend?" Fiji asked.
Sissy paused.
"We only knew each other for a single day. Just one day. But he did everything to make sure I lived. He acted like he didn't care about anything, but he was actually the third most caring person I ever met..."
Just as she went to toss another pile of dirt, a high-pitched screech echoed through the abyss. Then came the sound of thousands of wings flapping.
Fiji stood up quickly.
"They coming! The biters! We finish burial later!"
"What? No, we can't just leave him!"
"Vampire bats. Very dangerous. They eat everything. We go now!" Fiji pulled her away.
Sissy looked back over her shoulder one last time. Lemony was still there, alone in the dark, as the shadows of the bats began to swarm the ceiling.
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It felt like a century had passed in the dark.
Lemony didn't know how long it had been. He was just a ghost drifting in a place where time didn't exist.
Is this what death is supposed to be? Just sitting in the dark forever?
He had wanted to die for so long. He had waited for his crest to crumble and let him disappear. But as he sat there, someone appeared in front of him.
It was himself.
A perfect copy of Lemony sat there, perched on a strange, metallic contraption that looked like a clockwork chair.
"Come here. Sit in front of me."
Species Name: Void Creature
Description: ??? (Do not believe it.)
Lemony didn't argue. He sat down, and the contraption began to spin, creating a dizzying blur of silver and gold.
"Should you live?" the copy asked.
Lemony stared at the floor. Should I live?
Since he was a child, he had never actually experienced life.
He never went to a market, never saw a beach, and never even held his parents' hands. He had never washed the blood off fast enough. If he came back now, would any of that change?
He would still be a Pale-Mantle Manul in a world that hated him. He had wanted to die for years. This was his chance to rest.
I want to die.
I want to die.
I don't want to live.
"Yes..." Lemony whispered.
"I want to live..."
He avoided eye contact with his copy, feeling helpless and small.
"Right," the copy said, machine spinning faster. "And what would you do to achieve that state of living? What is your purpose?"
Lemony looked up with hollow eyes.
"I will kill Malphas... I will kill that beast and free everyone from this place."