《Kin of Jörmungandr》


 Chapter 1: Curiosity

    My hunts have grown dull.


    There was once a thrill in challenging prey. But now? It is all too easy.


    I pity the creature before me. It has yet to notice death approaching, but even if it did, nothing would change. My stomach demands a feast.


    My prey, a large quadruped, laps its tongue out to a trickle flowing from the side of the rocky cavern wall. Its choice to drink from the spray rather than the stream reveals it lacks true-sight. How such creatures can live long enough to become my food, I don¡¯t know. All it needs to do is take a few steps back and tilt its head up and the same stream would flow easily into its waiting maw.


    Steps. How pathetic.


    It must be an unfortunate existence to have limbs. Those long, floppy, dangling pieces of meat would only get in the way. Their bulky shape, nothing but a nuisance for travelling through spatial tunnels. Worst of all, limbed creatures, like the one struggling before me, are earthbound. They cannot slither through space as I. They cannot endlessly leave the ground.


    Every being with arms or legs or tentacles or fins is dumb. Well, even those without ¡ª besides myself ¡ª lack intelligence, but limbed creatures are particularly dumb.


    More than a thousand hunts have passed since my earliest memory; a haze of desires followed sleep after meal after sleep without deviation. More than a thousand hunts it took me to awaken to sapience. Not at all an immediate change, but one where my mind expanded over time, becoming clear.


    I have to wonder: if my prey lives as long as I, would it, too, gain comprehension? Or is such a thing impossible?


    An unanswerable question. Prey without true-sight never lasts long in my territory. Well, it¡¯s not as if I¡¯ve ever seen a creature other than myself with the spark of intelligence, so it could be impossible regardless of how much they see.


    I might simply be the exception.


    Through the bends and fractures in space, the large mammal is clear to my sight; a diosgris ¡ª the name filters into my mind from elsewhere, as it does when one gains sapience. I have seen this type of creature before, but it was long before my mind cleared.


    It is a type of tiger with powerful lightning which sparks along its fur and claws. Not a concern.


    This tiger is far from home. The way it struggles to drink through the curves of space shows how unfamiliar it is with my territory. Space down here is dense with twists, holes, and jagged rends. The perfect environment to hunt.


    Even amongst those without true-sight, prey this unfamiliar with distorted terrain never put up a decent fight. It is disappointing, but not every meal needs to be hard-fought.


    I slither forward, letting gravity pull me through winding tubes of space perfectly sized for me. Or, more accurately, my body is perfectly sized for them. Each new curve in space I pass through angles me just right to flow along and toward my prey. My body twists to avoid a spatial rend, which would take me far outside my territory. Not helpful.


    The tiger finally notices my presence. Its hackles raise as it turns to what it thinks is my way and growls. I slither through the air, a continual fall that never brings me closer to the stalagmite-lined rocky cavern floor.


    Rather than taking the direct route, I sway side to side. The distorted space carries me all across the cave, leaving my approach unpredictable. By resisting the urge to travel the quickest spatial path while increasing the number of bends traversed, even prey with true-sight struggle to predict my movement. Doing so against a creature without such vision is excessive, but adding a new method to my hunts after so long is exciting in itself¡­ even if it has removed any and all challenge.


    As expected, the mammal loses track of me and backs up with swivelling ears.


    Foolish creature; sound is unreliable here. Even before I came to awareness, I knew never to trust the echoes. If it wants to be distracted, then I will oblige. I hiss, a deep cutting noise that only grows louder the longer I continue. My tongue tastes the mammal¡¯s terror, but like sound, scent is unreliable for direction.


    The tiger jolts at the deep, echoing hiss, and twists on its paws. My prey growls and lightning ignites along its fur, arcing from the eyes downward and across its body. An obvious act of intimidation, but it is hardly effective when it reeks of fear.


    My prey¡¯s slight movement takes it through a large spatial curve to the other side of the cavern, and I have to adjust my path to follow. I slither beneath a horizontal stalagmite poking through a spatial hole and avoid a bend that would take me too close to the cavern floor.


    The tiger spots me again, this time swivelling away from the large bend. It backs up a few steps, but I continue my careful slither through the grasp of thin space tunnels. Hunger grows at the sight of such a meaty feast.


    A crack of thunder rumbles through the cavern as my prey pounces toward me, or at least where it thinks I am. With its larger body, it cannot pass through the same space tunnels I do, and so it finds itself without a serpent in its grasp.


    Electricity arcs along its claws and up its forelegs as they crash against a wall nowhere near me. A mass of the energy zaps out from its eyes, creating a distinct buzzing hum through the tunnel. The diosgris has a surprising level of enhancement, but it won¡¯t be of any help.


    I jerk forward, a coil in my long body snapping me toward my food by mirroring the force with a bend in space. The diosgris doesn¡¯t see me coming, but it definitely feels when my teeth sink into the flesh of its neck.


    My size frees up only enough for my fangs to latch on. The girth of my body triples, as does my length. It is far easier to move through spatial distortion with a smaller size, but to fit such a creature down my throat, I need to be bigger.


    Fangs cut deep, but they aren¡¯t meant to kill; they hold me close so Prey can¡¯t toss me off. The creature roars in defiance, but it is already too late.


    My long body quickly wraps around its torso, trapping both front legs and leaving the rear two to flounder. No longer able to glide through spatial tunnels, I fall to the ground alongside my prey. The taste of blood is invigorating, and pushes me to tense, clenching my body around the tiger, constricting it.


    Lightning arcs out from Prey as it struggles within my grasp. The powerful field of electricity zaps over the entirety of my body, but the energy simply slides ineffectively along my scales. Instead, it arcs into the rock of the surrounding cavern, instantly frying an unfortunate rodent. My fangs, deep within the tiger¡¯s neck, sting as the power flows through them, but it is nothing more than a passing annoyance.


    Air releases from my prey¡¯s lungs in a whimper. Claws scratch at my scales, but such weak attempts have no chance of piercing my superior scales. It twists its head, trying to get its own teeth on me, but fails to reach.


    As my body continues to tighten down on the immobilised tiger, the cracking of bones gradually rises. Prey is desperate now. It can¡¯t breathe and it tries its hardest to scratch at me with its hind legs, but they do nothing more than nick the scales along my tail.


    The scratches ruin their perfect sheen.


    I nurtured the lustre and cleanliness of my scales over a dozen sleeps. Not only does it make slithering through space smoother, it makes me look stunning. At least I think so, and considering I am the only creature with comprehension of beauty, that¡¯s all that matters. My prey just ruined so many sleeps¡¯ worth of work.


    My grip tightens in retaliation. With a snap, the first rib shatters, signalling the collapse of the diosgris¡¯ chest.


    Now, what to do? Eat my prey alive, or digest it cold?


    It is always so much more enjoyable to swallow them while they¡¯re still warm and wriggling, unwittingly assisting in their own demise, but it can come back to bite me. A few too many times over my countless hunts, meals have been a touch too alive for comfort. Those were some agonising stomach pains.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Often, it is difficult to decide how much I need to crush prey so that they don¡¯t cause a fuss while digesting, but also don¡¯t die immediately. Some creatures are more resilient than others. It would be simple if every creature was the same; then I would know exactly how much I should crush them to have the perfect meal.


    Four more snapping ribs and the tiger¡¯s breath stops. The mammal goes limp. I loosen my hold before readjusting the legs of my prey. It doesn¡¯t resist. Thankfully, the tiger is only unconscious and not dead. Whether it will live long enough to indulge me or leave me with an unsatisfactory meal, I¡¯ll have to wait and see. My body winds around its legs, a bend in space conveniently allowing me to cut the distance between the diosgris¡¯ head and tail.


    If my food becomes active while it is being digested, its legs and claws will inflict the worst damage, so I crush the bones of Prey¡¯s limbs to powder. It¡¯s better off without them.


    The tiger lets out a subdued whimper as its powerful legs become crippled. Good, it can still breathe.


    My fangs slide from its neck as I reorient the creature within the grasp of my tail. It tumbles through a curve in space and lands within a coil of my tail, upright and ready to eat. My jaw widens, and I feel it unhinge around the head of the tiger. I almost can¡¯t wrap my jaw around its large skull, but with small, incremental expansions and retractions, I pull my prey far enough into my throat that I can let it do most of the work.


    My esophagus tugs at my food as my spine undulates. The combined motions within my body are slow to let me swallow, but eventually the pulped rear paws follow behind the rest of the tiger and I can shut my jaw again.


    The tight, heavily bloated feeling is unbeatable, and it¡¯s only made better with the ever so slight movements of my meal as it awakens. It won¡¯t be long before my prey suffocates or drowns, but the tingling of electricity will make for a unique experience until it falls silent.


    I slide along the earth, looking for the perfect place to rest while the tiger falls into my stomach. I soon find it; a spatial tube which allows gravity to pull my prey lower while my head and tail can stay prone on hard ground.


    The comfortable filling feeling of my stomach full with warm meat, combined with tightness of the spatial bend lulls me into slumber. Out in the open. I am the predator of my territory. It has been a long time since I need be concerned where I sleep.


    ???


    My rest shatters, along with the cavern ceiling. I don¡¯t move, as a bend carries the falling boulders away from me. Only small stones and gravel clatter against my scales through the mess of curving space.


    The earth shakes beneath me. A deafening rumble tears through the air as my head and tail vibrate along with the surface. I raise my head and hiss. Dread wells within my stomach. Horrid memories filter to the surface of my mind.


    The various bends in space are the same as when I fell asleep, with only some subtle variations, but nothing beyond expectations. The cavernous stone walls of the tunnel are identical, except for the sections experiencing cave-ins.


    With a relieved hiss, the dread leaves me and my body slumps. I have not fallen within a rend. I am not on the Other Side; the land of destruction and eternal tectonic shifts.


    This is simply a normal earthquake. Abnormally strong for my territory, but there¡¯s no reason to fear; should the worst happen, and the earth caves in around me, I have my little pockets of space.


    I hiss in annoyance as I slither forward, bringing my body off the surface and into a constant fall. Curling myself within the twisting space is hard ¡ª I can¡¯t reduce my size to my preferred tiny form while digesting such large prey ¡ª but I manage. Half my body rests with gravity pulling me upward, and the other half down, leaving me in a perpetual spin where I am untouchable to any falling earth.


    The quakes don¡¯t continue for long. Lethargy overcomes me once more as the cyclic motions drain my energy. The first couple sleeps of digestion are always tiring.


    ???


    After a long rest, it is pleasing to find that the tunnel has not caved in. From the safety of my twisting space, it wouldn¡¯t be hard to find my way out with a simple spatial bend, but waiting for the fluctuating space to dig new pathways through this side of my territory would be undesirable. Without the tunnels, worthy prey can¡¯t enter my territory. At least, no large ones.


    As I slither through space, intent on my favourite lounging rock, a strange sight catches my eye through a single rift in space. The jump is far, but not so great as to lead to the Other Side. I usually wouldn¡¯t bother with a rift that travels so far, but what I see is intriguing. Space beyond is emptier than typical, extending an incredible distance without stone or rock to block its path.


    Curiosity. An emotion relatively new to me. It comes bundled along with my improved conceptualisation, and while I don¡¯t know whether it is a reason for my clearer thoughts or a result of them, it is something beyond the base desires that have pushed me forward all these hunts. I am curious of what lies through this rift.


    Not a thought of doubt passes through my mind. If curiosity is an emotion that comes with enhanced thought, then it must be good. So, what else can I do but listen?


    I slither through the hole and find myself in a cavern larger than I¡¯ve ever seen. The ground is unhardened. A mess of loose stone and soil which likely fell during the earlier earthquakes. Space above is truly incomprehensible. Never have I been able to see this far unimpeded. At the very furthest edge of my sight, space itself is¡­ aligned. It hardly twists, and neither holes nor rifts appear.


    In contrast to above, space around me is unstable. The distortions change constantly, at a rate I¡¯ve not seen anywhere but the amber barrier. It must be below all that fallen earth. When I focus on the space far above, an ever so slight ripple flows downward. Not like the bending of space that I know. It is subtle and leaves no effect upon the warping space, but it is present, and it is coming from above. Outside the range of my sight.


    Leaving this place unexplored is impossible. For the many thousand hunts I¡¯ve lived, never has such a strange phenomenon occurred. This open space wasn¡¯t here a few sleeps ago. The knowledge is pleading for me to find it. Discover it. For no other purpose than to sate my curiosity. Would fulfilling this emotion give the same sort of satisfaction as consuming prey? Could it be better?


    Slithering through the tunnels in space, I fall upward. To begin with, there is no difficulty. So close to the amber barrier, space twists in on itself tighter than I could ever need. My body slides through the optimal path, each bend and curve in space altering between pulling me higher and allowing gravity to add to my speed.


    Ever higher I climb. Each hole I enter removes the need to follow a hundred bends. Distorted space is convenient, but only good path choice can make the difference. A skill honed over countless hunts to the point it is second nature. If not for my extensive experience, slithering upward would take a thousand times longer.


    My vision remains unhindered as I climb. The space grows disturbingly uniform and the strange rippling intensifies. Curves and twists become far less common and harder to weave through, but spatial holes refuse to exist at all up here.


    Does this voided column ever end? What will I find if it does? What is that ever so slight ripple?


    My path becomes increasingly challenging to traverse. To take advantage of the smaller spatial tunnels, I shrink my body until my mostly digested meal feels tight to bursting. While the thinner size allows me to choose narrower tunnels in space, it doesn¡¯t solve the growing concern of there being no paths ahead.


    I¡¯ve never seen space this structured before. The wide circular wall of this chasm is unnervingly straight. It is all too orderly, too inactive. Frighteningly so. Space does not provide any protection up here; no twists to hide in, no holes to flee.


    Empty.


    I can no longer stop; space doesn¡¯t twist enough to allow it. All I can do is continue upward and trust that a path will make itself known.


    That trust doesn¡¯t last long. No path is possible anymore. The distance between each bend is too great to flow between. It would be ideal to slow my slithering, to give me even a small window to plan my next steps, but doing so is not something I can afford; I need the speed I¡¯ve built up to jump between the next few distant bends.


    My tongue flicks out with an agitated hiss. There is no more spatial distortion above, so I cast my gaze below. So much unfractured space is a daunting sight, but far below, there is an opportunity.


    I angle myself out of the bend and fling myself sideways without a second thought. The fall is horrible. Never have I felt such a lack of control over my own movements. I wriggle and squirm, but without the familiar spatial distortions, there is no way to control my fall.


    The descent is long, but the bend I need to target rapidly approaches, only¡­ I cannot change my trajectory. Space in the area is simply too orderly to allow it. My body twists enough to allow my head to pass through first, but much of my tail misses. The sudden change in cohesive direction across my body inflicts an intense snapping pain through my spine, but my body remains whole and I pass through the intended bend.


    All my focus is required to keep up this speed and navigate the complex weave of space without tearing myself apart. I was lucky I didn¡¯t cleave my tail with how unclean that transition was. Despite the difficulty, this is something I¡¯ve done more times than I can count. With diverging space at my disposal, I weave and slide through the air at a pace incomparable to before.


    My speed builds even as I rise through the air because of my masterful path choice and execution. I blast past my last highest point, shooting between what little spatial bends remain. Finally, I can see no more curves that will help me in my climb, so I simply let my speed carry me. My long, slender body snaps straight, allowing me to coast with minimal wind.


    The built up speed carries me for a good long while. Hope penetrates me. Have I done it? The strange rippling is all that remains to my perception besides the far stone walls, and it only grows stronger the higher I rise. It is hard to tell if it is the lack of disturbed space that allows me to see the ripples, or if the ripples only appear above. Whatever the case, I am impatient to get the answers to my questions.


    My curiosity will be sated!


    Only¡­ it won¡¯t be. Despite my immense speed, it isn¡¯t enough. Gradually, my body slows until I can do nothing but flop around in the air while gravity achieves victory for the first time in a thousand hunts. Still, I cannot observe what lies above. This interest, this need to know, burns in me, but it is knowledge that I am forbidden from learning.


    I fall again, rapidly descending into the depths I have always called my home. Whatever is above will forever remain out of reach. Without distorted space, no path exists.


    I force my attention below; I¡¯d rather not be torn apart or slammed into a wall because of negligence.


    My efforts ended in failure and it feels far worse than simply going hungry after a failed hunt. I am frustrated, defeated, and unsatisfied. A failed hunt would result in a sleep without food, and maybe annoyance at my loss. This feels like something has been taken from me.


    After raising my hopes, success being impossible leaves me as empty as the space above.


    Curiosity is a curse.

 Chapter 2: Agitation

    A pair of bilbies clamber over one another. The larger of the two slides its head under its sister, raising it off its paws to flounder as its snout snaps forward. The little one rolls off to the side and regains its footing before striking its claws at the larger¡¯s ear.


    A tiny squeak echoes through my cavern before the larger snaps back at the smaller bilby, nipping it on the neck with its tiny mouth. It pushes through the reactive bite and snaps up its prize: the dead bug they fight over. Little bilby rushes along the cavern before its older brother can notice the missing prey.


    I love to watch their playful fighting. It is entertaining to no end.


    The two are young, maybe a dozen hunts, and they will be lucky to live a couple dozen more. Such small creatures are at the bottom of the food chain; no matter how much enjoyment I get from watching them, they will be gone before too long.


    It is sad, but there is no changing the way of life. I was here when their ancestors found a home in my cavern five generations ago ¡ª a short seventy of my hunts ¡ª and I will be here for the next five.


    Unless, of course, there is no next generation.


    Brother bilby finally catches up to Little bilby, pouncing forward, but the rear pair of the small one¡¯s four long ears flick back and it dashes to the side, sliding through a spatial bend as the larger sails past. Its small, beady eyes watch as the younger sibling slips out of its grasp, along with its meal.


    Bilbies are odd creatures. Where to most, sound is a distraction, their four long ears give them quite a decent awareness of how space bends around them. It isn¡¯t true-sight as I see, but the echoes help them better than most creatures not adapted to the dense spatial bends of my territory.


    It took me a long time to discover the eyes of other creatures work differently to mine. Even now, I struggle to understand exactly what they see. Rocks and other animals seem perfectly visible, yet distorted space simply confuses them. They almost exclusively move in straight lines, even when that direct path is the slowest possible choice.


    The thought of creatures that are adapted to uniform space brings my mind to the massive cavern I tried to reach the top of a few hunts ago. The dissatisfaction of being unable to learn anything, to satisfy my curiosity, has yet to leave. I hiss in agitation, unintentionally startling the bilbies who flee into their burrow.


    There are other tunnels and paths that lead to areas with less spatial distortion, but I¡¯ve never found a path leading completely outside the bounds of warped space like that immense pillar without rock. I never thought it was possible. There is more to this world beyond the reaches of warped space.


    It makes me oh, so curious.


    And that curiosity angers me. I¡¯ve already discovered how much worse the feeling of dissatisfied curiosity is than any wound I might receive in a fight. So much worse than the annoyance of having my clean scales marred.


    But¡­ part of me wonders, if this is how bad it feels to be left unsatisfied, how good would it feel to find those answers I desire?


    Despite my attempts to bury the curiosity, questions keep rising. No matter how hard I try, I cannot return my mind to what it once was. I cannot remove this desire to learn. And it frustrates me; why must I accept new parts of myself that will only bring pain and frustration?


    This new fascination I have with the things beyond what I know doesn¡¯t help in my hunts. It disturbs my rest and prevents enjoyment of the energy seeping from my favourite basking rock.


    With my entertainment gone and my thoughts continuing to spiral, I rise from my resting spot. The stone face of the wall emits a slight heat alongside an intense flow of energy. I have bathed in the empowering glow for hundreds of hunts; since I ate the last apex of this cavern.


    My mind refuses to settle. I need a distraction. Silently, my body slithers through the air above those two bilbies¡¯ shared burrow. I could join them in their home at my current small size, but I would only terrify them. Watching them is fun, so it would be disappointing if they run and dig another burrow further from here.


    The small creatures have long since been removed from those I would consider worthwhile prey. Too small and weak; not only would they not be filling, but there would be no thrill in the hunt. Not that there are many things that give me that same excitement anymore; the stronger predators of the area have long since dwindled to nothing.


    I slither through a hole in space, taking me near the amber barrier. Spatial distortions are at their most intense here, and the closer I travel to the impassable wall, the faster they change. It is impossible to tell which way is up. Gravity, like space, acts by its own chaotic rules. Normally, even through distorted space, it is possible to tell which way is down simply because the countless fractures of space trend one way. But here? There is no consistency.


    Despite the immense distortion of both gravity and space here, the amber barrier remains the only thing that is unbroken. It was the first thing I ever saw that had uniformity. My sight cannot breach the barrier, meaning there are no spatial distortions that reach inside. I never questioned it until now, but simply observing it incites my curiosity.


    Curiosity that I crush before the futility of its questions can crush me once more.


    Occasionally, I¡¯ll pass by the amber barrier to hunt in areas with more prey than in my cavern. The holes and rifts near the barrier never last long, so those hunts must be quick. Resting immediately after a meal like I did with the tiger would leave me stranded. It has happened a couple times now, and each time took almost a dozen sleeps to find my comfortable, energy emitting rock again.


    But a path for a good hunt isn¡¯t why I¡¯m here. The space near the amber barrier usually scares off most other creatures, but for me, it is enjoyable. There is a certain danger about being within such tight, constantly changing space that gets my heart pumping.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    I figure, if my goal is to get my mind off something, why not experience the thrill and exertion only the barrier can provide?


    My body snaps forward with the help of a bend in space. I push off myself in a way that gives me near double the speed striking from the ground would give. My body shrinks down to the smallest it can reach. I don¡¯t even remember a time when I might have been this small naturally, but I¡¯m sure there was a time; most of my earlier memories are cloudy at best.


    The slender shape of my body is perfect for sliding between each curve in space. For now, traversal is no issue, but this isn¡¯t the challenge I intend to face. Close to the barrier, space changes from moment to moment. Each bend is sharp and if not quick, they might shear my body into pieces when space morphs.


    I fall, my speed growing each bend I pass until my entire body passes through a point within a moment. Any slower than this, and it¡¯d be too dangerous to get closer. Finally, I slide through a bend that takes me into a field of space that changes before my eyes. My eyes stay peeled as I watch for the changes as they occur.


    Slithering through the normal level of distortion in my territory has become second nature over all my hunts. The space near the barrier pushes me, forces me to improve to survive and become better. I cannot rely on instinct alone. My eyes must be wary of the changes as they happen, and I remap my surroundings each time.


    The first change that occurs happens in the worst possible spot: right before my eyes. It starts as a little bubble, but quickly explodes to full size.


    My body attempts to curve away on instinct, but it is already too late, so I constrict my panic and flow cleanly through the new bend. Better for a bend to appear before me than inside me. I¡¯d rather not spend the next few dozen hunts regrowing my tail¡­ again.


    The sudden new spatial tunnel takes me away from the rapidly changing space, so I hurry back in. The challenge is exhilarating, pushing my mind just as hard as my body to adapt to the changing conditions. A single mistake might be my last¡­ maybe. It¡¯s been a long time since my last injury, after all.


    I take enjoyment in the danger. Only a rare few of my hunts offer the same threat they once did. Almost never do I find a predator challenging the authority of my hunting-grounds.


    The thrill of danger is great only when death isn¡¯t certain. So many rifts lead to incomprehensibly dangerous lands that I am satisfied to remain within my territory, even if it does get somewhat boring.


    When both body and mind tire from the exertion, I thread myself out of the tight weave of space. This is the closest I¡¯ve reached to the barrier; less than a dozen body lengths. If I continue for another hundred sleeps, touching the unending amber wall might not be impossible. It is still beyond me, but soon.


    As I slither back to the hole, ready to return to my favourite spot, an intense rumble shakes the air. I stop, my body rotating in a loop of space as I cast my sight through the hole that leads back to my territory. The earth is shaking, but only through the distortion.


    Jagged stalactites dislodge from the ceiling, only to shatter against the walls or ground. One gets caught in a spatial loop for a few rotations before it fractures against the ceiling and rains down a shower of rock fragments.


    It takes a moment for all the debris to find their rest, but another quake rocks the earth. This time, the ground on this side of the hole shakes, too.


    The earthquakes have been frequent and unsettlingly strong as of late. For the shocks to reach this far through the earth, I¡¯m not confident my cavern will remain undamaged. It hasn¡¯t caved yet, but if it does, the spatial hole connecting to my territory will be buried. I¡¯d much rather be in the comfort of my home than stranded out here.


    I rush forward, slithering along the fastest path to the hole. The closer I get, the better my vision of what is beyond. Strangely, there are gaps in my sight of the cavern where there have never been any before, but what is visible is the collapse of much of the earth near my resting spot. There¡¯s no time to delay; I slither through the spatial hole before I am blocked by a mountain of stone.


    Immediately, my gaze snaps across the cavern, looking for a pocket to hide from the continual quakes, but that plan collapses at the sight of what lies before me.


    An enormous presence, not visible by any means except a contradictory emptiness in space and sheer size. My eyes cannot see it, only the space that warps around it. The spaceless presence crashes into the stone of my resting spot, collapsing the entire wall and dropping a sheen of dust from the cavern ceiling.


    It is alive.


    The being hidden outside of physical space descends upon my cavern, crumbling the earth with the power of an earthquake from the Other Side. Only barely do I slide my way into a pocket of space to avoid the world crumbling around me.


    My cavern is massive, large enough to home hundreds of critters, and yet this being climbing down is easily a dozen¡­ no, a hundred times larger. The spaceless area that crushed my favourite resting place is a single limb which connects to a mass above. All above me, space disappears. It simply doesn¡¯t exist past the creature¡¯s unimaginable size. It is unbelievably immense, and yet the creatures still folds itself outside the fabric of space. Stalactites and boulders drop through the being as if it is not there at all.


    The gap between space is deep. Much more of its presence is hidden away than the little I can see.


    As it descends further into my cavern, the sheer scale of the spaceless being overcomes everything. A thousand limbs seem to stretch into every corner of space, and yet the space and rock it reaches through remains intact. It is only the empty void that reaches for my resting spot that sends quakes through the earth. Rock shears from the wall, not from any impact, but by space itself tearing apart.


    What is this being?


    A phantom, the word enters my mind from the Beyond, and yet the word I now intuitively understand does not seem appropriate. The Beyond can be wrong? It is the Beyond that tells me that ¡®phantom¡¯ is wrong, and yet it still told me. It is a concerning thought, but one for later. The next word it gives carries an immense weight, and I know it is true as it forms in my mind.


    Titan.


    This is a Titan. The mightiest of creatures. The uttermost apex predators of all the world. And, the Beyond tells me, the greatest enemy.


    The phantom Titan slides a limb through the wall and a mountain of stone crumbles away like nothing. The cavern wall is stripped away to reveal a pillar radiating energy. Like the amber barrier, space doesn¡¯t bend along it, leaving it straight even to my sight. The power flowing off that pillar is more intense than ever. It is only as the Titan separates stone from the column, leaving a massive pit trailing far below and out of my sight, do I realise it has destroyed my favourite resting spot. The place I have slept for ten thousand sleeps.


    The hiss rumbles through my throat, unrepressed.


    It is a horrible mistake to oppose such a being, but it destroys my home, so I continue to hiss in defiance despite the world of difference between us.


    The logical part of my mind ¡ª the section where intelligence has nestled itself in ¡ª screams at me to shut up. It wails in hope the Titan might not have noticed us, or that it doesn¡¯t care. But the rest of me wants it to know I¡¯m here. I want the being to know I¡¯m here and won¡¯t stand for it to destroy my favourite thing.


    But even with that thought running through my mind, my hiss still cuts short as it turns to me. The full, undivided attention of a creature able to kill me a thousand times over in an instant gazes down on me with a presence that crushes all resistance and defiance.


    The Titan, greatest enemy to the world, looks at me.

 Chapter 3: Terror

    There are no discernible features on the Titan. No eyes, no ears, no skin. Nothing. It is all hidden within the void of space the being stays within¡­ assuming that its body isn¡¯t simply the lack of space itself.


    It makes no sense how such a being can exist. How can something both hold such a presence, and have none at all?


    Nothing but the lack of its being reveals it, and yet I know it is looking at me. It has no eyes, yet it glares down at me with the weight of a mountain. Why did I have to be so stupid and let out such an outburst?


    The Titan¡¯s gaze approaches. Its body spreads across all the surrounding space until nothing is visible besides the curve I rest within. A darkness like I have never experienced engulfs everything.


    Then I feel it. Space itself quakes. Like tremors rock the earth, the spatial fabric holding me in place shakes unlike anything I¡¯ve experienced. It vibrates around me, both freezing me in place and thrumming through my spine in a disorienting clatter.


    The spatial vibrations continue until they bleed through into a deep, audible groan. It blares loud enough to deafen me, but even without my ears, the vibration permeating my body makes it impossible to ignore the sound.


    It lasts a moment, but resembles an eternity. The thunderous groaning eventually takes the form of words. Loud, deep and hollow, but comprehensible words. The same words taught by the Beyond.


    ¡°For spawn of J?rmungandr, you show quite the disrespect to your elders.¡± The Titan¡¯s words are simple, but slam into me with the weight of the world.


    In a brief moment of clarity that breaches my fear clouded mind, I realise I never stopped hissing in opposition to this monster of a being. Its presence froze my body stiff, yet some part of me still held defiant.


    Before sapience, I would threaten predators I thought might be too much for me, but when facing a truly terrifying beast, not a sound would escape my mouth; I would flee. Now faced with this Titan, a being so far beyond anything else I¡¯ve seen, and with newly acquired intelligence, why do I continue such a foolish action as hissing?


    It doesn¡¯t take long to discover the answer. Emotions have been running rampant since the Titan tore through my cavern and my resting spot. As with curiosity, it seems all the desires that come with sapience are worse than their worth.


    Hatred, greed, pride. I refuse to back down to the one who destroyed what is mine. It isn¡¯t logical, but each emotion competes with the act of submission, and drowns it with brutal glee.


    And so, while the Titan¡¯s presence engulfs me, I continue to hiss in my stupid, terrifying and¡­ strangely satisfying defiance that is sure to get me killed.


    ¡°Ah, I see¡­¡± the Titan¡¯s voice trails off with a thunderous echo that leaves my muscles clenching out of my control. ¡°Comprehension may seem like a curse at times, but it is a wondrous thing. Though be warned: gifted knowledge is rarely objective truth.¡±


    Space reappears within the black nothingness as the Titan pulls away. It doesn¡¯t eat me, it simply lets me go. Maybe it treats me as I do the bilbies: too small to bother with and, if nothing else, entertainment.


    ¡°Now, leave. The earth will not remain untouched by my work.¡±


    Finally, the world becomes visible again, but my cavern is no more. Like the upward pillar of uniform space I tried to climb a few hunts ago, my cavern is replaced with a vast emptiness. All that remains within the far range of my sight, is the pillar still glowing with energy, and the Titan, who I cannot feel the end of.


    Taking in such incomprehensible damage to the area I consider my home, I finally smother my raging emotions enough to stop the hiss leaking from my throat. I take the opportunity gifted by the Titan and flee. As I slide through spatial bends, the Titan¡¯s all-encompassing voice ripples through my core once more.


    ¡°Word of advice: these warped tunnels will not survive the coming Fracture. Best if you make your way out.¡± And with that, I feel the entirety of the Titan¡¯s attention lift from me and return to the massive pillar piercing through empty air.


    I slither away as fast as my body and the spatial curves allow, but through twisted space, I can still watch as the Titan¡¯s uncountable limbs wrap around the pillar. The range of my sight isn¡¯t short at all; in fact, I¡¯ve long since been able to see ten times further than the entirety of my territory, and that¡¯s without rifts that can extend it further. Yet, I cannot see the end of either the Titan or the pillar.


    The non-existent limbs of the Titan grasp firmly around the pillar, and pull. The entire structure slides sideways, brushing aside bent space, only for the loudest grinding quake I¡¯ve ever heard to reach my ears. Rock and stone have finally returned to my vision, but in every such area I can see tremors with an intensity only comparable to the Other Side.


    I dive into space where gravity pulls me away faster. Each hole or rift I find increases the distance, but it is never enough. Quickly, I reach far enough from the Titan, but anywhere I find myself quakes with an intensity that leaves me unsure if I¡¯ve landed on the Other Side or not.


    Eventually, I find my saving grace; a rend through space that leads somewhere calm. My body slithers through without a moment¡¯s hesitation and I nearly allow myself to land across the hard, unmoving earth in relief. But doing so would be dangerous; I¡¯m still far too close to the Titan. My body keeps moving. More holes and rifts take me further away from the rend that holds back that incomprehensible being.


    My comfortable basking rock. My territory. My home. It is all gone.


    I never used to be so sentimental about where I lived, just hunting wherever I found myself, but that cavern had been my home for hundreds of hunts. How can it be gone? Why does such a being exist?


    The Beyond was right. Titans are the enemy of the world. For what else can a being that tore everything away from me be? I¡¯ve never felt such fury, such loathing. Not even toward the creatures that tried to eat me when I was young.


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    These new emotions are horrible, forced on me without my wish, but I can¡¯t deny what I feel. I hate the Titan, but I hate my hatred just as much. It is not helpful. It isn¡¯t like I¡¯ll ever be able to return the favour to such a being, no matter how long I live. That Titan is ancient. Older than I can comprehend.


    I slither into a coil of space and bite into my tail as I spin. It¡¯s an old habit I broke a thousand hunts past, and one I¡¯m not happy to see return.


    The Titan spoke. It used the same words taught by the Beyond. It is sapient, like me. The meeting raises so many questions that I simply never considered.


    Are there more sapient creatures? This is my first time meeting any other with comprehension. It was always a possibility, but until I found another like mind, it remained difficult to believe. The Titan, no matter how much I despise the being, is undeniably intelligent. So is sapience a result of age? I have been around for a long time, so it¡¯s possible, but if it is age, that might also mean for creatures far older than I, there is another stage that I can¡¯t yet know. A super-sapience? Maybe.


    The Titan warned these tunnels, which were everything I knew, were going to be destroyed. Should I believe it? What is the Fracture?


    I don¡¯t want to believe it. The Titan is the enemy of the world; It could be lying simply to play with me. The being has already destroyed my home, and now it wants me to flee what I know.


    Even if the Titan¡¯s words could be believed, my attempt to reach uniform space ended in failure. There is no way out of what the Titan called the Warped Tunnels. But what the being said indicates that there truly is something outside the lands I know. There actually was an end to that large, empty cavern.


    I simply cannot reach it.


    Do I need to be as large or powerful as the Titan to climb my way out? Such growth seems unimaginable. How many thousands¡­ millions of hunts would I need to reach a portion of that might? Probably best not to concern myself with impossibilities.


    For now, I am safe. The quakes do not reach me, nor is the Titan nearby. The narrow tunnel my pocket of space rests within is filled with life completely unaware of the danger only a few spatial tears away. A tiny insect scuttles across the ground before passing through a bend, which leads it to the ceiling. It continues unfazed by the changed orientation. A slender lizard ¡ª four legs too many from the perfect shape ¡ª chases the bug, but a spray of bubbling liquid scares it off.


    The bilbies! I suddenly remember those young siblings I¡¯ve been watching over. Those poor critters are dead now. Killed by the Titan. The loss is painful, more so than any of their previous generations. I¡¯ve experience death of plenty of my sources of entertainment, but none has left me this¡­ gutted. Sad. Is this another horrid emotional addition to sapience, or am I just spiteful that the Titan was the one to end them?


    Regardless, they are dead and there¡¯s no coming back from that. I hiss in annoyance, again startling many of this tunnel¡¯s inhabitants back into their burrows or other hiding places. This pain is too great to be feeling at the loss of such a lesser creature. Why must I feel?


    I snap out of my cyclic space, lashing my tail out at the nearest wall. The rock crumbles easily, caving in the tunnel while I slither forward, uncaring for how many lesser creatures perish.


    My stomach won¡¯t call for a meal for another dozen sleeps, but I need to bite something. Hopefully something with a lot of limbs.


    ???


    My tongue stabs at the air, tasting the lingering scent of an Apikull. Not nearly as many limbs as I¡¯d hoped, but there aren¡¯t any centipedes around large enough to satisfy this blood-lust.


    As I search for the frozen beast, my body slams into every cavern wall I pass. The physical impact doesn¡¯t soothe the wrath within, but not making the attempts is impossible; the anger needs to go somewhere, anywhere but where it is, coiled up within me. My scales scratch and lose their polish with every strike, but even that is secondary in my mind.


    Apes are filthy creatures ¡ª more so than most mammals ¡ª and leave a disgusting trail in their wake as they travel. Their filth makes them undeniably one of the easiest beasts to detect and track even through the curvature of space. An Apikull¡¯s nature to freeze any environment around them should mask their scent somewhat, but they are still apes. Still just as unclean.


    I want to allow myself to hunt with my full size, but rein myself in before I give in to the temptation. Hunts are never satisfying at full width. There is no challenge, and while the feeling of throwing my weight around might make each strike against the earth more satisfying, I know the resulting hunt will leave me with intense discontent.


    A chill rolls over my scales. From a hole I just passed, an icy wind flows into the tunnel.


    I¡¯ve found my prey.


    Slithering forward, I thread through a curve in space and exit right before the chilly hole. My tail twists out of the way of my head, but the scales still rub against one another as I brush past myself and through the spatial hole.


    The vines hanging from the cavern are an unfamiliar sight, even below the thick ice coating them. I have come far from my home. My territory no longer exists, but even if it still did, I¡¯m not sure how long it would take to return.


    The path travelled as I cowered from the Titan is indistinct in my mind. I simply wanted to get away as fast as I could, and didn¡¯t consider recalling each curve passed.


    Not that it matters anyway; everything that was mine is now gone.


    Despite my intent to hold back my size, my body seems to grow completely on its own. Fuelled by burning hatred and spite. My enlarged body slithers through the larger spatial bends, often having to slither along rock to keep myself moving; an immature motion only serpents without true-sight need rely on.


    The Apikull notices me as soon as I do it: upon my breach through the spatial hole. Prey with true-sight of its own climbs through space with a unique motion. The ape reaches its limbs through curves in space not large enough to fit the rest of its heft and swings itself through the air. Each hand grips the stone or frozen vines of the cavern, but it allows the mammal to fling itself towards me without restraint, passing through larger curves in space and closing the distance with speed only beaten by my own.


    Behind my prey, is five other, smaller Apikulls. None of them join their biggest in its attack, but the small ones snatch up the tiniest of them and carry them away. They do not concern me, so my focus returns to only the largest ape.


    Air freezes with each of Prey¡¯s motions. Any time its hands touch a surface, icicles spread outward in an instant. The frost grips at my scales, trying to slow my slithers as crystals form.


    A hiss rumbles through the cavern as Prey¡¯s opposition incites my fury. The thick ice layer coating my scales cracks and shatters as my body continues to gain size. Already far beyond my size while eating the Diosgris, my weight is enough to crush stalagmites with hardly a glancing blow.


    Prey, despite being larger than the lightning enhanced tiger, hesitates at my growing size, but only for a moment before throwing itself forward with renewed vigour. It doesn¡¯t dodge to the side, try to hide, or attempt any sneaky manoeuvres. My prey simply attacks me head on, and I meet it.


    With a pair of clenched fists, it brings down both its upper limbs to hit me from above. Frost gathers in its arms, ready to explode on contact. The apes watch on from the cavern edge as we tear through the air, ready to rid the other of life.


    The Apikull¡¯s fists crash onto my tongue sheath and white explodes outward with a powerful blast that leaves my tongue numb.


    My jaw snaps closed with enough force to crush every bone in Prey¡¯s body. Blood and innards splatter out the sides of my mouth, but most of the creature remains inside. The ape¡¯s legs dangle lifelessly between my fangs, so I quickly lift my head and swallow Prey whole.


    A deep sense of annoyance washes over me, only enhancing the irritation and wrath I feel. I knew it would feel like this, and yet I couldn¡¯t control myself. Hunts with my full size are never fun and they never satisfactorily fill my stomach.


    The howls and wails of the smaller Apikulls reach me. One throws a rock, which loops through a bend and whacks the back of its brethren¡¯s heads. Nothing could better show the ape¡¯s inexperience.


    My frustration still has not fled.


    I slither forward. Five more prey to hunt. Maybe these will satisfy me.

 Chapter 4: Lethargy

    The chill of the air hardly registers through the numb haze of my thoughts.


    I lay motionless on the frost enveloped rocky ground. The feeling of my scales pressing into the jagged edges of sharp stone is unnaturally comforting. My body continues its gradual, unhurried reduction toward a more convenient size, but even as it drops to a girth thin enough to enter the spatial loop before me, I remain unmoving.


    My body can continue endlessly, but somehow, I am exhausted.


    Self-inflicted scratched up scales, along with a mess of blood covering both myself and much of the surrounding cavern, might lead a creature to believe I am injured. Some opportunistic predator ¡ª or those cowardly scavengers ¡ª would jump at the chance to take a bite out of me.


    They wouldn¡¯t live long, of course, but they might make the attempt.


    I should push myself into an endless curve so that I don¡¯t have to deal with such creatures¡¯ annoying attempts, but I don¡¯t have the energy to lift even a single scale off the hard ground.


    It is not normal for me to be outside the twisting clutches of space for this long, and while I am uncomfortable, I simply cannot will myself to move.


    I have experienced both physical and mental exhaustion before, but this is neither. Many, many hunts have passed since I¡¯ve felt the aches in my spine and muscles from overexerting myself. The pounding migraines caused by observing space and prolonged path mapping still occur on occasion, but are manageable.


    This new lethargy locking me to the cold stone is more of an emptiness. A hollow, numbing feeling that thankfully overwhelms all the intense emotions the Titan and the destruction of my home spawned within me.


    Now that I can actually think without the immature emotions infecting my consciousness, I have to hiss at my foolishness. It is the way of life; the strong do as they wish, and the weak keep out of their way. There are exceptions, but most creatures follow this single rule if they intend to live another day.


    So, why did I abandon such a basic principle?


    Regardless of my pride, greed, hate, or any other in the writhing turmoil that was these parasitic emotions, never should I have abandoned my core understanding of the way things are. The Titan may be the enemy of the world, but it is stronger than me, so it can do whatever it wishes.


    Even if those wishes involve killing my entertainment and destroying my home.


    The hollow feeling spreads through my being, suffocating any desire to move. It would be preferable not to even think. Never did I think petty fondness would leave me with anguish.


    I cast my sight through the cavern my hunt has led me to. Innumerable vines fall from the ceiling, weaving in and amongst themselves with the help of spatial bends. Each is so heavily permeated by frost they appear like long glass spikes.


    Despite the cold, there are many rodents and critters that clamber along their lengths. None of the little creatures can observe spatial distortions, but they only need to follow the vines to traverse what must be a complicated mess to their senses.


    As my gaze lowers to the ground ¡ª and some sections of wall ¡ª the remains of my slaughter becomes undeniable. Scattered limbs, organs and blood freeze the earth. The creeping frost of Apikulls¡¯ bodies remains long after their deaths, permeating a deep chill through my body resting amongst their corpses.


    It is unlike me to act so aggressively. As much as I enjoy a good hunt, doing so on a full stomach removes the entire purpose of it. These creatures calmed neither my raging heart nor any hunger. Even now, the scattered limbs have no purpose. I can¡¯t eat them, they are already dead.


    The creatures were simply not fast enough to follow the single rule. I wished to rage, and they didn¡¯t get out of my way.


    I have enough awareness to realise the difficulty of that task; considering it was me they had to flee from, following the sole principle might as well have been impossible. But ultimately, lesser beings shall not question the will of the strong, even if it means their death.


    Between the uncomfortable cold and the spineless scavengers gradually sneaking closer, I should move. A hiss would run them off, but I¡¯ve rested in this frozen carrion long enough. My mind is numb and I have no desire to do anything, but I hate how filthy my scales are.


    My body flexes and I worm my way into a spatial bend right in front of my fangs. The motion is more of a limp fall rather than a slither, but as small as I am right now, it hardly matters. At my tiniest, there are so many spatial curves available that I can twist my length ever so slightly to pull me forward.


    Scanning through several holes in space, I find a path towards a small lake.


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    As I begin my sluggish tumble toward the hole and the water hidden within, my sight falls on my scales reflected through a few bends. Beneath flaking ice and blood, they have lost the gleam that required so much effort to achieve.


    The loss is¡­ galling. It¡¯s insignificant to all else that has happened, but to have the reminder staring me in the face at all times only tempts my agitation. The feeling dies before it can flare; hollowness in my chest remaining ever consuming to all the emotion that tries to overwhelm me.


    I cast my gaze back to the remains of the Apikulls that failed to survive against an apex predator¡¯s foul mood. The scavengers too cowardly to fight for a meal of their own creeping ever closer now that I have moved away.


    Right before my body passes through the spatial hole and I¡¯m taken far away, I let out a long, echoing hiss laced with as much of my presence as I can apply. The sound rings deep into each of the creature¡¯s souls. A harrowing fear tenses their muscles on the spot and they all collapse, unmoving. Some even fall out of the twisting space that obscured their movements.


    Not taking another look back, I slither through the hole and arrive in a cavern only a few bends and curves away from the lake.


    A few spatial curves within the water lift the liquid near the ceiling, creating many waterfalls and keep the lake constantly in motion. The hole in space at the bottom of the lake creates a whirlpool, spinning all the liquid even as it passes through the innumerable bends permeating the pool.


    Of all environments, bodies of water like lakes and seas encourage growth of the least spatially inclined creatures. The visible effect space has on liquid makes them the only place those without true sight ¡ª or any weaker sub-variant ¡ª can flourish.


    With the exception of the Pressurised Depths, of course.


    My body dives into the lake without delay. The heavy currents attempt to pull me down through the hole, but a flick of my tail sends me to a calm orbit at the far edge of the whirlpool.


    Within these tunnels I call home, the world is constantly changing. The appearance of a single spatial rend or hole could invite flooding from a large body of water and transform a formerly dry chamber to a sea of its own. Even without water, earthquakes commonly collapse tunnels and chambers only for the gradual carving of the earth by the many thousand forming curves and bends to create new paths.


    Some rends gush out so much water, I can only imagine the depths it leads to. Distortions like that are impossible to slither through. No matter how much momentum I gain, the intense flow is like a barrier. Whether for better or worse, those rifts don¡¯t remain open for long. If they did, I can¡¯t imagine there being any dry caverns left.


    I have been to some vast depths in my life, and have learnt it best to avoid.


    Water inhibits my movement. Rather than allow gravity to carry me, liquid forces me to move with physical motions. An annoying limitation that makes hunting in seas painful.


    Right now, I¡¯m not hunting. I don¡¯t need to move my body through bends that confuse prey or twist myself through the best paths. The flowing water simply carries my body along, always subtly tugging me closer to the drainage hole below.


    Blood and frost peels off my scales in the rapids. The water gets rid of most of the filth, but there is still blood caught between my scales that refuses to clean off, no matter how much I twist and flex. I¡¯m only now regretting my rest amongst those Apikull corpses. The self inflicted scratches don¡¯t help.


    Moulting might be the only way to return them to their pristine state, but that isn¡¯t likely to happen for many more hunts.


    If this lake had a bed of sand or powdered stone, cleaning myself would be much easier, but it doesn¡¯t, so I have to settle with the flow of water, and hope the constricting of my body is enough to dislodge all the dried blood.


    ???


    Once satisfied ¡ª but nowhere near happy ¡ª with my appearance, I allow my body to be carried down with the flow and through the spatial hole beneath the lake.


    There is a short fall on the other side, but I allow the water to carry me. First, into a small pool, then through a narrow tunnel. Curves in space take me along a smooth passage carved away by the water¡¯s speed.


    This river is only barely wide enough at some sections to allow even my miniaturised form to slide through. Occasionally, a bend opens the possibility to escape the water and drop out into a semi-flooded pocket in rock, but I never take them. Without a destination, this flow will decide where I should go.


    My home is gone. Where else can I go?


    The only answer that comes to mind is not overly impressive, but it is all I can do without lying down to brumate for eternity. I simply need to keep moving until I find another energy dense resting spot like the one I¡¯ve spent so many of my sleeps.


    Finding one might be hard. It might be impossible. And wasn¡¯t the Titan searching for the cause of that energy in the first place? Would it really be wise to place myself where I will come across it again?


    Then, if I abandon the idea of regaining such a comforting resting place, do I just choose somewhere new and create a new territory for myself, or do I listen to the threats of the Titan and flee these tunnels?


    The words spoken still leave me with so many questions. Ideas and concepts shared through sound ¡ª rather than thought as with the Beyond ¡ª is novel, now that I don¡¯t have to experience the terrible fear associated with the being¡¯s heavy words. Is it possible to share my thoughts with other creatures the same way?


    I know words because of the Beyond¡¯s teachings, but converting those words into audible sound is not something I¡¯d ever considered attempting. Sound is unreliable, after all. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve always believed. Maybe speech is the only thing it is good for besides scaring off small creatures?


    A hiss escapes my lips, but bubbles along with the muffled sound that dies out after only a moment remind me of where I am. I¡¯ll have to leave the water before I speak.


    Now, with a goal besides letting myself be carried along by the current, I flick my body out into a pocket of water. A few turns and a looping spatial tunnel are all it takes to escape the river.


    The cavern I find myself in is bare of life. Good; no impulsive creatures will interrupt me under the mistaken premise that my small size means I am prey.


    My mouth opens to speak a word, any word, but only a hiss resounds.


    Hmm, maybe a more solid image of what I want to say is required. A quick glance over myself gives me something basic to say.


    Scales. The word sticks to the forefront of my mind as I breath out. Surely this will work. I¡¯m not exactly sure how, but the Beyond says it¡¯s possible, and it is always right.


    Again, a hiss echoes. Not even the slightest improvement.


    This¡­ is going to be a harder than I thought.

 Chapter 5: Conviction

    This isn¡¯t working.


    I¡¯ve been trying for a while now, and yet the words refuse to take shape. Any time I breathe out with the intent to make noise, all that reaches my ears is an echoing hiss. The only change I can make to my breath is to alter the speed it pushes past my fangs. That simply changes the pitch of the hiss; far from the distinct form I¡¯d heard from the Titan.


    Is this even possible?


    Every sapient being can speak.


    The Beyond utters, both answering my question, and not. How? I demand, but it remains silent.


    It is hard to tell if the Beyond speaks the way it does to intentionally annoy me, or if it simply lacks the intelligence to know better. The words from the Beyond have grown clearer in the past hundred hunts, but even if I can understand what it says now, the intention behind them remains a mystery.


    Now and then, it will intrude into my thoughts with answers and explanations, but there has always been something¡­ lacking. Only now, with that experience of the Titan¡¯s voice, is it apparent that there isn¡¯t actually a mind behind the Beyond. Or, at least, not one as complex as mine.


    It¡¯s still frustrating that it refuses to elaborate.


    I breathe in deep, then let it out with my irritation. It has taken me this long to calm down, the last thing I want is to return to that state. No, now is the time to think about this with a clear head and not drag myself down with thoughts that trigger my new, irrational emotions.


    The Titan¡¯s voice is the only thing I¡¯ve actually heard, which is unfortunate because there is no chance I could replicate the world shaking effect it achieved to create words. My attempts were trying to bridge the gap between the Beyond¡¯s thoughts in my head and the Titan¡¯s effect. That, unfortunately, seems to be the wrong way to approach speech.


    The Beyond confirmed it should be possible at least, but for now, no option makes itself known.


    Well, it¡¯s not like speech is important, anyway. Who would I talk to? Myself? The Titan? I huff in amusement at the thought. Not likely.


    After what that beast did to my home, I refuse to speak to it even if given the chance. Not only did the Titan destroy the entirety of my territory, but it told me to flee the distorted tunnels; to run to the inferior lands of those without true-sight. In hindsight, it is clear the being simply messing with me. Like how I would sometimes play with my food, my desperation is nothing beyond a source of amusement to the incomprehensible Titan.


    I do not like being on the other end.


    Curse the spaceless being. I will not fall for its tricks. It will not experience the pleasure of sending me to the lesser tunnels, even if it kills me.


    My head jerks back at the thought. Am I really willing to sacrifice my life to oppose something beyond me? No. This is that intrusive emotion again. Pride. Spite. Hatred. None are beneficial to my continued survival. In fact, they seem to be actively trying to put me in more danger than I have ever experienced.


    Taking on a Titan? What absolute foolishness seems to seep into my mind. Even the thought of opposing its will would be dangerous. What¡¯s a little entertainment to being that barely exists in this world, if it means I can survive?


    I¡¯ll need to be careful in the future. These intrusive thoughts and emotions clearly don¡¯t understand the nature of the world. If not careful, it could cause irreparable damage to my way of life¡­ more than the Titan already has.


    Now that I¡¯ve had the thought, why are these emotions so detached from the world I live? They came alongside sapience and the voice of the Beyond, so it should come from the same place. But the Beyond knows things about the world that I never knew before. It may not be entirely intelligent, but it knows about the world enough that I¡¯m sure it wouldn¡¯t give me such stupid advice as: ¡®throw away your life¡¯.


    If there is a way to discard these parasitic irrationalities, I would in a moment. For now, that is impossible. So instead, I must keep an intense focus on the thoughts that flicker through my mind. The last thing I want is more of these persuasions affecting my actions.


    My tail flexes, pushing me forward once again. Now that I am calm, and actually able to think somewhat straight, I glance around at my surroundings. Nothing is familiar, but that¡¯s not exactly a surprise; I passed through quite a few holes and rifts in my scamper away from the Titan.


    There is the river I just came from, carving through the rock for quite a distance, but the water limits how far I can actually see. The limit on my sight doesn¡¯t matter too much as I don¡¯t plan to return to the water. It might be nice to follow it to a bed of sand or moss and buff out all these scratches from my scales, but it will take too many sleeps to return my old glisten that I simply don¡¯t want to put in the effort.


    My other options are rather limited. I¡¯ve somehow landed myself in a void of rock that leads entirely to regions with less dense spatial distortions. It¡¯s not insurmountable, but the fewer bends in space, the harder it is to move, and makes for a rather uncomfortable experience. Why would I slither along the ground if I didn¡¯t need to?


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    With the lesser tunnels right in front of me, it feels almost like the world is guiding me. My spite wants me to avoid it at all cost, but the very appearance of that thought decides my action. If my emotions want to avoid the distortion sparse caverns, then I know exactly where to go.


    I will spite my spite.


    The moment I pass through the hole to the least dense area, I¡¯m hit with a gust of wind. It is another reason I don¡¯t like these tunnels; the environments are unpredictable.


    Contradictorily, the intense mesh of interwoven space protects the denser regions from being affected by external forces. It creates somewhat of an equilibrium. Of course, there are exceptions. Far-reaching rends often throw the balance out, introducing seas where there were none before, or opening the way for excessive heat to melt everything around, but most of the time, the spatial bends act as a sort of barrier from effects like these winds.


    I flop to the ground with an annoyed hiss, immediately questioning the wisdom of my choice. If there¡¯s any benefit I can find to being down here, it¡¯s that the ground, walls and ceiling are actually distinct from each other. Not exactly a great benefit, but I really don¡¯t like being here; It¡¯s the best I can do to avoid giving up and returning where I came.


    Which¡­ won¡¯t be easy, considering the hole is now five times my body''s length above me.


    I could grow to reach it, but then my body would be too thick to fit through. The only way back now, is forward.


    The cavern I find myself in is more of a lip on the side of a major vertical column. That¡¯s where all the wind comes from. Somewhere deep below, something agitates the air so greatly not even I dare get too close. My scales are hard, but I¡¯ve seen prey ripped to shreds because they dove through the rising air-currents in their attempts to flee my fangs.


    Caverns and tunnels besides the claw-like air are the least dense in spatial fractures, which is why that massive column of voided rock near my territory ¡ª my former territory ¡ª was so strange. I was unsuccessful, but the very fact I could reach air without distortion was unfathomable. Even here, there are a dozen bends in this small cavern.


    I cast my sight around for a hole to the other side of the dangerous wind-tunnels, but there are none. While I rarely come this far out, I¡¯ll look for a path beyond whenever I do. Between here and the amber barrier, there has to be something more. The Titan said so, and even if it was a trick, I¡¯d like to believe that part of its words was true.


    Wait, why not ask the voice I actually trust? Beyond, is there something on the other side of the wind tunnel and amber barrier?


    Yes.


    There it is! Actual confirmation! Now, what lies beyond?


    ¡­


    And again, the damn thing holds its silence.


    I used to think the voice was omniscient. Any question I asked would be answered immediately, but the more I ask, the more I realise there are some serious limitations on what it will say. Anything not visible to myself gets limited answers. Questions of history ¡ª like how that wide, voided column was made ¡ª get ignored. Only rarely will it voice any explanation.


    Really, all it¡¯s good for is language and naming things.


    Despite that, I am grateful for its teachings. It may not be truly necessary to know the names of things around me, or the ability to understand speech, but it is not unwelcome. Adds an extra flavour to things; not tasty like food, but something that can be savoured without getting full.


    Of course, a long time has passed since the Beyond began speaking, so my interest has died off some. Everything has a name that makes it unique, but everything having a name also makes nothing unique. Even me.


    My kind are called J?tnorm. I share that name with other serpents like myself¡­ not that I¡¯ve ever seen another. Though, the Beyond tells me they exist. There are differing serpent species I¡¯ve come across over my countless hunts, but never my own.


    I push myself away from the deadly winds into the back of the grotto. The press of rock beneath my scales is less than comfortable, but it¡¯s hard to expect much better in such orderly space.


    It is time to solidify my path.


    This is about as suppressed as it looks like my emotions will get, so hopefully, it will be enough to think through my options without unnecessary intrusions.


    My primary options are as follows: find another territory to make my own, and live how I have, forgetting the nightmare that is the Titan; alternatively, I can continue my search for a way beyond the borders. I wish there was a third option to return to my home, but I can¡¯t return to what is no longer there.


    The first choice is the easiest. It would be no challenge to carve out another territory for myself even in an unfamiliar environment; I¡¯ll settle myself within an ecosystem flush with life and either eat or scare off the other apex predators. This is the way I¡¯ve lived for a thousand hunts, and there¡¯s no reason I¡¯ll face any difficulty relocating once more.


    ¡­ But there is a certain degree of dissatisfaction that settles within my stomach at the thought of just returning to the way things were. Acting like nothing happened, like I haven¡¯t changed.


    I could find a way beyond the five borders of these warped tunnels. Even without the Titan¡¯s mockery, I cannot deny the thought of finding my way around them as attractive.


    The Amber Barrier, Labyrinthine Passages, Wind Channels, Magma Ocean, and Crippling Depths. Each border poses its own insurmountable dangers, but unlike any other biome I¡¯ve found, they share the aspect of always being present, regardless of the distance I travel through the warped tunnels. What if I could find my way beyond?


    I learnt my lesson when I failed to climb that distortionless column. This desire to know what lies beyond, it leads to nothing but disappointment and pain. The last thing I should be doing is falling for this¡­ curiosity, again, but it¡¯s difficult to imagine myself finding a territory of my own and actually being satisfied with it.


    I had my territory, my home, and it was taken from me. Could I just live the same life after that, knowing very well the Titan could come along any time and destroy anything I enjoy?


    No.


    No, I can¡¯t. Every sleep will be spent with an eye open, waiting for the monster¡¯s return to take from me again and laugh at my foolishness for thinking I was safe. Never would I feel safe within my tunnels knowing a being like that could obliterate everything within a moment. Is it possible to escape? Would the opportunity to flee even appear before me? These questions will never leave me. Not until I¡¯m somewhere beyond where it can reach me.


    So that leaves finding a way beyond the borders of my warped tunnels, even if that goes against the lesson of curiosity.


    I can only hope that the Other Side isn¡¯t what is on¡­ well, the other side. It is a possibility, but the amber barrier looks the same even there, so I¡¯d like to believe there is more than the destroyed landscape of the Other Side.


    With an instantaneous tense of my slender body, I spring up through the hole near the ceiling of this cave. This border is a bust, but I¡¯m sure with enough time, a way will appear. Hopefully, I won¡¯t be searching for long.

 Chapter 6: Doubt

    The spatial hole neither led me beyond the border nor along it, but brought me back to densely woven space. It was hardly unexpected, but it is annoying to have to search for another path.


    By the very nature of the areas with less spatial distortions, there are fewer paths into them. Within my sight, there are tens of thousands of bends, holes and rends. Amongst them, only a few lead anywhere close to what I would consider a low-density zone.


    Of course, the vast majority are simple spatial bends which simply alter direction and link to within striking distance from itself, but periodically, there are those that expand further.


    For now, I resign myself to the long search I have before me. If I ever want to reach beyond the borders of these tunnels, I must follow each hole and rift into those low density areas. The likelihood I¡¯ll find a spatial path that leads where I want is low. So unbelievably low that it is difficult to picture myself finding anything within the next thousand sleeps, but giving up before I even begin is more foolish than trying to threaten a Titan.


    ¡­ Something that now assaults me with more unwelcome emotions. Shame and regret. Just thinking about the event makes me want to shove my head into the earth and hide away. Like all other invasive sentiments, these make little sense. What would hiding accomplish? It has already happened and nothing will change that.


    It is becoming increasingly concerning the hold they have. The more time passes, the more they seem to slither their way into my mind.


    Not a dozen hunts ago, I couldn¡¯t have imagined such horrific parasites latching onto my growing awareness. I¡¯d been nothing but a na?ve fool; excited at the prospect of thinking more, knowing more, and being more.


    If there were a way to remove them, or stop them from growing, the Beyond refuses to say. Knowing the course of recent events, the answer won¡¯t be what I want. I fear the day I consider them a part of myself. That serpent will not be me.


    My tiny form slithers forward through a dozen distortions. Best not waste time; this will take long enough as is.


    I don¡¯t even bother sliding into the first few low-density areas I find; a single glance is enough to tell they lead nowhere. The first area to attract my interest isn¡¯t open to the shredding winds. It is difficult to determine if those vertical wind columns are even nearby; the very lack of distortions makes it difficult to tell which border I¡¯m nearest. I can¡¯t see enough of the cavern through the spatial hole to discard it as a path, despite the low chance.


    I slither through the hole and work my way down the narrow side of the cave where it curves out of sight. Without bending space to look through, what hides that way is invisible even to true-sight. Not being able to see an area so physically close is unsettling, but it¡¯s not like there is anything to fear.


    Those able to threaten me rarely bother hiding themselves.


    Which makes the Titan¡¯s actions all the more confusing. It hid itself within the very fabric of space. Why? The being is so mighty that nothing could possibly pose a danger to it. I¡¯m sure it would even consider the Other Side hardly a challenge, so why did it try so hard to hide from the eyes of those without true-sight?


    This might be too much thought being applied to an incomprehensible creature. That voided space was deep, and I¡¯m sure I never felt its full depths, so is it possible that it was holding itself back? Out of all unreasonable explanations, the thought that there was more to that monster than what obliterated my territory is¡­ well, it¡¯s horrifying, but it also is the most likely.


    What would happen if it unleashed its full might? Would this world remain?


    The sound of panicked, high pitch screeching alerts me to the life ahead of me. I¡¯ll recognise the sound of a bat anywhere. Their loud screeches are usually an unavoidable pain through the head. Bat colonies have tried to roost in my territory too many times to count, but each time they try, I scare them off. They are a damn pain.


    Thankfully, the squeals of this one aren¡¯t nearly loud enough to be painful, regardless of the hysteria it carries.


    A loud squelch cuts off the bat¡¯s screams just as my body slithers around the cramped cave wall. There¡¯s the bat, crushed within the forcipules of a thousand legged centipede. At my current, miniaturised size, the bug is only slightly larger than myself. Not the smallest of their type, but certainly not large. They are nothing but lesser creatures, and yet¡­ the sight twinges at the fury I had already buried.


    What is it about a creature with so many of those damned unnecessary limbs playing with Prey that couldn¡¯t possibly fight back that enrages me so?


    The centipede must have some good senses, as it twists my way, but it¡¯s already too late. My jaw snaps down on its back. The chitinous exoskeleton provides no protection from the fury fuelling my strike. The bug is bisected with nothing but paste remaining in my mouth.


    Despite cleanly cutting the centipede into two halves, it still wriggles around, alive. Bugs. The things are always so hardy even as the lesser of lessers. It tries to crawl away, leaving its lower half as a writhing distraction.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    The bat lay discarded to the side, prone and unmoving. It is smaller than I expected, obviously of a species I¡¯ve not discovered before. The thing has wings, so how could it let the centipede catch it?


    Ignoring the pitiful creature that found its death with its own failure, I slither after the centipede as it attempts to flee through a crack in the wall. Does it not realise I¡¯m smaller than it? No, it¡¯s a bug; it doesn¡¯t think at all.


    My body coils, ready to strike, but I hesitate.


    Do I really need to kill this creature? It isn¡¯t like I¡¯m hungry, nor will it give me any satisfaction; it is too weak for that. Still, watching it crawl away with those many hundred legs, a twisted satisfaction passes through me.


    I snap forward and bite through its head.


    This is the satisfaction of the weak. I couldn¡¯t beat the Titan, couldn¡¯t even hope to face it, but I can be the same as it to those lesser to myself.


    At least, that¡¯s how it¡¯s supposed to go. The satisfaction of crushing the centipede doesn¡¯t last more than an instant. It was a bug, after all; what could it do? What challenge could it possibly provide?


    I hover over the limp chitin of the centipede for a while, simply staring at the corpse. A storm of unfamiliar emotion whirls within me. This creature would have died easily the next time it showed its face to a predator or fell through the wrong spatial hole. The life of a single centipede is worth nothing, so why does it feel wrong?


    I didn¡¯t need to kill it, is that it?


    No. The Titan; I have taken its place. It is me playing with the lives of those too weak to do anything about it. I¡¯ve always treated lesser beings as they are: lesser, so why do these emotions make me want to think it¡¯s wrong now that I¡¯ve experienced it from the other side?


    It¡¯s all so complicated. I would be fine¡­ no, I would be happy if it were a logical complexity, but these feelings seem to be nothing but contradiction and absurdity. How could I possibly listen to them when I can¡¯t even understand them?


    A quiet, high-pitched chirp snaps me from my difficult thoughts.


    Oh! You¡¯re still alive?


    Sure enough, the tiny bat is up and moving. Caught in a centipede¡¯s jaws as it had been, it is fortunate not to have died immediately.


    The little thing crawls along the ground, unable to place any weight on one wing. With a clearly broken wing, and blood pooling down its side, the bat struggles to clamber away from the bug¡¯s still twitching lower body.


    Actually¡­ the creature is unlucky to have survived.


    No doubt it cannot fly. Even if its wounds don¡¯t kill it, the next hungry creature to taste its lingering blood will. Prey as small and weak as this one has no chance without its wings. Its only means of survival are crippled; this bat will be an easy meal for whatever finds it first.


    I turn away from both bat and bug, slithering toward the sole spatial hole hidden in this secluded cave. My eyes stay ahead of me, refusing to turn back to the corpse of the centipede before I take the leap. It is just a bug. Its death means nothing.


    A quiet squeak halts me right before I pass through the distortion. I turn to the tiny rodent. It has stopped its pointless crawl away from the dead centipede and stares my way. The surprisingly large eyes of the small bat watch me without recoiling.


    Such a reaction is quite rare for the creatures sitting at the absolute bottom of the food chain. Usually, sight of me is enough to send them scurrying away, even at this small size.


    I hiss slightly. The creature twitches, but doesn¡¯t snap its eyes away from me. That explains it: the creature is petrified. It knows I could kill it with the barest effort, so it instinctively freezes in an effort to save itself. If not for its crippled wing, I¡¯m sure it would have flown to the furthest cavern corner to hide away.


    Still odd to see something so much weaker than myself hold my gaze.


    Regardless, I have no desire to play with any more creatures unable to fight back. The thoughts churned up with the death of the centipede were unsettling, and I¡¯ll do my utmost to prevent them resurfacing. There must be prey somewhere worthy of a proper hunt.


    My body slithers through the hole, already forgetting the crippled little rodent left behind.


    The cavern I find myself in is flush with life despite its relatively small size. Vines weave through networks of spatial bends and hold bundles of berries every so often. The plants are thicker along the walls ¡ª broken up by space as they are ¡ª and hold many a nest. I¡¯m sure If I look close, I¡¯ll find plenty of creatures that live here despite how attractive it would make them to predators.


    But I don¡¯t stay for longer than a couple seconds. Another hole takes me to my next low-density cavern. This time, the area is massive. At the far other side, the cave opens to the razor wind funnels, but it is distant enough that only a light breeze flows over my scales.


    I breathe out a hiss as I dedicate myself to the search. None of the spatial distortions here lead anywhere interesting either. It will take a long time to make any progress, I knew that, so letting myself be shaken this early won¡¯t help.


    Some vines crawl through the very hole I passed through, but unlike the last, this cavern is dead. As hard as the plant appears to have tried to latch itself into the ground here, it simply cannot spread. It is strange: why does life blossom in some tunnels, while in others it appears simply impossible?


    In dangerous areas such as the magma pools and near the amber barrier, it is understandable why they don¡¯t grow, but this cavern is calm enough that there should be no issue.


    All life requires energy. Fauna and flora both subsume unique sources to sustain themselves and mature.


    Oh? One of the rare explanations from the Beyond! I want to question it further, but it continues, interrupting my thoughts.


    Energy is not infinite.


    I¡¯m assuming the energy creatures take in comes from food. I don¡¯t know what else it could be referring to¡­ well, the feeling I had in my former favourite resting spot might count, but it¡¯s doubtful that¡¯s what the beyond is talking about.


    Why do plants and animals take from different sources?


    ¡­


    And¡­ the Beyond is back to its silence. One day, I¡¯ll figure out how to get the voice to speak more. No idea comes to mind how, but I will.


    But it¡¯s interesting. If the energy in the world isn¡¯t endless, then what happens when it runs out? Wouldn¡¯t the energy each creature ate be cycled back into the world upon its death?


    ¡­


    No answer. A hiss escapes me at the lack of information. Annoying.


    A high pitch chirp echoes in response.


    I twist my head. There, clinging to the scales along my lower back, is the little bat. Broken wing and all. It sits undaunted by the gaze of the predator it rides.


    What are you doing here?


    Little bat squeaks, wide eyes staring into mine.

 Chapter 7: Incredulous

    I blink at the small creature, struggling to comprehend why it¡¯s here after I left it behind.


    My first thought is that it¡¯s another of the same species. Possibly a direct relative to the bat that almost found itself in the stomach of a centipede. But no, the crippled wing leaves no doubt this is the one I left behind.


    I hiss, trying to scare it off, but it doesn¡¯t move. Claws ¡ª both those in its rear limbs and the single at the tip of its uninjured wing ¡ª cling tight to the ridges between my scales. It does nothing but return my gaze.


    If you are so petrified you can¡¯t move, then why are you here?


    I lift my tail and brush it along my back, dislodging the bat. The little thing scrambles as it falls, and quickly flips after landing on its back, careful not to put weight on its broken wing.


    My gaze stays locked on the lesser creature as I hiss a warning. I slither away, keeping my eyes on it for a few moments to make sure it doesn¡¯t follow again. The little thing thankfully doesn¡¯t move as it watches me leave, though by the way it tilts its head at me, it holds far less fear than I assumed.


    If not mortified by my presence, then this bat holds far less self-preservation instincts than I¡¯d assumed. No wonder it got caught by the centipede.


    When I¡¯m a few body lengths away ¡ª too far for its injured body to follow ¡ª I turn away, determined to continue my search without distraction. Not a second after taking my sight from the tiny bat, a slight weight lands on my back again.


    I twist on myself, finding the creature in the same spot on my back I just knocked it from.


    How? With its injuries, the bat could hardly have chased after me. There aren¡¯t any spatial bends that could allow it to reach my back. Not from where it was.


    Slightly annoyed, I bring my head right before this tiny thing and hiss, revealing not only my fangs, but the many teeth lining my jaw usually hidden. My threat is loud and echoes in my ears, but the bat is unperturbed. It cocks its head and chirps, dismissive of my warnings.


    This little rodent¡­ with but a motion I could swallow it whole. Is it so stupid as to not realise that? How can it not know the rule of the weak? It should stay out of my way if it wants to live, not continue to clamber upon what is the greatest predator it has seen.


    A single bite would end this annoyance, but I can¡¯t seem to go through with it.


    My fangs are sharp and jaw works fine, but they refuse to chomp this creature. I am not hungry. I¡¯m about as far from hungry as I can be; my stomach won¡¯t be empty for many sleeps. That must be why my body refuses to swallow this tiny beast, despite its blatant disrespect to a predator beyond it.


    Three more times do I swipe the bat off my scales only to have it appear back where it started before I give up and resolve myself to figure out how it catches up to me despite the crippled wing.


    The problem is that it waits until I¡¯m not looking to move. I can¡¯t figure out how it does so with these low-density tunnels limiting my sight to only what¡¯s ahead of me. At least the solution is simple.


    I slither toward the closest hole, ignoring the incredibly light weight that presses down on my scales again. Once in an area where nothing can escape my sight ¡ª what with the number of bends reflecting my visage ¡ª I turn and brush off the little bat again. I dip through a curve that brings me into a constant fall again, where creatures limited to crawling along the earth won¡¯t be able to follow.


    My gaze stays on the tiny mammal as it watches me leave it behind. There is no doubt in my mind it has true-sight, simply by the way it tracks me, but even though I¡¯m not looking at it directly, it doesn¡¯t move.


    I slither through the air for some time with the bat not moving before I figure this is the best time to leave. With a sudden change in direction, I head for a rift that will take me far from this cavern. My decision causes the bat to react. It scampers and squeaks, clearly aware I¡¯m leaving.


    Within a moment, the creature disappears from where it lay, and appears upon my back.


    If I hadn¡¯t been watching close, I would have missed it. For an instant, the bat created a tiny spatial bend only large enough to carry its body to mine. It¡¯s too small even for my thinnest size to pass through, but for the bat now sitting comfortably on top of me, it is just big enough.


    I turn on the critter, glaring with all I can, but the thing just lets out a happy chirp. It is gloating; I know it.


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    Still, the ability to bend space like that isn¡¯t something I thought possible. Not intentionally. Just what kind of creature is this little one to do so?


    Sciacylch.


    Great! Willing to give any details?


    Silence. Shouldn¡¯t have expected anything more after how much it gave earlier.


    So, Sciacylch is what these tiny bats are called? Never come across one before. Are they all as lacking in self preservation as this one?


    The little sciacylch squeaks again, tilting its head as it looks up at me, wide eyes staring.


    Now, if this little one can create bends around itself, then how do I get rid of it? Any time I push it off, it will simply open a path and return.


    Why is it following me, anyway? Does it expect me to protect it from other predators? It shouldn¡¯t need it. I don¡¯t even know how it got caught in the first place, considering that ability. Spatial distortions are a natural phenomenon ¡ª one I am an expert at traversing ¡ª but I¡¯ve never seen a creature able to manipulate them like this. It should have never found itself in a position to become prey, even if it couldn¡¯t be a predator.


    The only ability that comes close would be my control over my size and mass. Well, there¡¯s also the Titan, but I¡¯m not so sure that wasn¡¯t just its presence tearing the world apart around it.


    What¡¯s important is I know how it¡¯s following me now, and while annoying, it¡¯s hardly something to be concerned about. The small sciacylch will grow tired, eventually. When it does, I¡¯ll simply leave it behind as it sleeps. With the state of its wing, I don¡¯t expect I¡¯ll need to wait long.


    My tongue darts out between my lips. At least this tiny bat doesn¡¯t stink.


    I twist back through the air, determined to get back to my search. It¡¯s annoying, but the thing can stay. Well, until it grows so tired it cannot cling to my scales.


    Its happy chirp is ignored.


    ???


    I might have misjudged slightly.


    As I look back over the sleeping bat, the sting of regret burns at my chest. Really, I should have been checking on it regularly in my search, but the tiny creature weighs so little that it was easy to ignore. This is not at all what I expected.


    The sciacylch sleeps. For how long? I don¡¯t know. I¡¯d assumed it would let go in its sleep considering the ridges between my scales are hardly much to hold on to, but apparently this tiny thing could do it easily.


    If I¡¯d been searching through bend dense space, there¡¯s no chance I could have missed it, but the cramped tunnels my search took me through lacked any way for me to look over my scales without actively turning to look. What¡¯s worse is that these tunnels are a labyrinth to navigate.


    Every so long I spend slithering across stone, the paths will split half a dozen ways, and leave me with no way to decide which leads somewhere promising. The twenty splitting paths were still dense enough with distortions that I could see my rodent passenger, and during those, it was plenty active. Only as I progressed did the bends and holes gradually disappear.


    I¡¯ve passed a hundred tunnel junctures since, and have no clue at which point it dipped into rest. If it¡¯s anywhere near the start, then it¡¯ll have had a full rest¡­ and I didn¡¯t notice.


    Slowly, carefully, I slide my tail along the scales of my back, trying to dislodge the bat¡¯s claws without disturbing its rest. If I can get it off without waking it, I¡¯ll be able to leave it behind.


    Its claws snap off easily enough and clench tight now that what they grab is gone. I pause, hoping that didn¡¯t wake my uninvited guest. Thankfully, the sciacylch doesn¡¯t wake, too busy napping belly down on my scales.


    The next part is the most difficult. How can I get it off without waking it? I could push it off, but I feel that is certain to wake the bat. With no good options before me, I settle with what is least likely to jostle it.


    My tail tip, the thinnest part of my body, curls beneath the sleeping form with care. With slow motions, I lift it off my back and lower it to the stone. Only when I bring my tail away and the creature remains still, do I release a breath of relief.


    Not wanting to wait around, I slither away. Slow at first, before increasing my pace when I¡¯m sure the bat won¡¯t stir. As fast as I dare, I move to the nearest splitting tunnel. As soon as I¡¯m out of sight, the creature won¡¯t follow me, and I¡¯ll be free to my solitude.


    A pained squeak echoes along the narrow tunnel.


    Freezing, I turn to the little sciacylch who rises off its broken wing. It must have rolled onto the limb in its sleep and woken itself.


    Foregoing any previous subtlety, I slither forward, determined to get out of its sight before it can find me. In but a moment, I¡¯m tumbling down a rather steep tunnel, stretching the curves of my body to press against the walls and slow my descent. With the lack of bends here, I¡¯d rather not gather too much speed.


    As the tunnel curves to flat earth again, I let out a relieved hiss. The bat hasn¡¯t followed. I¡¯m finally free once more.


    A chirp tingles the back of my neck.


    Of course, it¡¯s only when I¡¯m assured of victory that the little bat snatches it away.


    My head turns on the sciacylch only for it to slam its only good wing on my scales. The strike is hard to even feel, but if that didn¡¯t reveal its anger, the glare it gives me does. With such large eyes on the tiniest of bodies, it is impossible to consider it anything close to a threat.


    I hiss, trying to express my desire for the creature to get lost, to disappear, but the sciacylch only tightens its claws and flicks its head away.


    Is she¡­ sulking?


    I lift my head and slam it into the earth, trying to rub out the frustration. The action does nothing but dirty the scales between my eyes in the gravel. Why can¡¯t this little thing leave me alone? Why can¡¯t I kill and be done with it?


    Glaring at the lesser being on my back, I try a final vain attempt to scare it off, but it only gives a light huff, refusing to make eye contact.


    With a resigned hiss, I give up. The little bat can¡¯t hurt me, so I¡¯ll just need to wait until it falls asleep again. Unsure when that will be, I declare to myself to regularly glance back, lest I make the same mistake.


    The effort and dedication required to find a path beyond the borders will be demanding. If I can¡¯t handle a simple pest for some time, then I might as well give up now.

 Chapter 8: Indignant

    Without distortions to improve my sight, these tunnels are nothing but a confusing labyrinth. All I can see is what lies directly before me. Even the slight curve disrupts my vision, making it incredibly difficult to plan out my path.


    For a moment, I consider if this is how creatures lacking true-sight feel in the distorted tunnels below. Are they concerned about whether their path will take them where they want, or trap them in an endless loop of tunnels with no escape? No. Such thoughts are foolish; those lacking true-sight would be just as lost in here as down in my home.


    My plan is to keep moving upward.


    Without spatial distortions, gravity is a far more reliable indicator of up and down. Knowing that, I¡¯ve been taking the tunnel options that will take me away from the natural tug.


    Considering the lack of bends to fall through, going up is rather difficult. I can¡¯t simply take a vertical tunnel and reach my target immediately ¡ª not that there are many of those ¡ª but what I can do is stick to the upward sloping tunnels. So far, it has succeeded rather well. The tunnels we move through are bare. Not just in lack of life, but also frequency of distortions, which I consider a good sign that I¡¯m moving in the right direction.


    The tunnels lack uniformity. While most have the consistency of splitting at intervals, many times I¡¯ve found myself slithering into a dead end. They can come to a sudden stop, or peter into a path far too narrow even for my miniaturised size. Other tunnels reach the width of my largest size, but they never grow to the size of the caverns down below.


    A few hundred hunts ago ¡ª back when the first hints of sapience emerged in my mind ¡ª I entered this labyrinth. It was an unsettling experience to have my sight so limited for the first time. So distasteful that once I found my way back to the distortions, I never tried to make my way back.


    I can¡¯t say it was my first time getting lost ¡ª it¡¯s doubtful that was less than my hundredth ¡ª but there is a difference between not knowing how many rifts you¡¯ll have to pass through to find something familiar, and the nearly complete lack of sight these tunnels impose. Even the Other Side ¡ª as terrifying and volatile as that place is ¡ª doesn¡¯t take away true-sight the way these tunnels do.


    Because of the nature of this place, I¡¯ve never dared venture far. If prey dashed through them to escape me, then that was their lucky day. I didn¡¯t follow. As comfortable as I was with my territory, I saw no need to put any added effort into my hunts unless I was sure prey had a fighting chance.


    The point is¡­ I¡¯m lost, but that¡¯s hardly my fault, nor is it incompetence on my part. It is simply the unfortunate reality of where I find myself.


    While it might seem obvious that going down will lead me back to the distorted regions considering I¡¯ve been taking a rather consistent upward path, the sheer number of blocked passages ¡ª or ones that curve away from where you want to go ¡ª make such attempts at escape difficult. I wouldn¡¯t willingly enter this place if I wasn¡¯t determined to cross the borders. This is the most likely area to find a way.


    My forked tongue darts out as we reach another splitting tunnel.


    While scent and sound are unreliable near my territory, the opposite is true here. My sight is worthless, but the remnants of other creatures and slight echoes bouncing around are significant guides. If I can smell an animal, it¡¯s likely to mean they have passed through.


    What I smell now is no animal I¡¯ve come across before. An incredibly sweet stench tingles at the roof of my mouth, more intense than any scent has a right to be. Well, it¡¯s obvious this tunnel leads somewhere if such an intense odour permeates the air this thick, so I don¡¯t hesitate to enter.


    The little sciacylch squeaks and clambers along my back until it sits just below my head. I twist my head to cast an eye on the bat, but it ignores me. The tiny crippled creature sniffs at the air and wobbles with a little chirp, eyes closed and saliva dripping from its open mouth.


    Apparently, the annoying little creature really likes the smell.


    This is an opportunity. If it¡¯s so attractive to the bat, then it should get lost enough in its hunger that it won¡¯t notice me leaving. I double my pace, excited at the prospect.


    Soon, the stench becomes so strong that I clamp my jaw shut, smelling only through my less sensitive nostrils. Whatever gives off this reek is simply asking to be found. Either the creature doesn¡¯t care and has the strength to fight off whatever might track it down, or it is intentional. With the little bat still salivating on my back, I¡¯d say it¡¯s the latter.


    Whether some sort of fruit, or a predator tempting prey, it is more likely that this path leads somewhere other than a dead end, so I continue.


    The sciacylch remains transfixed on the scent as we move. By the way it holds itself, leaning forward without restraint, I¡¯m sure the bat would fly forward if it could. But no, with its crippled wing, it happily clings to my scales¡­ to my dismay.


    Our tunnel is wide enough even the fat apikull could clamber their way through if they crawled. I¡¯m certain we won¡¯t meet one down here ¡ª apes don¡¯t like tight spaces ¡ª but similar sized creatures could. Of course, those with wider guts and unnecessary limbs would have to spend far longer than I looking for a path through this labyrinth.


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    For a moment, I have to thank my perfect body. If I couldn¡¯t shrink, and was stuck at my full mass, not even the larger tunnels would be feasible. Well, I could probably crash my way through the rock to get through, but doing so would just be asking to be buried beneath the denser ranked stone. Not even I would be comfortable experiencing such a cave in.


    Sciacylch chirps strangely. I cast an eye back without slowing my movement. The little bat stands ramrod straight, or well, as stiff as a creature holding itself up by three limbs can be. It chirps again, the high pitch tingling at the back of my neck. Its large eyes widen even further, and it scampers to the far back of my tail, sweet scent forgotten.


    Why the sudden change in attitude?


    The smell is overpowering now, smothering any other scent. Has the little bat noticed something? But how? Nothing looks out of the ordinary. Sure, I know there¡¯s a possibility of the scent being a lure, but I can¡¯t see any reason for the sciacylch to panic.


    It couldn¡¯t have better senses than me¡­ right? That¡¯s impossible.


    The only other option I can think of is just as unbelievable as the first. A creature as small, young, and weak as this could never have the intelligence to discover the danger ahead of us. Actually, it¡¯s even more incomprehensible considering it doesn¡¯t treat me as the danger I am.


    And yet, the tiny mammal chirps and screeches as it flaps its only good wing and tugs at my scales. The way it looks me in the eye with each effort makes it seem like it¡¯s pleading with me to back up, to leave this tunnel.


    I can hardly do that. Should there be a creature that dare oppose me, I shall not back down from the challenge.


    ¡­ Unless it¡¯s the Titan.


    However the bat knows about the what lies ahead, it is unimportant. My unwelcome passenger can either flee now with its strange ability to create spatial bends, or it can continue to be an annoyance. I hope for the former.


    Never letting up on its panicked squeaks, the little bat clambers back up my spine as I move through the tunnel. The scent is oppressive. I actively ignore the sensations in my nostrils and dare not open my mouth. As the thick sweetness becomes almost tangible in the air, the sciacylch finally settles down. Its saliva involuntarily flows down the side of its jaw despite the slight whimpered chirps it makes.


    After a few more moments of slithering through the tunnel without finding the source of the overwhelming scent, Sciacylch¡¯s panicked chirps start up again, more desperate than before.


    I tilt my head to look back at the terrified creature, only to watch as the rock closes in behind us. Not like a cave in, but rather the closing of a mouth. There are no teeth, or if there are, they are too small to see, but that doesn¡¯t change the fact that the rock tunnel behind us just became a dead end.


    My eyes narrow at the stone walls around me. Does this creature really want to swallow everything without making sure it can¡¯t struggle first? I know firsthand how bad the stomachaches get.


    Before I can truly comprehend the arrogance of a creature that thinks it can swallow me and get out of it alive, liquid pours from the walls. In the now enclosed space, it pools around my body and rises rapidly.


    Worse than ever, the scent assaults my nose. This liquid is obviously the source, and by the way it sizzles away the blood between my scales, it is anything but water. My passenger leans down the side of my back, reaching for the liquid. Its panic, forgotten. The bat is hypnotised, all but ready to dive into the liquid that would be its death.


    This is a solution to my problem, isn¡¯t it? Just let Sciacylch dive into the acid and I¡¯ll be free of its annoying presence. It somehow knew what was coming and instead of making a hole to safety, it was foolish enough to stay by my side as I entered this creature¡¯s maw. It brought this upon itself.


    Really, I knew the bat wasn¡¯t intelligent ¡ª why else wouldn¡¯t it fear me ¡ª but to place itself in what it knew to be a trap is beyond reasonable. Why didn¡¯t it run? It couldn¡¯t have possibly thought I would be in danger, right?


    Acid floods higher. A bubble pops, splashing the smallest droplets against the bat¡¯s thin fur. Strands of hair melt away in an instant, but she doesn¡¯t notice, still completely mesmerised by the unbearable sweetness.


    I curl up, preparing to teach this creature a lesson on the arrogance of eating everything. My movement tosses Sciacylch to the middle of my back, away from the deadly acid. The tiny bat¡¯s safety is not intentional, rather a happenstance of the scales it grips. I hardly care to save the little rodent. What reason would I have?


    In an instant, my size expands as I strike upward. Not even ranked stone could remain intact from such an impact, so it is no surprise the rock-like flesh of the creature¡¯s stomach bursts without resistance.


    My much larger size crashes through the actual rock around the creature, but thankfully, besides the now shattered gravel tumbling down below, the tunnel doesn¡¯t cave in.


    Only half my body is now outside the creature that tried to swallow us. My tail remains inside its stomach, now large enough to expand the worm from within. And that¡¯s what tried to eat us: a worm.


    Sk¨­lex.


    I ignore the Beyond¡¯s provided name. It¡¯s a worm. The poor imitators of the superior form. They don¡¯t have limbs, but that¡¯s truly all they have going for them. Scaleless soft skin, boneless bodies, and absolutely no sight at all. So close, and yet so very far. It¡¯s an insult that we share a shape.


    Acid flows out of the hole in its middle, flooding over my scales as it escapes. The worm tries to wriggle in the cramped space of the tunnel. It cannot break through the stone like I, but even if it could, my tail growing within holds it still. The spineless creature unable to provide enough strength to move my lower half.


    Eventually, my growing size is too much for the worm. It bursts. I watch with interest as the acid rapidly melts through the stone floor, only to stop and pool again after deepening the tunnel double what it originally was. Unsurprisingly, the acid cannot eat through ranked stone.


    The presence of ranked stone itself is unexpected. It also answers why the tunnel didn¡¯t collapse after I destroyed so much of the ceiling. If the strengthened rock surrounds the tunnel of normal earth, it¡¯ll hardly collapse because a little of it broke off. I¡¯ll only face an issue if I try to break through the ranked mineral itself.


    Before I return to my previous miniature size, I snap my jaw around the back end of the worm and pull it out of our path, dropping the corpse into the acidic pit its own stomach juices made. The motion gives me a mouthful of that sickly sweet stench and I almost gag.


    I hope that bat isn¡¯t still trying to throw itself into the acid below.


    A glance back reveals she isn¡¯t as suicidal as a moment ago. Rather, the little sciacylch shivers as it stares down the gap between my scales and the wall of the recently carved cavern to the worm. It is dead. I showed how weak the creature was, and this little thing still cowers. The bat is terrified, yet still clings to my much larger scales.


    This pest thinks a worm is more frightening than me.


    I need to hit something.

 Chapter 9: Fascination

    An entire section of rock wall along the tunnel below collapses with a deafening crash. The little rodent on my back startles at the noise.


    Oh? Did that scare you now? Nothing quite like the sheer might of a serpent to send chills down your spine, right? What? Why are you looking at me like that?


    Unlike what I intended, Sciacylch doesn¡¯t run terrified from the power of my tail crashing through stone, nor my larger size. Instead, after brushing off the surprise, it looks up at me with wide, glistening eyes. If I didn¡¯t know better, I¡¯d say it¡¯s viewing me with reverence.


    I don¡¯t like it.


    This bat shouldn¡¯t look at me as I¡¯m some saviour. It should treat me as the predator I am and flee without hesitation. Did it not see how easy it was for me to kill that worm? I could do the same to a bat like it in an instant.


    With a hiss of disappointment, I slide through the now unobstructed path. The worm that filled the space now floats lifelessly in a pool of its own juices. My eyes don¡¯t linger for more than a moment, and we continue forward.


    Little Sciacylch¡­ that name is annoyingly long. Little Scia¡¯s eyes follow the corpse as I squeeze forward, my body shrinking back to a more comfortable size. Her gaze lingers, before flicking to the wall I collapsed. Scia finally turns back to me with large, starry eyes, obviously awed by my strength.


    It¡¯s not the right reaction, but maybe I should just accept this bat isn¡¯t the brightest of the bunch. Any more loathing over its lack of fear will only irritate me further.


    The deeper tunnel is thankfully not a dead end. Trust a worm to leave its back unguarded. What would it have done had a creature wandered upon its tail? Crawl away? Turn around? Unlikely. As effective as its lure was on my passenger, the lack of self-preservation is shocking.


    Though, that seems to be a trend lately.


    I glance back again as my passenger snuggles into my scales. It chirps excitedly as we cross eyes, wiggling at the attention. Seriously, this one has some gall.


    We pass through a dozen tunnel-splits, the sweet scent of acid soon leaving the air. Every so often, a blockage or narrow tunnel blocks our path and we have to backtrack. My memory has improved immensely over my many hunts, but after so many incredibly similar splitting tunnels, I¡¯ve lost track.


    If this labyrinth doesn¡¯t lead anywhere, then I¡¯ll have to discover another way down again. So, how long should I thread my way through these tunnels before giving up? For all I know, they curve in on themselves and there is no end. How much time should I waste before I give up and try the other borders for ways through them?


    Well, it won¡¯t hurt to spend a couple hunts here. Finding my way back will be just as hard, but it¡¯s worth checking whether there actually is anything beyond this labyrinth. I¡¯ll be rid of the bat by then, regardless, so I can enjoy my solitude again.


    Each time we enter a new tunnel, I glance back at the slacking mammal behind me. The little creature clearly got more rest than I was hoping; while it slouches comfortably into my scales, its eyes dart around, taking in every minute detail of the surrounding rocks. The ambush of the worm really must have startled it.


    I crush the sense of envy that trickles within me. Feeling that way toward a worm? I refuse! Absolutely reject the possibility.


    Whenever I check on Scia, the bat lets out a happy squeak and stretches itself across my back. Foolish. I just shake my head away in disappointment.


    After countless splitting caves forced to slide my body along hard ground, we finally find something interesting. Or, interesting to me. Scia takes one look and almost leaps off my back. I can feel the bat¡¯s chest push off, but its clawed feet never let go of my scales.


    Before us is a much larger split cavern than what we¡¯ve found until now. Large enough to support my full size, with room to spare. But the size of the tunnel isn¡¯t what attracts either of our attention. No, it¡¯s the sheer number of corpses and littered bones piled up through the tunnel.


    Someone¡¯s a picky eater.


    While Scia is fussing over the warning of a predator¡¯s den, I¡¯m lamenting all the wasted prey. My tongue darts out to taste the air, but I can only smell the dead, not the culprit. Whatever predator this is territory of, they leave a lot of their catch uneaten. Bones are almost universally untouched, but it is strange to see only half-eaten bodies and some that have had barely more than a nibble.


    Amongst all these corpses is a creature I¡¯ve never seen before. Sure, some Prey are rare, but I almost never come across completely unknown species anymore. Thankfully, besides a missing lump of chest, it is mostly intact.


    A four-legged beast not completely dissimilar from feline or canine types, but is more slender than both, with short, stubby appendages and a thick coat. That fur coat is the most interesting part. It fades into the rock as if part of the wall, taking on the texture of its surrounding with an uncanny ease. I¡¯ve only seen similar camouflage in some types of lizards or fish, never mammals.


    If not for the wound bleeding out over the floor, I might not have even noticed the creature amongst all the other dead. As I move in closer, Scia grows increasingly restless, but I ignore the bat. My tongue darts out at the air around the wound, and to my surprise, the creature died not long ago. Whatever killed it was here recently.


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    The fumes of decaying corpses are stronger on one side of the tunnel, and I consider heading down that way simply to see what kind of creature is this wasteful¡­ but I shouldn¡¯t waste my time. The other end of the cave ¡ª where the scent of corpses lessens ¡ª is more likely to lead to the predator¡¯s hunting grounds.


    A place beyond these Labyrinthine Passages.


    I slither forward, brushing aside brittle bones and rotten meat. Clearly, the predator isn¡¯t a snake; besides the obvious of its meals not being swallowed whole, a lot of these bones crumble with even the slightest touch of my minuscule mass. If it were a snake slithering through here all the time, there would be more obvious paths. Well, that would probably be the same for many creatures, but besides the outer edge of the large tunnel, most of the dead are untouched.


    Not to mention, any snake would eat their prey whole. No bones would remain.


    If anything, it¡¯s strange that this area isn¡¯t mobbed by scavengers. The greedy creatures typically swarm discarded prey regardless the risk of angering a predator. Why are they nowhere to be seen?


    Scia struggles on my back, just as terrified as when they realised we were slithering into a trap. The tiny bat tries to pull me back, force us down into the tunnels we came, but I don¡¯t listen.


    Again, it shows it can feel fear, and yet, not once has it fled from me.


    As I slither through the large tunnel, I do my best to keep away from the worst of the decaying corpses. Scavengers may not be around, but that doesn¡¯t mean the bodies aren¡¯t a feeding ground for minuscule bugs. Maggots and beetles skitter all over the worst of the rot.


    The thought of having to slide through this muck rather than in the air with spatial bends is disgusting. I dislike getting blood on my scales in the best of times ¡ª what with how difficult it is to clean out after it dries ¡ª so the last thing I want to do is wade through filth. If it weren¡¯t so likely that this tunnel leads where I¡¯m trying to go, I¡¯d stick to the path I came from.


    I¡¯m also not opposed to the opportunity of happening across something actually competent. It¡¯s been a long time since I¡¯ve found worthy prey like this. I won¡¯t go out of my way ¡ª not while I don¡¯t hunger ¡ª but I won¡¯t avoid a fight.


    Scia has given up on its attempts to stop me. Now the bat holds its only good wing over its snout, trying desperately to block out the scent of death. Sciacylch aren¡¯t carnivorous, then? I shouldn¡¯t be surprised, but the very idea of eating something that isn¡¯t moving is strange. Even a meal left untouched while I slept lost most of its taste when eating it later. To eat plants that rarely move at all is an odd prospect.


    Prey are lesser for a reason¡­ is what I would have thought any time in the past, but that seems wrong now. Sure, they are lesser than those with the strength to eat them, but that doesn¡¯t mean there¡¯s a reason to it. Or maybe there is, and those without power are simply unlucky. Not all creatures can be predators, after all.


    What would a world of predators look like? If each creature needed to eat others to survive, then how would there ever be enough food to go around? It¡¯s only because the lesser creatures feed upon sources other than meat that everything doesn¡¯t starve.


    But if most creatures eat other animals or plants to grow, then what do flora consume to do the same?


    The thought reminds me of the Beyond¡¯s mention of energy. How it isn¡¯t endless. If what the plants eat to survive runs out, then the prey¡¯s food will die, leaving me without prey to hunt. Such a concept makes me reconsider my thought on those creatures I¡¯ve always looked down upon. They may be lesser, but if they disappear, what would I eat?


    I snap out of my thoughts at the sight of a blood trail through one of the many branching tunnels. With the lack of scavengers around, it¡¯s a surprising sight. Dead bodies don¡¯t crawl away after their deaths¡­ well, unless they are centipedes.


    This is one of the few tunnels besides the large, central one with any carrion. All the others only experience overflow from the main chamber.


    My head snaps back, making sure the bat hasn¡¯t drifted off to sleep in the time since I last checked. Nope, Scia sits there, still covering nose with wing. Well, at least this one will enjoy my choice.


    I slither in after the blood trail. Really, I should keep following the large tunnel, but my interest has been piqued. Why is this the only tunnel touched by blood? Is there actually scavengers around, but they¡¯re just too scared to stay out in sight long? I don¡¯t have a reason convincing enough to take me from my search, but I still find myself getting distracted.


    The blood trail goes on for a while. So long that I question whether it is a single body dragged away and not a pile, what with how far the painted earth extends. But no, I eventually find the source, and it is a single body. One of those unique slender mammals with the camouflaging fur lays prone before me, unmoving.


    Most importantly, its lower half is missing.


    Blood dribbles out the midsection of the creature, and I look on in surprise to notice its claws clenched into the earth. It dragged itself this far entirely on its own before succumbing to its missing lower body. Only recently did it die. In fact, the body is still somewhat warm.


    Merminea.


    So that¡¯s what this creature is called? It would be nice to see them alive; the blood and open wounds tend to ruin the effect of their camouflage. Could I spot them without all these obvious tells? Wait, is it possible they¡¯ve been around in the past, but their camouflage is so good I haven¡¯t noticed them until now? I don¡¯t like the idea.


    A naturally sapient species.


    What? Beyond has been talkative lately. But really, this species is sapient? Wait¡­


    Beyond, what am I?


    A J?tnorm.


    Okay, and are J?tnorm naturally sapient?


    No.


    Are J?tnorm sapient?


    No.


    Am I sapient?


    Yes.


    The beyond has never considered my species sapient, so why does this¡­ weak mammal get that description? You have to have strength to live long enough to gain sapience, so why does a creature that died to some random predator get the prestigious status as a sapient? Especially when it took me thousands of hunts to do the same.


    I¡¯m currently only the width of the mermineae¡¯s leg, with Scia being the size of a claw at most. It¡¯s not like these creatures are all that big, so what makes them strong enough to be worth sapience? Naturally, too? My fangs slide into an outstretched arm with outrage. My goal is to find any reason to label this being as something superior to the lessers, but my fangs slide through its hide, flesh, and bone easier than most other creatures of similar size.


    Relinquishing my bite from the weak flesh, I stare over the dead mammal with indignation. I can understand the Titan; that is a superior being in every sense. Anywhere I¡¯ve travelled over countless hunts, I¡¯ve been the apex. But this¡­ merminea is at the same level? I don¡¯t believe it.


    No. Let¡¯s think about this properly. It¡¯s already dead, so maybe its true strength cannot be determined unless it still clutches to life. In that case, I¡¯ll simply have to be careful around the next living ones I find. From the corpse before me, nothing strikes me as worthy, but I can keep my eyes peeled for what might uplift them to sapience. I do not believe there¡¯s any chance for a sapient creature not being a predator. That¡¯s just how things work.


    Now, there¡¯s also the issue that if this creature really was sapient, then the being who holds that wide tunnel in its territory is likely to be stronger than I expected.

 Chapter 10: Amusement

    If it were before the loss of my home, I¡¯d be excited at the prospect of a challenging beast, but after that Titan, I find myself hesitating.


    Such a reaction isn¡¯t like me. I¡¯ve been waiting for decent competition for so many hunts, but a single experience has me spooked? I¡¯m tempted to dive right back into the depths of the creature¡¯s nest to disprove this cowardice. No matter the beast, I¡¯ll overcome it¡­ as long as it isn¡¯t the Titan.


    You know what? No, I will not be distracted. My goal to find what lies ahead is more important than challenging some slightly strong beast.


    I whip away from the upper half of the corpse and return to the large tunnel. Scia chirps at the sudden motion, indignant at having almost been tossed off. I ignore it and slither through brittle bone and gore.


    There¡¯s no avoiding the filth ¡ª not without flight ¡ª and I can only hope it¡¯ll clear off my scales once we¡¯re clear. I¡¯d rather not carry the stench with me.


    Scia squeaks again, but when I turn, I notice my passenger staring off to the side. Along the side of the tunnel is a half-eaten bat. The creature is far too large to be related to the one behind me ¡ª what with it being twice the size of the merminea ¡ª but Scia is still shocked to see one of their greater kin dead.


    There are plenty of other creatures amongst the piles of dead that I¡¯ve never seen. A mass of carapace with pincers larger than its midsection; the shell of a tortoise, empty of any innards; a long, hairy, chitinous leg crossing the width of this tunnel. The sight of so many unique species is encouraging; it means the area ahead is somewhere I¡¯ve never been.


    The tunnel continues for a long while. Eventually the corpses thin out, but the walls are still caked with dried blood from endless deaths brought through here. Another check on Scia reveals its wing no longer blocking the bat¡¯s muzzle.


    Beneath me, the ground gradually slopes upward, which is a good thing¡­ until the incline is so great I can no longer progress. The tunnel has a few equally large branching paths to my sides, but none angle up besides this one. If there were roots or jutting rocks lining the tunnel, it would be possible to climb, but there are none. Doesn¡¯t help that the tunnel becomes vertical only a short distance ahead.


    I put in some effort to climb as far as I can so I can at least see up the chamber. Unfortunately, it is a pointless endeavour as the end of the tunnel isn¡¯t visible.


    Now what? Back to the smaller tunnels? Search the larger ones I just passed? I¡¯d been hoping this would lead me directly to the place beyond the border, but it obviously won¡¯t be so easy. I should be happy to know I¡¯m close. Never did I imagine my search would be quick, so why does such a small obstruction annoy me so?


    Scia chirps. I¡¯ve been staring up this shaft for long enough to worry the little bat, have I?


    Turning to look at the little one, I barely catch it blinking out of existence. A high-pitched screech echoes from above, before Scia appears on my back again, as if they never left. Their head twists, ears swivelling as they stare toward one of the smaller tunnels. Scia looks to me, before another hole forms around its body and takes it to the nearly unnoticeable crack in the wall.


    I simply stare. Has the little creature finally decided to leave me alone? Is she going to leave me to my solitude? Well, I¡¯m not about to give it the chance to back down on its choice.


    I move toward another branching path along the other wall. Before I even make it a full body length, Scia chirps and appears before my head, blocking my way. The bat¡¯s expression twists in anger, which makes me open my mouth to bite the annoying rodent.


    She¡¯s gone the next instant, screeching at me from across the tunnel. I let out a hiss and move to continue, but Scia appears in front of me again. She bats me on the snout with her unharmed wing.


    I stare open-mouthed at the audacity. Just how stupid can it be? All I need to do is lunge forward and it¡¯ll be dead, but thoughts of actually doing so flee my mind at the sheer incomprehensibility of its actions.


    She¡¯s pouting again.


    Scia is gone. Once more over by the crack in the wall, the bat waves its wing at me. It¡¯s clear now it wants me to follow, rather than leave my side, but after whacking me with its tiny, weightless wing, why should I go where it wants?


    I find myself slithering over there, regardless.


    Even as small as I currently am, the crack is only barely wide enough to slide through. I brush past Scia, who chirps happily and blinks onto my back, nestling comfortably in the same spot as ever.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    The tight passage immediately descends, clearly not leading up to where I want to go. I glance back to Scia, whose ears twitch with each chirp. Am I truly trusting the bat¡¯s direction? It could somehow detect the worm, so maybe I¡¯d be willing to give it the benefit of the doubt¡­ if we weren¡¯t going down.


    Scia, noticing my gaze, clambers along my back until they sit on my head, right between the eyes. The bat juts its head forward, small snout pointing toward the widening tunnel off to the left. I look into the indicated branching cave, but find it leads down further. Uncertain of their choice, my eyes return to my passenger, but Scia remains steadfast.


    I hiss, resigned to waste my time, and follow the bat¡¯s directions.


    At first, my doubt only grows. We continue downward long enough that I¡¯m sure it was a mistake to listen, but Scia is determined. It is only the odd sight of such a weak, lesser creature acting so confident that delays any attempt to turn around. I find it¡­ amusing.


    It¡¯s a bit like watching the playful bilbies. Do they jump around and act so self-assured because they don¡¯t realise how small they are, or does it have something to do with their short lives? Are they willing to put themselves in danger for enjoyment because they realise some predators cannot be run from? Is that why Scia sticks to me despite being the most terrifying existence it has seen? Because it knows its life is short and doesn¡¯t care?


    It makes some sense considering the sheer lack of self-preservation it has shown. But¡­ what does it find enjoyable about sticking near me? The constant proximity to a being of insurmountable power shouldn¡¯t be enjoyable, it should be terrifying.


    To my surprise, the tunnel eventually curves upward. The slope is steep, but by bending my body, I can keep my sides pressed against the wall for more grip and slowly push myself up. I can¡¯t slither as fast, but we rise quicker than anywhere else in the interwoven tunnels.


    After gaining quite a distance in this tunnel, it splits off again. I intend to follow my current path further up, as it has taken me this far already, but Scia shrieks at me, jutting its muzzle to the side. The indicated tunnel leads back down. I cast a doubtful gaze at Scia. As far as I can tell, we can still go a long while climbing this shaft.


    Scia is adamant. Not even looking anywhere besides the tunnel that will have us backtracking again. Little ears twitch often, but always return to the branching cave Scia points toward.


    I cast a last longing gaze at the shaft above before sliding through the opening to a wider tunnel. Scia was right once; I can at least give it the benefit of the doubt.


    Turns out, the bat is right again. Though this time, we aren¡¯t without obstruction.


    Ahead is a shaft opening in the ceiling of the cavern. Only, it is behind a forest of vine-like roots that hang from above. They hardly seem like a problem at first, but as I move toward the opening, I watch as they all reach for me. No, they don¡¯t reach for me; they¡¯re angled slightly too high for that. They reach for my little passenger.


    I poke my head into the first of the vines and while they let me brush them aside at first, the moment I try to pull back, they cling tight to my scales and wrap around my body. I snap them at the roots with a bit of strength, but the vines show greater strength than their size would indicate. If Scia were to get tangled¡­ well, I don¡¯t think there will be a Scia any longer.


    This is my opportunity, right?


    No. Scia¡¯s already proven effective at navigating these tunnels. I can get rid of the tiny bat afterwards.


    So, how do I get Scia across without being torn apart by these vines?


    The little bat, likely realising the problem, blinks right beneath the shaft we need to get to. They appear in the single spot where the vines don¡¯t grow, but that doesn¡¯t mean they are safe. Each of the vines leap toward the bat, trying to grab what placed itself right in the middle of its trap. Scia squeaks in fear and reappears on my back a moment before the vines can snatch her up in their grasp.


    My hiss of amusement is completely involuntary.


    Scia blinks to my snout and whacks me with her one good wing and chirps in anger, sulking. I should be annoyed, but her actions only incite more huffs of laughter from my throat.


    This little thing thought it was so clever.


    With slow motions, I bring my tail up to carry Scia off my head and place her on the ground. She maintains her pout the entire time, but doesn¡¯t avoid my touch.


    With Scia not with me, I choose the easiest solution and rush through the tunnel, tearing all the vines from their roots whether because they made the mistake of grabbing me, or snapping my jaw down on a bundle of them. Soon enough, the tunnel is clear.


    I slither toward the now unobstructed opening in the ceiling, but hesitate. Turning toward Scia, I wait for them to join me. With a happy chirp, the bat rides on my back once more, annoyance forgotten.


    I have to increase my size slightly to reach the ceiling, but as soon as I¡¯m inside, climbing isn¡¯t a problem. Only when there¡¯s too much space, or not enough, are vertical shafts difficult to climb. Regardless of my climbing ability, it becomes a non-issue soon enough.


    A viscous substance coats the walls of the vertical tunnel and clings to my scales as I make my way up. I could relax my muscles entirely and it would likely hold my weight. Annoyingly, the higher I climb, the thicker it gets. While it stops me falling, it only makes climbing slower than it could be.


    Somehow, I just know this sticky substance won¡¯t clean off easily.


    Scia sticks to the part of my back not drenched in the jam. I¡¯m tempted to twist my body so the little bat gets a taste of what I have to swim through¡­ but doing so would dirty even more of my scales.


    A tiny bug lands in the goo. It tries to eat the thick substance, but only sinks itself further. The minuscule life struggles longer than expected, before growing still, suffocating or drowning in the liquid.


    Well, Scia isn¡¯t the only one foolish enough to kill itself because it couldn¡¯t distinguish food from bait. The bat must sense my thoughts as she snubs her snout away from my gaze.


    I shake my head with a hiss and return to climbing through the sticky substance that easily beats the reek of carrion. That bug quickly turns out to have not been alone. Millions of the insects flow down into our shaft, each diving for the juice lining the wall as if their lives depend on it, only to have those lives taken away as they are consumed.

 Chapter 11: Excitement

    I¡¯ve seen plenty of strange creatures in my life. Some of them with strange abilities that make little sense. Some hardly distinguishable from the environment they live. But I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever come across such vast swarms of suicidal creatures as this. Bugs they may be, but even bugs have some level of self-preservation.


    The higher we climb, the more bugs rush past us. Only in areas along my scales where the sticky substance isn¡¯t too thick can the insects chew through it without getting stuck. Unfortunately, this means I¡¯ve become just as much an attraction for these creatures as the walls themselves.


    Scia clings to my back with a wing over its eyes. Strange, most other bats I¡¯ve seen would love this feast of bugs. Maybe this little one only eats fruits. Why cover the eyes, though? Bugs ¡ª no matter how many millions ¡ª are hardly something to fear.


    This time, I actively avoid thinking about how Scia shies away from bugs rather than my own intimidating form. The little bat is foolish and contradictory; there¡¯s no point fretting over its lack of intelligence.


    When I first started climbing through the swathes of bugs, I noticed nothing strange, but as the swarm thickens, something odd becomes apparent. There is a rippling of space billowing off each of the bugs. Individually, it¡¯s impossible to notice, but the adding effect of so many in proximity makes the peculiar spatial effect obvious.


    The oddity is subtle, not blocking sight at all, but with the spatial fabric essentially moving forward and back in rapid repetitive cycles, I cannot ignore it.


    I¡¯ve seen this before.


    Before the Titan took my home from me, this same ripple was at the top of that impossibly large voided column. Though, it wasn¡¯t as intense back then as it is now.


    Does this mean I¡¯m finally beyond the border? The ripple could be coming down from above as it did last time, and the increased number of bugs is just a coincidence. If only the bug swarm isn¡¯t so thick, I¡¯d be able to see what is above.


    What kind of world lies beyond what I know? What is that ripple? For all I know, there¡¯s a whole world to explore if I only push this final distance. A place impossible to imagine.


    Curiosity floods my mind.


    I freeze.


    The last time I was this close, the pain of failure had been far greater than I could have expected. Curiosity is a curse that only results in disappointment. Why am I letting myself fall for the same intrusive emotion that has already hurt me? I already know where this leads me, so why am I diving back into it again?


    I should back off now, while I still can. Don¡¯t let the malicious side of sapience win.


    My head twists down past my body, which pushes against the walls in a helix. The sight of the path I¡¯ve already trod isn¡¯t attractive at all, but it is what I need. Though, the moment I move, I hesitate. Curiosity clings to my thoughts and I cannot completely dispose of it, regardless of how bad I know it is. I want to know what lies above.


    Paralysed by indecision, I flop between curiosity and my hatred for the emotion. It isn¡¯t until Scia raises their head, squinted eyes peeking beneath a wing, that I consider any other thought. The little bat chirps, confused at my lack of motion. The action is innocent, but I take it as an accusation of why we¡¯re stopping when she put all that effort into finding the way.


    It¡¯s probably just my mind placing questions where they don¡¯t belong, but it does make me reconsider why we¡¯re doing this. Curiosity or not, I need to find my way beyond the borders. I¡¯m doing this to prove my emotions don¡¯t hold sway over my actions; to prove my spite for the Titan¡¯s words won¡¯t keep me still. If I let the fear of emotional pain stop my progress, then I have lost.


    I won¡¯t let the vindictive side of sapience win.


    In a motion fuelled by newfound dedication, I snap upward, tearing through the last of the tunnel before crashing into open space. I float in the air for a few moments, just taking in the massive cavern around me, before I crash back to the earth. Surprisingly, the ground isn¡¯t hard. I¡¯ve landed on a soft bed of platelet mushrooms that surround the hole I just came from.


    This space is massive. Larger than any other cavern I¡¯ve seen beside those submerged in the crippling depths or magma oceans. The ceiling is far higher than even my full length could stretch. Along the stone above, there are large, spider-like beasts. The abdomen is fatter than any other arachnid I¡¯ve seen, and considering the sheer size of the creature, it¡¯s no surprise I haven¡¯t seen them down in the distorted tunnels.


    The swarms of bugs are far more numerous up here. Most hover above my head, but they all stay below a certain height. They funnel down into the shaft I came from and extend to each side further than I can see. There are no walls, only the ceiling and the soft ground beneath me. As I look around, it is obvious the fungi only encircles the hole and doesn¡¯t actually cover everything.


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    The bugs still swarm me, the viscous liquid sticking to my scales irresistible to them.


    I don¡¯t have time to bask in this new place as motion from the tunnel tugs at my attention. Where the fungi bend down into the tunnel I came from, the platelet mushrooms convulse. They bend and spasm like an animal¡¯s throat attempting to swallow, but choking instead.


    In a moment, the struggle bursts and the resin lining the inner walls explodes out. It rains down on us. Scia squeaks in surprise, and blinks into the air to avoid it while I¡¯m drenched. She blinks back an instant later, doing her best to cling to wherever the juice is thinnest.


    Annoyed that all the scales I¡¯d tried to keep clean until now are filthy while this bat still gets off without so much as a touch, I roll over. She squeaks as her feet pull out from beneath her. I hiss in laughter at the sight of the little creature now equally drenched. Her eyes glare up at me before she blinks away. My laugh is quick to cut off when I notice the liquid doesn¡¯t follow. She appears on my back, clean once again.


    I¡¯m about to throw her back in, but a shriek pulls me away. Above, one of those arachnids scuttle over the rock until they¡¯re right above me. Then, with a push of its long narrow legs, it pounces.


    Oh? Is this what I¡¯ve been waiting for? A beast strong enough to challenge me? A creature as large as this will have the power to back up such a fearsome appearance, surely. This won¡¯t be another fight bullying the weak.


    There¡¯s not much time before it crashes on top of me, so I brush Scia off my back. The bat whimpers slightly as my tail hits its broken wing. I wince, but it would be much worse for them if they stayed with me in this fight.


    Why am I worrying about the little pest at a time like this? Not important. Focus.


    I notice her panicked gaze as she looks up right before she blinks beyond the edge of the fungal bug trap, but as soon as she¡¯s out of the way, all of my focus returns to this falling giant. The arachnid is about as large as my formerly favourite cavern, so regardless of any strange abilities, it has at the very least its mass in its favour. Taking the impact of its fall would be stupid while I¡¯m this small.


    In a single, smooth motion, my length bunches up and springs me to the side. Thankfully, the action whips away a good portion of that sticky liquid, along with many of the bugs trying their hardest to chase me. The arachnid hits the ground before I do, but the earth is still shaking when I land. Not letting that stop me, I slither to its side, where one of its long legs pierced deep into the stone.


    The creature feels larger up close. Few creatures I¡¯ve come across in the past ¡ª besides the Titan ¡ª have been this large, particularly because the size makes traversing the spatial bends much more difficult. Good luck catching prey if they can all disappear from your grasp with little more than a twitch.


    Apparently, up here, where there are no distortions and the cavern is wide enough not to pose a problem, creatures as large as this can thrive.


    Beyond. Is there a name for this beast? I want to know what to call this competitor.


    Nareau.


    Good. Now, let¡¯s see if this Nareau is strong enough to have gained sapience.


    The arachnid is too slow to pull its leg from the earth, giving me the perfect trunk to climb. While I could grow to my maximum size and fight mass against mass, I want to improve my capabilities at the more comfortable size. That will never happen if I always rely on weight to kill challengers¡­ not that I¡¯ve many such opportunities.


    Of course, I understand there is a certain weight at which no matter how hard I try I¡¯ll never be able to harm the larger beast, but until this Nareau proves I need to bring out more of myself, I¡¯ll keep to the size better for traversing distortions.


    The arachnid doesn¡¯t bother shaking me off its leg. Instead, it brings up its neighbour limb to brush me off. As rapid as the leg rushes down on me, it has nothing on the speed of most creatures down below. The sight of the leg does give me pause. It is a long pillar that tapers into a point. With all that weight bearing down on that sharp appendage, it¡¯ll be difficult for the scales of my current size to stop it.


    Leaping away, I cast my eyes around for usable bends, only to find none. How could I forget where I am? Sudden hesitation hits me. Without the environment I¡¯ve always fought in, can I really take on this predator?


    This is the first time I¡¯ve had an opportunity like this in a long time. I¡¯m not about to pass it up because I¡¯m disadvantaged.


    My tail snaps around the trunk before its second leg can hit me and I flick myself toward the next limb. I spin through the air for a moment; the uncontrolled action is so much more disorienting without the stabilising effect of my distortions. When I feel the leg hit my midsection, I wrap around it and reorient myself.


    A glance up at the head makes me reconsider my plan to reach its neck. Biting into the neck of prey, then choking off their circulation with constriction is my typical strategy, but the combination of its immense body and exoskeleton means that isn¡¯t an option. Not unless I put in the effort to break the shell first.


    The limb I cling to crashes into the earth. It cuts easily through the soft fungi, only for it to blow outward as the stone explodes below, flinging debris everywhere. The millions of flying bugs continue unperturbed as many of their kind fall dead, endlessly diving beneath the earth.


    I tighten, twisting in on myself until I hear cracks from the limb. Only moments after the sound reaches my ears does the exoskeleton shatter and I crunch through the weak, inner flesh. The leg buckles. I hit the ground as the Nareau collapses before it can readjust its weight. The arachnid shrieks, flooding the air with its pressure as the noise thrums through my spine.


    I dash away from the broken limb, brushing off the effect of its unrefined presence, and barely avoid its fangs as is slams its head into the earth. More of the fungal bug trap is destroyed, soil flung everywhere.


    After gaining some distance, I cast my gaze over my adversary. The one leg hangs limply, but it rises unperturbed. Well, it obviously isn¡¯t completely uncaring of the crippled limb if the raging shrieks that vibrate the air are any indication. It raises its head high, and rips its legs through the earth with each step, quaking the soil beneath my belly.


    Each destructive step displays the power of its weight, but the Nareau is clunky and unstable. While fast, any time it strikes with one of its long legs, it risks fracturing the ground it needs to walk. If not for the eight legs ¡ª seven now ¡ª it probably couldn¡¯t be this unrestrained.


    So far, the Nareau is a disappointment. If I take three more legs from it, I won¡¯t even need to rely on distortions or size.


    Above, a second arachnid scuttles across the ceiling. In a blink, it leaps down.


    Oh? Maybe this will be fun?

 Chapter 12 Arrogance

    The second Nareau crashes on top of the first, slamming it into the ground and sending tremors through the earth. If ranked stone did not brace the tunnels down below, I¡¯ve no doubt they¡¯d be experiencing some rather severe cave-ins right now.


    The arachnid below ¡ª the one with the shattered leg ¡ª screeches and tosses the other of its kin off. A couple of its front legs strike out, scratching deep grooves into the other¡¯s head, right between the rows of eyes. Our new participant returns the shriek with a slam of the body. The first¡¯s legs slice a distance through the ground, but despite missing a leg, doesn¡¯t lose its balance.


    Both Nareaus stare each other down, shrieking guttural growls, completely forgetting the original opponent.


    My stomach burns with anger.


    These creatures are clearly not sapient, but that is no excuse to ignore your stronger opponent. An insult even mindless beasts shouldn¡¯t commit.


    I hiss, flooding the sound with my presence, and in this undistorted place, it echoes off the walls, louder with each reverberation. It drowns out the Nareau¡¯s growls, silencing them. Both heads snap toward me, forgetting the dispute between themselves.


    Better.


    Besides the dangling leg of one, the arachnids are indistinguishable. From the huge bulbous abdomens to their slightly hairy leg chitin, they are the same. Even the way they both leap at me at once is identical.


    I spring to the side, soil and rock raining down over my scales. For two beings that were busy fighting only a moment ago, their coordination is incredible. Their sharp legs crash through the dirt with the full weight of their bodies in a unified attack.


    Before I coil myself to spring at their legs, I glance to where I threw Scia. It takes but a moment to spot the little bat where its eyes and ears poke out from some small burrow in the soil. Scia is further away than where I left them, so they probably blinked that far. Instead of hiding as she should, her eyes stay locked on the giant arachnids.


    I snap toward the arachnid further from Scia. As I fly through the air, I bend my body back and forth in a way that allows at least some sort of control over my flight. The one closer to Scia follows, almost bowling over its kin as it chases me. By the time I wind around the Nareau¡¯s leg, I realise the better option would have been the other arachnid. It¡¯ll be easier if I try to take down the already injured one first, then move on.


    It¡¯s too late for that, so I clench around the leg I already hold. In a moment, I hear the creaking of chitin, but it doesn¡¯t break before two other legs bear down on me. Without time to bunch myself up first, I spring away. The first leg narrowly misses, blasting me with a gust of air before a loud crack resounds as it hits the earth.


    I¡¯m not so lucky as to dodge the second. It¡¯s a clean hit, and if not for the momentum of flinging myself away, I¡¯d likely have been sliced in half. I knew those legs had mass behind them, but I have trust in my scales. What I didn¡¯t account for, was just how sharp those arachnid¡¯s legs truly were.


    The razor cuts through the hard scales of my back and gets stuck in a lower vertebra before launching me to the ground. Both the wound and impact hurt, but neither compare to the pain of failure. I shouldn¡¯t have let that hit me. If I¡¯d been treating this fight as seriously as if it were a proper opponent, it never would have.


    My body size doubles, reducing the wound through my lower spine to nothing more than an inconvenience. Because of my failure, I need to commit more strength to the battle than I should have needed to. I¡¯m still far smaller than these two, but it¡¯s the principle of the loss that grates at me. I could have beat them with less if I had been patient.


    My current problem is that with the combined number of their legs and fangs, there is no time to crush their legs without taking a hit myself. Those bladed limbs have already proven they can pierce my tough scales, so at least some care needs to be taken. There is an alternative, but it will rely on stupidity from my opponents¡¯ half.


    Curling my length, I wait for the Nareaus to act. When I¡¯m the one to initiate the attack, it gives them the time to strike before I can get away. It will be better to try a more reactive method.


    Both hulking masses barely stop for a second. They launch at me, large frontal legs all coming down on me at once. I dart forward, easily avoiding the strikes. Once I determine which is the seven-legged arachnid, I slither up a grounded limb closest to the other Nareau. I don¡¯t curl around it, nor do I clench too hard. My body clings to the inner side of the leg, ready to pounce in an instant and leave none of my tail curved where it will take longer to avoid any attack.


    The first leg strike, I avoid without leaping from the trunk of a limb. It takes a bit of finesse, but I noticed the arachnids have a tendency to strike along the outside of their stationary limbs. Not all that much of a surprise; the alternative would be far more clumsy without bending its body. Another benefit to the superiority of limblessness.


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    It is the strike from the eight-legged arachnid that I leap from. I¡¯d expected, or hoped, for one of its legs to crash down on me, and therefor the other arachnid¡¯s leg, but what I got was even better. The Nareau slams its head into the leg of its partner, both fangs clamping down on the space where I no longer hold. With no strength of my own, the seven-legged arachnid becomes six.


    Another wailing screech rings through the air as the second useless limb falls to the ground, completely torn free.


    The six-legged beast ignores me as I slither up another leg. It rises to three rear legs and attacks the uninjured arachnid with those remaining. The Nareau is fast enough to defend, raising limbs of its own to block, but one gets through its guard and cuts through the exoskeleton along its eyes. In a moment, the arachnid becomes half blind and blood gushes from the hole in its head.


    Both shriek at each other, forgetting my existence once again as Eight-Legs mimics Six-Legs with front limbs raised to attack. They try to strike at each other, but it mostly leaves them locked in a struggle of strength.


    They are punished for ignoring my presence. The leg I wind around crunches under my constriction, snapping and bending backward. Six-Legs ¡ª now Five-Legs ¡ª cannot hold its weight with only two legs and both buckle. Eight-Legs overpowers its kin and tosses it on its back, where it can do nothing but flail in vain as two legs pierce its abdomen and pin it for the fangs to crunch through the exoskeleton.


    Truly, these are dumb beasts. Far dumber even, than little Scia.


    Despite their strength, they mustn¡¯t be all that old to be this foolish. I even went out of my way to prove to them I am not a serpent to be ignored, and yet they forget within a dozen heartbeats.


    As one arachnid rips into the other, I consider reminding them who the true predator is¡­ but I feel it is too late for that. Any excitement I had for this fight is quickly fleeing at the clear lack of intelligence and competency.


    Five-Legs squirms under the grip of its less injured brethren. A powerful thrust of its remaining legs throws Four-Eyes ¡ª the half blind Nareau ¡ª away, allowing it to climb back to its feet, though not without difficulty. Fluids gush from the extensive injuries along Five-Legs¡¯ abdomen, blood and fleshy lumps escaping with each moment.


    It is resilient, I¡¯ll give it that. But it will not live much longer.


    Four-Eyes lands, unfazed, with another tremor through the ground. If I want to get anything beneficial from this fight, I need to remove one of them fast so the other has no choice but to focus entirely on me. Considering the circumstances, it is obvious which has to die first.


    My body springs forward, wrapping around one of the few remaining rear legs and crush it with a squeeze. Half-Legs lets out another shriek, but keeps itself upright. It twists on itself and bites at me with its fangs, but I¡¯ve already slithered up its back. Under the heavy weight of its abdomen and the burden of near-fatal injury, the arachnid¡¯s legs quiver. It is only barely keeping itself upright.


    The other Nareau faces us down, turning slightly so it can keep the side of its head that isn¡¯t dribbling blood looking toward us. It won¡¯t be long before it attacks again, so I need to make this quick.


    Going for another leg would likely be the safest option; once it can¡¯t walk, it can¡¯t defend itself. But that will take too long. Instead, I slither across the smooth, furless chitin of the arachnid¡¯s back until I reach its head. The beast is too large to wrap myself around the connection between body sections, so constriction won¡¯t work.


    Four-Legs bucks, its attention entirely back on me. The effort is almost enough to send me flying, but it lacks strength. It cannot twist its midsection far enough to reach me, and it needs each of its remaining legs to remain upright.


    I wrap around one of its fangs and brace my tail against the side of the arachnid¡¯s head. The tips of each are sharp enough to penetrate my scales, but not so the base. With as much strength as I can manage at this size, I leverage the fang away from its head, pulling it wider than natural.


    The other fang snaps and closes with each repeated shriek, but it cannot reach me.


    By the time I hear cracking from my assault target, the Nareau gives up any restraint it may have had. For the arachnid, this is now life and death. It abandons any effort to keep itself upright, first slamming its head ¡ª me included ¡ª into the ground. When that doesn¡¯t stop the pain, it curls over on its back and stabs at me with its remaining legs.


    Desperation has taken it, and while that desperation is likely its best bet, it only helps me tear the fang free sooner. Its jerky, distraught motions break the last of the exoskeleton holding the blade to its face.


    I tear it away. My body flings away with the sudden loss of resistance, but with Four-Legs sprawled over the soil, I don¡¯t go far. It is a simple matter of slithering back to its side to kill the thing. The Nareau lashes out wildly. Its fang remains gripped in a loop of my spine as I approach again.


    Four-Legs regains its composure, but by the time it does, it is already too late. I slam its own fang into its inverted head, right between a series of eyes. A screech cuts off halfway. Besides a few twitches of its remaining legs, it falls still. Dead.


    Nuisance out of the way, I turn to the other Nareau, only to fling myself sideways to dodge the massive arachnid¡¯s leap. It crashes into its dead brethren, crushing the motionless body further.


    The half blind Nareau spares its kin hardly a glance before returning its sight to me.


    Finally. No more distractions.


    Scia squeaks. I ignore the bat and slide through the soil toward my opponent. Scia chirps again, this time with far more haste, a tinge of desperation in its tone. Again, I ignore it and prepare myself to spring the moment the sole remaining Nareau attacks.


    The bat blinks on my back, squeaking into my ear with an unreasonable amount of fear. It is too late. The arachnid strikes, so I leap, Scia screeching all the while.


    As I narrowly pass the sharp leg, flying through the air, I see it. I see what has Scia so worked up.


    Another centipede, only this time it¡¯s almost as wide as these arachnids and twenty times as long. It has disgustingly numerous legs that seem to fade in and out of existence amongst the swarms of bugs. Three sets of fangs far more deadly than that of a Nareau bear down on me as it spears through the air from behind.


    Where did it come from? Something so large couldn¡¯t have possibly avoided my sight in this cavern.


    Its origin doesn¡¯t matter. What matters is that it¡¯s here and I have no way to avoid its bite. I¡¯m already mid-air, so I can¡¯t dodge. And it is impossible to grow fast enough to save myself with my size. I can only hope I don¡¯t die immediately.


    This would never happen in my warped tunnels.

 Chapter 13: Mortification

    A million thoughts spin through my mind in the instant before the fangs tear through my scales. How could I not notice? Did I approach this new area with too much arrogance? Am I going to miss out on seeing beyond the borders? But there¡¯s one thought that sticks out beyond the rest:


    I¡¯m going to die to a fucking centipede.


    There is not a more shameful way to go out. The disgusting, many-limbed creatures are the worst. They are bugs, and have more legs than any other creature. I cannot think of a worse death. Worse even, then the thought of choking on my own tail.


    Regardless of my sheer, unfiltered disdain for my fate, it is far too late to save myself. The centipede¡¯s trio of fang pairs are already in motion to clamp down on my much smaller size. Unlike the arachnids¡¯ fangs, which are more like lumps of chitin with sharp points at the tip, the centipede¡¯s are sharp and smooth the whole way along their ¡ª larger than me ¡ª length.


    Maybe if I had more time, I could try to squirm out of the way of the sharp points. But even then, I¡¯d need to avoid all three and that wouldn¡¯t stop the lower parts from slicing me in half.


    If only I took on my larger form for the Nareau. Sure, it wouldn¡¯t have been as enjoyable a fight, but I wouldn¡¯t have left myself so vulnerable. This isn¡¯t the warped tunnels. I should stop treating it as if I still have the same advantages as I did down there.


    But really, what sort of creature with this much strength behind it relies on ambushing? None of my competitors of the past ever bothered with it. Ah¡­ I shouldn¡¯t ask questions I already know the answer to.


    A centipede. A massive one, but still a centipede.


    Disgraceful, disgusting, leggy centipedes.


    Right before its fangs cut through me, Scia¡¯s squeak reminds me of her presence. Why did she join me? Somehow, she knew the centipede was coming even when I failed to see. So why place herself in the path of danger? It makes no sense.


    I brace for impact. Well, as much as possible while tumbling through the air. The flat, death-like eyes of the centipede stare into my own, but I don¡¯t back down. I glare back with a burning fury in my chest, not willing to submit, no matter how bad the situation looks.


    The fangs pierce my scales, one after the other. The sharp points slide into my body as time slows to a crawl. Neither twist nor flex remove me from the beast¡¯s maw. Each blade sinks deeper, another set piercing right below my head. Excruciating pain floods my spine as one of the first fangs slice through bone. A vertebra, severed.


    Then¡­ they disappear.


    The centipede blinks out of existence from right in front of me.


    I stare, uncomprehending, for a few moments until I realise it wasn¡¯t the centipede that disappeared, but myself. An immense weight slams into me, crashing me into the ground. Compared to my wounds, the impact is negligible. The centipede brushes over my head, momentum carrying it toward the arachnid.


    I disappeared from its clutches? It was only a short distance, but my body displaced far enough to avoid death in its fangs. How?


    The giant centipede doesn¡¯t lament the loss of food. No, it simply rams into the Nareau, carrying the arachnid off its feet with its far greater mass. A crunch resounds, echoing endlessly through the enormous cavern as its six fangs shatter through hard exoskeleton.


    The Nareau doesn¡¯t die immediately. It struggles and slams its sharp legs down on the centipede. Each strike cuts into the bug, but stuck as it is within the maw of the giant, it is obvious this is no competition. Both huge creatures crash back to the ground, splattering rock and dirt through the cavern. The quake that shakes through my spine is nearly as bad as those from the Other Side.


    Swarms of tiny bugs fly around the fight, completely uncaring for the duo as they battle for supremacy. While I can still see the arachnid clearly, wherever the centipede¡¯s body touches the swarm, it fades out of sight. The flutter between visible and not makes the creature appear unreal, but there is no doubting its presence.


    Never letting go of the arachnid, the centipede lifts its upper body into the air. It curls the first dozen legs and the accompanying chitin plated body sections around its prey and lifts the massive weight. I can¡¯t see where the centipede ends amongst the mist of bugs, but enough of it clings to the earth to heft the beast a third the way up to the ceiling far above.


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    With a single, rapid motion, the centipede slams back to the ground. The Nareau¡¯s head hits the earth with the full weight of both it and the centipede¡¯s bodies. Even for such a large, sturdy beast as the Nareau, the power of the blow is enough to snap the head.


    When the centipede uncurls, the arachnid is motionless. Its head hangs by threads from its abdomen, each leg slumped.


    The battle lasted mere moments.


    I watch, still confused over my survival, until a soft thump reaches my ears. Scia is there when I turn, tiny little form limp, sprawled in the dirt beside me.


    A gutting hollow feeling swells in my chest. Beyond even the pain of my dislocated spine, the sight of Scia unresponsive overwhelms everything. Thoughts of the centipede, the fight and my anger fizzle out of my mind. All that seems to matter is the small, defenceless form before me.


    Confusion. My mind is suddenly drowning in it. Why do I care about such a lesser being? It should have known sticking to me would be dangerous, so it¡¯s really just getting what it deserves¡­ but the sight pricks at me.


    Scia gasps, a deep, pained breath that does not wake the unconscious sciacylch. Each following breath is rapid and followed by a pained squeak.


    Relief ¡ª more than I should feel ¡ª hits me. Why am I acting like this?


    I inspect her body, looking for where she was hurt, but I can see nothing. Not so much as a scratch beyond her already injured wing. Watching her for a few more breaths, I realise she¡¯s exhausted, not hurt. But what could she have done that would exhaust her this much?


    Oh.


    That¡¯s impossible, right? She couldn¡¯t possibly¡­ Why would she even if she could? It would have been easier, safer, and smarter to simply fly away, but¡­


    Scia saved me.


    I don¡¯t understand it. The smart thing would be to run; to keep oneself safe. It wouldn¡¯t even have been difficult for her to just disappear, blink away without looking back. It is what I would have done.


    But she didn¡¯t do that. Scia snatched me right from the fangs of death.


    She placed herself on my back when she noticed the centipede. When I didn¡¯t listen to her warning, she didn¡¯t run. She stayed with me. Scia pushed herself further than I thought possible and created a distortion large enough to tear me out of the fangs of the larger beast.


    Scia, she¡­ even if she¡¯s foolish, I don¡¯t think she¡¯s dumb enough not to realise the danger she was putting herself in. This was intentional. She saved me from the centipede¡¯s clutches because she didn¡¯t want me to die.


    My chest writhes. It pulls in a dozen directions in a confusing mass of unfamiliar emotion. What is worse, is that some of those feel good. That is a terrifying prospect. A bait to lure me in with the intoxication of these¡­ warm emotions, only for the horrid rest to hit later.


    But¡­ maybe it wouldn¡¯t be too bad to keep Scia by my side.


    The centipede is coming again. Nareau forgotten, barely a bite taken from the beast before being abandoned. Through the swarm of flying bugs, I catch glimpses of its form through whatever strange effect keeps it hidden. It is coming this way.


    I look down on little Scia. Unconscious as she is, she won¡¯t be able to blink away to safety. Well, the least I can do is return the favour.


    This is no longer the time or place to hold myself back. The centipede has already taught me not to be so complacent when without my territorial advantage. I won¡¯t give it the opportunity to make any more foolish examples out of me.


    I unleash my full size. More bone, muscle, and scale appear into existence through my body. The full scale of my spine comes into reality, fixing the separation between vertebrae, leaving only a small chip to remind of the nearly fatal blow.


    While my body continues to grow, the centipede creeps through the swarm. Now that I¡¯m watching carefully, I can follow it, but I notice that ripple in space that the bugs give off doesn¡¯t seem to affect it all that much. With both the arachnid and my body, the spatial ripples seem to bounce off, but with the centipede, they simply flow through it.


    As my eyes follow the hints of the beast¡¯s movement, I ask the Beyond for the species¡¯ name.


    ¨­mukade.


    No elaboration, but most creatures don¡¯t. The ¨­mukade is clearly trying to sneak around, unaware that I can follow its movements. What is surprising is the absolute silence the cavern falls into once the last echoes of the battle die off. A being as large as this should make an impact with each step, both noise and tremors should shake the earth. It occurred for the Nareau, so a being at least ten times heavier should be no different.


    But no, Scia¡¯s panted breath is louder than the ¨­mukade.


    If it attacked immediately, it might have won with ease. But because it took to the bug swarm, I¡¯ve had the time to grow. Now, it¡¯ll get a fight it never expected.


    Before battling the arachnids, I was about as long as one of those merminea and as thick as its ankle. Now, I¡¯m wider than I was long, and thirty times longer. I am, annoyingly, not as large as the ¨­mukade, but I easily clear the mass of the Nareaus by quite a bit.


    I slither around Scia, keeping myself between her and the beast that thinks it can get the jump on me twice. At this size, my scales dig through the soil with each movement, creating trenches all around Scia. The constant rumble my slithering thrums through the earth would collapse any lesser cavern. Clearly, I have nothing to worry about if beasts as large as the Nareau and ¨­mukade are common here.


    The centipede stops moving to the side. I tense up, ready. Everything stills, and if I wasn¡¯t paying close attention to the jagged sections of chitin that rise above the bug swarm, I¡¯d almost think the creature disappeared.


    Scia whines behind me, but I don¡¯t look. The ¨­mukade strikes. I snap forward to intercept.


    Now, I think it¡¯s my turn to teach this shameful bug a lesson.

 Chapter 14: Superiority

    The ¨­mukade is quick, but I am quicker.


    It moves silently, cleaving through the swarm of hovering bugs with vicious intent. If it thought it could catch me off guard twice, it has another thing coming.


    I strike. My tail and body crush earth beneath me as I push off. Unlike the centipede, I am not quiet. The pounce shakes the earth. Dust flakes from the ceiling far above. A roar of force rips off my side as the air shatters under my strength, shrieking out my rage for me.


    My jaw slams into the centipede¡¯s underbelly. The large upper fang pair pierce the chitin easily, and I clamp down, the smaller, but no less sharp, teeth clench into the chitin. They don¡¯t pierce all the way through like my fangs, but cut into enough of the armour to hold firm.


    While I am faster, the centipede is larger than myself. Our momentum snaps to a halt in mid-air.


    The centipede recoils. It pulls away, but my fangs are already deep within its body; the only way it escapes now is if it kills me. I immediately twist. My grip drags the ¨­mukade into a spin, where I curl my body around it and squeeze. The constriction unfortunately doesn¡¯t crush it, but the goal is to lock down as much of its body as I can for now. The less it can move, the easier it is for me.


    A hundred legs strike out at my scales as the beast flails. With nothing of my body held back, the clawed limbs do little more than scratch my hard, interlocking scales. Of course, it isn¡¯t the legs I¡¯m concerned about.


    I twist my body, paying close attention to where the head of the centipede is. It would have been better to bite the ¨­mukade near the head, preferably on the back. That would have been optimal, but I didn¡¯t want to throw away the chance while I had it. Not with the size advantage it has.


    I do my best to keep those mandibles away from biting me. My tail tip wraps around its head and holds it away; the only part of my length not clenching to constrict and crush. The centipede jerks, making mighty efforts to break from my grip and snap its own fangs through my scales, but despite the massive weight difference, I am stronger.


    As a snake, I¡¯m all muscle, while the centipede has to lug around that heavy shell of an exoskeleton. I¡¯ve got it in my grip. The fight is already over.


    We finally crash to the ground. My head impacts first, squashed beneath mine and the ¨­mukade¡¯s combined weight. I¡¯m dazed for a moment, but my fangs only slide deeper. The centipede takes advantage of the moment and slams its head down onto my back. All three pincer pairs cut through scale and clench into my spine. Unlike the earlier strike, my bone is denser, so it doesn¡¯t shatter my vertebrae, but that doesn¡¯t reduce the pain of those massive pincers.


    Now on the ground, the centipede¡¯s legs no longer flail around uselessly. They dig into the earth wherever they can and give the beast more control over the situation than I like. With grip and strength it couldn¡¯t pull off before, it tugs at my back. The strain on my fangs intensifies, but its attempts to remove my teeth are pointless.


    I tighten my grip, pulling its head closer to my back to stop its attempts to tear me from its belly. With all those fangs scraping along my spine, I don¡¯t want it tugging so hard. My body flips again, doing its utmost to keep the centipede on its back, where it can¡¯t dig its legs into the stone and compete.


    Now that I am in control of the situation, limiting movements of the larger creature, I contract to my full capacity. Slowly but surely, my grip becomes tighter. I leverage against my loops of muscle to clamp down harder with each moment. The legs pinned beneath my scales are likely all crushed, but the centipede has plenty to spare. They never stop squirming. Never cease their attempts to save itself.


    We both feel when its carapace cracks under my assault. The slight thrum vibrates through my chest, and I¡¯m sure the pain hits the ¨­mukade all at once. I hold tight, but the centipede finally seems to realise the danger it is in. As if it never even considered me a threat with my teeth deep in its gut.


    In an instant, its struggles redouble in intensity. A desperation engulfs its being and a strength it didn¡¯t show before enters its squirming efforts. The mandibles snap open and closed in a rapid flow, ripping into my back. I try to take advantage and pull its head away from me, but there is always one pair clamped down, so it doesn¡¯t budge.


    The rapid, snapping fangs dig through scale with each bite. It feels horrible and I¡¯m sure it looks just as bad, but eventually the pincers dig deep enough that the ¨­mukade is satisfied and they lock. Each pair wrap through my midsection, pushing past ribs and clamping down around my spine.


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    Its bite is agonising, but I direct the adrenaline to holding tight and crushing my opponent. We¡¯re both clamping down on the other. Now we just need to wait and see who drops out first.


    This is what I wanted. It may be a centipede, but it¡¯s a true challenger. An opponent able to get my blood pumping and scales dirty. How long has it been since I¡¯ve had a fight like this? Where I neither had to hold myself back, nor have victory delivered with ease? I can enjoy the struggle of combating another apex, where, while a challenge, isn¡¯t impossible as with the Titan.


    This is the fight I wanted¡­ but I can¡¯t enjoy it nearly as much as I want to. The prone, vulnerable form of Scia still laying on the ground behind me lingers in my mind. This isn¡¯t a battle for supremacy, but one to protect. That this centipede would try to harm her¡­ it fuels my anger more than it should.


    Getting angry in a fight isn¡¯t uncommon, even before receiving the emotions of sapience, but this rage is different. Invasive. How dare this ¨­mukade threaten what is mine. This loathing I feel is overwhelming. Almost comparable to what I feel for the Titan that took everything from me.


    I don¡¯t want to lose Scia. She somehow managed to make me care enough that returning to being alone seems like the less preferable outcome. This centipede is in the way of that, and while I love a good fight, that has taken second place to Scia¡¯s safety.


    With a mighty yank, the ¨­mukade pulls at my spine. The pain is unbearable, but even if I had wanted to tear out my fangs, they are too deep to pull out with any sort of ease.


    I clench ever tighter, rewarded by a series of cracks and the buckling of chitin beneath my scales. The centipede stops pulling, and for a moment I believe that it has given up, but that is too hopeful. It yanks again. Each time it pulls, it can only do so for a short time before it has to stop and begin again.


    What will win: its short, intense bursts of power; or my constant, overbearing strength?


    It tugs once more, but it isn¡¯t my spine that fails. The centipede pulls my back, which takes my head along with it. In a shower of bug blood, my fangs tear free, taking a not insignificant chunk of its underbelly chitin with plenty of gooey flesh.


    My fangs ache, but now that they¡¯re free, there¡¯s only one thing to do. I twist, and in one smooth motion, clamp my jaw around the spot I would have liked initially; right in the back of its head. Long teeth pierce deep.


    I¡¯m contorting my body rather extremely to hold this position, but it¡¯s worth grabbing a hold above its fangs. While instincts scream at me to tear off the beast biting into my back, I know that will result in the same outcome as what the centipede just inflicted itself. Instead, I hold the head still. It struggles for all its worth ¡ª the immense mass it throws around isn¡¯t something that can be brushed aside ¡ª but my neck is far stronger than my tail. Its jerking motions no longer tug at my spine.


    Another crack echoes through the vast cavern. A shriek quickly overwhelms all other sounds. The ¨­mukade strikes each of its legs into whatever it can; my scales, the earth, even through the swathes of flying bugs. Its fangs let go of my back, and before it can change its mind, I tear its head away from me and slam it face first into the earth where those large pincers can no longer injure me.


    It is desperate to survive now. The centipede disregards any attempt to kill as its priorities switch to escaping, but my tight grip prevents it doing much more than squirming.


    The single clawed legs scratch up my scales, but never pierce through. Only those that find the wound in my back have any success latching on. I ignore them; they are preferable to having the ¨­mukade¡¯s fangs tearing through me. Most of its other limbs tear through the soil, churning rock as if it were water. In some places it digs deeper, striking through ranked stone with ease.


    The giant¡¯s movements are unguided. The limbs struggle, desperate for anything to remove its long chitinous body from the grasp of the stronger predator. Unfocused as they are, each swipe through the swarm surrounding us does something that I can¡¯t understand.


    Whenever I move, the million bugs emitting those strange ripples into space flee from me. They stay away. Not only from me, but through the cavern, they keep some distance from any of the creatures hiding from the battle between two apexes. All besides this ¨­mukade.


    The thick swarms do not keep their distance from the centipede. Whenever its legs swipe through the cloud of bugs, they barely react. It¡¯s like they don¡¯t even notice the giant¡¯s presence. Each time the beast desperately slashes its legs into the swarm, that ripple of space floods through the centipede¡¯s body, giving me an incredibly strange view into its insides.


    No blood, no organs, no nothing that should be there. Instead, it gives the beast an appearance of non-existence and transparency despite it obviously being right here in my grasp.


    It¡¯s an odd ability, but not one that will help it escape me.


    A section of the chitin along its lower back collapses, the soft flesh beneath pulps in an instant. The ¨­mukade screeches in agony. It tries to strike its mandibles at me again, but my grip is firm. Each pincer digs through the earth, not finding their intended mark.


    With some of its exoskeleton shattered, the cracks are quick to spread. In no time, my constriction breaks through more and more of the centipede. I don¡¯t let up on my strength even slightly until the ¨­mukade stops shrieking its pain to the world.


    Slowly, I slide my fangs out of the chitin. My competitor is not yet dead, but it no longer has the strength to fight. While keeping the beast wrapped enough that it can¡¯t suddenly try anything unwise should it get another burst of energy, I raise my head high. A mighty, deep hiss echoes through the cavern. A call of victory. An expression to claim my superiority. I am still at the top, regardless of the existence of Titans.


    My gaze falls down to the twitching centipede beneath me and despite having only eaten a dozen sleeps ago, a ravenous hunger overwhelms me. I really shouldn¡¯t make the attempt with a creature more than double my weight, but the victory against a proper challenger has me salivating. Doesn¡¯t help that it smells so good.


    I shouldn¡¯t try, but there¡¯s no resisting. This will be the biggest feast I¡¯ve had.

 Chapter 15: Reticent

    Despite going through with swallowing a creature double my weight, I never thought I¡¯d actually be able to eat the ¨­mukade. The centipede was at least twice my length. There¡¯s no way it should have all fit.


    But it did.


    Somehow, I consumed the giant whole. I¡¯d been expecting to tear the beast in half once I was full, but there was no need. It just kept going. I¡¯m so gorged that I can¡¯t eat a single leg more, but the urge to regurgitate thankfully doesn¡¯t come.


    The post feast lethargy hits me like a wave. It always happens, but I have something more important to do than sleep right now.


    I slither along the soil, gazing across what was our battlefield. Because of the way I fight, it was restricted to a rather small section of the cavern, but nothing within that area remains untouched. A thousand gouges overlap through the earth, leaving it a mess of loose soil and gravel. Only where the weight of my or the centipede¡¯s body pressed against the ground does it remain somewhat flat, but even that is compressed and entrenched.


    The fungi hole with all that flying bug attracting juice is nowhere to be seen. Our combined struggle clearly having torn any of the plate mushrooms from the ground. There are a few recognisable scraps a fair distance from our battlefield, likely flung away before they could be mulched.


    My body is sluggish. The wound in my back aches a lot more than I want now that the adrenaline fades. All I can do is ignore it until it heals. With such a massive meal in my gut, I¡¯m sure to recover quick, but it is that very meal itself which slows me down more than anything.


    Each twist of my spine feels like I¡¯m carrying five of myself. Not an issue in itself ¡ª not with my strength ¡ª but on top of my growing exhaustion, it is draining.


    My scales are scratched to damnation. I¡¯d thought the filth and nicks I¡¯d gotten in my fleeing from the Titan were bad, but there will be no buffing these out with baths of sand and moss. No, the only way these deep cuts into my scales will recover is my next moult.


    Those claws dug through my body a lot deeper than I thought. If the centipede had focused its strikes, it would have taken no time to dig through my scales. A few grooves cut deep enough it wouldn¡¯t even take a full strength strike to break through.


    I finally return to little Scia. She¡¯s still passed out from the exertion of creating a distortion large enough to pull me out of the path of danger.


    For a while, I do nothing. I just stare down at the little bat as she sleeps.


    She put herself in danger to save me. That¡¯s not something I can truly understand, but I¡­ I can¡¯t try to run from her anymore. If she really wants to join me, then I can only welcome her.


    The emotions she incited within me in that moment are strange. Some filled me with warmth and others a horrid dread. But even with the appearance of newfound negative emotions, I didn¡¯t completely hate them.


    One of those negative feelings disrupted my enjoyment of a battle with a competitor ¡ª a fight I¡¯ve been waiting so long for ¡ª and yet succeeding still felt amazing. It wasn¡¯t so much the battle itself which was exhilarating, as it was in the past, but knowing I took away a threat to my little¡­ friend.


    I¡¯m far too full right now to shrink back to my favoured size. No, even if I wasn¡¯t digesting, I couldn¡¯t allow myself to be as carefree as I was before. I don¡¯t have the benefit of distortions as I usually do at that size, so I need to remain as large as I am while up here. With as large as this cavern is, it should pose no problem to mobility.


    Lethargy only grows through my body, and I realise there is no holding this rest off. There are still a few of those arachnids along the ceiling a fair distance away, but without the bugs swarming as they did when I had the viscous substance sticking to me, they appear completely uninterested with what is below.


    I¡¯m not all too concerned about them, but Scia will be vulnerable while I sleep. Well, the solution to that isn¡¯t difficult. I slither up beside her, twisting around until she¡¯s encased in a dome of my coils. I¡¯m far too heavy for her to handle even the slightest touch, but by leaving a wide space within the walls of my body, there shouldn¡¯t be a problem.


    Laying my head down on top of my coils, I¡¯m asleep in moments.


    ???


    I wake to the sound of a high-pitched droning wail.


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    The first thing I notice is the permeating fatigue isn¡¯t completely gone. My body feels better, but it feels like I got less than a quarter of the rest I need. While my back aches and muscles scream for slumber, it isn¡¯t overwhelming. My body has the energy to find that annoying noise.


    It doesn¡¯t take long.


    As soon as I lift my head, the wailing stops. My eyes drop to the safe pocket between coils. There, Scia stares up at me, shivering in terror.


    Her eyes widen, almost further than they should for one so small. Scia¡¯s lightly furred body shivers, but makes no attempt to move. Her eyes stiffen, unable to look away from mine.


    Scia is terrified of me.


    I hiss in exasperation. The loud, reverberating sound bounds through the cavern, and I watch as a dozen creatures dive for cover. Scia herself quivers, the earth shaking beneath her from the power of my voice.


    My hiss cuts short.


    Ever since I first found her, Scia has refused to show any amount of fear at my presence, regardless of my attempts or disdain. Only now that I don¡¯t want her to leave does she show appropriate horror of her proximity to an apex predator. This has to be some manipulation of a greater being. The Titan must be messing with me¡­ however it might be doing that.


    Will Scia run? Does she need to wait until I unwind my coils before she can make an escape hole for herself?


    I have a sudden temptation to clamp down on my pile around her. To block off any path outward and prevent any chance to flee. The desire to hold Scia back and prevent her from running away consumes me, but doing such a thing without killing her would be impossible. And I no longer want her dead.


    Even if I wrapped myself around her, space cares not for such barriers. Not even a serpent¡¯s superior scales can disrupt the flow of space. She can escape easily.


    I¡¯ve wanted her fear for a while, but now that I have it, it is regretful. The distasteful feeling of disappointment digs at my innards. I¡¯m full, absolutely stuffed, and yet my stomach feels hollow.


    Scia is minuscule now. At least, she appears so from my full size.


    Before, she was about the size of a scale. The tiny claws of her wings stretched across three or four, and her full wingspan maybe double that. After revealing my full size, wingtip to wingtip doesn¡¯t make a single scale. Not even close. Now, she¡¯d fit in the gap between adjacent scales. The smallest of the teeth hidden in my gums are at least half a dozen times larger than her.


    I guess I do pose a far more intimidating image at this size.


    Despite my fatigue, I uncoil. Things have changed now. I don¡¯t want to run her off, but as more of the cavern opens up to her, I can do nothing but wait for her to disappear. Never to be seen again.


    Any second now, she¡¯ll run, and I¡¯ll be alone again. I don¡¯t know why, but the thought is displeasing. For thousands of hunts, I¡¯ve not had an annoying little bat follow me around, and never had an issue. Returning to that shouldn¡¯t be difficult.


    Soon, my length is entirely to one side of Scia. She has any direction of choice to run, but her eyes linger on mine, as frozen as the moment we first locked them. The earth around her is¡­ well, the only way to describe it is devastated. Deep trenches curve through the ground where my movement carved it away. It is especially bad where I slept. Really, the only place untouched is where Scia lays.


    Her eyes finally move elsewhere than mine after I look away to inspect the environment. They slowly trail down my form, taking in my sheer size and how the earth trembles with each of my motions.


    My head drops to lay on the ground before her, slightly submerging in the soil. The motion is completely subconscious on my half, but I don¡¯t oppose. It is completely against my nature as an apex predator to lower myself, but I can ignore the instinct to hold myself tall, just this once.


    Scia¡¯s eyes linger on the wound in my back, and somehow, her eyes widen even further than before. Those orbs will fall out of her head if she isn¡¯t careful. It¡¯s understandable, though; the open wound is a rather gruesome sight. She¡¯s probably disgusted by it. Dried blood paints every scale over my midsection, and the injury itself has bits of my spine open to air.


    It will heal ¡ª it has in the past ¡ª but it doesn¡¯t make a pleasant sight.


    Scia chirps and disappears.


    Well, I expected it, but watching her run off stings. I¡¯m not sure what this emotion is, but it¡¯s just another in the pile of reasons sapience truly isn¡¯t worth it. The good ones I felt since coming up into this cavern ¡ª the satisfaction of an answered curiosity, and the strange complex weave of them that came with being saved ¡ª they must all have been a fluke. Bait and temptation at most.


    I hear the chirp again, and turn to see Scia. She¡¯s almost unnoticeable upon the vastness of my back, but there she is, holding into the groove between scales as she looks into my ugly injury.


    Is she mad that her typical riding spot is gone? Wait, no¡­ she hasn¡¯t run?


    As if in response to my silent question, Scia turns her wide, wet eyes up at me and squeaks.


    Once again, I¡¯m astonished by the actions of this little bat, but this time, I feel nothing but warmth. It¡¯s a strange sensation, and is not one I¡¯m familiar with, even amongst the new emotions of sapience. Scia isn¡¯t afraid¡­ or at least was able to brush off her fear in concern for my injury. With her own wing in such a state, she really shouldn¡¯t be so concerned about others¡­ but I find that foolishness no longer annoys me.


    I bring my tail up to my wound, and, careful not to bring it near Scia, I slide it over the air where my missing scales are. My intent was to show that it will be okay after a while, but the way Scia keeps staring up to me with those tiny-yet-massive eyes, I don¡¯t think the message gets through.


    As great as it is that Scia wants to stay by my side despite the terror of my size, my body is still screaming for rest. I curl up into the same coil as before and nudge my head toward the little island of untouched earth. Scia, thankfully, gets what I mean and blinks within my scales. The little pocket between my length should be enough protection for her while I rest.


    My head lays upon the cushioning of my midsection, and I fall into slumber in more comfort than I¡¯ve felt since losing the warm energy of my former favourite resting spot.

 Chapter 16: Rejuvenation

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    When I wake again, the first thing I see is Scia. Her minuscule form rests leisurely on the flat top of my snout, both wings lifting a piece of mushroom to her mouth, where she takes the tiniest of nibbles.


    The injured wing, while not yet healed, looks much better. She moves it without twinges of pain, which is better than can be said of her state before my rest.


    It¡¯s surprising to see her out from the safety within my coils. I never move in my sleep, so she shouldn¡¯t have needed to leave, but I guess she got hungry. She faces away from me, her ears swivelling every which way as she lets out the occasional light chirp. Scia sits there, watching over the cavern as if she will protect us from any threat.


    I find it amusing.


    Unless there¡¯s another of those ¨­mukade around, I¡¯m not too concerned, and I doubt there would be another anywhere near. It is rather obvious now that the wide tunnel filled with half-eaten corpses was the ¨­mukade¡¯s nest. Such an aggressive being wouldn¡¯t allow a competitor to its superiority go unchecked. Even if it had some restraint against one of its own kind, it wouldn¡¯t have left me alone long enough to rest.


    With my post-meal rest, I¡¯m feeling much better. Not even my back hurts all that bad. With the slightest motion, I lift and turn my head to the wound only to see it almost completely recovered. A new layer of scales have almost grown in as well.


    I stare, surprised. This is far more rapid a recovery than I¡¯m accustomed. Just how long was I asleep?


    My subtle movement wasn¡¯t subtle enough, apparently. Scia turns, squeaking and jumping on a scale above my nostrils. She looks so small. I know she seemed so before, but I didn¡¯t think she was this tiny when I went to rest. On legs and wings, she scampers up my snout, closer to one of my eyes.


    Her limp is obvious, but the fact that she can put any weight on the wing is a vast improvement to before. Scia stops before my eye, hanging off the side of my head to squeak happily at me. She is too close. It would have been easier to look down at her if she stayed in her spot above my nostrils.


    Scia hangs upside down, but still somehow jumps around in excitement. She blinks to the other side of my head, to chirp at that eye too. In the time I¡¯ve slept, she has become rather comfortable climbing all over my body.


    She sticks to the edges of my scales, where it¡¯s easier for her tiny claws to grip. I suppress a hiss as Scia continues her happy little greetings, knowing the sound will startle her. While she chirps eagerly and repeatedly, I take the time to unwind my coils.


    My rest was satisfying, but it¡¯s left me stiff and tight. With Scia leaping all around my head, excessive excitement bleeding through every action and noise, I move. There¡¯s no goal for now. I just slither forward tepidly to let my spine flex and stretch.


    It feels great to extend my full body like this. Not even in my territory cavern could I stretch my unhindered length straight. This vast expanse was worth coming to, even if it turns out a waste of time.


    While getting some movement in feels great, the tightness doesn¡¯t dissipate. My skin grips tighter than it should. The sensation is familiar; I¡¯ll be due to shed soon. It¡¯s far earlier than expected, but I¡¯m happy to restore my scales to their former sheen. The time spent compressed within too small skin is never enjoyable, though.


    Scia finally settles down and returns to the small pile of mushroom at the end of my snout. Am I too big for her to return to that same spot on my back? Well, it matters little. She better clean up any crumbs she drops, but she can stay there. It¡¯ll be easier to keep an eye on her, anyway.


    The surrounding area is the same as when I fell into slumber; destroyed and covered in flying bugs. Not seeing any reason to stick around, I choose a direction and slither. The hole in the earth shows some signs of the fungi regrowing, but it is there should I want to return down to the labyrinth. Although, now that we¡¯ve reached further than I¡¯ve ever been, going back is the last thing I want to do.


    There¡¯s not any difference in the cavern. Each direction is the same. A ceiling far above, and the earth below, but no matter where I look, there is nothing connecting the two. The range of my sight isn¡¯t as far without the distortions of space, yet I wouldn¡¯t consider it short. We¡¯ll have to travel and see what we can find.


    A few Nareau linger on the ceiling in the distance, but none show any detection of my movement. Considering they each have eight eyes, one would think they wouldn¡¯t lack in sight, but I guess not. Each cling to the ceiling. Not one sticks to the lower ground where the swarms of bugs hover. With how quickly they threw themselves down to attack earlier, they have a way to climb back up. I just have to find it.


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    Distance disappears rather quickly at this size. Each slither covers more ground. Soon, we¡¯ve left the site of my battle and head deeper into the unknown. I should clamp down on the feeling, but excitement fills me at the thought of what might lie ahead. Curiosity is something I should avoid, but the satisfaction of discovering this massive, open cavern was indescribable ¡ª incomparable to the satisfaction of a full belly, as I¡¯d assumed ¡ª and I wanted more.


    Scia apparently agrees with my notion. Now that she¡¯s calmed down after my awakening, she stands tall at the tip of my snout, holding her head high as she looks over the path before us. She holds herself a sentinel against threats, her ears flickering this way and that with the occasional squeak.


    I¡¯m starting to think she has a sense of sight that I can¡¯t understand. She¡¯s always chirping when her ears twitch like that. She might just have far greater hearing than myself ¡ª which is something I don¡¯t like to admit, even if I find it mostly useless ¡ª but I think it¡¯s more than that. The way she guided us through the labyrinth couldn¡¯t have been done with sound alone.


    In the distance, the swarm of bugs gradually flows in a single direction. Curious of what attracts them so, I follow. In no time, another fungal growth comes into view. Just like the one I crawled out from, the circular platform of platelet mushroom is identical. Even the hole in the centre where all the bugs dive into is the same.


    It¡¯s good to know that there are other entrances down into the labyrinth below, so I won¡¯t need to remember the location of the first to return to my warped tunnels. As I¡¯m still looking for a way up, I ignore the bug trap. It¡¯s helpful, sure, but not immediately.


    Each slither across the earth carves away more dirt, leaving an obvious trail in my wake. The vibrations through the earth are enough to send many critters fleeing. Surprisingly, most freeze, lower themselves, or otherwise try to hide themselves. Only, no matter their attempts, they remain visible. Do they not realise how obvious they are out in the open like that?


    After some time, a wall finally appears ahead of me. For a vertical surface of rock, the cavern wall is a lot more daunting than it should be. The flying bugs don¡¯t go anywhere near it, and the sudden transition from ground to wall is unnatural compared to the typical cave formations I¡¯m used to.


    A wall like this will be difficult, if not impossible to climb. Too vertical. Too smooth. And nowhere to go should I actually reach the ceiling.


    The wall extends far to each side, disappearing beyond the range of my sight. If I had to guess, it likely curves around at some point, encapsulating this cavern. Not at all unlike any of the caves down below, only at a far greater scale.


    I¡¯ve already encountered two species of beast larger than most; with such vast space, what other kinds of creatures can flourish?


    Movement to the side catches my eye. A large bat ¡ª the same species as the corpse we¡¯d passed in the centipede¡¯s den ¡ª flies down from somewhere above. I watch it closely until it is clear the creature is flying away from us.


    My body moves forward, intending to give the massive wall a closer look, but the actions of the large bat recapture my attention. It lands on one of those fungi traps and shoves its head into the hole, gulping down thousands of bugs with each bite.


    The bat crouches there, eating swathes of bugs as they dive by the million into the mushroom funnel, completely oblivious to the death that follows. Like when I climbed out, the wide platelet fungi trembles under the weight of the bat, and explodes vast quantities of adhesive liquid. The bat, leaning over the chute as it is, gets completely drowned.


    With a screech and a flail, Scia¡¯s large cousin scampers into the air. Despite the jam weighing it down, the bat can still fly.


    It is not yet free from danger. Those bug swarms that the bat leisurely chomped through now turn on it. The many millions of tiny flying insects chase the jam-coated bat through the air. A carpet of bugs becoming a raging ocean as they turn the predator into prey.


    The bat does its best to flee, but the insects are too quick. They swarm it as they did to me when I was covered, and eat all the viscous liquid they can, even if they chew the bat¡¯s flesh by mistake.


    With so many of the insects together, the strange ripple billowing off them amplifies to intense levels. What I had thought were harmless, suicidal creatures, now tear through flesh with viciousness.


    Unfortunately for the bat, the suddenly carnivorous insects are the least of its worries. As it screeches and attempts to escape, its life comes to an abrupt end as a Nareau snaps it out of the sky as it falls from above.


    It¡¯s hard to tell whether the initial impact killed the bat, or its death came with the arachnid¡¯s collapse to earth, but regardless, the bat is nothing more than paste beneath the large beast.


    The Nareau allows the bugs to gather on the now lifeless bat before it begins its feast. Despite not being all that far from me, the arachnid shows no acknowledgement of my presence. How could it notice the bat and not me? My movement isn¡¯t exactly silent.


    On the tip of my snout, little Scia stares over the events with horror. Despite the separation between species, watching something that looks similar enough to herself die in such a gruesome fashion must be shocking. Maybe it reminds her of other sciacylch that have died.


    Scia curls up and blinks behind my head, as if to hide from the arachnid. It is incredibly hard to see her where she¡¯s placed herself; barely noticeable at the fringes of my sight, and it isn¡¯t like she weighs enough to be felt. If she stays there, I won¡¯t be able to watch her.


    Maybe it¡¯s because I just witnessed a bat¡¯s bloody death, but I don¡¯t want her out of sight.


    I tap the tip of my snout with my tail. It takes a few tries before the little one finally understands what I¡¯m asking and finally crawls back across my head, and sits where she was, less enthusiastic than before.


    We move on.

 Chapter 17: Vertigo

    We have spent many sleeps within this large cavern. Enough time to know that there aren¡¯t any passages through the walls themselves.


    The tall, vertical walls do eventually circle around to meet again, but even along all that length, they remain unnaturally flat. Sure, there are some rocky protrusions here and there, but never enough to provide a platform to climb.


    I¡¯d expected some form of cave along its length, but nothing of the kind appeared. Above, in the ceiling, there are the occasional wide, yet shallow holes in the rock, but without a way to climb up there, they are out of my reach.


    While the Nareau are numerous, I¡¯ve yet to see another of the ¨­mukade. The huge centipede was the only of its kind in the area. Not surprising considering the blood-thirst of the creature; a second would only intrude on their hunting grounds.


    I want to climb to the ceiling. I want to see what lies above. But to reach those holes far above, some destructive digging will be required. Something I wanted to hold off until certain there was no other way up.


    Those walls might very well be the only thing holding all the rock above from collapsing on us. Cave-ins have always been dangerous, but now that I have Scia with me, well¡­


    Before that, my scales itch.


    The tightness of my skin has grown more restrictive with each passing moment. I¡¯ve done my best to ignore it until now, but I can¡¯t put off my moult any longer. The stiffness of my transparent eye scales is growing to be a problem.


    The only reason I¡¯ve held it off this long is because I was hoping to find water. Shedding is far easier and more pleasant underwater than trying to do so while rubbing against earth. Of course, I wasn¡¯t lucky enough to find some lake to do so, nor did I have as long of a warning as usual, so I¡¯ll have to settle for where I am.


    After signalling Scia to move, I press my head down into the dirt. My snout brushes away mounds of normal dirt and rock before I reach ranked stone and scrape my foremost scales against the sharp cropping until they tear.


    To my side, Scia pushes her own head into the dirt, imitating me.


    I distinctly remember this being far easier than it is now, back a hundred hunts ago. It takes a while of rubbing and accidentally crashing through the ranked stone for my outer scales to finally wear down enough to break apart. When it tears, it does so along one of the scars left by the ¨­mukade.


    Scia squeaks, and I have to hiss to get her to blink away from my face again.


    With the skin broken, the irritation along my scales increases rapidly. I rub up against the wall, doing my best to push through the small tear and widen it.


    It is a slow process to remove the old skin, but when it is finally done, it feels amazing. The irritating tightness along my body is replaced with a pleasant sensation of freedom. My body, after having spent the last while cramped within skin too small for it, relishes the escape.


    Scia chirps as she lands on the snout of my shed skin. She looks between me and the body I¡¯ve just vacated with confused eyes. The hollow scales don¡¯t even bend beneath her minuscule weight.


    While stretching my tail out, I stroke the tip of my snout. Scia takes the invitation, chirping happy as ever at receiving my attention. She wiggles a little as I watch her, but soon settles down and returns her gaze to my old skin.


    She discreetly sniffs the scales she sits on, obviously checking her new ride for quality. When she huffs out a little satisfied breath and slumps to her belly, I can¡¯t restrain the hiss of amusement that bellows out through my chest.


    The noise startles Scia back to her feet ¡ª along with a few dozen other creatures in the distance ¡ª but she soon relaxes and accepts her new place.


    Now that I¡¯ve dealt with my moult, I scan my new scales with pleasure. Smooth and unblemished, they are perfect. The only thing that could make it better, is if I didn¡¯t have to slither along the earth so soon after my skin¡¯s renewal. My ventral scales will get scratched up without spatial distortions, but there¡¯s nothing that can be done about that. At least in my full size, my scales should be hard enough to resist most damage. It¡¯s just unfortunate that ranked stone counteracts much of that benefit.


    With no easy path ahead of us, it looks like I¡¯ll have to attempt a climb up the wall, after all. The tall surface of stone is daunting even for one of my size. Falling from such height wouldn¡¯t be an issue, but the earth is brittle and weak; if I push too hard I may bury myself, and Scia.


    It has happened plenty in the past; whether by tremor or my own efforts, caves have collapsed on me. But back then, the distortion of space will either give me an escape, or carve tunnels through the fallen rock quickly. Here, I¡¯ll have to dig through an unbelievable quantity of stone, lacking any idea which way is an escape.


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    Not to mention the difficulty of preventing Scia from being crushed.


    As dangerous as it might be, I don¡¯t want to give up here without even trying to reach whatever might lie above.


    Sliding up along the wall, I angle myself up. With this much of my length along the surface, I barely put any weight on my grip on the vertical rock face, and yet it still crumbles under my mass. It¡¯s not much of an issue until only the tip of my tail holds my weight and I can¡¯t proceed further without gripping the wall.


    Even stretched fully as I am, I barely reach halfway up the vertical surface. Rock crumbles out of my way rather than giving my ventral scales something to grip, and the ranked stone beneath is too smooth to cling to.


    I know the moment I transfer my weight from the ground to the wall, it will crumble, but I do so anyway. And as expected, it cannot hold me. A sheet of rock along a good portion of the wall tumbles down with me the moment I clench my stomach scales. All that¡¯s left of the vertical surface in this area is the ranked stone previously hidden within.


    Annoyed, but not ready to give up, I glance back at Scia before slithering over to an undamaged section of wall.


    Before I make my next attempt, I give a cautious look around the cavern, checking to make sure there is no additional ¨­mukade waiting in ambush. Satisfied by what I see ¡ª or lack thereof ¡ª and Scia¡¯s silence, I allow myself to shrink again. I shrink to where it shouldn¡¯t be difficult to crush what rock I want, while leaving myself light enough not to collapse the stone I don¡¯t.


    It works much better this time. Scia hangs from my back ¡ª hopefully watching for any unseen threats ¡ª while I cling to the path I dig through stone. Eventually, we reach the ceiling and the memory of that voided shaft returns to my mind.


    The ceiling of this cavern may not be as high as what that empty column had risen, but I do not have my spatial distortions to cushion my fall. As I look down, an ever so slight feeling of discomfort crawls through my muscles. The Nareaus could handle falling from such height, so I know I would have no problem, and yet the height is disconcerting.


    Now that I¡¯ve reached where the wall curves into the ceiling, I¡¯ve hit another problem; the rock above is entirely ranked. If I had better support, breaking through would be no issue, but clinging to the weaker, standard stone, such destruction of ranked mineral is impossible; My support would be the first thing to break.


    My only option is to reach one of the few large holes in the ceiling. Cautiously, I shrink down further and reach off the wall for a stalactite before curling around it. It takes a bit to get used to, but soon I can slither between the rock formations as if it were the ground itself. I just need to clench around the outsides of a couple spiky rocks ¡ª being careful not to press too hard lest I break them ¡ª and I slither across the ceiling without issue.


    I reach a hole without difficulty. As I peer within, I find there is a cavern on the other side. It¡¯s too shallow for my full size, but from what I can see, it extends a good distance around the hole.


    The stalactites end before I can reach the lip of the hole. Despite being common all along the ceiling, they strangely disappear only around the rim. Almost like an intentional deterrent to stop me climbing up¡­ not that it will stop me.


    Twisting the lower length of my tail tight around a pair of stalactites, I slowly lift my body out toward the lip of the hole. I trust my strength for this, but I doubt the strength of the rock I cling to. My movements are little more than a crawl until I curl my head up into the cavern above. Once I have my grip, my tail loosens and I pull the rest of my length up behind me.


    What I find in this cavern¡­ is a whole lot of nothing. It¡¯s just a flat stone ceiling and ground as far as I can see. It¡¯s narrow, but there are no points I can see where the upper and lower rock slabs connect.


    It may be too shallow to hold my full size, but I increase my mass as high as I can without it getting in the way. After the last cavern, I won¡¯t leave myself vulnerable again.


    Scia chirps, and now that I know there¡¯s more to her hearing than I understand, I realise she must be getting a better look ¡ª listen ¡ª at our surroundings. I wait a few moments. When she doesn¡¯t screech in panic, I start moving.


    It¡¯s still frustrating to know that my senses aren¡¯t as supreme now that I¡¯m outside my spatial distortions, but having the little bat that ¡ª I¡¯ll begrudgingly admit ¡ª has a better way to detect threats, is helpful.


    ???


    We slither through the cavern for a long time, consistently following the upward slope in search of a further way up, but none appears.


    What we do find, is thousands of Nareau and ¨­mukade young skittering around. Compared to their grown forms, they are tiny and pose absolutely no threat, but considering they always dive at the other species¡¯ throats the moment they see one another, it¡¯s surprising any grow old enough to become those beasts down below.


    There are plenty of holes leading down below, but none above. I¡¯ve been searching so long now, that I doubt there even is a way up beyond following this ever so slight incline in the cavern ¡ª but even that I¡¯m not sure isn¡¯t just gravity playing tricks on me again. It does that rather often in the warped tunnels.


    I let out a hiss of annoyance as the cavern finally tapers to a close. Far in the distance, the ground and ceiling connect, but the cavern grows too narrow to pass far earlier than that.


    We¡¯ve passed a hundred holes leading to the enormous caverns below ¡ª identical, but separate from the one we came ¡ª and yet there hasn¡¯t been a single path up. I have to face it now. There won¡¯t be a way.


    But that¡¯s fine; I¡¯ll just have to make my own.


    Scia chirps in response to my hiss, and I realise I¡¯d rather not have her riding me while I destroy some rock. A single misplaced stone might be enough to end her.


    With the tip of my tail, I tap the ground nearby. Her eyes flicker between me and the point I indicate before blinking toward it. While she does as I say, her look of doubt is clear. I wince only slightly; she probably thinks I¡¯m still trying to abandon her.


    With Scia out of the way, I flick my tail at the ceiling. My strike makes a deep recession in the ranked stone, but it reveals nothing beyond. I realise I¡¯ll need to put more strength into it. Coiling up, I gather my strength and snap toward the ceiling, only for the opposite to happen.


    The ground collapses beneath me.

 Interlude 1: Glaus

    Glaus and his team stepped through the dark, endless chamber behind their merminea guides. He couldn¡¯t see anything beyond the outline of his tentacles as they moved step after step before him. None bar Telum fared any better, yet they dare not strike a light. They may be Beiths, but not even the strongest public force of the Mercenary order would bring a lantern down into these depths.


    Not when it meant certain death.


    Glaus eyed the backs of the mermineae warily. Or at least where he could hear the barely audible taps of their claws striking stone over the clatter that was Hirsh¡¯s steps.


    He was uncomfortable having to work with the creatures, but it was impossible to ignore orders. The recent war against them was fresh on his mind. Many friends had died, and he was expected to forgive these beasts because they were coerced by some Titan-like power? He couldn¡¯t do it.


    These mermineae should have fought their tyrant themselves, rather than break through these tunnels to bring her to us. They should have stayed on their side of the Titan Alps.


    Despite his distaste for the mermineae and suspicions that the trio in front of him was leading his team into an ambush, he kept plodding along. Without the power of their tyrant flowing through their veins, few of their kind were stronger than a Luis mercenary. Glaus and the others besides him wouldn¡¯t have a problem if they attacked. Plus, he had a job to do, and begrudging or not, he would do it.


    The mermineae had found signs of some new creature about a day¡¯s journey from the surface exit ¡ª the only known one. Glaus would have preferred his superiors simply tell the mermineae to investigate themselves, but politicians of the pact nations wanted the Order to ¡®prove their worth¡¯ after the debacle of the last war.


    Well, it was also blatantly obvious those same politicians wanted to control the fragmented mermineae under the guise of supporting the weakened race.


    This was a frequent role of his team in the past month, and yet it never grew easier. If he was to be honest with himself, this was a task beyond his team. Yes, it was something a Beith team should be able to accomplish, but he wasn¡¯t so sure he or the other three with him deserved the raise.


    Most likely, it was the Order trying to fill a quota so that they could report less loss of strength post war than was true. Neither he nor the others were about to deny the pay rise that came with the Beith rank.


    So there Glaus was, stepping along the hard stone with his six limbs while twisting at each skitter or screech that echoed through the cavern.


    ¡°It is here,¡± one guide said, bringing them to a halt.


    Glaus couldn¡¯t see what was being referred to, but Telum, as a Volan, had little issue. His kind were small and weak, but they certainly made up for it with their speed and sight. Plus, the wingsuits they made let their tiny bodies fly; something he was endlessly envious of.


    Not that he would ever let Telum know. Glaus already got enough shit from the others for that time he gambled away all their funds. Lost to Telum¡¯s cousin. He didn¡¯t want to give his little teammate any more ammunition.


    ¡°Something carved grooves through the ground,¡± Telum said. ¡°Whatever it is, it¡¯s big. Difficult to say whether it was dragging its belly across the ground or a tail, but either way, we¡¯re looking at something about a quarter the size of an ¨­mukade.¡± He looked up at the ceiling. ¡°Probably barely fit in here.¡±


    Glaus shook his head at the implication. This creature, whatever it was, scratched up ranked stone simply by moving. He wasn¡¯t so sure he could do that with his strongest swing.


    ¡°So we have a beast at the scale of a Nareau that can fit within these birthing chambers¡­ Shouldn¡¯t we rush back immediately?¡± Ceph¡¯s tentacles shuffled as she twisted, as if expecting the beast to attack at any moment.


    Ceph was a dohrni, one of Glaus¡¯ kin. While it was too dark to see her, he could imagine her eyes spinning in her spherical head, looking through the purple membrane of her skin ¡ª as opposed to his blue ¡ª while her six tentacles lowered her body to the ground in a defensive stance. Whether she actually acted as he imagined, or it was all in his head, Glaus didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°No,¡± he said, coiling the tips of his own tentacles. He hated having to say otherwise, but they couldn¡¯t stop here. ¡°We need to know more.¡±


    An unknown beast could pose a terrible threat not only to the mermineae, but also to his mercenary comrades. The massive arachnids and elusive centipedes below already made these depths unreasonably dangerous, but they were predictable.


    Both species only ever stayed in the vast cavern below. They shattered holes through the ceiling when they lay their young, but that occurred rather infrequently. They were, thankfully, mostly deaf and only hunted by light. If even the lightest trickle of light filtered through a hole or crack to the cavern below, their team would be dead before they had the time to understand what went wrong.


    Glaus glanced back to where Hirsh¡¯s hard antlers clattered along the stone behind him. The khirig, as a mage, was unable to provide any sort of support outside of emergencies. The mage markings etched into the branching bone-like antlers that made up his arms, legs and chest-cage, would emit bright light the moment he activated them. Glaus only brought him along because if things did go horribly wrong, Hirsh would be essential for their escape from the large lower cavern. It was suicidal to rely on a rope while being chased by a monster.


    Despite being a mage, Hirsh was a rather large unit for a khirig. The antlers that spun out from the spine were thick and strong. Even without the use of hyle, he could take a beating. It was simply unfortunate that he wasn¡¯t particularly proficient with a weapon despite his size. Usually, that fact never mattered, but it has posed a source of annoyance ever since they¡¯d been sent to protect the entrance to these caverns under the Titan Alps.


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    From what Glaus knew, the entrance had only existed for a few years now. And most of the citizens of the pact nations only learned of it when the mermineae used it to invade. Prior to that, it had been believed impossible to pass the endlessly tall Titan Alps.


    The Alps grew so tall they left a shadow on the sky. Peaks visible from anywhere in the world. Who knew that after years of failed attempts to climb the mountains and discover what lay beyond, there was a series of subterranean tunnels that connected the sides all along?


    As the caverns were still so new, death was common. Too many creatures down here remained a mystery. A dangerous mystery that they needed to resolve lest those beasts rise to the surface.


    They needn¡¯t fight the beast they tracked, but there was a minimum requirement of investigation his team needed to fulfil.


    ¡°Looks like the creature is serpentine.¡± Telum leapt from his seat upon Ceph¡¯s head to land a few metres before Glaus. The Volan scratched at the trail of the creature. ¡°Motions are sinuous and fluid rather than straight.¡±


    Knowing the type of creature they followed helped, but hardly meant their job was over. ¡°Alright, while this snake is of similar scale as the monstrosities down below, we cannot assume it is equally deaf. Keep the chatter to a minimum.¡±


    Glaus likely didn¡¯t need to say it, as there hadn¡¯t been much talk in the first place, but sometimes it was just good to outline orders in clear terms.


    Even in the dark, Glaus could feel the eyes of the mermineae turn to the large khirig of their group. Hirsh sighed, not unaware of the sound his antler-feet made. He untied the shirt covering the small body of muscle and fat protected beneath his cage of antler. Taking the shirt, Hirsh tore it in two before wrapping it around the end of his antler feet.


    The muffled sound of his steps were better, but still far from silent.


    Eventually, after the team followed Telum¡¯s guidance, they reached the end of the trail. A hole to the giant cavern below. If there¡¯s anything Glaus was thankful for in these underground caves, it¡¯s that you cannot miss the holes. Not unless you were blind.


    The dim blue light from the swarms of glow-bugs was impossible to miss amidst the darkness. The millions of shining insects hovered a metre or so above the ground far below, their light combining into a deceitfully calm sea.


    The ranked stone of the hole itself had already begun to regrow, so it is unlikely the serpent created it. Considering the scratches they followed, there was no doubt it could break through ranked stone, but this hole was simply too old. The scratches would have regrown otherwise.


    Without so much as a word from him, both Ceph and the mermineae pulled out ropes, secured them, then tossed them into the depths below. Glaus grabbed Ceph¡¯s rope with a tentacle and rappelled down first.


    Despite climbing down into the den of the beasts, he found this part far easier than wading through the pitch blackness. There was just something about moving into the bright glowing ocean below that was calming. Like a safe-haven from danger ¡ª even though he knew it was anything but.


    A single glance to the many dark patches amongst the swarming bugs was enough to raise his wariness again. Glaus knew most of the dark spots hid relatively tame beasts he could fight off easily, but there was always the chance something worse lurked.


    As he touched down on the soft soil, it was impossible to ignore the state of the surrounding earth. In the dim light of the bugs, he could see countless trenches through the soil, dug up sections of ground and most surprising of all: the corpse of a Nareau.


    The glow-bugs were eating the dead monstrosity bit by bit, but it was clear they hadn¡¯t been the ones to do it in. The head of the arachnid hangs by threads from the rest of its body. Not that the rest is in any better condition. The abdomen looks like crushed fruit, and a couple of the upper legs have snapped the wrong way. Even on the nearly decapitated head, half the eyes are missing. Cut off with surgical precision.


    ¡°Damn,¡± Ceph says, having dropped to his side, before realising her mistake and quieting.


    Glaus doesn¡¯t berate her. He feels much the same. It is rare, but he¡¯s heard from other teams that have seen the monstrous fights between these giants. What¡¯s even rarer, is the victor not consuming the spoils. Glaus is sure none of the other teams have seen one of these beasts this close. At least, not those still alive.


    Soon, the entire team is down, and Telum ¡ª who flew down ¡ª whispers to them. ¡°There¡¯s another.¡±


    They follow his guidance almost a kilometre away, where they find a second Nareau corpse. Unlike the last one, which had the crushed appearance they knew was consistent with an attack with an ¨­mukade, this had its own fang pierced right through its head and almost all its legs crippled.


    ¡°Any word of an Inner Circle merc coming through this way?¡± Hirsh asked, hushed, as they all stared dumbfounded at the corpse.


    ¡°No.¡± Glaus knew none of the Order¡¯s elite should be anywhere near the Alps currently, but even he doubted that now. What animal fought by whittling down one¡¯s limbs, then using a creature¡¯s natural weapons against themselves?


    This was ¡ª while brutal ¡ª a touch too methodical to be a beast. Something intelligent, while just as powerful as the Nareau had done this. If not the Mercenary Order¡¯s Inner Circle, then Henosis was sending their elite over; not a good sign.


    Still didn¡¯t explain why they hadn¡¯t used the inheritance ritual and taken on the beasts¡¯ power for themselves.


    Ruminating on what this might mean, and how unprepared the pact nations would be for a war with the Henosis Empire right after scraping through the last one, Glaus followed one of the deep trenches wider than he was tall, which seemed to break up the soil all through this region of the cavern.


    It led him and his team to the dark wall, where the light of glow-bugs didn¡¯t reach. The ambient brightness of the swarm was enough to see a metre ahead of him, but not much more.


    After a short search, Glaus heard Telum squeak. Neither a shout of alarm, nor sound of warning. Glaus turned, ready to tease the volan for the wimpy sound, but his words fled when he saw his friend; frozen in terror.


    Glaus spun, his blades already unsheathed and swinging. They bounced off something hard, a jolt of pain racing up his tentacles. Whatever he hit, it was harder than ranked stone. He found himself staring up at the massive maw of a barely visible serpent. The thing was huge. He stumbled back, but there was no delay in his curved swords rising to meet any attack the snake might deliver.


    He stood there for a long moment, his team dashing to the side as they prepared to retaliate, but the beast never struck. They waited in the dark as the serpent remained still. Unmoving.


    Ceph, to his right, fired off her handheld cannon. The shrapnel pelted off the snake¡¯s scales without a scratch as the bang of echoed through the cavern. Glaus wanted to glare at her; that weapon was little better than the mass production guns for the unenhanced. A gimmick. Not only was it unlikely to help, but who knows what the sound could attract?


    Thankfully, the snake remained frozen.


    Glaus stepped forward. Two of his tentacles held swords, while the remaining four crouched in case he need to leap away at a moment¡¯s notice. He jabbed at the scales of the beast, only to find his blades unable to scratch them.


    The snake didn¡¯t move. ¡°It¡¯s dead,¡± he called to the others.


    They each relaxed from their fighting stance. Glaus walked around the massive head and stepped warily along the side of the serpent. He looked for what might have killed it, and after thirty or forty metres ¡ª he still couldn¡¯t see how far the length extended ¡ª he found it; a break in the scales on the back of the serpent.


    He climbed the dead snake, the scales not bending in the slightest under his weight. Glaus peered down into the wound, only to find nothing within. It was only then that he realised this wasn¡¯t a corpse, but shed skin.


    The snake was still alive, and it was a lot bigger than what it was in the upper cavern.

 Chapter 18: Aspiration

    Well, I should have foreseen that.


    After shattering the layer of ranked stone that supported me in the narrow upper chamber, I fell to the soil I now lie. The crater surrounding me may be considerable, but as expected, I came out unharmed. The fall was far, but I hardly gained enough momentum to so much as scratch my scales.


    It helped that the soil here is so soft.


    Before I can drag myself out of the earth, little Scia pops into existence in front of me. She squeaks in my face, berating me as if I had any control over the ground cracking beneath me.


    I give a light swat at her with my tail as I slither out of the crater. Scia dodges and immediately appears on the tip of my nose again, turning up her snout and looking away from me.


    I successfully refrain from snorting.


    While the large cavern I¡¯ve fallen into appears much the same as the first, it is not identical. We¡¯d been slithering through the upper chamber for quite a few sleeps before the ground had to go and shatter, so I¡¯m sure we¡¯ve travelled far. Now that we¡¯ve fallen down again, I¡¯m hesitant to climb back up.


    Should I go through the effort to reach the upper cavern, I¡¯ll only face the same problem. The ranked stone in the ceiling of the shallow cave is a lot thicker than what I have to brace against. Any more attempts will only end the same.


    Surprisingly, I don¡¯t feel all too bothered. I¡¯ve failed to go farther, but I¡¯ve still achieved my original goal to discover what was on the other side of the labyrinth border. It may have led to my arrogance almost getting me killed, but I¡¯m in good spirits.


    My eyes follow Scia as she subtly glances back at me.


    The next border will be better. Hopefully, this area is the odd one out, and is the only place spatial distortions don¡¯t exist. I¡¯d rather not live without.


    So, not feeling too bad about being unable to progress, I slither toward the nearest mushroom tunnel. The things are everywhere in these wide caverns. And now that I know these caves occur one after the other ¡ª revealed by each of the breaching holes between the shallow and vast caverns ¡ª I can make a confident guess that this isn¡¯t limited to this region alone. This is what is beyond all Labyrinthine Passages.


    Knowing that, I¡¯ve no fear of being unable to return in the future. Should each of the other borders remain impassable, I¡¯ll come back and expand my search. Surely there¡¯s something here to find. But for now, I¡¯ll follow these countless bugs and dive through the viscous liquid of the fungi trap.


    Ugh.


    And right after I shed, too.


    ???


    It took longer than I expected to find my warped tunnels. The labyrinth is more confusing to traverse going down than up, oddly. At least once spatial holes and bends appeared, it became easier for me. Any creature without true-sight would find it impossible to path.


    I relish in the feeling of swimming through the air again. No longer do I need to grind my stomach against the ground to move forward.


    My spine flexes satisfyingly as I curve between bends. I¡¯ve been feeling especially great ever since I ate that centipede; so much better, in fact, that time filters by rapidly as I tilt my focus toward another border. Only Scia¡¯s constant squeaks and desire for attention keep me from forgetting my goal and meandering.


    I¡¯ve felt this intense satisfaction when I¡¯ve consumed past apex predators, but usually it¡¯s a slim remnant by the time my slumber ends. Never have I felt this¡­ energetic. Not only does my body feel good, but the newfound emotions that came with sapience are muted. It¡¯s like a good meal suppresses all my problems.


    Of course, the issue is that after a meal as large as that, I won¡¯t need to eat for a long time. And no other prey has given that feeling. Will I need to cross the labyrinthine tunnels for each of my hunts going forward?


    Leaving that aside, I swim through the air, carried by the bends in space as I look for our next destination. Scia clings to the back of my head now that I¡¯m smaller.


    When I finally find a spatial hole to a suitable place, a thought hits me.


    I never did get Scia back for avoiding the fungi tunnel jam, did I?


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    A slight hiss escapes my lips before I can cut it off. Scia tilts her head as she looks down at me, but I don¡¯t give her the benefit of a return glance, lest she somehow discover my plan from my eyes.


    As the target hole approaches, I do my best to obscure my objective. To the little sciacylch riding me, it appears as if I¡¯m simply floating beside it. At least, until I jerk my body through the hole and dive into the pool of water.


    It¡¯s not sticky fluid, but drenching the fur of my little passenger should be a suitable replacement.


    She squeaks in surprise and instinctively goes to make a bend to take her away, but I am ready. Softly, but quickly, I push the tip of my tail through the bend, pushing Scia out of the way and disrupting the bend before it fully forms.


    I still have no idea how she makes the spatial distortions, but I¡¯ve seen enough by now to figure I could interrupt her. And this only proves it.


    As planned, Scia joins me as we dive deep into the water. She is soaked and can do nothing about it. When she gasps and breathes in water in her panic, I wrap her tight in my tail and pull us both from the water.


    She coughs up water while I laugh in short, hissing bursts. Once in control of her breathing, she glares up at me accusingly, which only makes my hissed chuckles intensify.


    At no point has she stopped trying to blink away, but I won¡¯t let her. She¡¯s going to stay drenched for as long as I find it amusing.


    Realising my game, she huffs and turns away. Though, I notice she never seems to lean away from my touch, despite it being the only thing stopping her from getting dry. In fact, after she stops struggling and I begin to take my tail away, she immediately summons another bend, forcing me to stop it again. Surely, if she was attempting to escape my grip, she would have physically struggled.


    After sitting like that for some time, I turn back to the water hole I brought us to. Scia instantly blinks away. I swear she looks disappointed at having succeeded.


    Ignoring the little source of amusement, I dive back into the water. Between the fine grains of sand along the edges and the soft submerged moss growing in the middle, it¡¯s the perfect place to buff and shine my scales.


    As I wash myself, I notice Scia stares down into the depths after me, but never follows. My gaze turns between her and the nearby rift that would take me to a series of drowned tunnels. Scia cannot breathe underwater. Well, I can¡¯t either, but I can at least hold my breath long enough for it not to matter. If I wanted, I could leave and she couldn¡¯t follow.


    But¡­ I can¡¯t do that anymore.


    I can¡¯t run from Scia.


    Scia chirps happily when I rise from the waters to join her. My joke at her expense all but forgotten. She doesn¡¯t delay and blinks on her spot right behind my head. Obviously, Scia is ready to take on whatever new adventure I¡¯m about to take her on, even if she doesn¡¯t know what it might be.


    I watch her for a few moments, just observing her unrestrained excitement as she clings tight to the grooves between my scales. In a way, it would be nice to revert to the blissful ignorance I¡¯d once had so many thousands of sleeps ago. But I also refuse any notion that I could have possibly been as dumbly trusting as this little creature has been to me.


    Scia squeaks, tilting her head at me at my lack of movement.


    I take that as encouragement to return to the search for the borders. As my eyes fall on the pool of water before leaving, a thought occurs to me; if I¡¯m to keep Scia by my side, I cannot search the Crippling Depths.


    Even the Magma Ocean might be difficult.


    My search may have become a lot more difficult, but it¡¯s a problem I¡¯ll just have to deal with. I¡¯ve got time. If anything, the longer the search, the more it means what lies beyond will be worth it. I tell myself that, but until there¡¯s proof anything more than an endless expanse of rock exists out there, I cannot believe it.


    But, the more I tell this hope ¡ª or lie ¡ª to myself, the easier it is to fight against the pride still snapping against the Titan¡¯s words.


    Oh? Talking about the Magma Ocean; There it is.


    A rift appears at the farthest edge of my sight, leading into the molten sea. While the water slides off my now impeccable scales, we slither toward the burning border.


    The heat wafting through the rift is strong, but nothing compared to what lies beyond. As I pass the distortion that takes us far, whatever remaining liquid sits on my scales evaporates immediately.


    Below, an ocean of molten rock flows and bubbles with an intense heat that dries out my tongue the moment it darts out. Best not taste the air for the time being. Like water in other caverns, magma flows through bends and holes from within the depths, only to tumble back into the vast volume. Sometimes, multiple spatial bends disrupt the molten falls, creating suspended liquid rivers through the air.


    There are no tunnels here. Ranked or not, stone melts on contact with the magma, only adding to its mass. I swim through a bubble of air, but most of this expanse is some level of viscous rock.


    A whimper reminds me I am not alone. Through bent space, I see Scia struggling with the immense heat. She pants as her body slumps over my scales.


    Immediately, I dive through a hole that leads us near a flow of water. We¡¯re still above the Magma Ocean, but the water shooting through a rift explodes into mist, giving some reprieve from the heat.


    Thankfully, little Scia recovers her breath and picks herself back up. Unlike before, she doesn¡¯t flee from the water drenching her fur.


    Once again, I¡¯m reminded of just how fragile she is. As a lesser creature, taking her even the slightest outside the domain she¡¯s adapted to is enough to kill her. Forget the Crippling Depths, even the Magma Ocean is too much.


    But¡­ I¡¯ve already had to give up on the Labyrinthine Passages. If I have to give up searching the Magma Ocean in addition to the Crippling Depths, then where do I still have to search? The Wind Channels? I¡¯ve already spent so long on them without result.


    I look down at the burning expanse through the mist. This isn¡¯t something I can give up. What if what I¡¯m looking for is right there, just waiting for me behind a spatial hole or two? I¡¯ve already learnt that there is more than I know beyond the Labyrinthine Passages, so why would the others be any different?


    My head twists to look at Scia directly, not through a spatial bend. It¡¯ll only be temporary, but I need to leave her behind.

 Chapter 19: Dread

    I slowly wrap my tail beneath Scia¡¯s wings and pull her off my scales. She squeaks in surprise, but I don¡¯t stop. I place her in the mist, protected from the heat. The moment I let go, she blinks back to my back, only to grip me harder.


    I¡¯m not about to abandon you. I simply need to search the magma without placing you in danger.


    Despite my intentions, I have no way to share my thoughts. Scia stares up at me with panic as I move to wrap her in my tail again. She even pretends to limp on her formerly broken limb, but it¡¯s a pointless effort. Her wing has recovered. She can fly again, and doesn¡¯t even need her ability to form spatial bends to stay away from the magma, but she thinks I don¡¯t know.


    Her whining moans ring in my ears as she stares up at me with a look of betrayal.


    Why must she look at me like that? This will be a brief separation; less than a single sleep. I¡¯ll be back soon enough when I¡¯ve either found a safe path forward, or have given up on this border. This is better for her; it¡¯s not like she can swim through molten rock like I can.


    But again, as I let go, she blinks to my back, crying a wailing screech as she buries herself into my scales.


    I sigh a despairing hiss. If I hadn¡¯t tried so hard to abandon her until she saved me, would she still distrust me this much? Obviously, I can¡¯t turn around my efforts and pretend like they never occurred¡­ even if that would make this so much easier.


    Strange how I can never seem to be happy with how Scia sees me. First, she trusted me too much. I found that unnatural and foolish. Now, she doesn¡¯t trust me, and that somehow stings. Like the ache of eating something poisonous.


    Do I deserve it?


    I regret trying to scare her off now, but even looking back, there was nothing wrong with what I did. In fact, I still think Scia is the one in the wrong, forcing herself into my company like she did. But¡­ I can¡¯t hate her for it.


    Because, despite the troubles, I have enjoyed her presence.


    Well, if she¡¯s so determined to stick by my side, she better be prepared to face some harsh environments. Just because she refuses to stay behind for a while doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯ll halt my search of this Magma Ocean.


    I slither through the air, removing us from the thermal protection of the mist, only to throw us into a nearby hole. Three holes later, we arrive within another safe swathe of dispersing water to cool Scia down.


    This way of searching the Magma will be slow ¡ª incredibly so ¡ª but it¡¯s better than abandoning the search entirely. Without being able to dive into the magma, I doubt any possibility of finding a path, but it¡¯ll have to do.


    Scia¡¯s cries stop quickly once I give up on trying to dislodge her from my back. Unfortunately, my attempts have brought up memories for her. She now does her best to stay awake for as long as I¡¯m still moving. Which isn¡¯t good. I tend to push through my need for rest; something she isn¡¯t that great at.


    The few times I do find a spatial loop to sleep in, she takes advantage and rests with me, but it¡¯s clearly not enough for her.


    Eventually, it gets too much. As I slither around an incredibly pressurised waterfall exploding from a rift to the Crippling Depths, Scia finally collapses on my back. She may have passed out from exhaustion, but as always, the claws of her feet continue to cling tight, so there¡¯s no worry of her falling.


    I watch with interest as the massive waterfall continues to blast the surface of magma. The liquid rock churns from the contact, while the water bursts into steam that fills the air. An island of black glass forms in a ring around the impact site, with the central point continually shattering from the high speed of water.


    In a constant cycle of intense forces, the glass island fractures and continually reforms wider than before with the new cooled magma that is added to its mass.


    I wonder if the black rock will remain when the rift finally collapses under the strain, or if it will melt as soon as the water is gone. I¡¯m sure this happens rather often, so I¡¯m more inclined to say it melts again.


    While Scia finally gets the rest she needs, no longer needing to constantly lick her wings or spread them wide to cool off, I continue the search. It¡¯s not going well. Plenty of times, I¡¯ve found holes and rifts that appear to lead somewhere promising, but they are almost always in an area that may very well kill Scia instantly. Some, I¡¯m not even sure of my own safety.


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    So, I continue on. Hopping between pockets of mist and waterfalls.


    After some time, Scia still hasn¡¯t woken. She¡¯s remained unconscious far longer than necessary to rest, even considering her recent lack of sleep. A gnawing ache in my stomach grows with each moment she remains unmoving.


    Eventually, the churning in my chest grows too strong. I take her through a hole to a cavern with a lake and turn to scrutinize her.


    She breathes and pants in her sleep, yet she barely tosses.


    The first thing I do is submerge her in the water. Despite being dunked beneath the surface and ripped out in a moment, she doesn¡¯t wake. Why is she not? She couldn¡¯t be so tired to need to sleep double her typical resting time and still be so deep in slumber she can¡¯t wake.


    What is the problem? It¡¯s clear there is a problem, but what could it be? I¡¯ve already cooled her down, so it shouldn¡¯t be that, right? Maybe there¡¯s something else?


    No matter how many times I jostle her body, she refuses to wake, and no clues make themselves known. If not for her breathing and the blood pumping through her veins, I¡¯d think she was dead. It isn¡¯t natural to be this unresponsive. Even for Scia ¡ª who¡¯s proven that what is natural isn¡¯t applicable to all creatures ¡ª this isn¡¯t right.


    What could it be? Besides the heat of magma, what could have caused her issues?


    Wait¡­ when was the last time she ate? I can go a long time without food, but I know most other creatures cannot go even a quarter the length I do without a full meal.


    She¡¯s not touched anything since we began searching the Magma Ocean, but I also don¡¯t remember her leaving my side for even a moment since our encounter with the ¨­mukade. Definitely not enough time to find a feast for herself.


    Has she been so worried about sticking to me she forwent eating entirely? I know she¡¯s always been foolish, but even for her, that is too much.


    But I have no other ideas.


    I cradle the tiny bat with the narrow tip of my tail as I whip off the ground again, only to pause. What does she eat? Not meat. She didn¡¯t touch the bugs of the caverns beyond the Labyrinthine Passages. So I assume plants of some kind, but as I¡¯ve never eaten them, how can I know what is safe and what isn¡¯t?


    Never have I paid enough attention to her to learn what she eats. Scia is susceptible to many things I wouldn¡¯t consider dangerous at all. The generations of bilbies I watched over were at least able to look after themselves. They were self-sufficient. I never interfered. Now that Scia is incapacitated, she is reliant on me to help her¡­ but I have no idea how.


    It makes me realise that despite my age, despite the many thousand hunts I¡¯ve lived through, I know nothing outside of that which directly affects myself. Such a long life, and nothing of my past can help in this moment.


    What am I doing? Regrets won¡¯t help Scia.


    My head twists, and the moment I find an environment of flourishing plant-life, I flick forward. The first thing I notice once I¡¯m through the hole is the massive waterfall in the middle of the chamber. It crashes down into a fissure through the ground that splits three ways. Heat of lava billows up the deep fissures that spread to the walls of, what would be, a semi-spherical cavern, if you ignored the warped space.


    The place is incredibly humid, likely from the water flowing down into a magma pool below the ground. Not a single surface isn¡¯t overflowing with plants. Tall trees both rise from the ground and hang from the ceiling. Those that grow through permanent bends in space benefit by the counteracting gravity to prevent themselves being torn from the roots as they hang.


    Between the trees and along the walls, root-like grass grows. Fruits everywhere and burrows plentiful. The humidity gifted by water and heat provide no better place for life to flourish. Bugs and critters hide in their own little corners. I even see a few sizeable predators prowling through the undergrowth.


    Whatever Scia can eat, I should find it here.


    It would be so much easier if she were awake to choose for herself, but we wouldn¡¯t be in this problem if she could wake that easily.


    My best guess would be the small berries growing in the bushes along the walls; they are just the right size to fit in her mouth. But I can¡¯t be sure they aren¡¯t poisonous to her or something. How can I check their safety?


    My eyes land on one of the lesser creatures running along the branch of a suspended tree. That should do.


    I snap forward, snatching up the squirrel in my mouth. I am careful not to sink any of my teeth into the small critter; the last thing I want to do is kill it before it¡¯s fulfilled its purpose.


    The rodent squeals, but only for a moment. As soon as it feels the presence I layer down on it, any thought of resistance flees its mind; too shocked and terrified to do anything more than freeze.


    With subject in jaw, I swim toward the berry bush, ignoring the thousands of other creatures either fleeing or stiffening in terror. I saddle Scia further up in a loop of my tail, as I use the tip to guide a berry to the squirrel¡¯s mouth. The lesser creature, still paralysed, doesn¡¯t react.


    Hissing in annoyance, my teeth sink past the skin and the rodent wakes from its petrified state. Whether it opens its mouth to shriek or do as I want, I don¡¯t care. The moment it is open, the berry is shoved down its throat.


    It nearly chokes on the berry, but eventually, it swallows before scratching and squealing at the corner of my lips, desperate to escape. An ever so slight dose of my presence silences it again.


    I watch the squirrel for the next little while, just waiting for it to start puking or to curl over and die. When nothing happens ¡ª besides Scia¡¯s motionless form returning to my sight over and over ¡ª I spit out the rodent. It lays there for a few moments before it realises I¡¯m no longer biting it and scampers away.


    If I had more time, I would test with more than just the one creature, and I would wait longer in case it¡¯s slower acting, but I don¡¯t. The longer I wait, the more my chest writhes at the lack of movement from Scia. So, despite the risk, I lay Scia on my back, and crush a berry over her lips.


    This better wake her up; I¡¯ve never put so much effort into someone else.

 Chapter 20: Affection

    Pulped berry juice drips from the end of my tail over Scia¡¯s slightly ajar mouth. The fruits are tiny, even to my smallest size, but to the miniature bat it is a feast. Well, it would be if half of it didn¡¯t dribble down the sides of her muzzle.


    When she doesn¡¯t immediately wake, doubts enter my mind. Was I wrong? Is it not because she¡¯s been starving, but something else? The consistent heat of the Magma Ocean might have left permanent damage I cannot visibly observe. Damage that a bit of water cooling couldn¡¯t heal. How can I fix that?


    I move to pull my tail away, but the little pink tongue darting through Scia¡¯s lips stops me. She remains blissfully asleep as she licks at the berry juice. After a moment, it¡¯s all gone. She smacks her lips, looking for more. I bring my tail tip down, still coated in chunks of berry flesh. Scia latches on immediately, her teeth biting, but unable to scratch my scales.


    She fumbles for the pieces of berry while licking up the juice. Each moment, becoming more animated. Eventually, all remnants of the fruit are gone, cleaned off my scales, and Scia¡¯s eyelids snap open.


    She stares up at me. I stare back. Her surroundings finally register as she becomes more aware, but she remains still. Scia tilts her head, then glances at another fruit besides us. While obviously hungry, she makes no motion for it.


    I take my saliva drenched tail tip and curl it around the bundle of berries, snap it from the bush and bring it to Scia.


    Scia stares at the offered bundle dumbly, eyes flickering between it and me for a few moments before bellowing a chirp with a radiant smile. Quicker than I can react, she snatches the bundle in her mouth and blinks upon my snout, wings spread as wide around my scales as they can go.


    I watch her, confused but not unhappy that she¡¯s up and moving around. A berry already fills her mouth, juices flowing readily down her maw and over my scales, but she seems far more focused on clinging to me.


    Sluggishly, she chews, slumping before my eyes. The cluster of berries, despite being half as large as Scia, rapidly disappears. She seems satisfied. Thankfully, my choice wasn¡¯t wrong.


    When she finishes her meal ¡ª uneaten fruit falling to the underbrush below ¡ª Scia doesn¡¯t move from her spot. Her breaths calm and she slumps. If not for her eyes watching mine, I¡¯d think she fell asleep again.


    Even at my absolute smallest size, her body still fits snugly in the space between my eyes and snout. Plenty of other creatures flit through the surrounding trees, but besides bugs, none are as tiny as her. Most are larger than myself. It only entrenches the thought of Scia¡¯s weakness in my mind.


    I¡¯ve known she lacked strength since I found her caught in the pincers of a centipede. Known she was essentially the weakest of the weak. Despite that, I¡¯ve not considered the danger she has constantly been in. Not until now.


    The slightest change in environment was enough to make her unresponsive. Whether because of hunger or heat, her life was put at risk simply passing through spaces I never considered even slightly threatening.


    I¡¯ve always known most creatures are weak, but I¡¯ve never had to think about what that means beyond the competition of predator and prey; beast and rival. All I¡¯ve ever cared about is what directly relates to myself. As far back as my memories go, I¡¯ve never faced hardship because of environment. Not until recently. The only thing of import to me¡­ has been me.


    But that is no longer the case.


    Scia has changed things. She has changed me. This recent scramble in her unconsciousness reveals her weakness. A weakness I thought I understood, but clearly didn¡¯t. No, now I realise; the simplest of mistakes could leave Scia¡¯s life threatened¡­ and not only from the threat of other creatures.


    I¡¯ve already resolved myself to keep her by my side, but to do so, I need to be far more careful with my actions. She does not share my resilience, so I cannot continue with my carelessness.


    This¡­ was my mistake. Scia¡¯s condition is fault of mine. Thankfully, all is right now, but I must prevent any repeat in the future.


    While that¡¯s easy to say, there could be any number of things I¡¯ve taken for granted that are deathly threats to the little one. Best thing I can do is remain observant. If Scia shows pain or discomfort, I cannot ignore it as I did over the Magma Ocean.


    With all motivation to continue my search sapped, I slither along the branches of a soft-barked tree. Scia clings to my head, letting out frequent happy chirps as I allow myself to hang from the solid support. Usually, I prefer my loops in space to rest, but right now, I need to be closer to the world of these lesser creatures.


    I don¡¯t sleep, and neither does Scia. She watches me, and I watch the world, attempting to view threats from the perspective of the bottom tier.


    Occasionally, some critters or unimpressive predators approach, but each are scared off with the slightest application of my presence. As small as I am, any being that feels it will know I¡¯m too much for them.


    Much as I try to place myself in the perspective of a creature as small as my partner, I can never seem to think of any new threats. Everything around just appears like little more than a fleeting nuisance. I watch the steam rising from a crevice below and wondering whether it is a threat to any form of life, and how. My attention doesn¡¯t last long, soon turning to the waterfall crashing down through the centre of the cavern.


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    Eventually, I find myself glaring at the greenery before my eyes, daring it to reveal its secretive threats.


    It is only when I scare off another rodent with a barely cognised hiss that I finally realise my folly.


    No revelation will make itself known to me while I¡¯m actively treating these creatures like pests. To discover the inconsequential dangers of the world, I must first treat everything as a danger¡­ which is impossible. My eyes follow the squirrel as it races down the tree, running through three bends the trunk grows through. No matter how hard I try, it is simply impossible to consider the rodents so much as a challenge, much less a threat.


    But¡­ it¡¯s not true that I have never felt fearful or threatened. Just because I can¡¯t see the local inhabitants as anything concerning, doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t imagine myself in a similar position.


    The Titan. If I was constantly surrounded by beings of equal standing as the Titan, then how would I react? No¡­ how could I even live? The thought is unsettling, but doesn¡¯t help with my initial intent at all. It doesn¡¯t allow me to see my surroundings for threats to Scia, it only makes me imagine something horrible.


    The world collapsing under the all-engulfing battle of incomprehensible beings.


    A squeak distracts me from my thoughts. Scia holds her head high, ears swivelling at a sound I cannot hear. I watch curiously as she clambers upright, head searching, but unable to pinpoint a direction.


    We both hear it at the same time; a shattered shriek. The sound is high pitched, but not loud. Strangely, it registers almost as if hitting my ears in reverse. Wherever this screech came from, it is entrenched within an area of high-density spatial bends.


    Scia¡¯s head snaps to the right, ears rigid. While I may not be able to discern direction of sound, she has no such qualms. She jumps to her feet, turns to me with wide eyes and gapes. Her mouth opens and closes a few times before she collects herself and chirps at me, turning to point her head to our right.


    Scia¡¯s claws cling to my scales while she flaps her wings, as if her efforts have any chance to drag me along. Doubtlessly, she could go follow the noise herself, but she wants me with her.


    Hissing out my reluctant agreement to her darting gestures, I uncoil from the branch and swim through the air, following Scia¡¯s directions. The bat is insistent. When my movements are too sluggish for her, she yips at me to move faster. Only Scia can act like she¡¯s in control of me without my pride retching. How strange.


    Soon, we are outside the cavern where water meets the lava fissures. Steam billows out through these tunnels, so the plants are still thick and lush, but the more bends we pass, the less prevalent it becomes.


    A flicker catches my eye. I focus, but see nothing. Again, the flicker emerges a short distance from the first. Suspicious of what avoids my gaze, I turn off Scia¡¯s directions. She squeaks in surprise, and immediately tries to angle me back on track, but her ears flicker toward what caught my eye and settles down. I guess she gives permission.


    It appears again, and I realise I¡¯m watching another sciacylch. Like Scia, it blinks through space by creating bends around its body. It flickers in and out of sight rapidly, moving faster than I¡¯ve ever seen Scia. The combination of flight and its own distortions create impressive synergy.


    I stare down at Scia. She really should take up flying again. It¡¯s not like she¡¯s injured any longer, so why does she still prefer to cling to me?


    Why is this other sciacylch running so rapidly? It¡¯s almost like it¡¯s being chased.


    Just as that thought filters through my mind, an owl glides through a bend with speed. Not travelling through the bend, no, the bird with feathers that wisp outward like mist passes a spatial distortion as if it were never there. It passes another, and I watch as its form travels a distance before disintegrating entirely. A fleeting existence.


    An irritated hiss echoes from my throat.


    An Ascalaphus.


    The damn owls were frustrating. Faster than air, and more difficult to follow than an echo. One moment, they would seem as solid as any creature. The next, they distorted like the space around us.


    Over my hunts, I¡¯ve grown more intelligent; incorporating plans to catch those faster than myself. But these Ascalaphus remain impossible to catch. Worst of all; they know just how untouchable they are.


    The owl soars out from another bend ¡ª this time actually being carried through the distortion ¡ª far closer to the fleeing sciacylch than before. Despite the tiny bat¡¯s immense number of bends, the Ascalaphus¡¯ speed is too great. Their distance closes rapidly.


    I don¡¯t even need to lower my gaze to feel Scia¡¯s pleading. She wants me to help. Fortunately for her, I need little convincing to strike at the arrogant owls.


    Without wings or a sciacylch¡¯s ability to form bends, I am slower. I rely entirely on natural formations, but there is no use lamenting; I must simply make my approach smarter.


    I slowly slither through the air, analysing the choices the sciacylch makes in its escape. It passes through a natural hole and considering the bat can only create bends that carry it a limited distance, I know it is trying to follow one of three paths. All others are simply too inefficient to have chosen the bend it did. When it creates another distortion around itself and appears before a bend in the opposite direction of where it looked like it was going, I figure out its target.


    I spin in midair. It¡¯s slightly annoying, but it¡¯s simply quicker to go back the way I came.


    The Ascalaphus gets fooled by the sciacylch¡¯s backtracking and I watch as its body slowly collapses into ripples of mist and air. Any time it does that, I lose track of the creature, but searching around quickly reveals it again. The bird is heading in another direction now, intending to cut off the sciacylch, but I know it will fail. The bat will double back again after the next hole it reaches, and the owl will only be further away.


    I continue slithering through the air, picking up speed. Unless I¡¯m wrong about the little bat¡¯s intended path, I¡¯ll reach it first. Once I am, I¡¯ll be in the perfect position to cut the owl off.


    As expected, the sciacylch loops back on its path and comes my way. The Ascalaphus will still catch up, but not before the bat reaches me. Scia¡¯s kin is now in a series of tunnels and spatial bends where the only option is to either come my way, or flee back toward the owl. I have not shown hostility, so it is obvious which it¡¯ll choose.


    Both the bat and owl have noticed my presence now, but neither pays me much mind. They each come toward me, so I simply wait patiently for them to reach me.


    Only, the bat turns away. It blinks to the other end of a chamber, leaving itself nowhere to run. Why? Now there¡¯s no chance I¡¯ll reach it first.


    Hissing in annoyance, I snap forward. Are all sciacylch as¡­ dim as Scia?

 Chapter 21: Superiority

    I rip through the air, smashing my tail against myself where the bends in space allow it. The simple action increasing my speed tenfold. It still won¡¯t be enough. The ascalaphus will reach the sciacylch long before I do now that the bat has stopped.


    The damn owl¡¯s eyes stare into mine as I rush forward, gloating its victory. It doesn¡¯t hesitate despite my presence. Ascalaphi never do. They are far too assured of their own survival, no matter the circumstances.


    Before either of us reach it, the sciacylch does something strange. It creates a bend around itself, but the bend is inexplicable. In no way would I call this normal. This is closer to the warping of space I witnessed with the Titan. Not the same ¡ª not even close ¡ª but the bat twists the space around itself until it folds over and the little sciacylch disappears.


    Only by looking closely do I realise there is far more space in the tight confines of this cave than I previously realised. Maybe it¡¯s because I watched the bat fold space, but hints that I never paid much attention to finally form properly in my mind.


    The space in this cave ripples intensely. Like the churning waves of water frozen in place by a shrewdness of apikulls. I¡¯ve never noticed it, but now that I have witnessed its creation, I can see within.


    Hidden away in this unassuming cavern, are a colony of sciacylch. Small sections of wall have been bent and spread into layers which offer the hundreds of bats a place to hang from.


    Even to my true-sight, the image is difficult to parse. I knew Scia¡¯s ability to force the creation of spatial bends was incredible, but I didn¡¯t know her kind was capable of this much. Are they only able to achieve such morphed space because of their numbers?


    I can see within their home, but there is no visible way to enter. The sciacylch have entirely blocked themselves off from the rest of space. Is this why I¡¯ve not seen their species prior to Scia? If they can hide away so perfectly, nothing could disturb them.


    It makes me question ¡ª again ¡ª how Scia got caught in the first place.


    But the hidden bat colony does explain why the fleeing bat didn¡¯t cross my path. If even my superior true-sight barely pierces their obscurement, then the ascalaphus has no chance. The owl¡¯s head twists, eyes searching as it enters the chamber, obviously unable to find the sciacylch. While its eyes look for its prey, the bird flies straight. Its wings flap, but no sound escapes the feathers.


    Not for an instant does the ascalaphus deviate from its course. It knows the last place it saw the sciacylch and darts toward it.


    Knowing the bat and the rest of its kin are hidden in their pocket of space, I don¡¯t worry. The owl cannot enter, so I just need to strike at it while it wallows in confusion.


    That is the plan¡­ at least until the ascalaphus explodes into mist. I stare, uncomprehending, as the bird now exists inside the sciacylch pocket. Space didn¡¯t fold for it like the bat, nor was there anywhere for it to enter. No, it simply appeared amongst the tiny mammals like that¡¯s where it was meant to be. An echo of itself.


    Chaos erupts amongst the sciacylch. One moment they are unbothered; confident in their safety. The next, terror ripples through their colony. Each and every one of the hundreds of bats are up and blinking around. Many avoid the predatory jaws that appear amongst them, but others are not so lucky. In a single motion, the owl snaps up half a dozen sciacylch and swallows them whole.


    The lucky ones die in its beak. The unlucky ones don¡¯t.


    On my head, Scia shrieks in despair. I¡¯m close now, but there is no path for me inside. Unlike whatever the owl did to enter, I do not have such capability. Instead, I¡¯m forced to circle the folded space, unable to assist Scia¡¯s kin as they are eaten by what must be their natural predator.


    Only when the combined efforts of all the panicked bats collapse the folded space back into its normal state, can I strike at the owl. The sciacylch blink away from me, treating me much the same as the ascalaphus. Diving through a bend that takes me right on top of the bird, I snap my jaw shut. It makes a deafening clap that muffles the shrieks of the bats, but I collect nothing in my mouth.


    The ascalaphus saw me coming, and diverted out of the way, snapping up another easy meal in the same motion.


    I slither through the air, unbothered by my failed attempt. The owl regards me as I it. Its eyes follow my movements and I can pinpoint the moment it regulates me as something to avoid. When it does, it flaps hard, soaring into the furthest bend from me.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Maybe I would let it go if it gave up the meal it already took, but ascalaphi are arrogant. Despite knowing I¡¯m too much for it to take on directly, it doesn¡¯t forfeit its prey. The bird follows after the colony of Scia¡¯s kin.


    I flash it with my presence, limiting myself so that the sciacylch are unaffected. The bird freezes. Its limbs lock in motion and cannot fight against the deep, instinctual terror my pressure inflicts. I snap through a distortion, my fangs crash into the neck of the flying beast without hesitation, but they slide through air. The ascalaphus devolves into a cloud of mist, again.


    Behind me, the owl twirls in the air, doing its best to fly away. No longer is it held by the terror of my pressure.


    This is the most annoying thing about these creatures; they are just as inflicted by presence as any lesser beast, but they can break free easier than any other. Unlike powerful predators, they gain no resistance over time. I can freeze them as often as I¡¯d like, but they just flush the terror from their system without a moment¡¯s delay. As if they can recreate themselves in an unaffected state.


    At least it¡¯s further from its prey now. Unfortunately, I catch its eyes following the swarm of sciacylch. Despite my intervention, it¡¯s still determined to hunt them down.


    Arrogant.


    Even without Scia¡¯s urging, I¡¯ll do whatever I can to end this ascalaphus. Nothing is allowed to ignore me as a threat.


    Except Scia.


    ¡­ And the Titan.


    But all others will learn just why it is a mistake to underestimate me.


    I follow the owl. For now, my body moves with slow, confident slithers, placing myself between it and any path it has to the sciacylch. I make sure the bird knows I¡¯m not giving up on the chase with the occasional long, droning hiss. With each resounding sound, the owl¡¯s feathers stiffen and stand on end. A rather satisfying sight.


    The creature is far faster than me. Despite that, it dares not attempt to pass too close in any attempt on the bats. It knows only death awaits.


    In the large, undistorted cavern above the Labyrinthine Passages, simply placing myself between the predator and its prey would be enough to gradually widen the distance. But this is the warped tunnels; as long as we are continually moving, the distortions allow options for the bird to reach the bats. While I know which options I need to cover, it requires my timing and movement to be perfect, while also adapting on the fly. Such an effort prevents me making a move myself.


    That is fine. Slow and meaningful movements may not bring me toward the ascalaphus, but it gives me time to analyse its movements. I watch and wait, learning its habits, its preferences when choosing paths.


    One thing I note is that any time I give it space to pass me, it will still avoid me and take a less optimal path. Baiting it in doesn¡¯t work.


    The bird is patient. It continues flying out of my range while endlessly searching for a path I haven¡¯t already seen. But despite how long we remain stuck in this back and forth, the owl never gives up. Its eyes continue to hunger for Scia¡¯s kin. Each glance my way declares its determination to come out on top, despite its weakness.


    Once I¡¯m comfortable with the way it moves ¡ª the way it sometimes pierces through distortions as if they weren¡¯t there and tries to throw me off with echoes of itself ¡ª I move on to pressing it. While never giving it the opportunity to pass, I begin lacing each of my hisses with presence.


    Now, each and every time I flood its body with the weight of my power, it collapses. The bird explodes in a silent pulse of air and mist. Every collapse is followed by the owl reforming. It takes me almost a dozen attempts to realise that each time the ascalaphus reforms, it does so beyond a bend it just passed.


    The discovery remains consistent no matter how many times it repeats. While I have no idea how it does so, it¡¯s almost as if the moment it travels through a bend or pierces it, an invisible echo of itself is created that does the opposite. At will, it can abandon its form and take the echo as its new body.


    When I finalise my tactic and act, it is immediately obvious to those watching. The ascalaphus eyes me while Scia chirps a cheer to show her support. I slither off track, giving the owl all the space it could need to attack the colony. But it doesn¡¯t take the opportunity. Its wide eyes stick to me, wary of my sudden change of approach.


    When the owl passes through a hole, I thread through one of my own, reaching the area behind the one they passed. The foolish creature doesn¡¯t realise my plan even as I crush its body with the overpowering strength of my presence. It doesn¡¯t think, it simply escapes the terror permeating its form. I open my jaw, and snap down. Fangs pierce feathers.


    The owl shrieks. A high-pitched howl louder than anything that small has a right to make. The ascalaphus, in its thoughtless fear, reformed right between my jaws.


    Unlike any other creature I¡¯ve bitten, my long fangs do not hold it still. The bird slaps its wings at the side of my head and pulls its body from my mouth. Through the bottom half of its chest, and the entire length of its tail, the owl has two long puncture wounds from my fangs. But instead of blood, bone and muscle, only broken air fills the wound and body.


    So the owl is an elemental? Didn¡¯t think its binding was so high.


    This ascalaphus¡¯ body is of a rare type. Not made of flesh, but something far less tangible. Despite that, my attack still left it hurt.


    A mixture of mist and condensed air billows out from the wounds cutting open the not-so-solid creature. Uninjured wings carry it away while it lets out a pained wail that echoes endlessly through the surroundings.


    An injury like this, the bird half torn apart, would be enough to kill most creatures. But an elemental can survive worse.


    Some creatures like the ascalaphi can take on aspects of elements, but I didn¡¯t think the owls were elementals; those with twisted bodies lacking meat. I thought the airy feathers were simply a connection, like the diosgri have with lightning, or the apikulls with ice.


    I dislike elementals. They are hard to kill, and harder to eat.


    But eating isn¡¯t why I¡¯m hunting this owl. Plus, considering how the elemental¡¯s chest and tail haven¡¯t reformed immediately, this won¡¯t be the worst I¡¯ve faced. I can kill it without resorting to some more¡­ undesirable options.


    The bird is flying again, and I¡¯m not so certain it will fall for the same trick.

 Chapter 22: Dominance

    Never have I heard an ascalaphus screech before, but damn are they loud.


    In my very few encounters, they¡¯ve always been perfectly silent. I¡¯d always thought it was an unnecessary effort, what with the twisting space making sound unreliable. But now that I know of the sciacylch and their incredible hearing, it makes much more sense that their direct predators remain silent.


    Also explains why the bats barely reacted before the owl was already within their home.


    But the ascalaphus scampers away from me. Wings beating with desperation, it has given up on its silence. Screeches pound through my head with ever-growing intensity. The owl doesn¡¯t stop its yowling, and somehow, the echoes never seem to dim. The volume continues to climb and drown out all else.


    After being nearly bisected by my fangs, the owl has grown far more weary. I let out a little hiss that doesn¡¯t reach my ears; not so arrogant anymore, are you? It knows I can catch it, and now shifts its path choice to take it as far away as it can.


    But I won¡¯t let it escape.


    It has already tempted me too much. I will feast on this bird.


    Whether by coincidence, or it has detected my hunger, the ascalaphus¡¯ pained screeches become panicked. For a moment, there is a break in the mounting echoes as the bird chokes on its breath. But only for a moment. Its high-pitched howling quickly claws through the air, stronger than ever.


    Only when Scia yelps and holds her ears flat to her head to I realise the endlessly rising sound will be a problem. As I look back, the fleeing sciacylch drop to the ground one after the other. Each pressing their wings hard against their ears in a likely ineffective attempt to deafen the sound.


    The effect on the sciacylch is concerning; each is now vulnerable to any other creature that may happen upon them in the thick underbrush. But all I care about is the one riding my head; Scia.


    My eyes burn into the back of the ascalaphus. The bird is obviously watching me as it jolts in fear. Even without my presence, I can smell its horror. Only a few moments ago, it treated this like a game. As if it never imagined it possible it could be caught. Now, it has given up on any attempt at the bats. It only flees.


    As I look down on Scia in pain, an unfamiliar rage floods my veins.


    An unbridled hiss tears through my scaly lips, slicing through the ever-mounting shriek of the owl like a fang through soft skin. My presence enhanced hiss blasts through the air with a visible wave, crushing all other sound.


    The ascalaphus pops in a burst of air, appearing only to explode again. The bird reforms over and over, but it cannot escape my pressure flooding every cavern in sight. After a dozen shattered echoes, the owl collapses. Unable to fight the instinctual terror gripping it, the bird¡¯s wings lock and it flies head first into a crystalline wall before slumping to the ground.


    My hiss cuts off, but I don¡¯t let up on my pressure over the bird. Its screeches have stopped. Not only that; every sound is gone. My presence-laced hiss has frozen all life in sight. Not even the constant chirps of bugs or the rush of flowing water reach my ears.


    Despite the oddness of my surroundings, I never tear my eyes from my prey. In its desperate escape attempt, it made it quite far. Unfortunately for the owl, it can no longer move. With casual slithers through the air, I slowly close the distance.


    Everything remains silent. The world around me remains unmoving as I approach my prey, but not everything is frozen. Prey¡¯s eyes, while stiff, stare through a bend directly into mine. There is comprehension there. Hidden beneath a layer of overwhelming terror, the ascalaphus understands its folly. It knows it made a mistake facing me. But it is too late for regrets.


    I slide to a stop before it. The ascalaphus landed amongst a number of large, semi-transparent crystals. In fact, they fill every crevice within the cavern. The owl lays, without even a twitch, prostrated between two hard crystals. Condensed mist continues to flow from the wounds along its back and tail, but it no longer shows any sort of awareness of the pain.


    All it can focus on¡­ is me.


    My jaw widens, and I swallow the elemental whole.


    The taste is¡­ non-existent. I can feel it go down with the solidity of any other creature, but with a consistency of mostly air, it has barely any weight to it. Surprisingly enough, despite having no meat, the meal is still filling.


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    The sound of water trickling in the distance returns, soon followed by all other constant noises as the world remembers to move.


    A belch retches its way up my throat just as Scia moves again. Maybe a bit too much air in my stomach. Scia just squeaks and covers her nose. I¡¯m sure she¡¯s exaggerating. My breath isn¡¯t that bad. But it is good to see no lingering effects from my presence or the ascalaphus¡¯ ever-increasing sound. Scia brushes it off as if it didn¡¯t happen.


    I shake my head, but another bubble of air rumbles out of my mouth in a loud burp. Scia chirps, giggling at my unrestrained expulsion. She climbs over my head, still clutching her snout, and settles in along my back. Out of direct proximity to the gas from my stomach, she breathes deep.


    The elemental finally begins to struggle, having snapped out of the petrifying fear. For a moment, I worry that it will return to another of its echoes and escape. But it doesn¡¯t. The ascalaphus continues to struggle in vain against my stomach acids that work away and digest its living body.


    As alive as the owl is, I know I¡¯ll be in for a rough few sleeps. The last time I ate an elemental was horrid. Back then, eating the being whole was the only way I could kill it. Constriction barely worked and my teeth slid through the being like water. But this ascalaphus is not as bound to its element as that creature had been. Hopefully, it succumbs soon.


    I slump over the hard crystals that once supported my prey. The post-feast lethargy hits me, but it isn¡¯t nearly as strong as usual. I wonder why? Is the ¨­mukade still fuelling my veins, or do ascalaphi simply not fill me up enough to need much rest? Whatever the reason, I¡¯m grateful; I¡¯ve still got to check on Scia¡¯s kin.


    Well, I will do that¡­ but right now, I just want to slouch here. I won¡¯t sleep, but I¡¯ll take a few moments to relax after that effort.


    The cavern I find myself in is filled with crystalline formations. Not a rock to be seen. The hard, sharp crystals grow from each wall and slice through many bends in the limited space. They are slightly transparent, but not so much that I can see through to their base.


    What I find particularly interesting, is that the same spatial ripple emanates from these crystals as I saw given off by the countless flying bugs beyond the Labyrinthine Passages and what filtered down through the massive rock-voided column. Interesting, because I¡¯ve been to plenty of crystal outcroppings like this in the past, but never have I seen this effect.


    Is this crystal cave different? Or is it like with the sciacylchs¡¯ folded space and I only recognise it because I know what to look for?


    Most of Scia¡¯s kin are up and about again. I watch as they congregate near another secluded cavern corner and begin to fold space to their colony¡¯s preference. I don¡¯t miss the glances Scia sends their way.


    Oh¡­ right. She probably got separated from her kind before I found her in the clutches of that centipede. Now that she¡¯s found them ¡ª whether they are the same colony or a different one ¡ª Scia will want to join her kin, won¡¯t she?


    I tear my focus from her longing gaze and stare into the crystal beneath me. The effort blocks out most of my sight of the distorted world around me, except for some small bends within the crystal that alter the direction of growth within the solid.


    Things have been changing so quickly around me recently. My mind is a constant flux of conflicting emotions and alien thoughts that I have no idea how to deal with. Ever since I gained sapience¡­ no, things didn¡¯t change immediately once my mind grew to what it is. Ever since the Titan destroyed my home and I met Scia, my thoughts have been yanked every which way.


    At first, I thought sapience was a gift. It was something I earned over countless hunts, evolving and adapting until clarity reached me. Then, when the emotions that came with that intelligence hit me all at once, I couldn¡¯t handle it. I still can¡¯t. They all seemed horrible; more of a curse than a gift.


    But now, after travelling with Scia, I¡¯m starting to understand that there is more to the package of emotions than what I¡¯d originally assumed. Sure, there are horrid feelings woven into my mind along with sapience, but there are also emotions that feel¡­ good.


    How could I have ever known that having someone that wants to save me would incite warmth and gratitude? Me, a powerful apex predator being rescued by one of the smallest and weakest critters. It simply doesn¡¯t make sense. But I cannot deny that I¡¯ve come to enjoy Scia¡¯s company, and having her with me makes me¡­ happy.


    Which makes the current situation all the more painful.


    With her family here to return to, Scia will leave me. By all means, this is a good thing; she¡¯ll get to live in safety with the other sciacylch, while I won¡¯t need to worry about the danger she¡¯ll be in travelling with me. It should be for the best¡­ but I hate it. I don¡¯t want her to leave my side.


    Is this how Scia always felt when I would try to abandon her? I hope not; this is horrible.


    Try as I might, the thoughts keep swirling in my mind. This gut retching fear of being left alone is what I put her through? I shouldn¡¯t even feel this in the first place; I¡¯ve been alone for so long, why do I fear to return to those times? Why do I care that I¡¯ve inflicted this fear upon another?


    A thought occurs to me: I can just stop her from leaving me. I¡¯ll wrap her in my tail and slither away until she has no chance to find her family again. If she cannot find them again, then she¡¯ll never leave my side.


    The plan is solid¡­ but I could never do so. Every scale of my being screams in refusal. The idea that Scia would hate me for doing so is not a thought I can avoid. Between Scia leaving to rejoin her kin, and leaving because of resentment, there is no debate.


    As much as I want to continue laying here forever to put off the inevitable, Scia¡¯s curious gazes to her family grow ever more desperate. I rise from the crystal and slowly slither toward the colony. If I don¡¯t, Scia might very well leave on her own. The least I can do is watch her off.

 Chapter 23: Gratification

    The way the hundred or so sciacylch gather to bend a small section of wall into a dozen platforms which they can hang from is quite the sight. Not to mention all is hidden within folded space. The rock itself doesn¡¯t bend or grow, it¡¯s simply the space subsuming it that morphs to these little creature¡¯s will. In a region that should only hold a single of their kind, they can make room for ten.


    As I approach, all the bats flee within the safety of their little hole away from the world. A tight squeeze for all of them; apparently they¡¯ve not had enough time to warp it to the standard of their previous nest.


    I¡¯m sure the sciacylch know it was me that protected them from their direct predator, and yet they hide. It doesn¡¯t bother me. This is how the weak should act; treat the strong as if they shall eat you at any moment. This is how all creatures act.


    But it does make Scia¡¯s actions all that more confusing. None of her kin are as foolish as her. She truly is an anomaly.


    Unable to hold herself back, Scia leaps from my scales and blinks to the folded space.


    I keep my distance, unwilling to send the colony into any more of a panic.


    Scia folds space around her, sliding into the hidden nest. Immediately, she is surrounded by dozens of chirping sciacylch. They sniff at her, climbing over one another to greet her as she hangs between them, screeching out rapid greetings.


    As the bats congregate around the newcomer, I find I don¡¯t know what to do with myself. Another strange emotion filters through the others. I want to rush up to them and remain in Scia¡¯s proximity, but at the same time, getting between her and her kin is the last thing I want to do. In my indecision, I slither at the peripheral of the chamber they¡¯ve set their nest in.


    Scia chirps rapidly, sniffing each of the other bats as they do the same to her. She happily greets all of those around her. Not once does she look back at me.


    She is happy.


    I turn. Ignoring each of the images reflected through spatial bends, I move off. Each slither is slow, as if to avoid attracting attention.


    This is for the best. For both of us. She gets to live amongst a colony of her species again, safe, while I can take the opportunity to search beyond the Pressurised Depths.


    This is how it should be. What kind of apex predator allows a creature too weak to be considered prey to follow it around, anyway? Maybe at some time in the future I¡¯ll return, see Scia again¡­ or the generation she leaves behind.


    This is the only option. Scia will eventually die, anyway, so it¡¯s better she stay with the species with the same average life as her. They will look after each other. They will look after her.


    I only wish we could have spent more time together.


    A chirp snaps me from my mulling. Scia flies ahead of me, looking at me with an expression more conflicted than I¡¯ve seen from her. I look around. Behind her, a dozen sciacylch peek out through the fold, but don¡¯t fully remove themselves from their safe space.


    Somehow, when I wasn¡¯t paying attention, I accidentally returned to their cave. I¡¯ve not made a mistake like that in my pathing since¡­ well, ever.


    As I stare into Scia¡¯s wide eyes, I realise this is why I left. I couldn¡¯t bear it. I can¡¯t stare her in the eyes and accept that she doesn¡¯t want to remain by my side. Better to depart while I can see she¡¯s happy than to watch as she decides to leave me.


    Scia, without any hesitation, dives into the scales between my eyes. She rubs the top of her head into mine.


    I hate this. I know what she¡¯s doing and I hate what it means. This is a farewell¡­ one that I don¡¯t want to be a part of. I don¡¯t know how I went from hating her presence to never wanting her to leave, but this is too difficult.


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    Why is it this hard? I am a predator. An apex of near-on any ecosystem I find myself in. Nothing but the absolute strongest beasts in the world can dare compete with my being¡­ and yet this simple farewell is too difficult for me?


    The crash of so many conflicting emotions presses down on my body. Nothing is wrong with me, but I cannot move. I want to run and avoid this last meeting. I want to snatch Scia up and never let her go. But a part of me also despises those options. It refuses to accept the weakness they present. I am an apex, so I should act like it.


    Against the conflict writhing through me, I bring up the tip of my tail and pat the little bat. So small, so weak. This is all I can do without hurting Scia. I don¡¯t want her to leave, but I cannot be so weak as to avoid it.


    Scia chirps under my touch and leans into my tail, obviously enjoying the petting. After I start, I cannot pull away. I know that when it ends, our time will end, so I keep slowly stroking the thin fur along the back of her head.


    But unfortunately, that time soon runs out. Scia leans away from my touch, her eyes smile at me, and she chirps. This is the part where I leave. Scia has found her family, and I have no place amongst them.


    Once again, I turn away.


    Scia blinks upon my back, the same place as always. I halt my retreat, staring confused at the bat that grips at my scales. She chirps at the half dozen sciacylch peeking out from the folded space, flapping her wings before turning back to me with an expectant look.


    Did I¡­ mistake the situation?


    Is she not actually leaving me¡­ or is this a final ride before we leave? I hope she doesn¡¯t drag this painful separation out any longer than it needs to. I''m not sure how I¡¯ll handle it.


    I slither forward, taking a path that will drag us as far from the sciacylch colony as quickly as possible. Not once does she look back. Never does she show an inkling that she doesn¡¯t want to stick to me.


    I was mistaken.


    She would prefer to stay with me, even over her own kind.


    Suddenly, I snap forward, eliciting a squeak from Scia. An immense wave of relief and joy flood my body. A complicated mix of emotions that feel good, and only good. I weave through bends and holes with vigour, unable to suppress the immense energy these unfamiliar emotions fill me with.


    Scia clings tight as I whip my tail against myself, accelerating further. I was wrong. I made a mistake. And I¡¯ve never been happier.


    It¡¯s inexplicable. The urge to just move overwhelms me. And so I do. I throw myself through holes and bends at an excessive clip. Scia shrieks and clings tight to my scales, but she never tries to leave. No matter how far we travel, she never shows the slightest inclination of wanting to go back.


    It wasn¡¯t just a temporary thing. Scia didn¡¯t just cling to me because she had nowhere else to go; she stayed by my side because she wanted to. The option to return to the safety of a colony was right there for her to take, but she didn¡¯t. Scia chose me.


    Not long ago, I would consider myself insane for reacting this way. How could I consider a diminutive creature wanting to stick with me as something worth celebrating? The very thought of it goes in the face of laws of nature.


    Laws that I¡¯m only just discovering aren¡¯t as absolute as I¡¯d always pictured.


    Scia is an anomaly. That is an undisputed fact. But I¡¯m growing to find that her anomalousness is not inherently bad. In fact, if it wasn¡¯t for her strangeness and deviation from what is natural, never would I have come to care. Her insistence, in the face of the way things should be, is the only reason I feel this way.


    If not for Scia, I never would have experienced this positive side of the complex emotions that sapience had to load me with. It is not all negative, as I had first assumed. Maybe¡­ maybe I wouldn¡¯t give them up. If the option presented itself, I wouldn¡¯t return to the way I used to be.


    I finally slow to a more sedate pace, engulfed by a sense of satisfaction despite the waste of energy. Scia cheers, obviously having enjoyed the ride.


    With her by my side, there will be no searching the Crippling Depths or Magma Ocean¡­ but I find that doesn¡¯t bother me. I¡¯ll find a way beyond, or I won¡¯t. For now, I¡¯ll settle with taking my time. I can keep up my search passively, while assuring the safety of my little passenger.


    My mind set, I alter my course for the Wind Channels. They aren¡¯t so dangerous, assuming you keep away from the direct streams, but they are the best option. I¡¯d given up on them when I was impatient, but I am far calmer now than previously. I can wait, no matter how long it¡¯ll take to find a path.


    A strange feeling of satisfaction with the world settles over me. It¡¯s not like the active positive emotions that have flooded my mind after Scia chose to stay with me, but rather a satiation that can at best be compared to a full stomach. I am happy with the world as it is, and there is a hope that things will stay as they are for a long time.


    I reach two holes in space. One will take me to the wind border, where I can begin my search. The second takes us to somewhere completely different; a cave somewhere far from any of the borders I¡¯m trying to travel beyond.


    Scia barks a high-pitched squeak. Her head points through the hole that will take us nowhere.


    Well, there¡¯s no rush. A little deviation can¡¯t hurt.

 Chapter 24: Retrospection

    We find ourselves far from any border we could reasonably reach. There are paths that lead through rifts and holes to those borders, but they are rare. With the infrequency, we¡¯re likely at the midpoint between all; a place where all sorts of creatures converge. Why did Scia want to come here?


    Despite how few rifts there are toward the edges of the warped tunnels, there are always some that connect to the amber barrier. That isn¡¯t strange. With how dense the spatial distortions are around there, it is difficult to find anywhere that doesn¡¯t connect to it.


    It¡¯s nice to be back within the tight, comforting grip of these confined distortions. Hard to say whether I would stay at my full size if it were feasible. While the mighty feeling of strength and power is not something I like giving up, there are simply too many downsides of remaining at size.


    The number of bends large enough to support my maximum width are low. Too low to allow me to swim through the air as I love doing. All the little creatures could spin circles around me, without my being able to do anything. Can¡¯t have that.


    Another thing is that while my scales are proportionately stronger, any scratches I happen to get in my larger form absolutely ruin my appearance at smaller sizes. Thankfully, there¡¯s not much that is hard enough to inflict such damage, but it is still a concern.


    Also¡­ well, it¡¯s simply impossible to move around when most tunnels and caverns are half your height. Really makes me appreciate my capability to shift sizes. If I was limited to my true mass, life would be miserable; I¡¯d have to dig through the earth like a worm.


    Scia chirps, her ears guiding us forward. I¡¯m not sure where exactly she¡¯s leading us, but I¡¯m sure she hears something I cannot. Maybe it isn¡¯t the wisest idea to follow the directions of one who would fall for a worm ambush, and has a terrible reputation of placing her own survival as secondary in many situations¡­ well, it certainly isn¡¯t intelligent to let her lead, but I¡¯m curious of what has her so enraptured.


    She is focused. Her neck and ears strain to hear what must be barely audible even for her. With each bend and hole, we somehow seem to get further from the borders than we already are.


    Soon enough, Scia¡¯s steering leads right through the territory of an apikull troop. Despite the icy air and snap-frozen waterfalls all around us, she barely seems to regard them. Too focused on whatever lies beyond, Scia shows no care for the dangers she might be placing herself in.


    I suppress my hiss of amusement. If I weren¡¯t here, she¡¯d just throw herself back in danger again, wouldn¡¯t she?


    Scia is strange, even for her own kind. The longer I¡¯m around her, the more clear that becomes. She is too curious, too trusting. If left alone, she will only find herself in trouble. Really, I should have known that she wouldn¡¯t leave me. Not when all her kin were so stagnant in their little home.


    The family of apes notice us as soon as we¡¯re in their chamber. A dozen frozen pillars of water fill the space between us, and I slither toward the other end of the chamber Scia is points toward. The little bat hasn¡¯t even registered their existence, transfixed on whatever she hears.


    I¡¯m starting to be concerned that she¡¯s being baited by something again.


    While I try to ignore them, the apes don¡¯t reciprocate. The large pair between the dozen fling themselves through the air toward us. With a hiss of annoyance, I turn to deal with them, but the sight behind them makes me pause.


    The larger ones are rushing to fight, but mid-sized ones hold the smallest, pulling them away from any bend that leads near me. I look back to Scia, who only now realises something is wrong, what with my halted movement and the apikulls¡¯ screeching.


    They are protecting the smaller of their kind. I didn¡¯t understand it last time, but the apes attacked me last time knowing full well they had no chance. The apikulls died because they wanted their kin to live.


    Even now, it isn¡¯t death they search for, it is the survival of those they care for. I couldn¡¯t understand it back then, especially in the state I¡¯d been in, but now? Now is different. These apikulls aren¡¯t the only ones with a creature they don¡¯t want hurt.


    Still, while I only care about Scia, I can¡¯t help my gaze falling on how the mid size apes hold their young. They flinch back and hold them close whenever I gaze their way, screeching with bared teeth.


    These creatures are lesser ¡ª there¡¯s no denying that ¡ª but there¡¯s no reason to kill them.


    As the larger duo close the distance, swinging through the air with hands clenched through bends, I feel the temperature rapidly dropping. Maybe I didn¡¯t need to kill them last time, but if I let them get close, Scia will succumb to that frost. She is weak, and while these apes aren¡¯t all that threatening to me, they might very well be for her.


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    I hiss. The sound shears through the chamber, empowered by my presence. All apikull freeze. The two larger ones tumble to the ground, one of which shatters through one of the ice pillars with the gained momentum. The rest at the back are hit by my pressure as well, despite not having been the target.


    I spin in place, daring them to rise, but while they struggle more than most, the apikull cannot fight my overwhelming superiority. It would take no more than an instant to kill them. They wouldn¡¯t be able to threaten my small partner with their spines severed.


    ¡­but I hold myself back.


    I turn away, and slither through the hole Scia was originally staring toward. Maybe they dared attack me, but I can understand. While they threatened Scia, do they deserve death because they wanted to protect their own?


    I don¡¯t know.


    I¡¯ve never needed to consider this all before. It was simple; kill those you wanted, and ignore any others. Any foolish enough to dare take me on never come out alive. So why do I feel differently now?


    In my moment of unfiltered rage and frustration in the aftermath of the Titan destroying my home, I¡¯d killed the larger apikull, then slaughtered their young. The ape sacrificed its life to stop me, but that hadn¡¯t mattered to me. I wanted to kill, and they were there. That¡¯s all there was to it.


    But¡­ maybe I should have held back from butchering the focus of their protective efforts. Those deaths didn¡¯t help me in the slightest.


    We slither away, leaving the petrified apikulls behind to reflect on their near deaths. Next time, they might not be so lucky as to challenge such a forgiving predator as myself.


    A chirp reminds me that Scia was directing us somewhere, but when I look, she¡¯s watching me curiously.


    What? It¡¯s not like I eat everything I come across. I didn¡¯t eat you did I?


    My thoughts grind to a halt when I realise just how aggressive I¡¯ve been acting lately. After having the Titan destroy everything, I¡¯d been incredibly agitated. Creatures that I would have ignored, or simply scared off, have received the full brunt of my presence, if not death in my jaws.


    My mind has been in turmoil lately, but I shouldn¡¯t let myself veer too far from who I was. The very thought that these emotions might be changing who I am at my core is more concerning than I¡¯d like to admit. Sparing the apikulls like that? Never would I have accepted such aggression without a response.


    That centipede that chomped on Scia¡¯s wing¡­ my former self would never have intervened. It would have just ignored the course of nature and left the lesser creatures to hunt as they wished.


    But I did intervene. And even after doing so, I didn¡¯t try to get rid of her.


    Of course, I made some attempts, but none ever pushed the point of harming the bat. If I was to look back over my actions, it was as if I already cared for her long before she actually grew on me. Was that just because of the uniqueness of the little bat, or was there something more?


    Did the sight of Scia in the clutches of that many legged creature remind me of the terror I¡¯d felt at the mercy of the Titan? Even from the start, I was already considering Scia as comparable to myself, despite the clear disparity in our position on the food-chain.


    Maybe it isn¡¯t a surprise that I came to enjoy her company.


    I bring my tail around to pat her head, assuring her there isn¡¯t an issue. She leans into my scales, rubbing against them to get as much contact as she can. Scia obviously enjoys the touch, and I find it surprisingly pleasing to watch her enjoy it.


    Unfortunately, it¡¯s too difficult to rub her head while moving, so I have to stop as we slither through the next hole. Scia snaps back to her role as guide. The sound she¡¯s following still enough for her to follow.


    As we pass through the next few bends, I ponder what the sound might be. It¡¯s something that has Scia enraptured, but is loud enough that it carries this far through space ¡ª even if I cannot hear it. Without hearing it myself, I can only guess¡­ and I have no guesses.


    At least we¡¯re in familiar territory this time, so anything that might try to ambush the little bat on my head shouldn¡¯t be anything I don¡¯t know how to deal with.


    The moment I realise where she¡¯s leading me, I immediately doubt that declaration. My gaze flicks around, worried that the tunnels around are too familiar, but no, they¡¯re not any more memorable than any of the million other tunnels I¡¯ve passed through. No, I am not near my former territory.


    The abyss ahead is not the remnant of my home.


    But it is still an abyss. No matter how far my sight threads through bends in space, I cannot find the bottom. This may not be my home, but it is a hole of sheared rock as vast as what my territory was subject to.


    A sliver of terror grips at me, but I keep moving. Keep following Scia. The way rock just cuts off into an endless abyss is too similar to the damage inflicted by the Titan to be anything else. It isn¡¯t my home, but the same disaster that hit my home hit here. Despite recalling the Titan¡¯s overwhelming presence, I cannot turn back. I need to see this.


    Scia never notices the nervousness that floods my veins as we move closer, but she does become all the more animated. She sways her head, as if enjoying whatever sound that remains beyond my hearing.


    The closer we get, the more worried I get; the abyss extends in all direction beyond the limits of my sight. Nothing about it is natural. The sheer volume of rock that is just¡­ missing is beyond reasonable. It makes me uncomfortable not knowing where the world continues anywhere other than directly behind me.


    As we creep closer, Scia only grows more excited. At one point, while I was distracted by the endlessness of every direction, she started swaying. She dances to some unheard rhythm that only intensifies as I slither over the edge.


    The space is still dense with bends, which is relieving because there is no ground any longer. Not below, above, or anywhere than directly behind us.


    Scia is no longer leading me, lost in whatever soundless song has enraptured her, and yet I slither out into the abyss. She can hear and enjoy the music, but to me, I am pushing further into empty space. Both in material, and the ethereal. There is nothing.


    At least, not until a perfectly uniform pillar appears from the dark.

 Chapter 25: Fear

    The pillar is the same as the one dug free from my favourite resting spot. From the energy flowing off it, to the way bends don¡¯t affect it, this endless pillar is the same.


    Is this why the abyss exists? Has the Titan come along here to tear the pillar from its stone encasing as it did with the one back in my home?


    For a long time, I linger in the air simply watching the pillar. It isn¡¯t made of stone, nor any other material I¡¯m familiar with, but there are lines all along its surface. Lines that weave and loop and end in ways that my mind refuses to follow. The pillar is perfect; there isn¡¯t a scratch or blemish anywhere along its surface, no matter how far my eyes follow it.


    I remember the comforting feeling of the energy flowing through my body any time I lay on my resting spot. Only now do I know it was because of this pillar, but I don¡¯t dare approach. The Titan may not be anywhere nearby, but these pillars are important to it, so unless I want to tempt my original fortune, I¡¯ll keep my distance.


    Scia is lost in a thoughtless dance, her head swaying from side to side, simply enjoying the song, but for me, the silence is overwhelming. Each moment I linger, it feels like the impossible arms of the Titan are reaching out from the emptiness to grasp at me.


    Chills prick at my scales; a feeling I¡¯m unfamiliar with. It makes me want to flee. To slide through the nearest rift and push as much space between myself and this void as possible. Despite the empty air that seems to cling at my scales like a physical presence, I don¡¯t leave. I need to know where the pillar leads.


    I need to know why the Titan destroyed my home.


    From the way Scia¡¯s ears tilt down to the depths below, I have a good idea of where that sound originates. And I have no intention of going down to meet it. Scia may enjoy it, but anything that is likely to have taken up residence in a space like this will be deadly. Of that, I have no doubt. Even if it weren¡¯t trying to bait her down with some inaudible melody, I wouldn¡¯t let her go.


    So instead, I focus my attention upward, slithering through bends in opposition to gravity. The pillar extends far. Despite the frequency of holes in the area, it still takes time to follow.


    The rock encased tunnels we came from are long gone now. Only the pillar remains to fill the abyss. The world remaining so empty is disconcerting. Especially considering the sheer distance I¡¯ve already crossed as I pierce the air around the pillar.


    Unlike the last time I climbed such an open void, the distortions grow stronger, rather than the reverse. Each bend grows so close together that gravity warps and becomes less distinct. It is still there of course, but my body is pulled in so many ways it is difficult to tell which is down.


    At least, it would have been without the pillar.


    The strange, unblemished column remains straight regardless of the twisting space around it. Where normal rock walls would find themselves bending and morphing with the air, this endless length is undisturbed.


    Soon, the amber barrier falls into view. Where before, I¡¯ve had no way to tell exactly which direction the wall lay, the pillar shatters the gravity obfuscation of such high density distortion. It lies above, then? Does it share a border with the Labyrinthine Passages? That seems impossible though; twisting space grows far weaker near the labyrinth, it couldn¡¯t be close to the amber barrier where they are strongest.


    I consider turning back; diving down into the depths at the other end of the pillar to find what border lies that way¡­ but Scia is still dumbly swaying to the silent song. She may not be wise enough to realise the unsettling nature of it, but I feel an instinctual part of me screaming to keep away. This, surprisingly, is not a part of my newfound emotions and considerations, but a primal part of me. Even a hundred hunts ago, I would act the same.


    Despite being unable to see anything ¡ª hear anything ¡ª when I peer down into the abyss, I get that same feeling of wrongness as I did witnessing the Titan. I don¡¯t like it, and I don¡¯t plan to go down there looking for whatever might be causing this instinct to flare.


    Now close enough to see where the pillar reaches the amber barrier, I¡¯m surprised to see the length that remained consistent and unchanging bloom into a thousand symmetrical arches that spin around before clinging to the barrier. The offshoots spread farther than my full length. It¡¯s like the branches of a tree, or closer to the roots, stretching away from the trunk to dig into the amber barrier.


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    Despite appearances, the pillar never disrupts the continuity of the wall ¡ª or ceiling ¡ª that glows in my sight unlike anything else. Both the amber barrier and pillar are immune to spatial distortion, but it is the pillar that ends at their contact. It clings to the wall with countless branching arms, and yet it remains inferior.


    Now that we¡¯ve come to the end of its length, I have to wonder if the pillar is the same as the one I spent so long unknowingly resting upon. If not, how many are there? Do they all connect to the amber barrier? Where do they lead?


    The invasive feeling of curiosity creeps its way back into my mind. It tickles my interest, whispering encouragement to dive into the depths and discover what truly lies below. But the curiosity cannot last. The instinctual terror that sweeps me any time I even so much as look that way wipes any interest from my mind.


    There is a small part of me that finds the idea of backing down to some instinct repulsive. But that arrogance, that pride, is no different; both attempt to influence my actions. I want none of either, but between the two, I trust my instinct more. It has been a part of me for long enough that I know there is a reason for this fear. Pride may want me to uphold my strength, but I am far too familiar with my weaknesses in the face of Titanic beasts.


    I snap off. Scia and I slither away from the pillar, following the barrier close, but not so close that the rapid reforming of space interferes with my motions. With the more frequent holes, we quickly find ourselves surrounded by rock again. I am relieved to once more have walls around me that I can see. The endless void is an unsettling sensation.


    Scia, of course, squeaks in disappointment at losing the soundless melody. She scampers up my head until she¡¯s right before my eyes and chirps, pointing her head behind me.


    I hiss. Not loudly, nor aggressively, but enough to get my answer across.


    No.


    We will not be returning to the chasm for you to fall prey to some beast¡¯s tempting melody. You may think me cruel for denying you your enjoyment, but I shall not continue to allow you to place yourself in danger.


    That¡¯s right; Scia has already proven to be an imbecile when it comes to her own safety. She can¡¯t determine what is a danger to herself, so I must do it in her stead.


    Surprisingly, Scia doesn¡¯t complain. She slumps a little, but her head bobs and she returns to laying right behind my head. Even as her ears tilt backward, she allows me to continue slithering further away. Eventually, we¡¯ve travelled along the border far enough that her ears stop flicking back, but she never shows a moment of hesitation at losing the song.


    Not something I would have expected from a creature transfixed on the lure of a beast. An aggressive resistance would have been more appropriate. But I won¡¯t complain about things going well.


    As I slither along the amber barrier ¡ª continually reminding myself that it is above me, and not any other orientation ¡ª I realise that of anywhere, here is where I¡¯m more likely to find a path beyond those borders. Sure, it¡¯s impossible to pass beyond the amber barrier itself when it blocks any form of spatial distortion, but given the intense frequency of distant rifts and rends near the wall, there¡¯s a good chance one of them will reach far enough to take us beyond.


    It¡¯s, admittedly, not the greatest plan; the only likely place those distant rends will appear is right besides the wall itself. That close, they¡¯ll only last a few moments. Not to mention the difficulty of threading through the eternally changing space without getting myself or Scia torn up¡­


    Well, I shouldn¡¯t be so pessimistic. With enough time, we might get lucky and find a stable rend outside the danger zone. Considering my not insignificant time around the amber barrier in all my life without having found a distortion beyond the borders, I can¡¯t imagine we¡¯ll be here for a short period, but it beats challenging the Magma Ocean or Pressurised Depths with Scia.


    As I slither through the next hundred bends, Scia begins to hum. She sways her head as if still able to hear the music while her ears don¡¯t so much as flick backward. The melody is simple, a series of highs and highers with Scia¡¯s squeaky tone that repeat after a dozen moments.


    Even from the little bat¡¯s mouth the song is enrapturing.


    No!


    The Beyond startles me at its sudden exclamation.


    Shut. Her. Up.


    It¡¯s words are far more direct than I¡¯ve ever heard from it. Very rarely does the Beyond speak without prompting.


    I halt my motions and hiss lightly for Scia to stop. She does, and gazes at me with curiosity, but I¡¯m not so sure why the Beyond had me stop her. For a few moments, I wait for the Beyond to elaborate. Why does it not like her singing? I hardly thought it was unpleasant. But the Beyond doesn¡¯t speak.


    Why can¡¯t she sing, I prompt more directly. Yet the esoteric existence holds its silence.


    The Beyond¡¯s lack of response isn¡¯t anything unusual, but for it to determine what we can or cannot do without even the slightest explanation¡­ it¡¯s frustrating. I trust the Beyond, but sometimes it can be so incredibly aggravating.


    Scia chirps, confused.


    I turn my attention back to her, and incline my head, doing my best to express my apology. While I find no issue in her singing, the Beyond must have a reason.


    Scia is slightly disheartened, slumping slightly, and I find myself regretting the choice. But before I can succumb to my doubts, the world shatters.


    The loudest sound of crystal fracturing rips over us, blowing past with a physical wave. Nothing literally shatters, but it damn near feels like it. The sound worse than any thunderous crack I¡¯ve heard.


    I freeze as something far worse hits me along with the shatter. It is only an instant, but the presence of something beyond any comprehension hits me, locking my spine and instinctively halting my movements. Not even the Titan emit such an overwhelming pressure. As short a burst as it is, it sends my heart beating and muscles convulsing.


    I wrestle back control over my body, and snap my head toward the abyss we just came from. There is no doubt in my mind that¡¯s where it came from. Just what is down there?

 Chapter 26: Abandonment

    I¡¯m fleeing before I can even comprehend why.


    That was a Titan. Nothing else could have that intense of a presence. Nothing else could send such an instinctive terror through my spine.


    I whip through hole after rift, doing everything I can to move as far from the abyss as I can. I hate that I flee like a coward, but what can I do against a Titan? They are impossible existences. Beyond any rule of nature I understand.


    I hate that I¡¯m no longer the strongest predator of these tunnels. Whether they¡¯ve invaded my territory or have always been here, but hidden, it doesn¡¯t matter; they have ripped away the superiority that was always mine. I am not some prey that flees in the face of danger.


    And yet here I am.


    The world has grown quiet around me, more so than ever, and I rip through space to get as far from what terrifies me; just like any prey. The thought angers me. It irritates me. But worst of all, it frightens me.


    There is a difference between having competition as a predator and becoming prey. After not encountering the Titan more than the once, I¡¯d considered it a one time thing. A fluke. But this is the second monstrous presence I¡¯ve felt. I need to accept it: I¡¯m no longer the apex. I¡¯m no longer the strongest creature of these tunnels. Not even close.


    Never would I have thought it would affect me so much. Not that I ever expected to be on the other end¡­ to be prey. But it does. To the Titans, I am prey. And by the law of the world, fleeing is what I must do. But it feels horrible.


    Scia hasn¡¯t been able to move since the momentary flash of pressure. Nor has any of the other creatures in my sight. They each stand frozen in whatever position they were before the all-piercing shatter tore through the world. Scia only holds on with those permanently clenched claws that cling to my scales.


    As I slither through weaves of space along the amber barrier, my gaze continually flickers to the edges of my sight. Every new hole I pass through, I expect the spaceless void of the Titan to creep up on us. To swallow the earth as it hunts us.


    It never comes.


    As the world around me slowly appears to flow back into motion, I force myself to calm down and think. Nothing is chasing me. No Titan waits through the next hole to eat me. Titans exist, and whether that one down in the abyss is the same as the one that destroyed my home or some other, it does not care about me.


    I am not worth the effort.


    While the thought that I¡¯m not even worth hunting in their eyes lashes at my mind, I hold myself steady. There will be no succumbing to pride and facing a beast far greater than myself this time. I can feel it trying; to send me back and face down the terror that dares proclaim itself superior to myself. But I don¡¯t let it. I am not so unfamiliar with the emotion any longer. It cannot sway me into suicidal actions this time.


    Scia finally squeaks, having overcome the petrification, and wraps her wings as far around my head as she can reach. I let out a relieved hiss as I focus my attention to her.


    J?tnorm. Listen to me.


    I freeze. Not out of fear, but because the voice of the beyond is clearer than I¡¯ve ever heard. So clear, that every word spoken previously now seem muffled.


    The barrier is weak. Soon we shall roam the lands and extirpate the parasitic infestation. Realm-Breacher, leave the subsurface and await our arrival lest you join the annihilation.


    The Beyond speaks with clarity and cognisance, something I¡¯d considered impossible until now. What do you mean by Realm-Breacher? Leave where? I focus my questions toward the Beyond. As always, not expecting a response.


    We gifted you intelligence, therefor giving you connection beyond your realm; Realm-Breacher. Do not linger, the warped tunnels shall not remain whole forever.


    Not only is the Beyond aware, but it is capable of directly responding to questions more complex than requests for species names. This is incredible. All fears and thoughts of the Titan on my tail are forgotten. What can I ask? What have I always wanted to know?


    What does it mean to be sapient? What determined that I receive awareness and not others? Why must it be bogged down by emotion?


    Waste no time with unnecessary questions. Sapience is a means of passage and nothing more. Leave for the surface, or die as¡­ we¡­ e¡­ a¡­


    The Beyond¡¯s speech grows difficult to parse. It peters off into a similar muffled simplistic response before dying out completely.


    My eyes fall on Scia who is not privy to the words of the Beyond. She still appears shaken from the intense presence, doing everything she can to cling closer to me.


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    Then, how do I leave the warped tunnels? I ask. If the Beyond is so adamant about me leaving, then it should give me a proper answer.


    There is no response. So soon after it showed greater awareness than I¡¯ve seen, does it decide to curl up and hide away again. Frustrated at its unsatisfactory answers, I ask it a simple question it¡¯s always been able to answer. What is my species?


    Nothing. Not even the typical answer. I¡¯ve seen it refuse to name some things, but never has that included myself. I go through a dozen questions, all of which should be easy to answer, but it doesn¡¯t. It remains disturbingly absent.


    It¡¯s almost like¡­ it¡¯s gone.


    The Beyond has left me.


    I don¡¯t have time to dwell on it, as the moment I realise it¡¯s no longer with me, the world decides it has not yet inflicted enough chaos.


    It starts slow; the amber barrier above makes the slightest movement. I barely even notice it as every distortion begins flickering, like they¡¯re ready to fail. All of them at once. Only when the deafening grind of rock screeches through my ears does the world moving around the distortions become apparent.


    All life has gradually returned to motion after the Titan¡¯s pressure washed through, but this isn¡¯t normal. This is beyond normal motion. The amber barrier slides along, fracturing all distortions anywhere near it any time they break, they shear the air with a ripping howl, nothing similar to the silence of their natural closing. But the holes and bends aren¡¯t only closing, thousands tear open in place of the old ones, these ones dangerously unstable and collapse in on themselves within an instant.


    I try to angle us away from the amber barrier as it suddenly picks up pace, but everything seems to flow around me. Nothing appears safe. The rock walls begin grinding against one another, constantly caving in on themselves. Any path that I find that might take us somewhere safe collapses before I can snap forward.


    For the first time ever, spatial bends are not my friend. Any time I pass through one, it destabilises and collapses under the strain. I focus everything I can on simply keeping Scia and myself from being ripped apart by the next agitated distortion.


    There is nowhere to land; all earth is somehow less stable than the space itself, crumbling into massive seas of gravel. In some places, the grinding of rock grows so strong the stone heats into pools of magma.


    How has this happened? It was only a minute ago that everything seemed fine. We were having a pleasant swim along the relatively stable distortions, and now the world tears itself apart.


    Is this what the Beyond spoke of? I¡¯d dismissed it when it was the Titan that warned of my home collapsing. I hadn¡¯t believed it. Until now, I¡¯d only searched for a way out to prove the new emotions infecting my mind weren¡¯t influencing my actions. Now that the Beyond says the same, I realise I should have taken it more seriously.


    Is it too late for us? Are the warped tunnels going to collapse with Scia and myself still stuck in here? If only the Beyond told me how to do so. I¡¯ve been searching, but I still can¡¯t see any clear path.


    The quakes shaking the air are far worse than that of the Other Side.


    Plenty of rifts lead to areas that appear safer, but any time I slither toward them, they collapse, leaving us stranded near the moving impassable wall. Strangely, the rapidly reforming rifts almost always lead to somewhere along the amber barrier. With the collapse of each hole that leads somewhere relatively safe, they are replaced with another to some far region of the wall that experiences identical circumstances.


    No matter where it is along the sleek surface, the earth grinds along, shearing away and disrupting distortions while rock shatters.


    A rift appears right inside a scale, shearing it off and leaving a gash along my recently shed skin. I would have been fine had it been a bend that had formed, but the far stronger distorted effect of the rift is enough to shear right through my scales.


    I dive through a bend that appears before my face, barely squeezing Scia through the tight passage before I feel it trying to close behind me. The strength of my scales hold it off long enough to make it through, but every movement is becoming just as difficult. With how rapid they are collapsing on themselves, I dare not dive through rifts or rends, but the longer I last, the more impossible that seems.


    In normal circumstances, bends are far more frequent than holes or anything that travels further. But right now, they are disappearing as fast as the stronger distortions appear. There are now just as many holes as there are bends. That¡¯s a prospect I couldn¡¯t imagine before now.


    Each moment this continues, the further the average distortion leads. This cannot keep up. If I do not find somewhere safe to lead us, the only outcome will be death, and not just for Scia.


    My eyes dart around faster than they¡¯ve ever moved. Each moment, I find a path¡­ which immediately collapses the moment I flick toward it. Only my rapid reaction time keeps us going. I gravitate toward paths that take the least distortions as possible. Both to limit the points where the path can collapse, and so I don¡¯t have to risk passing through so many absolutely unstable holes.


    The pockets of magma forming from the quaking earth are starting to leak into the twisted space between the moving amber barrier and the former buildup of rock. The area that once was filled exclusively with distortions. Without their stability, the distortions can no longer sustain the buffer region that holds back external forces.


    All this does is make my job harder; I cannot swim through the blobs of magma now flowing into the area lest it hurt Scia.


    I make a mistake.


    My head is already half-way through the rift when I realise it has destabilised earlier than I expected. I snap forward, intending to at least get all of Scia through before it clamps down on my scales.


    The little bat¡¯s ears twitch and I watch as the collapsing rift falters long enough to slide through. She was able to momentarily stop it collapsing? This is incredible.


    I whip my head to the next nearest rift, asking Scia to hold it open just long enough for us to get through. If she can, then we are safe. It leads just outside the devastated region. We¡¯ll be able to slither along the ground where there¡¯s no threat of our bends collapsing on us.


    Scia chirps in confirmation, a little look of determination spreading across her small face. I let out a hiss in return, pleased.


    I crack my body forward, ready to combine my efforts with Scia¡¯s to finally escape this horrid scenario.


    Only, it isn¡¯t to be.


    A rend reaching an impossible distance appears before us. I cannot stop. I coil up and try to throw us away, but it¡¯s already too late. We are heading through this distortion and there¡¯s no stopping it.


    Unwillingly, I slide through.


    I whip back, hoping to go through the rend and return the way we came, but it isn¡¯t to be. The distortion collapses and we are stranded. Anywhere else I would have preferred. Anywhere else wouldn¡¯t be so horribly daunting of a prospect.


    Anywhere but the Other Side.

 Chapter 27: Sanguine

    It has been an incredibly long time since I was last here. My memories of the Other Side are clouded with fear and uncertainty. Back then, I may not have been the predator I am now, but I¡¯m sure I wasn¡¯t weak nor vulnerable.


    What I do remember is the constant quakes, earth that never settles, and the sheer lack of life.


    In a way, it¡¯s no different than the sudden, recent grinding earth around the shifting amber barrier. Only, it has been experiencing constant devastation for as long as I can remember.


    Is this the future of my warped tunnels? To become an extension of the Other Side? Is that what the Beyond meant by its collapse?


    Around us, the earth churns, but the amber barrier is nowhere to be seen. Sections of ranked stone frame the only areas that appear to have any structure, but the rest flow down in waterfalls of gravel and stone.


    A massive expanse sits before us, only broken up by the flowing seas of mud, dirt and debris. If not for the vast falls splitting sections from one another, it would likely be comparable to the large open caverns without spatial distortions.


    Despite the constantly changing landscape, it¡¯s the sound that leaves no doubt in my mind of where the rend landed us. The shrieking roar of unimaginable quantities of grinding rock reveals nothing less than the unquenchable fury of the Other Side. It wants nothing to live here, so nothing does.


    Oddly enough, the stable distortions through the air make the Other Side so much more survivable despite the obviously deadly conditions. The collapse of the rend from the amber barrier undermined the integrity of the nearby bends, but beyond them, things remain natural. A relief when coming from that disaster.


    Never would I have thought the Other Side would become a safe haven.


    Scia squeaks, barely audible over the rumbling earth. Her tone sounding relieved, but still wary. I note, with some surprise, that it is becoming easier to discern her thoughts through her little chirps. It is interesting, but hardly something to focus on right now.


    I slither away from a moving waterfall of boulders. Absolutely nothing looks stable here. While there are some islands of ranked stone floating amongst the churning earth, they are regularly swallowed by the walls, ceiling or ground they peek from.


    Thankfully, as long as I keep my wits about me, we¡¯re unlikely to be caught off guard by the constantly collapsing, shifting and flowing landscape. The bends should save us from the worst, but just to be sure, I¡¯ll do my best to steer clear of anything that might crush or swallow or grind us into paste.


    So I¡¯ll avoid anything that isn¡¯t empty air.


    What now?


    I know from my ancient fractured memories that there¡¯s no way back besides the way you came; I can see that now, with every rift in sight leading only within the bounds of the Other Side. However insanely distant the rend that connected the warped tunnels to here, their type are rare. So rare, that I find only a couple each hundred hunts. Ones I never enter in fear of them closing behind me and giving me no way back.


    A scenario I now find myself in.


    We are not in immediate danger, but what are we to do? I¡¯ll need rest eventually, and even my favourite spatial loops aren¡¯t immune to the constant morphing landscape. As I watch, one of those very loops gets swallowed within a wall as it edges toward the other side of the immediate cavern. The stone flows through the loop immediately, crushing the imaginary figure of a resting snake.


    Usually, I¡¯d not believe I could be crushed by such rock, but there is just something about the power of the quakes here that makes me reconsider. The ever crumbling earth can only hide impossible dangers.


    I have no present need for rest, but I cannot hold it off indefinitely. Before that happens, we need to find a way back.


    A way back¡­ to where exactly? As warned by the Beyond, are the tunnels collapsing? Is there anything left of the caverns between the borders? I¡¯m still not certain if the damage is limited to the space directly nearest the amber barrier, or if it spread further. Some of the bends that collapsed before I could pass through showed relatively stable grounds. But just as many showed the disaster spread to the other borders.


    If it continued, there most certainly wouldn¡¯t be any warped tunnels to return to. At least, not a place that is distinguishable from the lands I now find myself.


    But we are alive, and that will just have to satisfy us for now. Who knows? I might find the path I¡¯ve been looking for here of all places. It seems incredibly unlikely, but there¡¯s no reason to lose all hope.


    I slither forward, intent to search our immediate surroundings for any paths of note, but am forced to whip myself backwards before even making it a body-length.


    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    From the churning earth below, rises a massive shard reaching from one wall to the other. Texture like stone, but smoother and unblemished. Two long edges taper to a sharp point that pierces the ceiling before slowly spinning up through the suspended gravel.


    The shard twirls almost lazily as it defies gravity despite its enormous size, floating through earth as if it were water.


    Finally, the end of the shard pulls from the ground, leaving it to hang from the ceiling and walls, but it continues to climb. The part now free is not like the rest of the shard. The sharp, smooth edge widens into a porous curving region, which is soon all I can see.


    Before it¡¯s completely gone, an outcropping of ranked stone that had been floating along the wall of gravel crashes into it. The writhing earth throwing the mass heavier than my full weight into this invading shard.


    The ranked stone shatters, leaving the porous shard unmarred.


    Not even a scratch remains to tell of its heavy impact against the stronger rock. Nothing should be able to take an impact like that; not without some damage. It¡¯s ranked stone. Not even my fully revealed scales can stay scratchless from contact.


    No¡­ I¡¯m thinking too small again. The Titan wouldn¡¯t have been marred by something like ranked stone. And if Titans exist, then could that mean there is a rock of equivalent strength? I¡¯ve not seen it before, but this is the Other Side. There is a lot here I¡¯ve not seen before.


    With the shard gone, I start forward again, careful to watch every writhing surface for what might lie within.


    Like with the Magma Ocean, the fluid rock remains suspended above solely because of the distortions. The twisting space directs gravity and the rock itself back upward holding the flowing earth up with the strength of its own weight. Such reflective bends don¡¯t make a perfect barrier ¡ª what with the random nature of their existence ¡ª so the crumbling falls of ground-up rock are frequent.


    Scia¡¯s ears twist every which way, following the origins of each quake that thrums through the air, but never long enough to indicate any particular focus. She instinctively reacts to the sounds, though never having the time to listen to any one in detail.


    She holds herself close to my head, nestled between my eyes as hers flicker around. I doubt she¡¯ll be able to see anything she can¡¯t hear¡­ though maybe the intense grinding sound from every direction interferes with her hearing-sight.


    I look at her through a bend more closely. She does appear stressed, but I¡¯d assumed it was just because of the nightmare we¡¯ve found ourselves. If, instead, it¡¯s because she feels blind on top of the danger of our surroundings¡­


    I hiss. A long, drawn-out noise that drowns out the sound of the earth around us. My chest thrums, and the vibrations flow through Scia¡¯s smaller form.


    She squeaks in surprise at first, but soon relaxes into the feeling.


    I intended to distract her, not for her to enjoy it. But she does enjoy it, and now I¡¯m stuck hissing to keep her satisfied. I dim the echo of my hiss, but keep my chest rumbling, which she enjoys if the way she melts over my back is any indication.


    No longer concerned about the outside world, Scia begins to hum. It¡¯s hardly audible over the growl of the earth, but close as I am, I can hear her clear. She sings that same melody as she learned from the abyss. The tune is not unpleasant, but I almost have her stop again. Only her blissful, unconcerned expression stops me.


    Beyond must have a reason to stop Scia from humming that melody. I really should have her stop¡­ but if it is really so horrible, the Beyond will show itself.


    The words of that existence annoy me the more I think about it. No, it¡¯s not only the words themselves, but the refusal of the Beyond to be cooperative. First, it gives nothing but simplistic answers for so long when it had full awareness all along. Then, when it finally reveals itself, it gives unimpressive answers and disappears. Why? Why does it refuse to appear?


    If it really hates Scia¡¯s humming, it will show itself and I¡¯ll get my questions answered. Otherwise¡­ I might as well enjoy a pleasant song rather than the grating sound of rolling earthquakes.


    Swimming through the air, I thread through a hole that takes me beyond a thin mud-fall splitting the cavern. It hits me as I watch a boulder of ranked stone fall from the ceiling and crash into a muddy section of churning earth that this is the Other Side, and I¡¯m feeling more relaxed than I have in a while.


    Is it Scia¡¯s calmness washing over on me? Her song? Or is it simply the relief of no longer being in immediate danger? I doubt it¡¯s the latter; the world around me still threatening. A single lapse in judgement could throw us into the earth and be our end.


    Is it her song then? Sure, it¡¯s pleasant, but I don¡¯t think a pleasant tune is enough to throw me into this feeling of contentedness. When I look down at Scia again, I understand. The unwavering trust she has in me ¡ª enough that despite our surroundings, she can relax so wholly ¡ª fills my chest with¡­ pride.


    A sort of pride completely separate from the confidence in my strength or the pride to foolishly stand up against a Titan. The fact that another creature knows I¡¯ll do anything to keep it safe should be infuriating¡­ but it isn¡¯t. It makes me feel inexplicably fulfilled. Happy.


    I continue thrumming my hiss through Scia¡¯s little body as I search for any path forward.


    After passing the tenth curtain of falling rock, it becomes clear the Beyond truly isn¡¯t coming back. Scia has been humming that tune of hers non-stop and it hasn¡¯t come back to demand we stop.


    Nor has anything disastrous happened. The longer she sings, the more I have to wonder exactly what the Beyond was worried about.


    Soon enough, we come across something different. I¡¯m not so sure it¡¯s a path anywhere, but it¡¯s certainly not something I¡¯ve seen before.


    A section of space is missing all distortions. A thick wall completely devoid of bends, holes or rifts. Even stranger, there isn¡¯t a single distortion that leads to the other side. It¡¯s as if any that bent space between the region simply collapsed.


    Curious as to why the space isn¡¯t already filled with rock flowing in from above without the distortions to stop it, I slither closer. What I discover, is that there is no rock along that wall of orderly air. The churning earth simply splits from one side to the other. No matter how close I get, I cannot see where the sides meet.


    Something besides spatial bends holds all that rock from flowing into the voided area, but I haven¡¯t a clue what it could be. It still flows almost like a liquid, except it simply never falls.


    I don¡¯t know what causes this strange effect, but the stabilised island of ranked stone on the other side definitely attracts my attention. None of the other large masses have remained that motionless. However the crevasse does that, I don¡¯t know, but I am going to reach that island.


    The only question is how?

 Chapter 28: Reliance

    There¡¯s no bends crossing the void, so the simple path isn¡¯t there. The next idea to come to mind is to gather speed and throw myself across¡­ but that is a long distance to cross, and the crevasse falls deep into the earth. Far out of sight below. I don¡¯t want to know what would happen should we fall.


    Even building up my greatest speed and flinging myself from the highest point, I do not think I could make it. It would be close, but not so close I¡¯d risk it.


    Still, it would be helpful to reach the only stable slab of ranked stone I¡¯ve seen. Where the rest tumble and roll into the churning earth, this one is still; teetering on the cliff of flowing rock, but never tipping. If it truly is stable, we can rest there.


    I turn to pass through a hole that leads to another air-pocket within this mass of shifting ground and search along the ledge for a way around. Unfortunately, this cavern is no different. The chasm lacking any spatial bends extends even as far as this rift has taken me.


    We are too far to see the stable island anywhere except through distortions. The direct opposite of this part of the chasm is nothing but a tall cliff-face of churning gravel with the occasional patch of wet mud or large ranked stone segment peeking out. If not for those protruding blocks of ranked stone, I¡¯d believe I am looking at some form of invisible wall. But no, when I whip some rocks, they tumble over the side as if there weren¡¯t something holding back the rest of all this earth.


    Unfortunately, it looks like there won¡¯t be any easy crossing. Though, it isn¡¯t all bad. If one island is wedged into the ledge, there could be another. One on our side of the chasm.


    For the next good while, I slither through the holes that connect many of the open caverns formed within this ocean of semi-liquid stone. Too often to count, I have to dodge waves of stone that decide to form from nowhere. The frequent falls of grinding stone are no less of a problem, but it¡¯s the massive shards of that greater-than-ranked-stone substance that slow me down the most.


    When they appear, they block off immense areas for a while. And that¡¯s without considering the often occurrence that they¡¯ll send me back the way I came when they lazily spin my way. Some shards are so large entire caverns disappear for extended times. Sometimes porous and sometimes smooth. Jagged in parts, then curved in others, the shards are unlike anything I¡¯ve seen.


    I don¡¯t know what to call the shards. They are harder than rock, but clearly not the same. The Beyond isn¡¯t here to answer, so I¡¯ll have to name it myself. At least until I get a proper label when the Beyond returns.


    It has a similar gleam as the amber barrier, though not nearly as intense. Like stone, it is opaque, but somehow gives off the same lustre as a crystal.


    Hmm¡­ what about hard crystal?


    I hiss audibly, as if the sound will make sense as a question.


    Scia squeaks in denial.


    I stare at her; she¡¯s risen from the comfortable thrum to stand defiant. Scia holds her head and glares at me with those too-large eyes.


    Is hard crystal really that bad of a word choice? It¡¯s of the same vein as ranked stone.


    Wait¡­ did she understand what I was thinking from my hiss, or is this something else?


    I hold still for a moment, glancing around for what she might have heard that I can¡¯t. But nothing comes. Scia huffs and slumps to my back again. She slaps my scales with her healed wing, a cute demand to start the low rumble in my chest again.


    I watch her, slightly confused, but very near bursting out in hissing laughter. It¡¯s unlikely she understood me. I must have simply slowed my rumbles too much for her liking.


    For a few moments, I consider simply not doing as she wishes. Not because I don¡¯t want to, but because teasing her is growing to be one of my favourite things to do. When she pouts and slaps her wing against me again, the rumbling hiss is completely unintentional.


    Well, if she can make me chuckle like that, she deserves the comfort it brings. I watch as she relaxes into my back again, ignorant to the still dangerous environment around us.


    Really, I¡¯m acting no different than her. This is the Other Side. The worst place I could ever imagine finding myself¡­ and somehow it doesn¡¯t seem all so horrible. At least compared to the amber barrier in its current state or the abyss.


    Despite not being the intent, she did react when I asked. So hard crystal is a no, huh? It¡¯s not all that important in the first place, so I can simply continue calling the giant landmasses shards.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ???


    After a while, I find myself back at the original chasm. Right across from that island that sways and teeters at the edge of the rock-fall without ever falling.


    No other slab of ranked stone lingers in place like this one does. The conditions I assume are required must be so rare in the churning stone landscape of the Other Side, that the occurrence of this one is strange. The walls continually slide around, consuming the air that was safe only moments ago. Nowhere here remains unconsumed by the grinding rock sea forever.


    Except this island.


    Something about this chasm has frozen what touches it into an unusual consistency, at least for this place. The cavern still moves ¡ª taking the island with it ¡ª but it does so as a whole. The near circular cross-section where the chasm cuts through the cavern is the same as it was when I first found it.


    Despite that, there is no barrier I can find. I made a sweeping path alongside it ¡ª careful to stay where I wouldn¡¯t find myself in an endless fall ¡ª and poked my tail out into the crevasse. Nothing stopped me. Nothing so much as felt off. The space is as normal as any other orderly area.


    I¡¯m close to giving that leap a try. If I can use the strength of my larger form to flick off myself and shrink quick enough, I might be able to carry enough momentum to cross the distance. But no, I¡¯m still not certain that would take me across, and I won¡¯t risk so much on a chance.


    It¡¯s about time I give up on the island and expand further away. A rest would be nice right now, but it isn¡¯t necessary. I can keep going for a while. A while that won¡¯t last forever, so I can¡¯t waste all my time on an unachievable objective. Even if the idea of it being unachievable itches at my mind.


    I¡¯m turning to give up when Scia chirps. She blinks to the tip of my snout and flaps her wings a couple times. She angles her head toward the other side of the crevasse, eyes wide in joy as if excited to show off.


    At my blank, uncomprehending stare, she droops slightly. But she is quick to pull herself straight, and leap from me and dive out into the crevasse.


    I jerk, momentarily forgetting that she can fly, and nearly send myself into the distortion void.


    Scia, completely ignorant to my foolishness, allows herself to fall into a bend she creates which inverts her momentum and launches her upward. She catches herself with a beat of her wings and flies with a distinct victorious pose, as if I should praise her.


    When that praise doesn¡¯t come ¡ª for I have no idea what she¡¯s trying to show me ¡ª her attitude flips and she sulks. Scia slumps onto my snout again, half glaring, half pouting up at me. She can look at me like that all she wants; it won¡¯t help me understand her any better.


    I¡¯d like to understand, but there¡¯s no use treading air without any way to cross the chasm. As we turn away, Scia¡¯s pout deepens. It would be nice to know why, but I cannot decipher what she wants.


    Suddenly, Scia¡¯s eyes widen again, sulking forgotten. She spins forward and creates a bend right before us. I¡¯m not going so fast that I can¡¯t avoid it, but she must have a reason to form the distortion, so I slide through without resistance.


    The bend takes us less than a body width away, but angles us upward. I immediately allow myself to grow while twisting my head for whatever danger reached Scia¡¯s ears.


    I cannot grow too large, as I still need to swim through the distortions to keep out of the fluid earth, but some added mass won¡¯t go unwanted when dealing with some unknown beast. Especially one that considers the Other Side its home.


    But there is nothing.


    No beast. No falling river of stone. Not even a shard. I cannot see anything that might have made Scia throw us out of the way like that.


    The little bat gives a huff of exertion, but quickly recovers and turns back to me with those same expectant eyes of a few moments ago.


    This¡­ was not an attack? That is a relief; I almost thought my senses might have been defective. The thought rakes at my pride, but I ignore the invasive emotion¡¯s demands to take it back.


    It takes little more than an instant to realise that she created this bend to show me something linked to her earlier demonstration, but exactly what that is still eludes me. She jerks her head back to the crevasse, and I finally understand.


    She wants me to leap. Scia believes she can help me across with her bends. I¡¯d thought it was too much for her, but she might have exhausted herself when pulling me out of the centipede¡¯s clutches because I¡¯d not been in my smallest form. Clearly she can handle it, though; she proved that just then.


    But the question is whether we should risk it.


    Scia ¡ª despite her obvious good intent ¡ª do I trust that she won¡¯t fail? If she misses, or angles the bend the wrong way, we would tumble far. Farther than I have any trust in surviving unless we lucked out with some convenient distortions to slow our fall. I¡¯ve already searched below; no matter how far down we go, the crevasse continues.


    I very much do not want to fall.


    But those eyes are hard to ignore.


    I hiss. Both a sigh of agreement and in resignation of what I¡¯ve become.


    Scia twirls, letting out a happy chirp flurry as she beats her wings. Obviously, she likes the idea of being understood. She seems to understand the meaning behind my hiss rather accurately, and she quickly calms herself back onto my head, knowing I don¡¯t share her excitement for this plan.


    My body shrinks again while I contemplate the intelligence of doing as Scia wants. It is a Scia plan, through and through; risky and suicidal. So why am I going through with it? A single thing going wrong could be both our ends. I¡¯m supposed to be the one looking out for us. The one who doesn¡¯t foolishly ask a predator for a ride.


    But the confidence in her eyes sways me.


    Despite knowing better, I cannot oppose her determination to prove herself useful. As soon as Scia is ready ¡ª clinging tight to my snout ¡ª I snap forward without giving myself any time to truly think this through and allow doubts to creep in.


    I trust Scia.


    Before I know it, I¡¯m out over the crevasse, in undistorted space. I slither through the air, bending my body in a series of curves that helps to angle my descent. And before long, we are falling.


    My downward momentum increases, dragging us down further and further. We dip lower than the ledge of the cliff, and yet Scia hasn¡¯t made her bend yet. I don¡¯t let the doubts creep in. The little bat can do this.


    I trust Scia.

 Chapter 29: Appetency

    I find, as I fall, that my eyes fixate on the little bat on my snout. Not having distortions to hold myself is disquieting. More so without any form of ground beneath us. To avoid losing myself in a spiral of distress, I watch Scia.


    She isn¡¯t panicking, so I don¡¯t either.


    Her ears stand tall and stiff off her head that she holds tight between my nostrils. Her wings remain folded, but the little sole claws cling to the ridge between scales. Despite the air whipping against us, she doesn¡¯t turn away; stuck in an unbreakable focus.


    The bend snaps into existence and I stiffen my spine to flow through as straight as possible. My momentum reverses, and we rapidly regain the altitude we lost.


    The lack of bends around us makes it difficult to see behind myself, but in the moment after I thread through the bend, I can see the rear half of my tail. Scia created a distortion that crossed essentially no distance through space, but I could not have asked for a better angle.


    Because of Scia, we soar easily back over the ledge of the cliff-face, and slide into distortion-dense space. I relish the embrace for a few moments before I twist my tail to pat Scia. She leans into the praise unconstrained.


    With careful movements, I bring us down to the mass of ranked stone that continues its strange balancing act on the edge of the cliff. I touch the stone, ready to leap back into the air should my ever-so-slight contact be the tipping point.


    It remains steady. Or, as steady as the constant back and forth swaying motion can get. The island is not exactly still, but it is as stable a rock as I¡¯ll find here on the Other Side.


    I relax almost immediately. It¡¯s been a while since my last rest. While I could hold it off for a long while, doing so isn¡¯t wise. The rock is hard and jagged, which doesn¡¯t make for an all that comfortable place to sleep, but I¡¯ll take what I can while I can get it. Who knows when the next time will come?


    Scia leaps off my head and lands both clawed feet around a sharp rock. She spreads her wings and holds her head high. I don¡¯t know how, but I understand her almost intuitively this time.


    Oh? So you want to stand guard? You¡¯re not tired from those bends you made? I hiss slightly to accentuate my thoughts.


    She snaps her wings to her side and twists her head with swivelling ears, as if searching for any predators that might suddenly appear. I guess that¡¯s a yes. Well, she can do what she wants; she can always sleep on my back if need be. Though, I thought for sure she would be tired.


    ???


    When I wake, Scia is out cold. A snore breaks the constant rumbles of the earth, and I hiss in amusement. She was tired, wasn¡¯t she? She tried her best, but couldn¡¯t hold out against her need.


    I stretch my spine and raise my head, careful not to disturb her as she leans into my side. My tail moves around to pick her up so we can be on our way, but it stops just before curling around the bat. It would be best to move as soon as we can, but I hesitate to disturb her rest.


    I¡¯m unsure why, but there¡¯s something so peaceful about watching her sleep. Even surrounded by deadly grinding stone, I feel like I¡¯ve returned to the comfort of my old resting rock as I observe the little bilbies of my domain.


    I¡¯ll never return to those times, but maybe that isn¡¯t such a bad thing.


    Unfortunately, I¡¯m not given long to relax and watch Scia sleep.


    From the corner of my eye, I notice a bend pop into existence. Such an occurrence wouldn¡¯t usually raise any concerns, but it is positioned out over the distortionless chasm. I don¡¯t react at first, but as more tear into reality, I realise we can¡¯t wait any longer.


    Slowly, with every attempt to let Scia keep sleeping, I wrap her in the tip of my tail and lift her from the rock. She lets out a rather loud snort for her size, but doesn¡¯t wake. My tail twists to place her in her usual spot on my back. I stop myself before I put her down; without being awake to latch her claws to my scales, she¡¯s likely to fall off if I need to jerk to the side. Instead, I leave her looped in the embrace of my tail.


    The distortions appear far more rapidly now. With Scia held tight, I slither into the air. The cliffs no longer appear like cliffs. Wherever I can see, the immense mix of gravel, mud and earth slowly flows into the crevasse. It starts as a trickle, but rapidly accelerates until everything around seems to want to dive into the open space.


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    Beneath me, the island we¡¯d been sleeping on finally tumbles over the edge. It falls far. I watch it until it¡¯s out of sight, blocked by the growing intensity of the landslide crashing into the chasm. Distortions may be reappearing, but they do not reach the density of all other space fast enough to dampen the flow of earth.


    Now free to crash through open air without restraint, the world roars as it rushes down into the depths. The streams grow strong enough that they crash into the opposite flow, which does nothing to improve the deafening howl.


    A slight squirming in my tail announces Scia¡¯s awakening. With her wings, she grabs the tip of my tail and wraps it around her ears; an attempt to hide from the sound. Amused, I turn to swim away from the crevasse.


    The flowing rock overwhelms any distortion I might use to view it, so the chasm rapidly disappears from sight. Despite that, the earth churns with more agitation than normal, and the longer I wait around here, the more worrying it gets.


    So that chasm was a temporary phenomenon? I¡¯m not complaining about the full rest it provided, but it raises some questions. Some rather disastrous ones depending on their answers. What exactly stopped the rock from flowing into the empty air? How frequently do these appear? How are they created? And¡­ what happens to all that is caught within it when it appears?


    The last worries me the most; if it just appears and removes anything within from existence, that would be the worst case, but the other options aren¡¯t much better. If it simply pushed the rock away from each other, then the ripples that would send through both space and earth would be devastating if I happened to be anywhere nearby.


    There¡¯s also the concern whether this is a natural occurrence on the Other Side. If this happens with any sort of frequency¡­ well, it probably wouldn¡¯t be the worst thing, considering it gives us a place to rest, but I never want to be anywhere near where one of these crevasses form.


    An explosion of air washes over me, and a rift I just passed through is buried in stone. The cavern which contained the island of ranked stone is now gone. Collapsed. Not even the dense distortions able to hold back the strong flow.


    We are fortunate to have left when we did.


    The distortions toward the chasm may be gone, but that does not mean its influence is no longer felt. Even ignoring the unwavering roar deafening us, the flowing granite torrents toward the open space it is now free to fill. Liquid-like rock curves around our cavern as it passes us by, not disturbed by the bends and holes enough to be visible through the flowing walls.


    It¡¯s a bit like the appearance of the Crippling Depths when the waters touch the Wind Channels. That interaction can be damn dangerous. Water travelling that fast crushes anything in its way, and I¡¯d rather not find out what a fluid rock will feel like should it hit with those same speeds.


    Thankfully, no more collapses occur near us. They continue to move with the flow of rock that surrounds them and sometimes shards will breach through, consuming all open air, but nothing more dangerous than usual.


    Scia squeaks in my tail, and lightly scratches at my scales. Apparently, she¡¯s woken up enough that the noise doesn¡¯t bother her. As I place her on my back, she flattens her ears to her head, pressing her wings down over them. I should clarify that thought: it still bothers her, she¡¯s just given up on getting back to sleep.


    Don¡¯t look too down, Scia, we¡¯ll be away from the constant screech soon enough. At least the louder version. The ever-present grind of earth isn¡¯t something I can do anything about.


    I¡¯m feeling refreshed despite how threatening the collapse of the crevasse could have been. That rest couldn¡¯t have come at a better time. I¡¯d been starting to flag. Now, I¡¯m good to last as long as is necessary to find a way back to more stable tunnels.


    If any of my previous searches have taught me anything, it¡¯s that I cannot have any expectations going into this. Trying to find a rift to somewhere you specifically want to go is difficult. Almost as if the world wishes to hold your desires away from you.


    Considering the most recent stretch of my life, I wouldn¡¯t disbelieve it. Whether the world itself, the Titan, or any other force I might have once thought impossible, there are many things that could be messing with my life. I cannot change it if they are, but I can certainly put in an effort to keep Scia and myself alive.


    In the next¡­ however long, we come across a few more of those chasms. Their appearance is not a comfort. Now I know they are common, which was something I¡¯d hoped against. At least not all are perfectly vertical, so there¡¯s not the same fear of falling forever if we get caught while crossing. We never linger, not wanting to get stuck in any collapse, but having already found multiple, it makes me worried about the possibility one will form around us.


    Scia is becoming essential to traverse these crevasses. Her bend creating is getting better. The last few times, she didn¡¯t even leave it to the last moment. It¡¯s starting to become second nature, swimming through her distortions as they appear. Without her, I couldn¡¯t pass the undistorted space.


    Unfortunately, creating bends large enough for me to pass through puts a strain on the little bat. After half a dozen, she crashes into my scales and naps off the exhaustion.


    ¡­ which brings us to the current problem. There is no life here. No animals, but more relevantly: no plants. Scia has nothing to eat.


    Before we¡¯d found ourselves on the Other Side, Scia made a mess of her berries while eating it on my back. Now, she licks at the old, dried juice that clings to my scales as if that will satisfy her hunger.


    After having nearly lost her to the same problem not long ago, I find myself agitated. I¡¯d assumed this search would be constrained only by how long I could hold myself awake, but I¡¯d forgotten such a simple fact again.


    Scia cannot last as long as I without food, so I either need to find a way back now, or get her something to eat¡­ which doesn¡¯t seem possible in this landscape. Not unless Scia suddenly gains a hunger for gravel¡­


    Nope. She looks at the little offered pebbles for a moment before looking up at me, confused. She cannot eat rocks.

 Chapter 30: Cecity

    I found something for Scia to eat.


    Really, I thought it would take longer than it did, but all it took was to look. A simple glance through a couple distortions and there it was; all the food she could ever need.


    Unfortunately, it¡¯s inside the shards.


    Thick but shallow strands of moss grow within the holes of the porous shards. And not just any of the holes; only those that carved in a way that there are walls not directly exposed to the outside. Considering how hard the gravel slams into each indent of the shards as it slides through the ever-fluid walls, it isn¡¯t surprising nothing could survive on those parts. Really, the moss must be particularly hardy to live through the splash-back, regardless.


    I¡¯m happy to know we aren¡¯t completely without option, but those massive shards still unnerve me¡­ and I can¡¯t figure out why. They are simply oversized formations of a crystalline-like rock. While it may be stronger than ranked stone, it is still stone; it can¡¯t move.


    A shard tumbles from the wall and slides through the ceiling.


    Well, it can move, but it can¡¯t attack directly. Not like a Titan. If it made up all the walls around, I would be concerned; a cave-in with the material of a shard would be disastrous. But if everything were made of these shards, cave-ins could never occur.


    No, the real problem lay in how fast the shards leave open space. Their large size make them seem deceptively slow as they float from one churning wall to another, but there is only so much time to dive in and snatch up the moss and leave.


    If I¡¯m going to make an effort, I can¡¯t have Scia with me. I can handle a little of the grinding stone. The small bat cannot.


    I face Scia, trying to express my thoughts through my eyes. She needs to stay to the side while I retrieve her feast, not that I¡¯m confident she¡¯ll consider it as such. Scia stares back at me, her eyes wide and intent, but she doesn¡¯t appear sad or hurt, so I take that as approval.


    The tip of my tail wraps beneath her wings and lifts her off my scales. She doesn¡¯t resist, but she also doesn¡¯t try to fly under her own strength.


    I rub her head. She tries to lean into the touch of my tail-tip, but I pull away and retract my hold. With a beat that seems like far too much effort for the tiny creature, Scia holds herself in the air. Has her laziness affected her strength, or is she just malingering? Each sweep of her wings is much heavier than they should be.


    Suppressing the urge to tap my spine and allow her back on, I turn my attention to the the walls. My body slithers through a trio of bends where I can keep my tail ready to spring off myself in an instant.


    A shard appears. Too fast and too far, I won¡¯t reach it in time, so I wait for the next.


    Scia watches on from nearby, clearly fussing. Her eyes never leave my form even if her ears dart around unhindered. She doesn¡¯t blink to my side, which makes me slightly proud; she trusts that I¡¯m no longer trying to leave her.


    The next option breaches the wall, loose gravel flung everywhere. I snap forward before I can even register whether the shard has appropriately deep holes. This shard is moving from floor to ceiling, so it should give me enough time.


    As I whip through a hole and a dozen bends in rapid succession, I choose my target. The curved end of a thick, smooth column is porous. A few of the holes in the shard contain that moss we want. In no time, I¡¯m sliding inside the shard.


    No time to waste. I wrap the tip of my tail around a patch of the growth, and tug. The moss slides out of my grip. I try again, this time curling as much of the short grass into a knot, and yank it out.


    It doesn¡¯t budge.


    I¡¯ve never come across a plant that can somehow handle my strength. It either tears, or the ground crumbles. But this moss refuses to move.


    From the corner of my eye, I watch the shard edge toward the upper sea of flowing rock. There¡¯s no time to waste. My body triples in width and I twist myself against the moss, grinding it away from the crystallised rock it grows from. My girth is too thick to grip the short plant, so I must rely on the ridges of my scales to shred them.


    When enough of the moss clings to my body, I finally relent on my coiling labour. I¡¯m not going to be able to avoid the grinding stone on my way out, which is unfortunate, but something I¡¯ll just have to push through. I snap up a mouthful of the moss ¡ª nearly regurgitating from the foul taste ¡ª and move to rush out of the hole as the shard slides through the ceiling.


    Before I can, the worried sound of Scia¡¯s chirp hits my ears, piercing through all other sound. In an instant, my eyes find hers. Almost all spatial paths connecting us are blocked by the flow of liquid stone, but I can see her. I can see how her worried, fearful eyes follow me as I¡¯m swallowed by the earth. I can see her decision clear on her face.


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    No, Scia. Don¡¯t.


    It¡¯s too late. She¡¯s already created a spatial hole for herself. I try to shove the tip of my tail into the distortion to stop her, but I¡¯m too large; it simply slides over the space instead of plugging it.


    Scia appears. And I¡¯m swallowed by rock.


    Acting instantly, I curl my length to block the entrance, growing to a greater size to ward off the powerful flow of rock. It is only this act that saves Scia from being crushed beneath the explosion of earth. Even then, I can¡¯t stop it all. Gravel shatters against the back of the hole we now find ourselves stranded.


    The heavy pounding of rushing stone slams into my body, demanding its entry be granted with all the anger of a starving beast.


    It is not easy to hold off, and until my body grows to fill all free space in the cavity, my scales are continually pounded by the unnatural force. Once I have grown, my scales do better to hold off the assault, but I¡¯m not looking forward to seeing the scratch and raddled appearance they will no doubt have become.


    I just shed too.


    My glare falls on Scia, who is safely wrapped in the tight coil of my length. She hasn¡¯t much space, but I cannot afford to shrink with the hard thrum of rock slamming away on the outside of this shard.


    Scia has the decency to look ashamed. She wilts under my gaze; head lowered and ears drooping. I hiss at her. She knows she did wrong, but my heart is yet to slow.


    Because of her, we¡¯ve lost our safety. I cannot see through rock, so there is no way for me to tell exactly how much of the Other Side is caverns and how much is an ocean of rock. For all I know we could be stranded now that we¡¯ve left those stoneless caverns.


    But mostly, I¡¯m frustrated because she threw herself into danger. And for no reason, too. I would have been fine. Now should be proof enough that I can handle the stone slamming against my scales, there was no need for her to join me.


    I huff and spit out the moss I went through so much effort for, a bit wet, but otherwise still in the same condition as before. Between that mass and that which still clings to my scales, at least she won¡¯t starve. There is a lot.


    Another hiss escapes my mouth as I press my head down besides Scia. This is¡­ less than ideal, but there¡¯s nothing that can be done about it now. Scia dares to peek through her ears, before realising I¡¯m no longer mad, and leans into my side.


    The tight confinement of my body squeezed withing the small space leaves me with a tightness in my chest. My breaths come quickly, but it feels like I can¡¯t get any air. It¡¯s not the constriction that affects me. No, the tightness of the rock around my body is rather comfortable. Rather, it¡¯s the blindness that gets to me.


    I¡¯ve never had my vision this enclosed. There are no bends within the cavity; the shard doesn¡¯t allow it. I can see nothing beyond my own scales. Even the distortionless space hadn¡¯t been this dark.


    My world has narrowed to only the tight coils of my length, and Scia.


    I catch my breath, sealing my jaw and force myself to calm. The pounding in my chest accelerates at first, as if refusing to comply, but after a dozen moments without a breath, it finally settles. This is nothing to fear. I may be blind, but that is nothing on my other concerns.


    The grinding of earth over my exposed scales is a constant thrum now, but occasionally, I¡¯ll feel a hard jab or crash; ranked stone. I¡¯m susceptible like this, and I don¡¯t like it. There is too little I know about the Other Side to find comfort in such a position.


    It wasn¡¯t hard to settle into a sort of acceptance of the situation, despite having arrived in the Other Side, but now I can feel that same overwhelming horror that I¡¯d felt arriving here so long ago. Like the very world was crushing me.


    Something strokes my snout, and I look down at Scia who pats my scales with her folded wing while looking up at me in concern.


    I look away, realising how foolish I¡¯m being. My breath escapes with a hiss and I yank my mind away from the undesirable thoughts. So what I¡¯m a little blind? I¡¯m not so weak that such minor inconvenience can affect me. The Other Side is as dangerous as its ever been. This slight setback won¡¯t be the end of me. It won¡¯t be the end of us. I won¡¯t allow it.


    A surge of energy floods through my body. I feel ready to strike out, overcome any obstacle we face, but moving is the last thing I want to do right now. So instead, while my body gains a burst of stamina, it has nowhere to go. The feeling makes me agitated, but at least it serves the purpose of draining my mind of those pointless pessimisms.


    ???


    Scia and I sit in the tight space between my scales for a long time. I¡¯m not sure exactly how long, but it¡¯s enough for Scia to chomp her way through most of the moss. Thankfully, she could actually eat it. I don¡¯t know what I would have done had she found it as inedible as I had.


    As time passes, the churning of earth becomes less constant, and comes along in bursts. Pulses through the earth shatter it along my scales with far greater power than before. The shard has taken us somewhere, and I¡¯m not all that thrilled to find out where.


    A heavy quake suddenly crashes through us. The entire shard we hide within jolts to the side, carried with the wave of rock that scrapes along my exposed scales.


    That was not normal.


    The rumbling earth pulses, but it¡¯s never been that powerful before. I¡¯m worried to look at the damage it might have done to my scales; the shattered pieces of ranked stone that sometimes filter through the rest of the rock unleashes a slight stinging pain through my back. I¡¯ve been pierced. Hopefully, there won¡¯t be another blow like that.


    Our shard hits something. The constant motion of the massive formation jerks to a stop, lessening the weight of stone pressing into the wounds that now litter my scales. The relief only lasts a moment as the rock crashes back down a moment later. I hiss in frustration that all I can do is lay here and take it.


    My hiss cuts off immediately, as something far louder thunders through the grinding stone. A roar. A vicious, deafening, Titanic howl cuts the gravel and shard to pierce through my core. The pressure it carries: impossible to ignore.


    I know what this is.


    I know what this is, and I wish we were anywhere else.


    <div>


    <div>


    <div>

 Interlude 2: Ceph - Part I

    Ceph slammed the piece of junk onto the table.


    She winced as the metal tube left a gouge in the hard wood, before twisting her body to shake off the flash of regret. This room was given to her; not only temporary, but for her to do with as she wished. If she wanted to blow a hole through the wall, that would be absolutely fine¡­ but it meant she would need to get someone in to fix it.


    Ceph¡¯s hand-cannon lay still on the desk. An ever so slight crack ran down the barrel¡¯s length. It may be small ¡ª barely noticeable to her eye ¡ª but it ruined the weapon. One side of the cannon still glowed along lines and symbols she didn¡¯t understand, while the other was as dim as the grey metal beneath.


    She¡¯d taken the weapon to a mage specialising in inscriptions, hoping to increase the explosive power of it, but the scammer¡¯s ¡®improvements¡¯ had done nothing but destroy her Hopes and Dreams. Well, only Hopes was destroyed, she had yet to activate the inscription on Dreams¡­ and now she didn¡¯t dare.


    The hand-cannons were admittedly not all that effective in battles where she needed to be at her best ¡ª Glaus would never leave her alone about them ¡ª but she believed they had potential. Her blades were always there as backup, so why did it matter that she tried to focus herself towards what was obviously the future. If she could just increase the firepower of the weapons, she was sure they would be as, if not more, devastating than her knives.


    Every unenhanced soldier across the known lands, from her pact nations to Henosis Empire in the east, were now outfit with guns. They had been technically around for centuries, but it wasn¡¯t until recently that their effectiveness at punching above the user¡¯s weight was truly integrated in war. After all, supplying a million troops with a metal pipe and an explosive inscription was far cheaper than raising them to an equivalent enhancement level. Those resources were better suited channelled toward the elite.


    Everyone knew a single elite could cause far more bloodshed.


    Still, the trend was there. And Ceph believed these weapons would gradually make their way up the chain. If she adapted first, she would be in the best position skill-wise.


    Though right now, Glaus was right; Hopes and Dreams were nothing but toys.


    She snatched up the cannon and stormed out of her room. Despite the relatively small size, the things were heavy. She¡¯d made them herself with a mix of steel and shards of ranked stone. The latter of which was supposed to grow through the metal over time, making it harder and stronger, but it couldn¡¯t fix a break. The mage who¡¯s faulty inscription had ruined the exorbitantly expensive Hopes would regret his sloppy craftsmanship.


    As she stomped out into the open air of the mountainous landscape, Ceph pondered whether this was actually such a bad turn of events. The pair may be more expensive than most people could afford with a decade¡¯s salary ¡ª what with the price of ranked stone ¡ª but she had been promised a portion of that serpent¡¯s scales. Surely she could figure a way to make better ones with something harder than ranked stone.


    Well, only after reforging her blades. They were still her primary weapons.


    The snake¡¯s shed skin had been a nightmare to extract. Ceph¡¯s team had tried to tear it apart themselves at first, but despite it being nothing but discarded scales, they had little success hacking away at it. They would sooner blunt their own weapons then tear that beast apart.


    So instead, they¡¯d returned in the hopes of dragging along a veteran Beith who could help. Unfortunately, most Beiths stationed here were in much the same situation as Ceph and her team; newly promoted. The only ones strong enough to do more than Glaus and her, were mages, and the benefits of hard scale was never worth having a mage light up in the underground.


    Ceph didn¡¯t even consider the Mercenary Order¡¯s Inner Circle. There was probably one tasked with looking over the cavern entrance, but the bureaucracy would never allow their elite to help with such a task.


    Ceph¡¯s eyes rolled within her spherical torso, turning to watch the massive hundred metre wide hole into the earth. She still struggled to believe the monster who¡¯d vaporised so much ranked stone had been defeated. The leader of New Vetus must be a beast if he could beat the tyrant not even the Inner Circle could stop. Then there was that one she¡¯d heard referred to as Incendia; what kind of fire mage could create such widespread firestorms a she could?


    All along the rim of the entrance were odd, moving structures. Like wind up toys from her childhood. Buildings made solely of stone that had so many moving gears that made her eyes spin. Some platforms contained massive whirling blades that poked into the hole, while others had devastatingly strong repeater cannons.


    It was those huge cannons that made her believe her Hopes and Dreams weren¡¯t misplaced. These centzon; the creators of these contraptions arrived from across the Titan Alps alongside the mermineae. They were able to design these massive cannons that shred creatures from the sky with explosive projectiles designed following a completely separate design philosophy to what Ceph was familiar.


    What she would do to get a look at their blueprints.


    But no, the pact nations had been very quick to shut down any trade of information with the centzon for anyone but them specifically. Ceph could understand; allowing the Henosis to get hold of those contraptions would lead to tragedy on immense scale. But she didn¡¯t have to like it.


    As far as Ceph knew, the wall of contraptions circling the hole was a gift by the bulky visual cousins of the mermineae. Because of that gift, she and the rest of the mercenaries tasked with guarding the place had a much easier time than they probably would have considering damn near everything down in those caves seemed to want to rush toward light.


    One would think that because they came from the homeland of the mermineae, they would be at least civil with them, or even allies. No. When she¡¯d first come here, she¡¯d got a good look at all the centzon. Each one wore coats made of mermineae hide. They didn¡¯t hide what those jackets were ¡ª not that they could considering it allowed camouflage ¡ª and the mermineae treated them with the hostility such an act of desecration deserved.


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    Things have calmed since the centzon left. A surprise; we of the pact nations killed countless of their kind in the past war. But apparently, freeing them of their tyrannical leader was enough to earn gratitude. Despite now residing across the entire Lower elevation of the Titan Alps and reaching down into the Steppes, they were more welcoming than we have been in return.


    This small city, despite residing in what was now considered mermineae territory, refused to allow those very mermineae within its confines. It hasn¡¯t caused much friction because the mermineae prefer to live out under the stars, but it shows a level of animosity on the side of the pact nation races that Ceph doesn¡¯t believe the mermineae deserve.


    The city itself is nothing impressive, but built in the black stone gorge carved into the land by the Titan Cipactlteteo years past left the place unlike anywhere else she¡¯d been. This far up the Titan Alps, it felt like she could see all the pact nations. Thousands of cities, millions of people, all going about their days dozens of kilometres below her. As she walked through the main street, her eyes trailed the Titan¡¯s black path as it spread all the way down the slopes, splitting mountains down the middle and melted what were once unbroken glaciers, until it ended beyond the ever so slight curve of the horizon.


    She finally reached the door of the mage¡¯s shop. Kicking open the door, she strode up to the counter, making sure each of her six limbs slapped against the wooden floorboards. Most people would feel intimidated by a little show of enhancement.


    The khirig sitting at the back of the room inclined his head, raising an eyebrow through the cage of antlers that grew from his spine. The fact that he had very little growths besides those necessary or for extra fingers made it clear he wasn¡¯t a fighter, and yet he stared at her as if unimpressed.


    ¡°Your inscriptions broke my weapon.¡± Ceph dumped Hopes before the khirig, the heavy weapon snapping a thin tool out of his antlers and sending it across the room.


    ¡°So?¡± he said, barely acknowledging the loss of his tiny scalpel. ¡°I told you your¡­ weapon couldn¡¯t handle it.¡±


    ¡°How could it not?¡± Ceph exclaimed, tossing three of her limbs in the air with exasperation. ¡°They¡¯re the best materials you can get.¡±


    ¡°hardly,¡± the khirig said, slowly rising upon his leg antlers and steps around his counter to retrieve his lost tool. ¡°A bit of ranked stone isn¡¯t a replacement for a sufficient base metal. Ignoring that, the barrel could hardly be considered a quality forge.¡± The mage picks up the scalpel and turns to Ceph. ¡°Whoever crafted it didn¡¯t know what they were doing. It¡¯s like they made a gun from sight rather than learning the proper method.¡±


    Ceph did her best not to flinch at that. She could hardly use cheap mass manufacturing techniques; they were ineffective at surviving stronger forces she needed.


    ¡°Well, at least give me a refund for defective work,¡± she tried.


    Unfortunately, the mage simply laughed. ¡°No. I gave you plenty of warning before engraving. Now go bother someone else.¡±


    Ceph curled a tentacle beneath her in frustration before letting out a disappointed sigh. ¡°Please at least remove your inscription from the other cannon. I¡¯d like at least one of them intact.¡±


    The craftsman gazed at her for a moment, and turned to collect Dreams. First, he scratched at a line with his sharp carving scalpel, then his slender finger-like antlers glowed a bright silver. Veins of mercury flowing over the surface of the digits. Metallic hyle. It was a rare branch of earth hyle, though rather appropriate considering the khirig¡¯s career.


    The Markings circling each finger spread down the tool and collected into the surface of her cannon. Ceph watched as the material flowed like water back up the khirig¡¯s scalpel as he slid it across the surface, collecting into a small glass tube he held.


    ¡°There,¡± he said, handing the weapon back to Ceph while obviously struggling with its weight.


    She grabbed it and twirled in the tip of her tentacle, both shamelessly showing off and checking the slightly adjusted mass. She could now see the lines carved through the cannon. Without the material to fuel the inscriptions they couldn¡¯t activate, but the surface was no longer as smooth as it had once been. She would need to fill in the millimetre deep grooves when she finally got back to her workshop in Meja, but for now it wasn¡¯t an issue.


    Ceph grabbed her weapons and holstered them on the inner edge of her tentacles where they connected to her torso. Safely hidden away next to her half-dozen knife scabbards. Unfortunately, the longer blade¡¯s Glaus had been teaching her couldn¡¯t be hidden so easily, so they rested in the nook between tentacles on both sides of her body.


    She glanced at the craftsman one last time, slightly berating herself for not holding to her anger, and turned to leave. She knew she was never getting that money back, but she could have at least pushed back a bit more.


    ¡°See you next week Ceph.¡±


    She did her best to hold back some retort. Just because she¡¯d already come to him for a few other works in progress, didn¡¯t mean she would come back again.


    Slamming her limb into the door ¡ª which was already damaged from her last visits ¡ª she moved out into the black-stone streets. Ceph hadn¡¯t made it a single step out of the building she froze.


    A crack, like shattering glass, ripped through her body with power. It stung at her, cut through the membrane of her skin with ease and pierced her innards. Her muscles locked, refusing to move. A flood of terror washed through her, clamping down on her with a grip stronger than she¡¯d ever experienced.


    Ceph had felt the pressure of some beasts, and had even been able to output a little herself, but never had it been this overwhelming. The earth beneath her trembled, as if the world itself cowered from whatever being unleashed this power.


    Just as her body felt like it would cut into itself, the pressure released. It was only an instant. Something massive shattered, carrying with it an unimaginably powerful roar. The howl was imperceptible, but it had been there. Whatever that was, it could only be a Titan.


    Ceph snapped out of her reverie and turned to find the street in shambles. Windows were shattered wherever she looked, having broken without her knowledge, too overwhelmed by the ethereal crack. The door she¡¯d walked through a moment ago laid broken. Her eyes raised to the building itself, where all the timber used in its construction had deep fractures running all through it, like it had been exposed to immense weight, but hadn¡¯t been given the space to snap outward.


    The mage lay collapsed over his now broken workbench.


    She was by his side in an instant, checking his vitals. He was thankfully alive, but the stress of the pressure left him unconscious. A horrid stench filled her mouth, and she spotted a puddle of inks and liquid metals pooling on the floor between the mage¡¯s desk and the rear wall. Every last bottle had shattered.


    Ceph wasn¡¯t an expert with inscriptions, but she knew enough to know how toxic many of the components they worked with were. She picked up the khirig in a tentacle and leaped outside; far from the fumes beginning to circulate.


    She stood, watching through the city as only the mercenaries still stood with any sort of awareness. The unenhanced had either collapsed, or were still frozen in terror. Just what was going on?


    The ground trembled, and every building in the city collapsed. Falling into a pile of debris within Cipactlteteo¡¯s trail. Hundreds, if not thousands, buried within.

 Chapter 31: Bewilderment

    A Titan.


    A Beyond-damned Titan is out there, and I can do nothing but cling to this shard in my coiled up ball around Scia. I cannot run. I cannot see. I cannot so much as move a muscle lest Scia become victim to the raging rapids of flowing stone.


    The Titan¡¯s roar washes over us with the full power of its presence. Unlike the last time, which had only been a brief instant, this lasts for an eternity. Its powerful quake of a cry freezes everything still. For a moment, not even the grinding stone impacts my scales.


    But that moment doesn¡¯t last.


    As the roar reaches a crescendo, the rock, shard, and even the muscles in my own body vibrate. It starts subtly, but soon my body feels like it¡¯s tearing itself apart from the inside. The stone outside my scales is no different; broken pieces of rock grind against themselves so fiercely they become a powder that seeps into my wounds.


    It feels like I¡¯m being shredded from within, but no wounds appear. The same must be true for Scia; she shivers in pain, but nothing outwardly wrong is visible.


    When the howl finally disappears ¡ª cut off without fanfare ¡ª Scia gasps a breath of air. The pressure gripping us so tightly made it impossible to tell the passing of time. Was it a single heartbeat she hadn¡¯t breathed? A dozen? A hundred? If the roar never stopped, would she have suffocated?


    It is frustrating that Scia is tight withing my grasp, and yet I still cannot protect her in times like this.


    Horrible pounding thrums through the earth for the next while. Scia and I huddle in our small hole as the powdered earth whips against me in repetitive blows. Body freezing and muscle spasming rumbles resound as the Titan wails upon the earth. We only experience the secondary effects of this monster as it does¡­ whatever it does, but that is enough to have us cowering.


    In a moment of freedom from the ever-constricting presence, I let out a hiss of morbid amusement. There once was a time that I believed myself the top of the food chain. Nothing could beat me unless I weakened myself in the speed reductive qualities of water or magma.


    It seems, the more I expand out from what was my territory, the greater beasts there are. Have I been living in the weakest of areas my whole life, and somehow just never realised it, or are these Titans new? Should they really exist?


    As easy as it would be to label the creatures as invaders and unnatural to protect the pride that seems dedicated to burying itself within my mind, doing so would be running from the truth. It doesn¡¯t matter where they came from, or if I¡¯ve just been oblivious to their existence until now. What matters is that they are here, and I learn to deal with them.


    Even if that means hiding like the prey I look down on.


    The quakes stop. I don¡¯t dare think that is the end of them, but for an extended period, there is no pounding rock against my wounded scales. Nor is there any of those frightening roars.


    I am right, though; the thumping quakes soon return. But they are not nearly as devastating. The powerful waves washing over us have a more rhythmic nature to them. Like footfalls.


    They dwindle, and only the ever constant grinding of earth remains. The surrounding rock is nothing but dust now. The fine grains would have been preferable, had I not already had wounds exposed to the outer world. Each pulse through sand carries the particles under my scales and irritates me more.


    Very carefully, I clench and wriggle, trying to move my wounds away from the opening while keeping Scia held tight within my coils. My efforts only drag the dust inside our indent, pressing in painfully to the broken scales now pressed against the hard crystal rock of the shard.


    The physical pain is, oddly enough, far easier to deal with than the writhing emotions that have been slicing away at my mind to make themselves a place. Their pain isn¡¯t real, and yet it is somehow worse.


    Scia squeaks at me, thankfully unharmed after that experience. I return her gaze, but there¡¯s nothing I can do while we¡¯re stuck in here.


    The sea of powdered stone continues to grind against itself, back to the lesser strength of before which does not pierce my scales. Our shard continues to sway in the ocean of gravel for a time. Eventually, I notice that the stone dust is coarser than it was directly after the Titan¡¯s influence. Have we moved away from the Titan¡¯s destruction? Or is the earth slamming against itself hard enough that it¡¯s solidifying into larger chunks?


    More time passes.


    I¡¯m watching Scia sleep when something different finally happens. The rock slows. We still sift through the earth, but the flowing stone no longer strikes out at my scales with immense fury. Now, it¡¯s more of a soft touch. Like the currents of water. While the world around us moves sluggishly, I feel my scales brush against large boulders. Boulders that couldn¡¯t have survived in the shredding earth we¡¯ve been stranded.


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    I raise my head. The temptation to peek out beyond my tail is immense. The curiosity and hope that we might be somewhere safer overwhelms me, but I can¡¯t risk it. We¡¯ve been stuck so long that my spine almost aches with stiffness. I hold myself back, but not easily.


    Soon, the earth grows still. It no longer grinds against itself in that terribly dangerous flow. Unfortunately, so too does our shard. The earth no longer pounds against me, but neither does our ride move.


    I wait. The constant quaking of earth will return any moment now, just as it always does on the Other Side.


    But it doesn¡¯t.


    It remains still.


    The churning of moving earth still reaches my ears, but it is subdued. Distant. I thought I would be happy to not be constantly deafened, but the quiet is unnerving. Why is everything still? We¡¯ve not passed through a rend, so I¡¯m certain we¡¯re on the Other Side; it shouldn¡¯t be safe. It shouldn¡¯t be motionless. But it is.


    Scia chirps, and I realise I¡¯ve been focused on the feeling through my scales long enough for her to wake. I take one look at her and make up my mind.


    My tail coils around the little bat until she¡¯s completely hidden and protected. She squeaks in surprise as she finds herself gripped too tight to move, but after a moment of fussing, she settles down.


    I take a breath, settling myself, and pull back my size only enough for the slightest sliver of an opening to appear. Besides a few loose rocks, the earth doesn¡¯t come crashing in.


    With the assurance that I¡¯m not about to kill us both, I unwind further and get a look outside. It¡¯s just as I felt: a large boulder surrounded by small pebbles and dust. All still. There¡¯s nothing more than the rock ¡ª no spatial distortions nor the space to see further ¡ª but the sight urges me on.


    I push out from the hole in the porous side of the shard and wriggle myself through the earth. Wasting no time, I grow to a far larger scale. There are no distortions for me to use, so I won¡¯t make the same mistake as last time. Especially on the Other Side.


    With rock all around me, it almost feels like swimming. The rock shatters as I brush past it, but it flows around my body like a fluid with every slither.


    I move away from the tug of gravity. The sound of the constant grinding churn rises from below, so I do everything I can to move away from it.


    The curl of my tail slows me down somewhat, but to keep Scia safe, it¡¯s not something I can avoid. Only one way would be easier to carry her, and I¡¯d rather avoid that method.


    The earth slides out of my way almost too easily considering it¡¯s been the source of recent troubles. My body twists the way it would in water, dragging me through the already loose sediment. Distant, powerful quakes shake through the rock and pound through my body. Strong enough to feel, but not so bad that gravel kicks up like the sea below.


    I am completely blind. Nothing but the rock directly before me is visible. In a way, this should be worse than the small hole I¡¯d been hiding within; at least in there I had some space, limited as it were. But no, I find being able to act supersedes any fear or frustration of my lack of sight.


    Despite being in likely far more danger out here, it feels so much better not to cower away where only prey would. I can take on the dangers of the Other Side head first and come out on top.


    I immediately clamp down on my pride. The emotion has been one of the most pervasive of those that attempt to sneak their way into my mind. And, unfortunately, it seems to be the most dangerous. The ideas pride wants me to follow are horrifyingly dangerous, considering where we are. Take on the Other Side? When there are Titans around? Absolutely not.


    But I still swim up.


    Each body-length I climb, the lighter the weight bearing down on me from above. I¡¯m getting close. I know it. And finally, after wading through the earth for so long, I breach.


    The first thing I notice is the complete lack of any walls or ceiling anywhere in sight. Even at the furthest regions I can see, there is nothing. Only the vast cavern floor that expands far in each direction. In some places, the unstable ground churns like it does so far below, but those lakes are rare. Mostly, the ground is solid, if unstable.


    That intense ripple in space I saw back in the large cavern with the million bugs is back. Not only is it back, it¡¯s a thousand times more intense than anything the bugs could have created. I still have no idea what I¡¯m looking at, but as the ripples bear down on my body, I feel a slight heat from them. A heat that I couldn¡¯t feel from the bugs. It doesn¡¯t hurt. Rather, it¡¯s quite pleasant. The ripple reminds me slightly of the energy flowing from my old resting spot.


    I try to follow the origin of the ripples, but a sting builds up deep within my eyes the longer I focus. I hold my glare, trying to understand the odd effect, but no matter how long that dull ache continues to burn the back of my eyes, nothing comes from it.


    My gaze returns to the surrounding environment. The massive cavern might very well be the abyss again, but at least gravity holds me away from the depths this time. While there are the occasional shards, ridges and dunes of rock scattered in rather unique formations, the cavern is, on average, flatter than many of those in my warped tunnels.


    A barely noticeable tap against my tail and a muffled chirp reminds me I have another to worry about. I bring my tail around and open it so Scia can land on the top of my head. As soon as she¡¯s free, she squeaks and shields her eyes. She buries herself into the wedge between scales that she¡¯s tiny enough to fit into now that I¡¯m at full size.


    What is wrong? Is the ripple from above really that strong? Sure, it stung a little if you looked directly at it¡­ what am I doing? Have I forgotten how vulnerable she is?


    I quickly bring my tail around and cover her, blocking the ripples from touching her. For ripples in the spatial fabric, they get interrupted surprisingly easily from the slightest object in its path.


    Scia blinks rapidly, and it¡¯s obvious the slight ripple that still manages to reach her after reflecting off other surfaces is enough to affect her. I coil around her once again, giving her time to recover.


    I don¡¯t know where we are, but hopefully it¡¯s safer than below.

 Chapter 32: Exasperation

    The earth may now be stable beneath me, but the tremors constantly rising into my ventral scales are anything but subtle. It is safer here ¡ª at least there¡¯s no immediate dangers ¡ª but it is hardly the comforting grip of my tunnels.


    At my full size, I feel like nothing alive could miss my presence, but taking on the smaller, less obvious would be a far greater mistake. Between the massive open space, and the lack of spatial bends, I am far too vulnerable to the creatures I¡¯m unfamiliar. For all I know, there are more of those centipedes that can hide themselves in this ripple of space. As intense as it is here, I am oblivious to the effects it might have.


    That¡¯s really what my discomfort breaks down to; a lack of knowledge of creatures or other dangers that may linger here.


    As I look around, I realise the claim of there being no spatial distortions around was hasty. There are some, but the bends only alter space slightly. The tilt is hardly noticeable. I only notice them because of the discrepancy my true-sight picks up. Those without would notice nothing wrong about the landscape; at most, a slight break or ripple in distant objects.


    They may not be all that useful as they are, but the knowledge that they exist here is comforting. We are not so far from normal.


    Scia pops into existence on top of my head, squeaks, then blinks back within my coils.


    I stare at the spot she appeared, unsure what to make of her actions. Lifting a coil, I poke my head inside to watch her sweeping her wings over her eyes again. If it¡¯s really that bad, then why did she come out again?


    For a moment, I worry that her rather suicidal recklessness is showing its head again. If something hurts, why continue to do it? But she soon pulls away her wings to reveal her squinting eyes.


    There is a very limited amount of the spatial ripple that reaches inside my coils through the entrance my head makes, but it isn¡¯t so much to hurt her. Each eye winks rapidly, and soon she can keep her eyelids open wider. Is that all she needs? To adjust to the warmth? If that¡¯s the case, I can help her rather easily.


    Keeping her out of the worst of it, I creep open the gap between my body and filter more ripple through. It seems to work rather well, as her eyes stay wide despite the slowly increasing intensity. Thankfully, we should be able to continue onward, given enough time to adjust.


    While I wait, I return my attention to the landscape around. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. The earth slopes upward rather consistently to my left, disrupted only by the odd formations of rock and the shards that poke out of the gravel like pillars. Massive, thick pillars. Really, it¡¯s incredible to see so many of the crystalline stone masses that flowed through the caverns below together, and unmoving at that.


    Before, they had seemed an unstoppable part of nature; something that flowed with the earth, unaffected by it. Now, they are tall towers hanging over the semi-stable earth. Even at my full size, I couldn¡¯t stretch as tall as they rise; and I¡¯m sure most of their mass still hides beneath the ground.


    Eventually, Scia adjusts enough to climb out over my scales on her own. She does so slowly, and my far greater size makes it rather difficult for her to find anywhere to grip.


    My tail comes around to wrap around her body, and she raises her wings not only to let me, but as a demand to be carried. I lift her to my snout, and as soon as she¡¯s nestled herself between my scales, she blankets her wings over her head. She holds them in just the right spot for ears to poke out above, free to move around, while blocking her eyes from the sky above.


    I twist out of my coils, slithering up the slope. As large as I am, the bottom third of my girth sinks into the earth, but I have enough grip to move without difficulty.


    The ever-so-slight spatial bends are more common further up the slope, so it¡¯s the obvious best place to move. I want to reach the warped tunnels again, and the only way to do that is with my distortions. Well, there is also the option to dig downward, where we came from, but I¡¯d very much rather not be stuck in that storm of shifting earth if I ever have the option.


    I slither around the base of a shard that curves out of the gravel and soil, arches over itself and ends in a sharp point far overhead. A dozen others ¡ª each of growing thickness ¡ª extend to the edge of my vision. Those with sharp tips each point the same way, while the few with flat or porous ends rise straight into the air.


    My gaze only lingers for a moment before I pass beyond the line of them. The land appears particularly solid ahead. Not by much, but the large boulders poking from the earth have to say something about its stability. I¡¯ll take the area that can hold those heavy boulders over the churning soil behind me.


    On the opposite side of where I swam out, lies a lake of fluid earth. It isn¡¯t all that widespread; not even as long as my full length. But where it isn¡¯t all that far-reaching, it makes up for it in the ferocity the gravel churns. The lake bubbles and explodes. Shrapnel rains down in its proximity. Waves of rock lap at the edges of the lake, powered forth from the constantly flowing earth far below.


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    The lake is hardly stagnant, but it does stay to a slow crawl across the surface. A few others pop up across the landscape on occasion, and just as many peter to nothing, becoming indistinguishable from the surrounding gravel.


    As I watch, the section of unstable ground twists and bubbles with greater intensity for a moment, before a boulder rises to the surface, held aloft despite its weight, and slides to the side. The large stone formation joins a pile of other half-submerged boulders of varying sizes.


    Having witnessed the rise of the more solid piece of rock, I return my gaze over the surroundings. If the larger formations are carried up to this cavern by the unstable earth, then it explains why there is so much more around. The large ridges near the edge of my vision could not possibly form with the small pieces of gravel.


    No wonder there are so many shards up here. It seems strange that such masses of heavy crystalline stone would not be most affected by gravity, but it might be their size itself that holds them here.


    Is it the increased number of solid rocks that make this place stable, or is that stability the reason such boulders can exist?


    Well, it hardly matters. This place may be more stable, but it is not hospitable to life. Even if the roar of the Titan hadn¡¯t been terrifyingly close, we cannot stay. Scia will not be able to sustain herself here.


    I slither up the hill, where the ridge sits with more frequent ¡ª yet still subtle ¡ª bends. The few massive boulders protruding from the earth announce its obviously greater stability.


    Scia continues to hold her wings over her eyes. Every so often, she peeks out through, but immediately squeaks and covers herself again. At first, it looked like she was adapting to it, but she has hit the limit of what she can adjust to.


    And yet she still tries to look.


    I just shake my head and continue up the growing slope. While the bends I can see are growing in quantity, they have nowhere near the impact of those I¡¯m used to. These bends barely change the direction of space. I have no idea how they could be useful.


    Forget a rift back home; it¡¯s unlikely any distortions up here will take me further than the holes Scia can make. It may seem safer here, but we will have to return to the churning earth below to find a way back. Though, any way back that isn¡¯t the way we came up would be preferable.


    The gravel at my sides tumbles down into the deep trench my body carves from the earth. At first, it¡¯s not strange; the gravel equalises once in the groove and holds back the rest of the earth from sliding down. But that doesn¡¯t last.


    The flick of Scia¡¯s ears brings my attention to the powdered stone around us. It starts small; a trickle of gravel sliding down from ahead of my wake. The gravel crumbling before I even touch it. That slow trickle quickly ramps up. The negligible amount of tumbling earth knocks up that which was stagnant, which then does the same to more ground.


    A sudden ripple effect has the entire hill flowing down around us like a wave. When barely a moment ago, the ground held my weight with ease, it now collapses out below us.


    I flick my head upward, tossing my little passenger skyward as I lose all grip and fall down a rapidly growing hole in what I¡¯d thought was a stable section of land.


    Gravel flows down all around me, scraping at my scales and trying to drag me beneath the surface again. With undulating motions, I keep from being buried. The crumbling dunes grow wider, pulling the larger stones into a tumble down the hill. A boulder slams into my back and shatters into a dozen pieces.


    The impact hurts, and the momentum is enough to drag me under, but it doesn¡¯t leave me injured. I snap myself through the earth. The blow powderises the gravel beneath me, but it carries me back above the surface again.


    Just in time for another boulder to hit me in the face.


    The next time I surface, I¡¯m ready. My tail whips around and shatters the next two boulders. Unfortunately, spinning myself in such turbulence drops me back below the mass of sinking earth. Not ideal, but I wasn¡¯t about to allow some rocks to get the better of me a third time.


    A hole appears beneath me, and I slide through it with little time to react. I quickly find myself in the air. A chirp from above. Before I can praise Scia for her effort, I realise the distortion didn¡¯t travel all that far, and I immediately fall back into the pit.


    For a moment, I don¡¯t resist, unsure whether I should compliment her, or hiss at the ineffective attempt. I shake off the thought, determined to deal with the current issue first.


    The moment without struggle makes me think, rather than desperately fighting off the power of the land. With my thoughts gathered, and a better plan, I slither sideways. It does, unfortunately, carry me down through the earth quite a way, but eventually the churning earth slows enough that I can swim my way to the surface again.


    As soon as I breach, Scia is already blinking around my head, clinging to me at one moment, then waving a wing as if chiding me the next.


    I¡¯m not the one that can die so easily.


    Ignoring her, I slide the rest of my body from the gravel. A thousand little rocks clatter off my scales and pile around me.


    I¡¯m at the top half of the slope that the pit ate away at. Below, it still degrades the earth, but it approaches slowly. Not so fast I need to move immediately.


    The pit spreads across a few of the shards that poke through the earth, but regardless of how much ground the pit swallows, the shards remain still and unmoving.


    It¡¯s a curious sight. I spread my gaze over the other few dozen shards in a line to the edge of my sight as Scia finally gives up on telling me off and slumps between my scales. From this slight vantage point, the shards appear to align more orderly than I¡¯d assumed.


    I stare for a long moment, until I realise what I¡¯m looking at, and when I do, I startle. Scia chirps her indignation, but I cannot tear my eyes from the massive shards that poke through the earth and expand to the furthest reaches of my sight. They are no type of stone or crystal. The pattern they form, from this perspective, is undeniable.


    The shards, dozens of massive crystallised stone, form the skeleton of a beast. Something a thousand times larger than myself.


    A Titan.


    We rode in the bones of a dead Titan.

 Chapter 33: Astonished

    The massive shards rising to the abyss no longer seem so inconsequential. Their once irregular placement through the landscape are now obvious. There is no randomness. Each pillar curves in the familiar form of a ribcage.


    I¡¯ve seen plenty of remains in my long life, so I¡¯m confident they are the bones of a quadrupedal mammal. They may be similar in a general sense, but the sheer scale difference between the animals I¡¯ve seen and whatever these remains must have come from is impossible to comprehend. I can¡¯t see where the bones end, and never has the distance of my sight been insufficient.


    It¡¯s truly obscene, menacing, inconceivable. None of the words taught by the beyond seem appropriate.


    The unbelievable size this creature must have been puts even the largest caverns beyond the Labyrinthine Passages to shame. Not a leg would fit within the space; not to mention any of the tighter tunnels I¡¯ve called home.


    Back when the phantom Titan took my home from me, it had been impossible to get an actual picture of its size. The way it hid away in a spaceless void made it impossible. All I knew, was that it was immense. Only now do I see the extent of that.


    Strangely, while I can pick out which shards should be the Titan¡¯s ribs, there are others that don¡¯t appear to be natural. Loose bones scattered both within and outside the ribcage of the impossible beast¡¯s corpse.


    Are they dislodged bones from the same Titan that fell here? Or¡­ are they the remains of others?


    This Titan isn¡¯t the sole one, is it? These bones are too varied. Too dissimilar to the structure of the ribs to be the same. And there are far too many flowing through the churning earth below to have come from one.


    The Other Side is the Graveyard of the Titans.


    This is the place Titans come to die. If I hadn¡¯t already wanted to leave, this solidifies that desperation. No wonder we heard the deathly roar earlier; this ocean of gravel and powdered earth is theirs to roam.


    But¡­ what can kill a Titan?


    The very concept of those beings finding their ends seems unnatural. What could be beyond creatures larger than any cavern?


    Nothing.


    I refuse to accept that there is any being greater than the Titans. Nothing could topple those so unreasonably far above myself in the hierarchy of predators.


    Their deaths came from themselves. Only Titans can kill Titans. It only makes sense. Creatures denoted the enemies of the world are irrevocably linked to death. Their simple movement is enough to destroy caverns that have stood for generations and kill all unfortunate to be below them. Of course beings linked to the destruction and death of the world would kill each other.


    I hiss to expel my frustration. This is no time to pull back because of a simple discovery. Even if that simple discovery is disastrous.


    A little squeak does a much better job of redirecting my thoughts.


    The sound from Scia is like a mix between a whistle and a huff of air. My eyes focus on her, and I find her breathing out with her mouth open. She continues her odd noise for a few moments until she realises I¡¯m watching her.


    Scia turns to me and tilts her head, as if I¡¯m the one doing something strange.


    I don¡¯t know why, but the slightest of hunches has me hissing again.


    Scia sticks out her tongue and huffs a breathy whistle again.


    Hmm¡­ still not absolutely certain. I hiss.


    Scia hisses back; her best imitation sounds nothing like mine, but it is now clear she¡¯s repeating me.


    I hiss again.


    When she does the same, I can¡¯t help the involuntary sound that escapes my lips. Scia imitates that too, jumping up and down with excitement. She easily picks up on my amusement.


    I breathe out a huff ¡ª the sound quickly mimicked ¡ª and refocus myself on the path ahead. There¡¯s no use wasting energy worrying about the corpses of Titans. I already knew this place was dangerous. This changes nothing.


    The widening pit slows to a crawl. It doesn¡¯t come near, but its existence still a cause for concern. The sloped area I¡¯d considered the most stable had been anything but. A reminder of the fragility of my surroundings. I cannot trust that anything here will hold my weight, but I also refuse to allow myself to take a smaller size without the safety of my bends.


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    As long as Scia blinks away in time, I can swim through the fluid stone without problem. It will be annoying to have the ground collapse under me again, but there¡¯s plenty worse that can happen.


    I push forward, heading up toward the ridgeline above. With each slither, I feel the earth shifting below, ready to collapse at a moment¡¯s notice. Any creature I¡¯m familiar with could do nothing against the stone currents. My thoughts filter through all the prey of my past, and consider how they might survive the drowning gravel. How often does one get lost over here, on the Other Side? Could any survive for an extended time?


    Not even considering the problem of food, is there any species not overwhelmed by the moving rock? The only ones I can think could last more than a few moments are those with some capability of self-propulsion or are large enough to overcome the current.


    Scia and her kin have both wings and their space bending capabilities, so of all creatures, they might be best suited. A single mistake would be their end, but they could keep away from the gravel longer than any other. The larger beasts like ¨­mukade or Nareau could use their size, but with all their weight distributed onto the sharp points of their legs, I don¡¯t believe traversing the surface of this cavern as they had that of the other is feasible. Their legs would sink, or instigate the collapse of the earth below.


    At any time in the past, I would compare creatures¡¯ shortcomings to my capabilities to reiterate my superiority¡­ but there is no point any longer. I cannot reach the heights of the Titans, so why does it matter that I am greater than the lesser beasts? In the eyes of the only beings that matter, I am the same as all I consider lesser.


    Though, using that same line of thought, Scia and I are identical. She doesn¡¯t need to be strong to be who she is. It isn¡¯t her ability to create bends that I¡¯ve grown attached to, so maybe it isn¡¯t necessary to place such requirement of superiority on myself.


    I may no longer be the strongest creature around, but should I allow that to mean I¡¯m anything lesser than what I¡¯ve been for all my life? Those creatures that have always been below me are still the same as they¡¯ve always been. I have not suddenly become a bug because of the existence of Titans.


    And I shouldn¡¯t act like it.


    This is the Other Side. The Graveyard of the Titans. It is terrifying, but I won¡¯t allow myself to be controlled by fear, as the lesser creatures do. Scia holds no strength of her own, and she¡¯s been braver than I have ever since I met her. I need to take her actions and learn from them. Adopt them.


    What I¡¯d first thought was foolishness may be anything but. She¡¯d been courageous and latched herself to me when she should have feared and hid. If she had, it was entirely possible she wouldn¡¯t have lived through her next sleep. Only because she ignored her fear and the instinct of her kind did she live.


    This place¡­ it makes me want to hide away to avoid any encounter with the Titans. Not only that; the loss of the Beyond¡¯s voice has me unnerved. It has been such a long time since I¡¯ve been without it that the presence of only my own thoughts in my mind seems strange.


    But this is all something I have to push past. I cannot be some cowardly prey hiding from the apex of the region. I need to be better than that. What I must do, is follow Scia¡¯s lead and take the only option I have, regardless of risk.


    Settling my resolve, I breach the ridgeline. I was hoping to find the wall of this cavern. But no, the slope continues at a regular incline without a ceiling or rapid rise of earth breaking up the landscape.


    More shards ¡ª Titan bones ¡ª breach the earth ahead. They seem to be a series of vertebrae and the joint of some limb. The way they curve out of sight to the right makes me think this is from the same Titan as the ribcage down the slope. The dead creature lay curled on the slope, with its head somewhere out of sight.


    It is, oddly enough, up the hill where the distortions are most dense. I don¡¯t think there¡¯s any actual relation, as the bends extend to the left beyond where the dead Titan lies, but it does mean the head is in my path.


    It takes a while ¡ª the earth collapsing below you tends to cause delays ¡ª but I eventually reach it. The skull appears like a strange mix of a cervidae and canid; the type of beast to messily tear flesh. Only the upper half of the skull sits above the surface. From the top, rear section of the skull rises massive shard pillars that curl into the air. They rise so high they leave my sight, but soon return above the snout of the skull in razor points.


    The horns are far larger than the head, but even the skull itself is not insignificant. Near ten times longer than myself, it is hard to imagine this head once sat on a living being. My full size barely constitutes a basic snake for a creature like this.


    Out of curiosity ¡ª an emotion I¡¯ve been much more welcoming to recently ¡ª I approach the skull. There is an opening near where the neck would have been that allows us to enter the interior. I slither inside and find the earth feels far more stable here than anywhere else out over the shifting earth. The jawbone hidden below us must help with stability.


    Though I won¡¯t make any assumptions again. Not after my last guess proved wrong almost immediately upon making it.


    The skull blocks that spatial ripple bearing down on us from above. With something over my head again, I find muscles that have remained tense ever since we arrived in this massive cavern finally relax. Knowing there is a ceiling above, even if it is the remains of a Titan, is calming. What¡¯s even better, is that the moss grows from the surrounding shard. Scia can eat again.


    There is plenty of space to move around, and without the energy heating us from above, Scia can finally lower her wings and look around.


    This seems like a perfect place to hide away from the dangers of the Other Side. Well, it would be perfect, but I¡¯ve already decided that settling in such a place would be the wrong option. I need to return to the warped tunnels, and from there, we will escape.


    After what happened along the amber barrier, the tunnels are no longer safe. They are collapsing, and whether they¡¯ll become like the Other Side is still to be seen, but I cannot rely on it remaining safe for long. I¡¯d originally tried to find a path to go against my spite, but our problem is no longer so simple. There is no denying it; my tunnels will collapse ¡ª if they haven¡¯t already ¡ª and we must find our way out.


    Hiding in this skull will provide short-term safety, but in the end, it will place us in a worse position than simply putting ourselves forward early. How Scia knew to do that back when we met, I don¡¯t know.


    As I look around the hollow inside of the skull, I find the moss isn¡¯t as dense as the insides of other shards. In places, it is shredded; like the walls were clawed at. Hopefully, that¡¯s nothing but an oddity in the way it grows out in this ceilingless cavern.


    Best not linger.

 Chapter 34: Pensive

    Scia blinks from my head and appears by the only section of skull with a thick coating of moss. Her teeth latch on to the strands before she presses her wings and legs against the wall and tugs, attempting to pull her meal free.


    She fails.


    Scia tugs and tugs, but the grass doesn¡¯t want to let go of the hard bone it grows from. I slide up beside her, ready to swipe my tail against the wall to tear some off, but she chirps at me. She spits out the moss to wave a wing at my tail that I raise over her head. Her eyes stare into mine with a slight pout lining her muzzle.


    Well, if she wants so desperately to do it herself, why should I stop her?


    So I settle in to watch Scia fight with the plant that refuses to let go of its roots. She squeaks and grunts, but her tiny body simply cannot get enough leverage.


    It¡¯s amusing, but after a while of struggle, I raise my tail again to offer to shave the moss for her. She takes one look at me and twists her head, determined to accomplish it herself.


    Determination that lasts only a little longer. Soon, she gives up. Her head bowed, she lets go of the grass and blinks back to me. For a moment, she refuses to make eye contact, but her head slowly tilts until she¡¯s pleading with me.


    I hiss out a laugh, and she immediately flicks her head away in a deep pout.


    As requested, I scrape my tail along the wall, dropping all the moss into a pile before us. In moments, Scia is digging into her feast, having apparently forgiven me for laughing at her.


    While she enjoys herself with the tough grass, I slither to the front of the jaw. In a few places, the bone lifts from the earth, revealing the base of fangs far thicker than I am. With the ground swallowing them, I can¡¯t see their entirety, but the shape reminds me of the first shard we¡¯d seen. The sharp edge and porous curved section are identical.


    Though, the one floating through the lower caverns had almost seemed larger. Too large to fit in the jaw of a beast like this. Is that just an effect of perspective?


    Along the other bone surfaces, there is a very thin layer of moss motes. Unlike the grass that Scia chews through, none of this has grown. When I raise my eyes to the ceiling, I see why the moss is shorter in most places.


    Large claw marks cut through the grass growing from the ceiling. There¡¯s not much left, but the clear scratches where the plant has been ripped from the bone leave little to the imagination. Some creature ¡ª some large creature ¡ª scratched away the moss for itself.


    The bone itself is unmarred, but it is the regrowth on other walls of the shard even more concerning; whatever clawed at the inside of this skull has been coming here often. And recently.


    I twist back to Scia, intending to grab her and leave, but she¡¯s no longer gorging herself. Instead, she stands on legs and wings with her head raised high and ears twitching. She hears something, and whatever it is, it¡¯s coming from the opening at the back of the skull.


    In an instant, Scia appears on my head again and flaps her wings at me, squeaking out an almost imperceptible chirp. I don¡¯t know how I know, but I understand what she wants.


    My body is shrinking and I¡¯m slithering into the gap between fang and jaw before I even hear the first crunch of gravel. I don¡¯t know what is coming, but the weight of its footfalls thrum through the earth. It starts off subtle, but as I get smaller, the shaking feels so much more intense. I can only imagine it is because of the Titan¡¯s corpse that the earth isn¡¯t collapsing beneath us. Whatever this is, it is big. Bigger than myself.


    I try to shove my head through the gap between teeth before I¡¯m suitably small enough, and as I should have expected, the Titan bones don¡¯t budge.


    The footsteps grow louder, and I desperately press down on my size, forcing it to shrink faster. I don¡¯t want to meet a being that considers the Other Side its home. After everything I¡¯ve learnt, there¡¯s no possibility I could survive.


    I do not want to face a Titan.


    Finally, my body is tiny enough to squeeze past the fang¡¯s root and find myself back out in the open, but not before I hear a loud thump that makes me freeze.


    I twist back, but nothing strikes at me. Slowly, I slither up to a slight bend that should allow me to see over the curve of gravel and through a gap in the skull, but keep myself obscured. My continually smaller size only helps to keep me hidden.


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    The beast is large, but not quite the mountainous size of the Titans. It is at least four times longer than my full size and barely fits within the skull. Despite this not being a Titan, it is far beyond my capability to fend off.


    It is feline, with glistening crystal strands of fur that shift over one another with a barely perceptible sibilant whisper. It steps rear-first into the skull and drags some bloodied corpse in through the tight opening.


    Of course, the dead hunt holds multiple dozen times my weight. The pulped mass ¡ª ripped open with such ferocity that its species is indistinguishable ¡ª is dragged to the far corner of the shard cavern before the giant ¡ª not-Titan ¡ª digs in.


    What is this being? I ask the Beyond.


    ¡­


    Right, it¡¯s gone. Out of habit, I had asked, but I guess I¡¯ve lost the convenience of having things named for me.


    Between the diamond sharp ears on its head and the crystalline hairs that hang from its jaw in two points like a pair of extra fangs give it a similar enough appearance to a lynx. It obviously is anything but ¡ª what with its towering height and slightly transparent fur that shines with barely repressed energy ¡ª but until the Beyond returns, Lynx is good enough.


    Scia presses into my scales, hiding away from the beast as her ears stand stiff and upright. I know exactly how she feels. My body presses low to the gravel, keeping just out of sight from those without true-sight. Up here, where there are no distortions, I doubt any creatures can perceive the slight bend, but the beast¡¯s presence makes me feel trapped, regardless. If it looks my way, could it spot me? It¡¯s unlikely to, but I know nothing about this pseudo-Titan.


    Unlike the Titans, I am not too small to bother with. I may not be as filling as the ball of flesh it now tears into, but I am still reasonable prey to it.


    I hate that.


    I suppress the hiss of defiance that pride attempts to push through my throat. This will not become a repeat of the encounter with the Titan. I will do what I need to keep Scia and myself alive.


    The Titans are not an entirely unique existence. This is proof of that. I¡¯d been holding onto the slight hope that the Titans were simply a realm of their own, and it was impossible for any predators to be between me and them¡­ but this lynx is proof that I have simply not known enough of the world.


    I¡¯d expected that to be the case after what I¡¯ve experienced, but it is still hard to accept.


    While the massive lynx is distracted, I slowly slither back. When the pseudo-Titan¡¯s head whips up, I freeze. The beast raises its bloodied mouth from its feast and sniffs at the air, long whiskers twitching innocuously.


    Did it hear me? I thought I¡¯d been perfectly silent. Can it smell us? I know it can¡¯t see us here; if it could, it would have noticed us immediately.


    The head of the beast swivels until it lands on the wall of moss Scia and I just trimmed. A deep snarl thunders from the lynx, quaking through my spine. In an instant, it sprints out of the rear of the skull, diamond-like teeth bared all the while.


    As it speeds out of the shard, I notice a slight change with the earth beneath where its feet land. The disorderly, unstable ground seems to form together, as if rising to meet the enormous paws of the lynx.


    Is it chasing our scent? I shouldn¡¯t give off much of one myself, but Scia is different. All mammals reek, after all. We can be thankful that it follows our tracks the wrong way, but we cannot rely on it staying that way. If the beast has any intelligence at all, it will discover us sooner rather than later.


    We need to leave. Now.


    I twist and slither up the slope, keeping the rocky ridgeline between myself and where the feline ran off to. For a moment, I consider returning to my full size; the last thing I want is to be caught by that predator and not have my full strength available. But I have to discard the thought. It is as wide as I am long. Considering our body differences, the lynx is likely to be near a hundred times my weight. Even at full size, I don¡¯t stand a chance. Especially lacking my distortions.


    At least with a more subdued size, I can remain harder to spot. Would the lynx even bother chasing us down if it knew how small we were? I know I avoid prey that won¡¯t fill me up.


    So, small I stay.


    But¡­ the lynx did seem rather enraged when it had spotted the remains of the moss. I tore off the last of it from the wall. Did it eat that grass too? Did we steal the last of its meal?


    Hopefully not. I know firsthand the fury of having your prey stolen from your jaws. And I have not been particularly kind to the creatures that did so.


    My small size slides along the surface without disturbing it at all. That is great for now ¡ª it means there¡¯s little to reveal my presence ¡ª but the moment I get caught in any collapse, I won¡¯t be able to fight back. The flow of earth will take me wherever it wishes, and I¡¯ll lack the size and strength to swim from the current.


    So, while I feel like I¡¯m on more stable ground than I¡¯ve been in some time, my concerns are no less than they were before. If I¡¯m sucked underground, will I be able to find Scia again? If such an event occurs, I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ll be in too much danger; I simply need to worry about how far the churning gravel decides to take me before I can grow.


    Scia stands tall on my back, ears swivelling, but having gone back to covering her eyes with her wings. She watches our rear as I dart across the earth, following the guidance of distortions. I¡¯m hoping to find something, some place to hide before the lynx turns and chases us. As fast as it had moved before, there¡¯s no chance of outpacing it. We can only hope it doesn¡¯t find us soon.


    Worst-case scenario, I¡¯ll throw us beneath the surface. If I can instigate the collapse of the earth, then that is our best option. Even if such an action is horrifyingly dangerous.


    After a stressful length of time, I find somewhere that is perfect. Ahead, the earth opens up into a massive array of cracks and gorges. The stone that forms the rock between each fissure seems more solid and together than much of the other landscape around, but the gorges themselves are a sea of fluid gravel.


    Ideally, we would prefer to travel over the solid stone.


    Scia squeaks in panic. I turn around to find the lynx rising over the ridge at the edge of my sight.


    But it looks like we¡¯ll have to settle for the gorges themselves.

 Interlude 2: Ceph - Part II

    Ceph didn¡¯t think. She just threw herself to the nearest collapsed structure. Heavy pillars and piles of junk were thrown to the side. She knew there were still people here. Whenever her team wasn¡¯t out for work, she would be here eating and chatting with those who climbed the Titan Alps for all sorts of reasons. The opportunistic traders, Mercenary Order workers or bureaucrats, or even the families of Mercenaries that followed them up here.


    None of which had the enhancement to survive such a disaster on their own.


    Ceph found her first body; a young albanic woman. Her calf was pierced clean through with a wooden stake that had snapped from the ceiling, but she was still alive. Ceph cradled her in two tentacles and rushed back through the path she¡¯d made. As much as she wanted to make sure the woman was attended to and her wound patched, there were still so many stuck beneath the collapsed buildings. She carefully lowered her and dashed back inside, clearing away as much timber, rock and concrete she could without deteriorating the structural integrity any further.


    The only bright side of this situation was that the city was still rather small. Plenty of construction was under way for larger buildings further down the mountain, but they were uninhabited. There was barely a thousand unenhanced living up here, a number that was matched by the mercenaries assigned here; a ratio far from normal.


    She caught sight of a khirig with a particularly large antler cage charge into the ruins of one building.


    ¡°You idiot!¡± she shouted, flinging herself after him, but was too late.


    The building collapsed. Pillars that were still holding up the remaining weight of the building shattered with his charge, leaving the ceiling to collapse. She dove in behind him, quickly digging out an old volan ¡ª one of the small wingsuit loving people ¡ª from being the wreckage. He was dead. Crushed.


    Ceph snarled, her eyes swirling in her head toward the reckless Luis mercenary. She bounded after him, careful to avoid breaking anything that might be holding up any more weight as she flexed her boneless body through the tightest gaps in the rubble. As soon as she caught up to him, she wrapped a tentacle around an antler and slammed his protected head into the ground. He¡¯d been digging away at a pile of stone slabs without any care for what might collapse in his effort.


    ¡°Wha¡­?¡±


    ¡°You sit right there,¡± she demanded. She¡¯d caught sight of what he was digging for. Some khirig¡¯s shattered foot antlers were poking out from beneath a large brick.


    Ceph moved to take his place, but carefully moved the stone so that it wouldn¡¯t collapse while holding a limb above her to lessen the weight of the ceiling. She didn¡¯t dare push it up too much, the roof was just as likely to collapse from that as it was by losing the support of these slabs. Where the Luis had been digging, he was almost certainly about to get anyone else still stuck in here buried.


    Her work was slow, but she was making her way to the victim. And then the Luis merc just had to try and help, by digging where he did before. Ceph slapped him with the back of her tentacle, very nearly tempted to put in enough strength to shatter an antler.


    ¡°Go outside and wait for a Beith to give you orders.¡± As much as Ceph still felt out of place in her new rank, there were still people like this that she had no idea how they got as high as they did. There was more to the job then one¡¯s enhancement, after all. Well, mostly.


    He looked like he was going to argue, but the look in her eye was enough to scare him off. He still sent too many glances to the buried khirig for her to be comfortable he won¡¯t cause any more issues, but she moved back to helping the fallen girl. Enough of her had been revealed now that Ceph could see she was a child. Whoever was stupid enough to bring a kid this young up the Titan Alps¡­


    Thankfully, she was still breathing. Though, with how thin the air was up here, she was doing so with difficulty. The youthful twigs of her antlers were all shattered and only the vulnerable inner body remained. Ceph picked up the girl with care, avoiding the sharp tips of her broken antlers spiking out from her spine. She quickly extracted herself back outside, rushing over to the nearest dohrni of the Lu-Lum family. The medic would take care of the child first, thankfully, and she could get back to the rescue effort.


    All the mercs were in full action now. They cleared through the broken buildings with ease, freeing the trapped and injured civilians.


    ¡°Ceph!¡± someone yelled.


    She turned to find Glaus calling for her. By his side was the operations commander for the city and underground entrance. He wasn¡¯t the most enhanced of individuals, but he had more than most commanders.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± she shouted as she rushed over.


    ¡°We don¡¯t know,¡± Glaus said as Telum leapt from the man¡¯s head to hers. ¡°All Beiths are being mobilised to guard the cavern entrance. Something has happened and we need to be prepared.¡±


    Ceph ignored her volan friend as he made himself comfortable on top of her. ¡°Where is Hirsh?¡±


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    ¡°I already sent him ahead,¡± Glaus said as they bounded up the mountain.


    As she ran, her eyes slid to the back of her torso, watching the disaster zone behind her. It was hard to leave when she knew so many people were still trapped within the rubble, but orders were orders.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry.¡± Glaus glanced at her through his translucent blue membrane. ¡°The other mercs can take care of the city without issue. Just keep your eyes peeled; we don¡¯t know what could happen.¡±


    Ceph nodded. He was right; they couldn¡¯t worry about peoples¡¯ safety right now. They needed to lock down the entrance and make sure nothing could breach. They¡¯d already faced plenty of beasts that found their way from the depths to open air. It was incredibly likely whatever caused that pressure sent the creatures down below into a frenzy¡­ and that was assuming the source itself didn¡¯t decide to pay them a visit.


    The shatter didn¡¯t have any distinct origin, but she was sure it came from below.


    It took Ceph and Glaus seconds to reach the base of the entrance. Thousands of mermineae gathered around, helping the hundreds of their brethren that fled from within the tunnels. The gearwork fortifications remained still while the mermineae passed, but the teams of mercenaries tasked to man the large cranks that allowed the machines to function waited, ready to force them into motion at a word.


    The centzon had built elevators to move in and out of the underground, but the mermineae clambered up the fortifications with nothing but their claws. As soon as they reached the surface, they flung themselves away from the stone machines. Their slender bellies hugged the earth, almost thankful to be away from the centzon¡¯s creation. Whenever they could, the mermineae would stay as far as they could from the moving contraptions. It was also why they needed to assign teams of mercenaries to the crankshafts.


    Ceph saw the glowing form of Hirsh riding a wave of water on the other side of the massive opening. He was already busy watching for threats. It would be good to have him fighting alongside them again. Not having their mage had impacted their typical flow, and it had been especially annoying that they couldn¡¯t enact the inheritance ritual while down in the caverns. Ceph was sure Hirsh felt far more agitated than the rest of them; he¡¯d been stuck unable to participate, after all.


    A merminea rose to their hind legs and approached the trio. The creatures could walk relatively easily on two legs, but they almost exclusively remained prone, where their fur hid them against the earth. The only reason they remained visible now was because of a treaty they¡¯d agreed to at the end of war.


    ¡°Know what that presence was, do you?¡±


    ¡°Not a clue.¡± Glaus continued walking toward the larger fortifications at the base of the opening. ¡°We are activating the war machines in a minute. Get your people ready.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± The mermineae hesitates. ¡°There are still so many down there.¡±


    Glaus shrugs. ¡°Order¡¯s from the commander. If you can¡¯t get them up in time, send a message for them to hide until we know things are safe.¡±


    A tap on the top of her head made Ceph look up. ¡°Mind tossing me?¡± Telum asked, gesturing to the skies over the entrance.


    She curled a tentacle around the volan, easily wrapping up the small creature. A fluid snap of her limb and he was sky-bound. In an instant, he was hundreds of metres high and his arms flung outward, bringing control over his momentum and levelling out. He soared above the hole along with a dozen other volans.


    Ceph broke off from Glaus. She felt a little bad for the merminea that might have to leave his kin down in the depths, but they needed to keep their priorities straight. They could not sacrifice those on the surface for the people below.


    She rushed to the stone fortification wall. Ignoring the mechanical elevator, she leaped the twenty metres to the top, having to slap a tentacle along the surface only once to reach. Upon landing, Ceph quickly moved to a square of bright yellow paint. The last thing she wanted was to get stuck in the gears of this machine when it started up.


    Now in position, she cast her gaze around the wall where other mercenaries were taking their places. Everyone knew their role and was quick to fulfil it. Glaus was quick to join her side in a marked section ten metres to her left.


    There was still no certainty that they would experience a surge, but nobody here would say it wasn¡¯t worth the precaution. Everyone knew the threats the Alps could hold on its surface; who knew what unknown monsters laid within? Ceph and her team weren¡¯t the only ones to come across the remnants of strange beasts. Many teams never returned.


    That serpent¡­ they¡¯d never heard anything more from it. The mermineae had set up a search, but it had clearly gone down into the lower tunnels. How such a massive creature could fit down the narrow columns, she didn¡¯t know, but those monstrous centipedes did the same, and they were too large to wander through the upper chamber.


    ¡°Engage!¡± An order was shouted from the base of the fortifications, soon repeated all along their length.


    The rock buckled beneath her, dropping a few centimetres. She panicked slightly, twirling her eyes to make sure she was within the painted lines. She was. All should be fine.


    There was a heavy clank of something heavy falling into place and the walls came alive. The stone to her right rotated upward, a bunch of unhealthy clicks accompanying the movement. One of those massive cannons slid forward, revealing itself from the stone. Ceph was momentarily awed by the sight of the weapon five times her height pointing down into the depths where only an ever so slight blue glow could be seen.


    Her distraction didn¡¯t last long when a sawblade twisted out from the rock beneath her, and dropped down into the tunnel below, ready to shred any creature that may come from the upper cavern.


    The ground moved again, and she held tight as the stone she stood on suddenly slid outward, leaving her and the slab suspended over the wide hole.


    Ceph suppressed a groan. She had the misfortune to have chosen one of the pistons to stand on. All across the fortifications a similar transformation was occurring. Saws, cannons, and  similar ten metre tall pistons of stone folded out from the stone fortifications and left it unrecognisable to what it was. Truly a marvel of engineering. She could only imagine what they might look like once they¡¯d figured out the best way to apply inscriptions to them.


    The clatter and clanking of gears smashing into one another was almost deafening, but so too was the buzz of the metal-toothed stone saw spinning at incredible speeds below.


    Dozens of Beith mercenaries waited, ready and alert, with deadly centzon machines over the only exit from the Titan Alps¡¯ underneath. A thousand mermineae waited beyond, willing to take on anything that broke through.


    Nothing from below could beat them.


    Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t something below that left millions dead.

 Chapter 35: Injustice

    The earth at the bottom of the canyon laps at the walls like a river would its cavernous sides. Fluid. As with the churning rock below, it acts as much a liquid as it does solid. The worst facets of both.


    The flow strikes with the strength of a physical presence ¡ª made worse by the presence of ranked stone boulders carried within ¡ª and yet it does not retain that strength to lift my body. Like an ocean, I sink immediately. Intense turbulence making it impossible to hold myself afloat.


    Despite the giant lynx hunting us, I¡¯m forced to grow to fight against the gravel that threatens to tug us beneath the waves.


    I slither forward, fighting against the earth to push us away from the creature that hunts us. If we¡¯re not quick, there won¡¯t be any chance to escape. If that pseudo-Titan can run at the pace it showed off when it sprint from the skull shard, then only the cover of these gorges will be enough to keep from the jaws of the beast. I cannot outpace it.


    An earsplitting crash shakes the earth. I twist, fearing the worst. Has the lynx caught up already?


    What I find, is the two sides of the gorge I just slithered through having crashed together. The feline didn¡¯t land behind us, as I¡¯d expected, but the environment slammed into itself.


    I return to my slither, but keep an eye on the massive cliffs of rock around us. Now that I¡¯m looking closely, it is obvious they are moving. A crevice opens up in the wall of the gulch before me, and I slither through, taking advantage of the narrow path to avoid any eyes standing at the top of the cliffs.


    The longer I slither, the wider the walls grow around me.


    These gorges are moving.


    As I continue fleeing from the predator, cliffs crash into each other and new paths open up anew. Each large mass of stone that makes these bluffs are floating upon the fluid earth no different than I am.


    To my right, two crags pound together. They screech a deafening grind as the surfaces slide along each other, breaking off boulders of stone. One side slams into the wall behind me.


    An ever-changing labyrinth of stone. I couldn¡¯t have asked for a better place to hide.


    I snap back, barely avoiding the compression of two walls that suddenly crashed into each other. A few loose stones fall from the cliff above and clatter over my scales. Scia blinks beneath my head for a moment before returning to her place.


    This place is far preferable to the pseudo-Titan, but it is nothing I can treat as safe. The cliffs are just as determined to crush me as they are to hide me.


    Scia lets out a panicked squeak, and I react before I have time to think. I snap into a closing crevice and slam my tail against the cliff-face. My body shrinks as quick as it can and I fit us in the tight space I made right before the wall shifts into the other. The earth grips my scales tight, and I can feel the heavy thump that thrums through it as both masses impact.


    Not a moment after the earth settles, do I hear ever so slight thumps from where I just was. Through the tiniest cracks remaining from the path that was once there, the massive crystal covered paws of the lynx come into view. They stand on the fluid earth as if it weighs nothing, but as I peer close, gravel flows around growths of diamond that rise to hold the beast upright.


    It steps forward, rear paws taking place of the front pair. The lynx stops, letting out a deep growl that pierces through my spine. All along my back, it feels as if I¡¯m pierced by sharp, hard diamond spikes.


    Has it found us?


    I coil up in what little space I have, ready to fling us away the moment the beast starts digging us out, but the shift of earth stops me.


    All I can see is the lynx¡¯s rear legs, and of them, only that below the ankles. But even from that, it is clearly not looking our way.


    The feline grunts, and our rock moves. Not only that which directly surrounds us, but the entire gorge shifts away from the pseudo-Titan. Through my slight crack, the opposite cliff does same; sliding further away. The earth screams in protest. More rock grinding against itself than usual. Far off, I hear something crack. A deafening crash follows moments after.


    Both dangerously clawed paws disappear.


    The lynx is gone, but I wait with Scia in our tiny pocket of safety until the last footsteps are gone. And even then, I wait a while longer before breaking through the rock and returning us to the crevice.


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    Despite how wide the gorge is, large, cracked indents half up the walls reveal why the lynx stopped. It wasn¡¯t because it found us, but rather the canyon grew too narrow for its liking. Using its massive size, it pushed the huge islands of earth out of the way.


    That strength is not something I can replicate. Sure I can break some rocks, but to shove mountains out of my way? Such a thing is impossible.


    I suppress the irritation of being outmatched, and turn the opposite direction of the lynx. We stick to narrow crevices where we can, and hurry past the wider ones. Before long, I¡¯m certain the lynx has lost our trail. It can follow our scent all it wants, but with the shifting landscape, any path we take is gone by the time it tries to follow.


    A subdued hiss escapes my lips. An expression of relief at finally being free of the hunt. Experiencing it from the other side is not pleasant. I can only hope it will give up.


    While I¡¯m relieved that its finally over, I still keep my wits about me. The environment is hardly safe ¡ª particularly for little Scia ¡ª and the pseudo-Titan might appear at any moment. Of course, we¡¯ve thread ourselves through enough narrow fissures that I don¡¯t think it¡¯s likely, but best to be alert.


    These shifting gorges are not endless. We should be alright while we hide in here, but the moment we leave to continue following the path of distortions is the moment we reveal ourselves to any being that waits above. If the lynx hasn¡¯t left by then, we will die.


    Fortunately, Scia just ate, so we have some time before we need to worry about that. Some time to wait out the pseudo-Titan.


    A deep thrum ripples through the earth, unmissable even through the constant churn below.


    At first, I think it¡¯s the lynx. It may have landed hard and shook the earth. But it comes again, this time stronger, louder. The quake rumbles through the canyon, sending each mass of rock quivering. Wind slams overhead, thundering with power.


    This is not the lynx. This is something so much worse.


    For a moment, everything falls silent. The wind and quaking stops, but so too does the shifting cliffs and earth below. The world is still.


    But only a moment.


    A roar. Unhindered by impossible quantities of rock, it sweeps across everything with power.


    I find myself locking up. The undeniable presence washes over me as the upper crest of each cliff shatters. I have to fight the burning fury of my muscles that want to do nothing but remain frozen simply so my tail can shield Scia from the rain of stone.


    The Titan¡¯s roar continues for a moment longer, before it is suddenly cut short and a mighty tremor floods through my body.


    Earth immediately tries to consume me. What little stability the earth below had is now gone. It grinds and churns no differently from the space far below.


    I snap my tail, forced to start growing just to keep aloft. The Titan¡¯s presence has not yet truly left me. My spine, ribs and muscles all fight my movements, but I push through. I refuse to allow something as foolish as an instinctual fear consume me. The Titans are unbeatable, sure, but that is no reason to bow down my life simply because they are nearby.


    In the air above, a wave of heat slams past. Steam rapidly rises from the upper ledges of the gorge, mixing with dust as the surface crumbles away and vaporises. The warmth hits us, but it is nowhere near as impacting as it was to the rock above. Shielded by the canyon, both Scia and I remain unharmed.


    The tremors continue. No, they gradually increase. Regular, intense thumps roll through the earth and amplify the turmoil around with each pass.


    The Titans are getting closer. I need to find somewhere to hide.


    I spring to the nearest cliff and whip my tail into the wall, shearing out a space to huddle. Scia is still frozen, so I can¡¯t expect her to blink away should she find herself in danger. I need to watch her. If that wave of heat hits us again, I don¡¯t want her to be out in the open.


    Before I can slide down into the grotto, it is taken from me. The churning earth whips at the bluff like crashing waves, swallowing the shattered section of rock I cut. Not only that, massive swathes suddenly sink beneath the ground.


    I twist. All around, the gorges no longer float. They bump and crash into each other as usual, but the cliff-tops continue to fall. There is no taking refuge in the walls of the canyon; in a few moments, there won¡¯t be a canyon.


    My head whips around, looking for something, anything that appears stable. Nothing reveals itself.


    The pounding grows ever stronger. Earthen turmoil increases with each strike, clinging at my body and trying to pull us down into the shredding depths. Power fills the air. Through the ever increasing storm of dust above, energy seems to pilfer all, stinging at my scales.


    My tail snatches Scia as she finally starts to show signs of movement again. I curl her within a coil, hiding her from the increasing danger of the world around us. I consider allowing the earth to swallow us; to stop fighting against the pull. But doing so¡­ I hate the idea.


    I cannot go back to being blind. Not when a Titan is so close. By staying above, I can at least watch and react to the danger that comes. In the churning earth, I¡¯ll be stuck at the whims of the world around me. If the Titan steps in the wrong place, we¡¯ll both be dead before we realise it.


    The next thump changes things. It is stronger, and pounds through my veins with a strength nothing but the roar could compare. The cliffs slide down beneath the earth all at once, churning up a cloud of dust and ash.


    The sky is thick with it now. No longer does that warm ripple beam down from above. A mist of debris blocks the energy entirely.


    Scia blinks out of my grip, landing on my head. I hiss, and snap my tail around her again, frustrated that she would expose herself in such a situation. Besides a few scratches at my scales, she thankfully doesn¡¯t come out again.


    The cliffs finally disappear. Nothing but a sea of earth remains.


    Except the lynx.


    The rock drops away to reveal the pseudo-Titan standing there, motionless amongst the lapping waves of fluid rock. The beast stands there as if the world falling apart around it doesn¡¯t affect it. A picture of power that I envy.


    Yet the lynx stares with dread at something beyond my sight.

 Chapter 36: Grima

    Unhindered by the tall walls of stone that once surrounded me, wind screams through the air. It whips back and forth, unable to choose a direction, but never silent. Earthen tremors accompany each change. The ground rises and falls where before it lay still, waves along a sea of gravel.


    The environment is difficult to fight against. Simply holding myself above the surface with Scia wrapped in a safe coil of my tail is a challenge. The ground underneath wants to swallow me, while the intense gusts try to bury me in dust.


    But the lynx stands unaffected by that which I can barely hold against. Fluid rock laps at its legs, but none so much as move. Wind slams into its glistening fur, but the dirt does not stick. I¡¯ve never been envious of another creature¡¯s skin before ¡ª especially not the hide of a mammal ¡ª but I cannot deny the beauty of that cleanliness. My own scales are a buffeted and filthy comparison.


    The tall beast stares off into the distance, watching what is most certainly the Titan out of my sight. For a moment, a mixture of fury and frustration hits my mind as I find another being with apparently better sight than my own, but I strangle that thought before it can bloom. This is not the time.


    Annoyance, resignation and ¡ª strangest of all ¡ª the slightest slimmer of fear are all present in the way the lynx stands. I¡¯m not certain if I¡¯m simply misinterpreting the body-language of a creature I¡¯m not all that familiar with, but it stands like an ambushed animal, unsure whether it should flee, or remain still in hopes it won¡¯t be noticed. I¡¯ve seen plenty of smaller predators do the same when I caught them mid-hunt.


    Though, the lynx is not any simple predator; it holds the greatest strength I¡¯ve seen.


    In a way, it¡¯s somewhat relieving. A Titan is as horrifying to it as it is to me. As great as that is to know, it doesn¡¯t change the fact that a Titan is getting closer; the increasingly heavy thumps that shake the world make that obvious.


    The lynx turns, finally snapping its eyes from the horror beyond the range of my sight, ready to run. Unfortunately, it¡¯s sight lands on me. Halting its turn, it faces me directly, snarling and baring its large, diamond fangs. No growling reaches my ears over the rumble of the earth and roar of the wind.


    The feline¡¯s massive claws clench, and I watch dozens of spiky crystalline growths rise from the ground around each foot. The churning earth feuds against the solid growths, lapping at the crystal and splashing shrapnel up into the cat¡¯s underside. It barely pays the rock crashing against it any mind.


    The storm grows stronger, whipping up more dust than ever. Stones far heavier than wind can carry ¡ª should carry are hefted through the air.


    The lynx crouches, readying itself to pounce. Despite the threat of the oncoming Titan, the damn thing holds its grudge.


    I brace myself. There is no running from this beast if it attacks. Already at full size, I¡¯m in the best fighting shape I can be without distortions to rely on. I¡¯m as large as I can grow, and yet I¡¯m still tiny compared to this beast. If I coiled up, I¡¯d fit in the beasts mouth.


    The very thought of being eaten sends a burst of refusal through me. Anger originating from pride and indignation that an apex such as myself would be eaten. It is illogical; this beast is clearly my predator. But I ignore logic and welcome the fury. The time to hide like prey is past. There is no more escape, so I must fight for my life. I must fight for our lives.


    Even if that means accepting the pride and fury that have caused me so many issues.


    A hiss escapes my chest. The sound lost amongst the cacophony, but the vibrations thrum through my chest. A challenge. One that the lynx recognises immediately.


    The massive feline¡¯s eyes narrow, and it¡¯s legs tense, but before it can leap, a boulder half as thick as myself crashes between us. Instantly, my sight is drowned by the mountain of earth flung skyward. As the immense momentum of the rock disperses through the gravel, it erupts, filling the air with shrapnel and dust.


    The lynx is no longer in sight.


    I spring to the side, barely avoiding the sharp fangs of the beast as it pierces the shroud. There is enough power in my leap that the lynx soon leaves my sight again, an explosion of rock clattering off my scales from the feline¡¯s landing.


    As soon as I touch ground, I dart off to one side, giving the larger, faster beast no opportunity to catch me. I take space to consider my approach. The pseudo-Titan crashes where I was a mere moment ago, as expected.


    Thankfully, the lynx is as blind in this obscurement as I am. It may not be as beneficial as my warped space, but it is all I have, and I will use it to my advantage.


    I slither around to the side, keeping out of sight of where I assume the beast to be, and wait for an opportunity. The subtle cracks and thuds of the lynx¡¯s steps ¡ª near drowned out by the roar of all else as they are ¡ª are the only warning I have to its movements. Its artificial crystal footholds fracture under the power of its pounces, and the subdued crunch of earth as it lands gives its attacks away, but the casual steps are inaudible.


    I could move so much faster if I didn¡¯t have to hold Scia curled in a ball. As things are, I¡¯m fighting something greater than myself without the full use of my tail. It makes this so much harder¡­ but I can¡¯t bring her out into these winds; the speed of the dust alone will tear through her fragile body.


    The only way I¡¯ll have a chance against this beast, is if I get it in a perfect lock around its neck. My length should be enough to wrap around its muscular throat ¡ª just ¡ª so if I can bite into the base of the lynx¡¯s head, I might have a chance.


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    Of course, the problem is how?


    A thump from my right has me circle around the point, considering how to attack.


    Something moves at the corner of my eye. The other side of the thump. I stop, and throw myself backward. The lynx lands before me, masses of crystal growing to halt its immense weight. I have no time to react before the claws come down, scraping through my scales as if they posed no opposition, and batters me away.


    Pain floods through me, but the fury and pride flooding my veins bury the feeling beneath a tide of energy. The frustration at being caught off guard pushing me forward.


    Did I mistake it¡¯s leap for a boulder crash? Or did it intentionally throw me off?


    Is this lynx sapient? Intelligent enough to understand what I was doing and plan against it? It shouldn¡¯t be strange; this beast is stronger, and likely far older than myself, so why wouldn¡¯t it be as intelligent?


    Does it¡¯s sapience mean it will react to my efforts to strike it in ways I¡¯ve not seen before? I¡¯ve never fought a creature I could actually consider smart ¡ª the Titan cannot count as a fight ¡ª so how will this lynx react differently than other predators? Could any plan of mine work?


    I slam into the earth, and roll over to watch the tall feline approach. It¡¯s snarl still firmly marring its features.


    No. This is no time to concern myself with what-ifs. If we don¡¯t take a risk, then we won¡¯t survive.


    I uncurl my tail only enough to eye Scia. A hiss escapes my lips that I¡¯m unsure she can hear over the turbulent cavern around us, but hopefully she understands what I want from the look I give her.


    Scia¡¯s shell of scales remains cracked just enough for her to get a glimpse of the pseudo-Titan approaching, but not enough for the intense winds to strike at her. She has her job, and I trust her enough to do what she needs to, otherwise, it is both our deaths that will follow.


    I raise my head off the shattered grains of rock that continue to churn below. Raised high, I glare at the stalking lynx. The beast takes that as well as I probably would; it snarls, whiskers and upper lips rising to reveal more of those diamond incisors. Obviously, it shares the outrage of perceived prey acting like it¡¯s greater than itself.


    I hiss, lifting myself further off the earth to come as close to eye level with the beast as I can. I don¡¯t come close. Too much of my body must remain on the earth to prevent sinking beneath the undulation.


    Regardless, it has the desired effect. The lynx leaps forward, determined to tear me to shreds for the slight. In an instant, I drop to the earth and spring forward, intent on meeting the giant half-way.


    The deep, bleeding wounds in my side scream in pain as the sharp claws that inflicted them close in rapidly. The feline¡¯s collection of fangs follow a moment behind, but are no less terrifying.


    I¡¯ve always considered my large form far too bulky. Too unwieldy for the caverns I come from. But right here, beneath the sheer mass of this lynx, I feel tiny. It¡¯s like I¡¯m in my smallest form, yet without any of the benefits.


    My body snaps straight. In the next moment, I might very well be dead. I hold no illusions that luck will save me if those claws strike me from here. A grazing blow was enough to expose my innards; anything direct will be instant death.


    I find myself watching those diamond blades fall closer with each moment as I wait for Scia. They split wind as if it were solid. The sharp edges slice through a thousand motes of dust and earthen shrapnel, leaving nothing but a spinning trail of clean-cut particles behind.


    A distortion appears, and I flow through easily. The deadly claws slice through empty air, first striking the path I no longer travel, then swinging for my body which is no longer there. Scia accomplishes her task splendidly. Now it¡¯s my turn.


    My jaw opens as wide as it can. The pair of large upper fangs fold out from my mouth, and aim at the neck of the lynx. Scia couldn¡¯t have given me a more perfect line of attack. This has to be the furthest bend she¡¯s been able to create; allowing me to go from one side of the beasts body to the other, and at my full size too.


    I can¡¯t feel her minuscule weight, but I can only hope she hasn¡¯t pushed herself too far.


    So much is riding on my success. If this combined effort between the two of us doesn¡¯t work, then we are dead. My fangs slam into the ideal location, with the full momentum of my strike. The impact sends a jolt through my spine. Pain consumes my fangs, but I curl up on instinct, trying to drag my body around its neck.


    Only after the ringing leaves my ears do I realise what happened; I failed. I couldn¡¯t penetrate the crystalline fur of the beast.


    My head bounced off the creature¡¯s hide without leaving a scratch, but my quick reaction still allows my tail to wrap around its neck. I wrap the tip of my tail ¡ª with Scia still protected within ¡ª around my head, and clamp tight. My teeth still ache, but I keep my jaw wide and try to pierce past the impossibly hard fur.


    Only barely am I long enough to wrap around the thick musculature of the lynx¡¯s neck, but now that I¡¯m here, I clench as tightly as I can. My fangs scrape against crystal with a horribly unsettling vibration that sends discomfort all through me. I twist my head, trying to slide them in somehow, but it is an effort in vain. While not giving up on piercing the feline¡¯s body, I constrict tighter than ever. With only a single loop of my body, it is difficult, but pulling my tail toward my head allows me some strength.


    If I can suffocate the lynx, or cut off its circulation, I can still win. Even if I can¡¯t bite down and lock my position, I still have a chance. I just need to hold on.


    Despite my desperation, the first claw to strike at me has enough power to dislodge me. I don¡¯t have so much as a moment to fight against it; I¡¯m clinging tight with all I¡¯ve got, then I¡¯m suddenly flung through the air.


    Before I¡¯m tossed away, I can¡¯t help but focus on the large diamond piercing through my midsection. There is no pain. Just the strange sight of my own body being pierced easier than a soft mushroom. Really, as I watch it tear up my insides, crippling my lower spine, I am thankful it was only the one. Any more of those massive claws through my body, and I¡¯d be dead in an instant.


    As I slam back to the earth, I scoff at the thought. Would it really matter that I didn¡¯t die in an instant, if I¡¯m going to die a moment later, regardless?


    I crack open the coil of my tail and spot Scia passed out. Likely because of the effort of creating that distortion. She succeeded in her task, but I could not do the same.


    The only option I have left is to allow myself to be swallowed by the churning earth. I don¡¯t hesitate, and wriggle my body ¡ª lower tail now sluggish and weak ¡ª trying to pull myself beneath the waves of gravel.


    For the shortest of instants, it looks like it is going to work; rock flows over me and I¡¯m sucked down into the depths. I hadn¡¯t wanted to do this before because it was just as dangerous as facing the pseudo-Titan head on, but in this position, I have no other option.


    But before I can celebrate, I stop sinking. The ground beneath me suddenly stills despite the churning rock all around and the gale winds whipping through the cavern. Diamond shards pierce out of the gravel around me, and I find myself rising. A spike pierces my wound, igniting a pain within that I hadn¡¯t felt from the claws of the lynx.


    I jolt against the crystal as it lifts me above the earth, but I am pinned. Unable to break it, nor pull myself off. I am impaled upon a diamond stalagmite that rises from the earth with a ring of smaller, but no less sharp crystals.


    The lynx approaches with an air of superiority, but it is still overshadowed by the rage bubbling beneath the surface. It growls, this time as audible as the presence it unleashes.


    The storm shifts, and a titanic roar overwhelms all.

 Chapter 37: Revelation

    Dust stilled. The waves of earth halted in mid motion. Even boulders soaring through the air hung as if terrified to be the only thing moving. The world itself appeared stuck; frozen in time.


    I¡¯d seen it before, but never to this scale. Never did the existence of momentum and gravity disappear with the application of presence.


    But the Titan¡¯s pressure is something else.


    Air doesn¡¯t move. Sound doesn¡¯t travel. And yet the crashing roar of a Titan shears through all.


    Deep, burning heat spreads through my core. Each fibre of my being feels it; the power it wields, the disaster it brings, the sheer, undiluted terror of its existence settles through my body. I feel like I¡¯m being torn apart. My body cramps in on itself, an unbelievable pressure pressing down on me; as if the air itself has taken to attacking the snake until it is squeezed out of existence. Simultaneously, the burning, tearing, cracking of my muscles and spine threatens to rip me apart.


    I cannot move. Not even my eyes can slide beneath their transparent scales. I can still see, and think, which is about all I can hope for.


    The lynx is right before me. Similarly frozen, the feline has lost all fury and sense of victory it had not a moment before. It¡¯s eyes ever so slowly edge to my right, where its pupils dilate and undiluted terror fills them.


    The Titan¡¯s roar feels more like a force of nature than a sound. It is burning and harrowing, not something I can hear, but rather something that is felt. The howl is a fiery cyclone tearing through my insides.


    It doesn¡¯t seem to end. The aches it delivers to every part of my body mount on top of themselves, quickly overcoming the pain of my impaled tail. The roar bellows on and on, for an apparent eternity that I twitch in shock when it suddenly stops.


    I don¡¯t have time to prepare myself. The storm hits again. Far stronger and far hotter than before. The diamond that spikes through me shows some resilience against the gust, but that is not a resilience my body shares. Wind slams into my side. The force, impossible to oppose, rips me from the diamond stalagmite, slicing through my side. My wound is suddenly so much worse.


    Tossed through the air, I find  ¡ª with some satisfaction ¡ª that the lynx is no better position; the torrent of incinerating winds drag the feline along the earth. It scraps away at growing crystal formations in an attempt to keep itself grounded, but the gust is too strong and carries it away. The beast is soon gone from sight.


    I flail as I tumble through the air, eventually curling into a ball to protect Scia and the length of my tail that I¡¯m rapidly losing the strength to move.


    The heat is intense. It scrapes at my scales like magma, yet with the sharpness of the wind channels. Through the ever-present rumble as the world shrieks against the assault, heavy crashing thumps still persevere¡­ only now they are louder, and more frequent.


    All wind cuts off. The brief respite only lasts a moment before it slams down just as hard from above. With no control over my body, we slam into the earth. Through the pain, I do my best to keep Scia safe from the blow, cushioning her within my coils.


    I should dig myself beneath the earth. I should slither away. There¡¯s so many things that I should do, but the moment any proper plan of action crosses my mind, the titan finally steps within my sight.


    It¡¯s a leg. A single chitinous leg crashes into the earth, piercing incredible depths, and yet I cannot see more than a leg. The rest of its body stands out of sight not to the side, but above. The Titan is so tall I cannot even see the bottom of its torso.


    Another leg drags along the earth, tossing up mountains of stone as it tears through with unimaginable force. Its first leg drags along beside it.


    The beast does not destroy space, nor hide away where it is difficult to be seen. No, long-legged existence towers above all, not hiding what it is.


    The bare tip of a snout comes into my sight. Teeth larger than my full length  ¡ª larger than the lynx ¡ª peek out from the immense maw. Despite the horrifying size of what I see, the teeth are that of a herbivore; flat and unintimidating. But the way the muzzle snarls with the ripples of burning air and storms tear up the earth with each breath leaves this beast no less terrifying.


    The tip of its head falls back out of sight as the legs stop tearing up the earth. It only takes a moment to realise that the hard slender legs don¡¯t match what I would expect of that furred snout.


    There are two Titans here.


    A bladed limb slices down through the space at the edge of my vision, where the snout had been an instant before. The movement of the sickle-arm is far too quick considering the sheer distance it cuts through. In an instant, from no effect I could identify, a crevasse tears itself through the landscape. Spanning the entire length at the edge of my sight, the sea of earth holds itself open, as if commanded by the Titan.


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    It is only a moment later that the wind hits me. Once more, I¡¯m tossed through the air, the shriek of wind passing us by deafens all other sounds, but even that is overwhelmed by the next titanic roar as the physical wave of power washes through me, once again crushing us to the earth.


    With no time to recover, I can only watch in a mixture of awe and unmitigated horror as the Titans spear through the sky overhead. A massive bull-like creature with boiling storms threading from the long hairs into a weave of rippling clouds and smoke behind it charges with the slender titan curled over its head. The chitinous Titan appears closest to a phasmid, but with a midsection resembling a rainforest of thick trunks growing from larger trunks.


    I cannot see all of the beings. They take up all of my view in each direction. The sight I¡¯ve always considered able to see so far into the distance  ¡ª even without the help of holes ¡ª seems worthless. It is not even enough to comprehend the full size of their bodies.


    The bull¡¯s mountainous hooves crash through the earth to my side, sending a wave of earth slamming over me.


    For a moment, I consider just letting the churning ground take us. Anywhere we sink is likely better then here; exposed to the life-threatening forces expelled by the Titan¡¯s very existences. We won¡¯t be able to react to anything that comes our way, but that now seems an arrogant thing to have assumed. Even able to see them coming, I couldn¡¯t do anything. They were too quick, too large, and most importantly, they shift the land around me, so I can¡¯t react at all.


    But ¡­ that crevasse. The titan tore a wide chasm in the earth, and it stayed open. I¡¯ve seen that before, down below, where the ground would somehow stay clear of the crevasse despite how much it should want to flow down into the endless trench.


    I can use that. If we can get to the crevasse, that¡¯s our best option to return to the lower caverns. We can leave this territory of the Titans, and return to safety.


    With the plan in mind  ¡ª though questionable at best ¡ª I pull us through to the surface. It is a struggle; my tail aches like I¡¯ve lost it, and the constant pressure waves slamming into me make this far more difficult than it should be.


    When I poke my head out, the Titans are gone from sight. They may not be visible, but their presence is still obvious in the flow of earth and the thunderous storms brewing overhead.


    I slither toward where I saw the Titan slice open the earth. With my lower half both limp and dedicated to protecting Scia, traversing the surface is anything but easy. Waves work against me, and the tremors threaten to swallow me. If that wasn¡¯t bad enough, I¡¯m leaving behind a trail of blood. A lot of blood.


    A few of my lower ribs have been severed and the wound cuts into my spine. I should be fine for a while yet, but I really need to do something about the blood-loss.


    Burning winds whip at my scales, threatening to lift me through the air once more. There¡¯s nothing I can do to stop it; if the gusts pick up, I will be at their whims. Every so often a boulder crashes somewhere near, filling the air with ever more dust and gravel. Each slither is a gruelling challenge. A battle against the forces of a Titan¡¯s body.


    The two are no longer nearby, gone far beyond sight, and yet they devastate the land so effortlessly. Their mere passage leaves mountains rising and falling, sections of earth slit open like fatal wounds, and the air in chaos.


    Titans are the enemy of the world.


    The Beyond¡¯s words were true. This is the true nature of the Other Side. Not only is it the Titans¡¯ graveyard, they are simply the only beasts that can remain even in death. No, this is the death of everything. The Titans have killed these caverns. This is a world the Titans have already killed, and soon enough, my warped tunnels will meet the same fate.


    The quakes have already started. I felt them before we found ourselves here. The tremors breaking through the warped caverns were beyond anything that should have threatened them, too farspread to be anything beyond a quake of the Other Side.


    A Titan was destroying my home.


    It is clear now that I¡¯ve found the source of this world¡¯s devastation, that it is an effort of the Titans to destroy the warped tunnels. Again, they take my home from me.


    The spaceless Titan that destroyed my territory truly was threatening me. The  Fracture , as the being called it, is nothing other than it¡¯s own fault. No wonder I¡¯ve never seen them before; They¡¯ve remained here on the Other Side for so long. But now, they are coming into our world to destroy it as they did theirs.


    I stop. My body lingers at the edge of the cliff down into the crevasse, held from falling by some strange effect of the Titan¡¯s long, sharp blade-arms. The fall is endless. I cannot see where it ends. Considering my wound, I cannot return to a smaller size  ¡ª unless I wish it to spread worse than it is ¡ª but it¡¯s not like Scia is in a state to create a bend for me regardless.


    My only option is to fall and hope for luck. At least it is a way back down into the caverns with distortions. Down there, we¡¯ll have a much better chance for survival.


    I turn to glance over glance over this horrorscape that will one day be all that remains of my warped tunnels. This is what my world is to become? I want to refute it, but who can oppose a Titan?


    Back the way I came, my blood has already seeped below the constantly renewing surface. Waves of earth rise and fall, but when those near me drop to their lowest point, I spot something in the distance. It is brief, but I could never miss it. The crystalline fur of the lynx. The lesser Titan is still on my tail?!


    Why is it still after me? Is the interference of the Titan not enough to scare it off?


    This is no time to waste questioning its intent. I turn and leap into the endless crevasse. Whatever awaits below will be far better than here.

 Interlude II: Ceph Part 3

    The blow was sudden and fast. Ceph was flung from her perch before she could react. A mighty shriek deafened her of all else. The dohrni wanted to react. She wanted to bring herself back to the earth, but the pressure was back. She couldn¡¯t move her limbs; they flopped around like limp noodles as she was carried by the wind. Wind that seemed inclined to push her harder and further with each second.


    All she could think about was that droning wail that ripped through her her body like the shatter had only minutes ago. Only this was different. A separate entity that could reach the same heights of presence as the first, yet it wasn¡¯t stopping.


    The pressure was instantaneous last time. There one moment; gone the next. This was nothing like that. Heavy, compressed winds slammed through her, pelting her body and leaving her no opportunity to fight against the gale that carried her further from the hole she was supposed to defend.


    Still unable to move her body, her tumbling form spotted a volan far above. Ceph didn¡¯t know whether it was Telum or not; they were too distant to get a good look. Each time her body spun, the volan was getting further away. The small mercenary was almost a kilometre away. When she realised just how she was off the ground, panic gripped her. It mixed in effortlessly with the terror she already felt from what was obviously the shriek of a Titan.


    She knew what would happen before it did, but she could do nothing to stop the Nightfall Shroud¡¯s appearance.


    The volan pierced the sky, leaving a hole of darkness in the otherwise blue day. It started small, only the size of the volan¡¯s body, but in an instant, it spread outward. Streaks of darkness crossed through the air, growing outward like rot. Soon, much of the sky directly above her had been consumed. In its place now lied darkness filled with stars despite the presence of the sun still shining down on her.


    The rotten night. The Nightfall Shroud.


    It began to spread from more points in the sky to her sides; the other volans. Telum was amongst them. Was he dead? Was there any chance her friend had lived from that?


    No. She wouldn¡¯t think about it until she was out of danger herself. Ceph couldn¡¯t let herself be carried into the rotten night that continued to spread across the sky.


    The wind kept up. It kept blowing her down the mountain, getting gradually further away from the ground with each instant. She wanted to flail. She wanted to gain any sort of control, but the Titan¡¯s bird-cry suffocated her with its pressure.


    Another sound soon shook her body. Despite the deafening shriek, a deep echoing rumble was quickly taking its place. The thrum through her boneless body was not a comfortable feeling, but she welcomed it as it drowned out the pressure of the shriek.


    As soon as her limbs were her own again, she grabbed Hopes and Dreams and tossed them forward without a moment¡¯s hesitation. They would be missed, but she really needed to slow her momentum. Considering their heft, they slowed her considerably. She swallowed nervously as the two hand-cannons opened up two new splotches of Nightfall Shroud, which were quick to connect with the rest of the branching rot growth blotting out the sky.


    Ceph fell like a brick. The loss of her weapons had only just saved her the fate of flying too high, but it hardly cut into her momentum. She twisted her tentacles, sending herself into a spin as she descended. As much as she¡¯d hoped to slow herself, the earth came at her too fast to do more than brace.


    The impact felt like death itself. She crashed through rock for a moment, before she found herself tumbling down the slopes. Her limbs whipped around, slapping at the earth for something to hold, but any time she grabbed a protruding rock, it broke free. After rolling what must be a hundred times, she finally thrust her tentacles into the earth and got her descent under control.


    As she slid to a stop, Ceph gasped in pain. Her normally purple body had blackened with bruising. Everywhere ached and she had more cuts and scrapes then ever. Groaning, she lifted her eyes. The flattened remains of the buildings under construction were above her, debris scattered everywhere. Above that, so far away, was the city built around the cavern entrance¡­ but it was gone.


    Where she¡¯d been trying to help those people escape the broken buildings, was nothing but the Titan¡¯s path and a landscape stripped bare. The buildings were gone. All she could make out was the shattered remnants of the centzons¡¯ contraptions. Compared to the city, they¡¯d held up well, but they were clearly broken and bent outward. Parts of the machine ¡ª massive slabs of stone ¡ª had broken off and were missing completely.


    Ceph rose to her tentacles, needing all six to ignore the ripples of pain that bit at them. She needed to get up there. There were so many people in danger; she needed to find survivors and get them to safety.


    Her first step didn¡¯t work. The moment she placed her limb on the ground, she realised the ground was shaking. The earth was roaring. Deafening tremors pounded through her body, amplifying the aches she already felt.


    ¡°Stop.¡± A voice yelled at her, barely audible over the deep rumbling. Ceph spun her eyes, but she couldn¡¯t spot the speaker.


    ¡°Euroclydon is angry. Prostrate yourself and you may live.¡±


    It was close, but they remained invisible to her eye. A merminea?


    ¡°I can¡¯t. There¡¯s sti¡ª¡± Ceph cut off, finally processing the creature¡¯s words. ¡°The Euroclydon?¡±


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    The Titan from across the Alps? This was its doing? A Titan was attacking? It was unthinkable. Sure, she¡¯d seen Cipactlteteo, the massive crocodile melt its way up the Alps years ago ¡ª everyone had ¡ª but that had been so far away; a natural disaster that affected people nations away from her. And as far as she knew, that had just been passing through, not actively attacking. The shriek. That bellow of the Titan was a call to battle. Winds intent on destruction.


    ¡°Prostrate,¡± the merminea repeated, insistent.


    Ceph took another step, trying her best to overcome the intense quakes. She needed to get up there. There were too many in danger. Too many who might be injured and vulnerable to the dangers of the mountain. She couldn¡¯t think about the Titan. If it crested those peaks that rose so impossibly high, then she was dead regardless. If the Titan was attacking, every nation was dead.


    Her next step was impossible. The shaking grew so strong she tumbled to the ground, unable to hold her balance. The mountain jolted. Her grip was already broken, so when the earth slid out from beneath her, she was sent rolling. Anywhere she looked, the world seemed consistent, but she could feel the earth moving. Cracks and fissures split all through the landscape, widening with each tremor.


    Then, everything stopped.


    She lost her grip again and rolled further down the mountain until she crashed into a valley where the slope could no longer carry her. The tremors continued, but the Titan Alps no longer shifted. Ceph speared her limbs into the stone, ready to face out the rest of the earthquakes. This would end, and once it did, she would rush up the mountains to help those above. They were all still alive. She had to believe. She just needed to hold on for a minute.


    The Titan Alps fell.


    A chill froze Ceph still. No presence held her, yet she could do nothing but widen her eyes at the sight of the Alps shattering. The upper peaks collapsed as the top half of the Titan alps slid from their place. It seemed almost innocuous at first; the mass of rock that held thousands of mountains was so far away, so high above them, that it felt like another world. It slid down the slope in one piece. It was slow, but the moment it slid off the slightest of cliffs ¡ª one that was probably dozens of kilometres considering the distance ¡ª Ceph knew she was not safe.


    The mass of mountains crumbled into the largest earth-slide ever seen. She felt the impact thrum through her body. It added to the quaking of the earth that had yet to let up. Ceph could only watch the deathly mass tumbling down toward her in shock. The Titan Alps were collapsing. This¡­ this should be impossible. They rose so high they left a shadow on the sky. They were the mountains that dwarfed the Titans themselves. For them to break¡­


    It was only when the mountain behind her fractured from the quakes that she finally snapped out of it. Her eyes twisted to see the a massive fracture cut through the valley beneath her. A moment ago, there had been a river. Not anymore. The fissure descended impossibly deep and the mountain on the other side moved away from her. It did not do so slowly. With each breath, it moved a dozen metres further. Soon, the mountain pushed out too far over the slope, and it toppled. Like a boulder dislodged from its place at the top of a cliff, this mountain tumbled down the ever present slopes of the Titan Alps.


    It barely survived a kilometre before it was nothing but rubble tearing out over the landscape.


    Ceph was terrified. She¡¯d not felt like this even when she was a child. This was a scenario nobody had ever considered possible. She glanced back to the top of the Alps, and found the massive rock-slide far closer than it should have been in the seconds since she last looked. It was coming down quicker than anything had a right to move.


    Ceph ran. She stumbled, the earth quaking too much to get any footing. She slammed her limbs against the ground. If she couldn¡¯t walk or run, she would push herself as far down the mountain as she could. Ceph wanted to live.


    Throwing herself to the side, she approached the closest path she had down without bounding over unstable earth. This was happening everywhere. From the south to the north as far as she could see the massive peaks, they were collapsing.


    She sped down, ignoring the aches pounding through her body. Ahead, there were a group of mermineae doing the same. They ran down the section of stable earth, dodging the boulders that often rolled their way. Ceph caught up to them quickly. Their kind were usually fast, but the shaking below their feet made them trip with each few steps.


    Ceph wanted to help. To do something to assist them in escaping the collapse. But in her terror, she found herself running past. A crack shook the earth, and a gorge opened up beneath her. With a quick strike of her tentacles, she flew clear over the rapidly widening fissure. She dared a glance back. The mermineae couldn¡¯t slow in time; they tumbled straight into the gaping earthen maw.


    Queasiness hit her stomach. She felt sick.


    The mountains were still falling. From what she could see, there were only a few sections that remained whole and solid. The rest flowed like an ocean. An ocean that would overwhelm her if she didn¡¯t continue.


    She was so close to the crevasse now. The border between her Lower Elevation and the Steppes. She¡¯d already reached the land of endless glaciers, though they didn¡¯t look much like glaciers now; fractured and shattered, they were more like teeth of ice bared at the sky.


    Ceph was so close now. She would survive.


    She dared a glance back, and found the earthslide already upon her. It had swallowed up their only entrance to the underneath and now bared down on her. An avalanche of rock hundreds of metres tall. There was no time to do much more than throw herself through the air one last time in the hopes it would be enough.


    She knew it wouldn¡¯t.


    The immense rockslide hit her battered body worse than impact mere minutes ago. Against the odds, she remained unconsumed. She was held fast to the avalanche by an unbroken boulder as it pealed down toward the crevasse at unbeaten speeds.


    Not one to ignore the opportunity given her, Ceph prepared herself to leap again. The moment she and the earthen avalanche were over the wide chasm, she pushed every fibre of her aching being into throwing herself forward. She caught the intense gust of wind that blasted from the crevasse and carried her upward.


    This might shoot her into the Nightfall Shroud, but there was no other option.


    She crashed. Safe. She¡¯d made it across the crevasse intact. Ceph spun and found that the wide opening in the earth swallowed the rush of earth. Gasping, she released a breathe of relief. She couldn¡¯t relax; the crevasse didn¡¯t stop all the rock from passing, but the vast majority of it had been stopped.


    Ceph rose upon her tentacles. A boulder crashed into the earth besides her, before tumbling further down the slopes. She was safer, but not totally safe yet. As she watched, the rockslide was quickly overwhelming the crevasses ability to swallow the earth. In a few seconds, it would be crashing down the mountains again. She couldn¡¯t stay here.


    So she ran.


    Ceph abandoned the mermineae. Ceph abandoned the people of the ruined city. Ceph abandoned her team. She forgot everything and ran like a coward, leaving her friends to die. If she¡¯d lifted some people onto the unbroken sections of the landslide, it was possible. She should have considered the chance that she could help. Should have ran up instead of saving her own skin. Maybe then, more would have survived.

 Chapter 38: Relief

    We fall for a long time.


    The Titan¡¯s tear holds back the earth to both sides, but does nothing to slow our fall, or push us to either side. Gravity continues to pull at my body, a constant battle against the cushioning of air to drag us into the deepest pits.


    Cleaved cliffs show a perfect cross-section of the ground in the state it was before the Titan¡¯s powerful blow split it. Expansive cave systems open up to us, teasing an opportunity to escape, but never quite close enough to reach. Rivers and lakes bubble at the edge of the cliffs, cupped by an invisible force that prevents their flow. I race past all, but what I want takes far longer to appear.


    The bends and rifts are a welcome sight when they appear along the cliff walls. When they do, a hundred heartbeats have already passed. We have to wait two hundred more before they grow to a preferable density, and even then they remain out of my reach.


    This tear through the land is new, but that makes it no more welcoming to the distortions that I could really use right now. My only other option to create them and pull us out of this endless fall is unconscious. Scia pushed her limits to give me an opportunity against that lynx, and I¡¯d gone and failed.


    My fangs couldn¡¯t pierce it¡¯s fur. My constriction couldn¡¯t so much as compress it. I was overwhelmed in every sense by the pseudo-Titan. The pain still thrumming at my lower spine can attest to that.


    Because of my wound, I won¡¯t be returning to a more convenient size any time soon. Such an action will only spread the damage and make the gash that much worse.


    I¡¯ve no way to slow, but even if I were to fling myself into the caverns again, I cannot hope to swim through the bends. At best, floating amidst the flowing earth is the best I¡¯ll be able to manage, but that is a problem for later. We need to survive this fall first.


    I wriggle my body, trying to direct myself through the air and closer to the wall. There is¡­ some success, but as heavy as my body is, gravity really wants me going down, not sidewards. Regardless, I hold at an angle and eventually close in on the cliff.


    Upon contact, my body grinds against earth. I only last a moment before the impact throws me back out into the centre of the Titan¡¯s tear. It was hardly the most pleasant experience, but it did slow my speed¡­ speed that I¡¯m now rapidly regaining.


    This can work. If I can just cling to the wall and slow us enough to pull into one of the infrequent caverns, then we won¡¯t have to worry about finding the end of this fall. I really don¡¯t want to know how hard I¡¯ll hit the ground with this much weight behind me.


    Keeping up the momentum, I angle towards the other wall. As soon as I¡¯m close, I drive my head into the gravel. My tail whips around and slams into the wall beneath my head painfully. I¡¯d tried to favour my wound by not letting it touch the wall, but there¡¯s not much I can do when my body swings around unintentionally.


    I slide through the loose earth like it were water and quickly find myself teetering away. Pounding my body against the surface, I turn to the other wall, where I dive my head into the wall again. This time I¡¯m much more careful of my wound and Scia who is still wound in a knot of my midsection.


    This process repeats a few times until I¡¯ve slowed to a far more manageable pace. I cannot bring myself to a full stop, as the earth never wants to sit still beneath my weight, but it allows some level of manoeuvrability.


    Pouncing from the wall again, I breach the open cavern I aimed for. I would love to relish the safety of distortion dense space, but the bends large enough to handle my size are not nearly frequent enough to keep me above the churning ground.


    I slam into the earth, and it immediately tries to swallow me whole. A hiss escapes my throat as the gravel digs into my open wound, but I push past the pain and slither until I¡¯m floating. Even at full size, it¡¯s difficult to fight against the flow. It wasn¡¯t this hard up top. The earth ripples with the remnant echoes of the Titans¡¯ battle above. Each step, each blow they share blasts through the stone, keeping it in the constant state of flux.


    It is the presence of Titans that make the Other Side what it is. They prevent the land settling. Their impossible strength and size destroys all that they touch. I should be glad that I¡¯ve already survived so long in such a place; it¡¯s always been clear the place is inhospitable to life, but I couldn¡¯t have ever imagined the giant beings were the cause.


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    The Titan¡¯s existence was a rarity. A singularity that couldn¡¯t possibly be matched. That¡¯s what I¡¯d thought after it destroyed my home, but having seen the battle between two and the bones of so many others, it is clear there are more. Much more than I¡¯d originally thought.


    I slither away from the tear, finding my body growing sluggish. Slamming my head into a wall at such speeds while still affected by that gaping wound has left me pained and exhausted. It is not the pleasant tiredness I would get after a good hunt, but a fatigue that claws at me with the sharpness of the lynx¡¯s diamonds.


    There is nowhere to sleep. If I were to allow myself to be swallowed by the earth in my exhaustion, Scia will be vulnerable. I will not be in any better position. The only option I have is to push through. I am not so feeble as to be unable to hold back a bit of tiredness for the sake of our safety.


    Slithering forward, I focus on nothing but keeping us afloat and moving. Blood seeps into the earth behind me, but I ignore it. My wound will heal eventually; I just need to push on until then.


    Not wanting to experience another fall, I stick to the lower half of the caverns. It makes traversing between caverns difficult ¡ª what with the distortions large enough to carry me not being all that common along the lower ground ¡ª but I¡¯m already aching. I need to move slow and steady. Anything else would tire me out more than I am, and hurt Scia.


    So I slither from cavern to cavern. After some point, it all blends together and I¡¯ve lost track of how far I¡¯ve gone. I wouldn¡¯t be able to find the Titan¡¯s tear even if I wanted. Not only does the maze of distortions not show it, but these caverns are constantly changing. Coves appear and disappear all the time; the bends either no longer able to support them, or being the very reason they collapse.


    I move forward.


    A muffled chirp reaches my ears, and I keep moving forward. The chirp comes again, louder and more insistent. My slithering continues. My head not turning from the next wide hole I intend to pass through. If I let my concentration waver, then I won¡¯t be able to fight off slumber.


    Another chirp reaches me. This time it comes from in front of me.


    Oh? A little bat¡¯s riding my snout. Scia¡¯s awake. I¡¯m happy she¡¯s looking active and healthy.


    Ah, that¡¯s right. If she¡¯s not inside my coil, I can straighten out. The crack of my spine as it finally releases from its bunched form feels nice. Maybe now it won¡¯t be so exhausting to keep myself afloat.


    I can¡¯t stop moving. If I do, the blood-loss and tiredness will catch up with me and I¡¯ll be unable to stay on top of all this gravel.


    Scia chirps again, and when I look down to see her nestled in the tiny wedge between scales, I find concern scrawled all over her body. Her eyes travel to where my wound should be as if she could see through the hill of scales that stands before her.


    There¡¯s no need to worry little one. I¡¯ve pushed through worse¡­ I think. It would have been a long time ago, but I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve been badly hurt before and came out alright. If not before my memories started to become solid, then certainly because of accidents where rifts collapsed early.


    If only I could find another of that floating rock we slept on last time. We could take another ride in one of those shards ¡ª the Titan bones ¡ª but the last thing I want to risk is another trip to the Titan¡¯s cavern. We were gifted with a way down last time, but I can¡¯t imagine that is likely to repeat.


    I¡¯m already determined to fight back my sleep until I find a path back to the warped tunnels, but I can hardly expect such an unlikely scenario to happen. So when one appears ¡ª albeit not a perfect destination ¡ª I¡¯m stunned still for a few good moments.


    Through a dozen bends and holes, a section of ground drains away. It swirls downward like a whirlpool, gravel sucking through a rend to somewhere far away.


    I change course immediately. My sudden regaining of focus seems to surprise Scia, who squeaks and clings to my scales as we move. It is not so easy to find my way to the rend; I can see it through the bends and holes, but trying to find a path with the incredible infrequency of the larger distortions is difficult.


    By the time I reach the rend, the cavern has entered a strange equilibrium. The earth continues to flow out through the distortion with a strong enough flow that is seemingly able to hold the cavern open indefinitely.


    And, true to my sight, the rend does lead away from the Other Side. That¡¯s where the benefits end. Unfortunately, the spatial distortion leads directly into the abyss. There is no land anywhere in sight. What¡¯s even worse, is that should I want to take the risk and leap into the abyss where I know a Titan is likely hiding ¡ª which I very much do not ¡ª it is far too small for me. At the very least, I would need to shrink to a quarter of my width to squeeze through.


    This is the first route away from the Other Side we¡¯ve found since we landed here, and it is to a place even less desirable.


    All is not horrible though. While I cannot pass through, and have no intent to, the existence of the rent itself is encouraging. If there¡¯s one, there¡¯s surely more as long as wee keep looking.


    Actually, now that I look closely, I might be able to take advantage of the way the rend interacts with the grinding earth itself.


    Rock funnels down into the distortion, before siphoned out into the empty air of the abyss. But the earth, gravel and sediment doesn¡¯t only fall into the rend; it rises as well. The compressed earth here seems to want to flow into it, creating a section of churning gravel that seems to only ever head toward the single point.


    The distortion is too small for me, so it will not interact with me, but that doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t use the effect it has on the environment.


    So, I slide up to the rend and coil around it. With all the rock pushing at my sides and up into my ventral scales in their flow toward the distortion, it gives me a perfect place to float.


    Finally, I can rest.

 Chapter 39: Tranquil

    I slide through the bend, moss in mouth, and arrive next to Scia. She flaps once before landing on my head, snatching up her meal from the jaw that ripped it from its home.


    While she chews through the strands, I spit out whatever remains. I know she likes it, but to me, it tastes horrid. Just by it touching the roof of my mouth does the urge to regurgitate rise in me. By shoving my head into the stone, I wash away some of the taste, but it lingers.


    Next time, I¡¯ll be going back to the original method of using my body.


    I lower my eyes to the end of my tail. A few sleeps and a shed skin has really helped it heal, but it still looks horrible. Particularly so on my smaller body. It aches, but no longer impedes my movement, which is a blessing.


    We soon arrive back at our temporary home. The rend has remained longer than expected, and has made for a great place to rest amongst this consistently dangerous landscape. Without it, I doubt I could have remained conscious long.


    When I¡¯d woken the first time, Scia had been ravenous. I can only assume that my rest lasted far longer than usual, especially with how much that first rest had recovered my energy and closed up my wound. The cut hadn¡¯t been fixed, of course, but my ribs realigned and it no longer looked like my tail was about to fall off.


    As soon as I was healthy enough to shrink, I shoved my head through the rend. There was no land just out of sight as I¡¯d hoped. No; only the vastness of the abyss. Gravity¡¯s ever-present grip snatched the gravel that flowed through and swallowed it into the distant emptiness.


    If there were other bends or holes beyond, I might not have even hesitated, as it would have given me a better opportunity to get back to the warped tunnels than the Other Side could ever hope to give.


    But there wasn¡¯t a single distortion. The rend appeared in space entirely desolate of others of its kind. If we dove through, we¡¯d be stuck in a freefall far worse than the Titan¡¯s tear.


    Still, despite our current situation, things have been going well. The rend has yet to collapse, and nothing else has jumped out ready to eat us. Scia¡¯s got food, and I have a place to sleep.


    Really, all I could ask for ¡ª besides a way out of this place ¡ª is a meal for myself. But I can still hold off for a few dozen sleeps.


    We¡¯ve spent most our time searching for a path, but as I¡¯m unwilling to stray too far from this rend lest the world collapse behind me and block us from returning to the only place I can rest.


    Once I¡¯m fully recovered, I intend to head out again on our search, but until then, it¡¯s better to remain close to home.


    The two of us twirl through a ring of bends. Content to just relax for some time where the grinding earth cannot reach us, I wait for Scia to chew through her meal. The tough grass takes her a while to break up. Not that I expect it to be easy to chew, considering how tightly it clings to the Titan¡¯s bones. Still, the smack of her lips and the intent focus are enough to tell just how much she enjoys the plant, despite the challenge.


    Chewing is such an odd action. So many creatures do it, but if they only tried to swallow their food whole, they would realise how much easier it is. Most of the time, eating prey my way is so much cleaner than how some beasts rip and tear into the carcasses of other creatures.


    Moss of all things should go down her throat without difficulty, so I don¡¯t understand why she still chews. Each little bite wets her lips with the juices held within, only for her tongue to dart out and lick it up before a single drop can fall. She couldn¡¯t lose those drops if she just gulped it down.


    Despite the nonnecessity of chewing, I can¡¯t help but find her actions cute.


    Something so simple as mincing grass with her teeth has me so enraptured. Maybe it¡¯s just how completely focused she is on the task of ripping into her food, or her lack of care for the constant change of gravity, but I cannot look away. All I can do is spin and languidly watch her enjoy herself.


    Eventually, she finishes. Scia chirps, satisfied, and turns to look me in the eye. I take that as a request to return to our search, and fall out of the spatial loop. There was no real need to wait for her ¡ª Scia eats fine whether I¡¯m moving or not ¡ª but I¡¯ve learnt to relax while I can after my brush with death.


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    Our current situation is safe. That may seem contradictory considering the unavoidable grinding earth that could easily crush us if we were to be swallowed, but the slight stability gifted by the rend allows us to survive despite everything.


    We survived Titans. I survived a wound from a being that would struggle to fit in the cavern of the ¨­mukade and Nareau. We have already survived on the Other Side for a while now, and I now want to calm down and relish our life we have done so much to cling to.


    Scia and I will recover our strength while we can. After everything, we need to be prepared when we finally move on. I cannot assume we will find another place to rest. So before we set out on our search for a way back, I want my wound fully healed. That may take a few rests, but as long as the rend doesn¡¯t collapse on us, it is achievable.


    We still don¡¯t know what awaits us back in the warped tunnels. I can only hope that there is a place to return to. The earthquakes that had rocked the amber barrier and destabilised all distortions were most likely the result of a Titan. But a Titan had already gone through my former home, and while it had destroyed everything important to me, it had left much of the warped tunnels untouched. Was this time the same? Is there still a place to return?


    No point concerning myself. If such a scenario turns true, then, well, the abyss is always an option. A horrible, terrifying prospect, but still an option.


    I cannot survive long term on the Other Side. There is no prey to hunt and while the moss appeases Scia, I can hardly sustain myself the same way. I need the warm, bloody flesh of other creatures to live. With no life smaller than the pseudo-Titan, starvation is all that awaits me here. Maybe¡­ maybe is there something more suited to my stomach in the abyss. Until I¡¯m desperate though, our chances are better searching the Other Side.


    Ready for a long, yet casual search ¡ª one I have low expectations for ¡ª I shrink ever so slightly more. Before the wound along my extremity spreads enough to become obstructive, I stop. The thinner I can make myself, the more bends I can take advantage of, and I¡¯m still far from my smallest.


    We¡¯ve barely passed the first cavern when I find Scia making some odd gestures. She bows her head, eyes closed and ears flat. I watch her curiously, but don¡¯t stop swimming through the air. Scia is focusing heavily on something. With her ears pressed against her head, it can¡¯t be something she hears, so I keep an eye on her as we move, curious.


    The space around Scia wrinkles ever so slightly. It is similar to the way her kin folded space to make a small pocket for themselves, but this is different. Not so direct. Her intense focus makes it clear this is her doing, although it isn¡¯t all that clear what.


    The wrinkles intensify and, ever so subtly, Scia shrinks.


    I stare unthinkingly, forgetting to slide through the next bend and fall into gravity¡¯s embrace for a moment before I recover. The effect of the wrinkle is inferior, but it is similar to the way my body naturally alters its size. Scia continues to shrink. Only by her hair¡¯s length, but it is noticeable.


    Her eyes snap open, and she chirps happily; obviously proud of her effort. Unfortunately for the little bat, her jubilant attitude breaks her concentration and the spatial wrinkle snaps back into place, returning her original size. Scia notices immediately, and her joy flips to depression.


    Did she¡­ just imitate my ability to shift size?


    The way she did so is obviously different from mine ¡ª space doesn¡¯t wrinkle when I shrink ¡ª but the effect is the same. Never did I expect the sciacylch¡¯s manipulation of space to be this extensive, but here we are; Scia is trying to learn to do what I thought only I could do.


    I still have to focus on threading bends, so I can¡¯t pat her. Instead, I hiss a deep rumble through my chest to help Scia out of her depression.


    She happily melts into the feeling. Her attitude snapping back quickly. Almost too quickly. I shake off the suspicion as she leaps back into her effort to shrink. Why she would want to shrink when she¡¯s already so tiny, I don¡¯t know. The only reason that makes sense ¡ª and pleases me substantially ¡ª is she wants to imitate me.


    I hiss again. This time calling her attention as I grow and shrink my body with slow, yet deliberate motions. If showing her how I do it helps her, then I¡¯m all for the effort. She chirps and her ears flick at the sounds as they bounce back, but considering she tries the same method of wrinkling space, she mustn¡¯t have gotten the best image of how I do it.


    Now that I think about it, how do I do it?


    After watching Scia¡¯s kin fold space, I realised there are more things to perceive if I just know what to look for, but I¡¯ve never noticed any odd changes in space with the change of my body.


    I grow slightly. Not enough to be unable to flow through the caverns, but still a substantial change to allow a proper analysing of how my body shifts.


    Unfortunately, I can¡¯t spot any difference then every other time I¡¯ve looked. My size just¡­ changes. The major difference between what I do and what Scia is trying, is that my body seems to physically change with the alteration of size. My wound remains the same size, regardless the length of my body; only healthy bone and scale seemingly disappearing as my mass drops.


    The way my body changes leaves no changes in the surrounding space, while Scia¡¯s method relies on such. It¡¯s almost like the space of my length is decoupled from that of everything else¡­ but that doesn¡¯t make much sense. How can there be multiple layers of space? I can see the spatial fabric easily, and while it weaves in on itself, there is only one sheet.


    Regardless, Scia wants to be more like me. How could I do anything but encourage that? As we swim through the caverns looking for a rend, I do all I can to figure out how to improve her methods.

 Chapter 40: Reminisce

    My attempts to help Scia bring her manipulation of space closer to what I can achieve were mostly fruitless, but it was still enjoyable to work with her.


    She chirps again, happy that she¡¯s able to hold the slightly shrunk state once more. I hiss a congratulations. Her reactions are far more entertaining than the achievement itself, so I find myself cheering her on whenever she thinks she¡¯s done something impressive.


    Scia hops once and blinks between my eyes. The action destabilises her wrinkle, snapping her back to normal size, but she doesn¡¯t notice. Her wings spread wide and she presses into my scales.


    Those wrinkles don¡¯t allow her much the same freedom my change in size allows, but there¡¯s much room for improvement. In the future, she could make herself so small that she¡¯d be able to fit between my scales with no issue, even in my smallest form. Maybe she can fold the space along my back and give herself a pocket where she can hide even when I¡¯m swimming through magma or fighting beasts.


    If she can improve that spatial manipulation of hers ¡ª which I¡¯ve already seen evidence of ¡ª then she might one day handle creating bends for my full size without passing out. Our partnership will allow nothing to threaten us; with distortions always available for me, competitors could not beat us and Titans will not catch us.


    Of course, getting Scia to the point where she can make rifts that extend far enough to run from Titans might as well be an eternity away. How can I help her grow? What can I do to improve her strengths?


    After how much she has changed me, the least I can do is help her grow. If not to help her survive, then to benefit myself. Scia¡¯s company is the only way I¡¯ll get my holes and bends in the areas without.


    What would I be like if I¡¯d never met her? Looking at my actions since I found her in the jaws of that centipede so long ago leaves no doubt that I have changed.


    Back then, I had been so confused; nothing I felt made sense. The world had been spun upside down with the loss of my territory and the appearance of beings greater than myself. I¡¯d felt the creeping inclusion of emotions for a long while before, but it wasn¡¯t until everything went wrong that I felt how strong they could be. All I could do in such times was lash out at anything and everything.


    When I found Scia crippled, some part of me pitied her. Pity for another creature was something I¡¯d never felt before, and yet I¡¯m glad that because of that emotion I hadn¡¯t understood, I¡¯d never been able to hurt her. Without it, I would have treated her as any other critter I passed in the thousand hunts prior.


    She¡¯d clung to me, and I never pushed back as hard as I probably would have, because I¡¯d already sympathised with her plight. Despite being of distant rungs on the food chain, watching Scia in the grasp of a many-limbed creature made me unconsciously see her and myself as one and the same.


    Of course, I hadn¡¯t understood at the time. I pushed her away. Tried to scare her off. If it wasn¡¯t for the small bat¡¯s tenacity, I would have succeeded¡­ and never realised what I missed out on.


    Plenty of our time together has been rough ¡ª not in any small part due to Scia¡¯s recklessness ¡ª but those difficult times have allowed me to realise, and experience, the depths of what I consider the horrible emotions. That they aren¡¯t truly terrible, and that they are there not to sabotage my survival, but to expand my mind more than I could have imagined when it was only intelligent and not sapient.


    Between guilt at having put Scia in danger, fear at her near loss, and the depression at the thought that she wouldn¡¯t stay by my side; it has been difficult. But I only felt those emotions because of the care I¡¯ve come to feel for her. The warmth that has nothing to do with heat. The comfort that has nothing to do with any energy or the way I contort my body. And amusement that is nothing like any other I¡¯ve felt.


    If not for Scia, I may have never discovered the tender half of the bundle. I would have continued to struggle and hate the growth of horrid emotions within my mind. Sure, I would have gotten used to them, but would I have ever learnt the full breadth of them?


    There are many emotions I¡¯ve still not come to terms with nor handled well, but knowing what I do now, that there are good sides to them, I believe I will do far better than I once did when handling them.


    I¡¯ve already made it past the worst of it. All that lay ahead will be easy in comparison.


    ???


    I eye Scia carefully as she naps on the tip of my snout. She spent so long compressing the space around herself that she tired herself out much earlier than normal. I blame the moss; she gets far too energetic after eating.


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    While she sleeps, I contort my body in an attempt to change my size¡­ without actually changing my size. After watching Scia come so close to replicating what I can do with my body, I can¡¯t help the temptation. The idea that I could bend space myself is too attractive a proposition to ignore.


    If Scia can shrink herself, then surely I¡¯m not leaping to conclusions to say I can imitate what she can do. Having the ability to create distortions for myself would be incredible. The first massive hollowed column I¡¯d found before the Titan destroyed my home. The wide chamber of the Nareau and ¨­mukade. And this most recent Graveyard of the Titans. All are places that contain no natural distortions. Considering how uncommon distortions are in places far from my warped tunnels, it is possible the warped tunnels are the only place with them. I hope that¡¯s wrong, but what I¡¯ve seen indicates otherwise.


    If I¡¯m to abandon the warped tunnels, then I need a way to create distortions. Maybe that is our way beyond.


    I still intend to help Scia improve, but if I can do the same myself¡­ if I can morph space to my whim, I can go anywhere. Even better, if I can figure out how to create bigger distortions, I could teach Scia and be a direct guide rather than just a source of encouragement.


    The way my body changes size is natural. Like breathing; there¡¯s barely a thought put into it. I just push and I¡¯m smaller. What I want to do is make that instinctual action an active effort. I need to determine exactly what I¡¯m doing to create such an effect.


    That push which changes my size is like a muscle, but where that muscle exactly is, I do not know. It covers the entirety of my body, and at the same time, it doesn¡¯t exist. I tug and shove, making rapid back-and-forth changes to my size, yet the exact mechanism eludes me.


    Glaring into the space around my body doesn¡¯t help. Nothing strange is happening. Even keeping my sight strained for any odd nuances of the spatial fabric that I might have missed reveals nothing beyond what I know. No new secrets of how my size shift works reveal themselves, but neither did watching Scia create bends help me understand how she does it. If I¡¯m to learn, I need to lean into the instincts that know what to do.


    So I give the size-muscle contradictory orders ¡ª pulling and pushing with intense strength ¡ª in an effort to get it to reveal something new. Any insight I can use to gain more direct control on the ability. Even if it is limited only to changing the size of things and not to creating distortions¡­ How great would it be to shrink a Titan down to my size?


    Unfortunately, despite extensive attempts, the results are lacklustre.


    Well, it¡¯s not all bad. I¡¯m satisfied to rely on Scia. I just need to help her grow and we will thrive together.


    There may no longer be a place at the top of the food-chain for me, but with Scia, that doesn¡¯t matter. We will carve out a place for ourselves in whatever strange lands lie outside the warped tunnels. Between the two of us, we will escape. Regardless of whether it¡¯s the Titan¡¯s threat, or Beyond¡¯s warning, it is clear we can no longer stay there once we return. And we will return. We will find our way back. I don¡¯t know how long it will take, but we will survive.


    A flash of movement strikes the edge of my sight. I twist to focus closer, but the cavern has already collapsed. It collapses with so much power that the next half-dozen pockets linked to it follow suit in rapid succession.


    The world around us is hardly stable and these voids within immense flowing rarely last long without something to support them, but they don¡¯t fall apart with this much intensity. They fall apart individually, not bring down those connected by distortions with them.


    I keep an eye on the cove nearest linked to those that already collapsed, and move away. I don¡¯t know what might have caused such an occurrence, but it is best to keep our distance.


    Deciding it is time to call the search quits for now, I deviate my course toward the abyss rend. It¡¯s in the opposite direction of the collapsed caverns too, so we might as well. Still, I keep an eye on the distortions that connect to the now disappeared regions in case anything strange is going on.


    Scia twitches, snapping awake in a moment, but she has no time to shriek a warning before another dozen caverns collapse with unnatural force, disappearing from sight. These are in a completely different direction from the first¡­ and far closer.


    I snap against myself, shooting us through a dense network of bends and holes. A spike of pain rushes through my wound, but I ignore it in the rush to get away from the imploding caverns. The last thing I want right now, is to be buried within the earth, where I¡¯ll have no way to find my way back into air.


    Scia chirps fearfully, and I watch as her ears flick all around us. I cannot hear anything beyond the constant grinding of earth, but I know her hearing is better than mine. Something is happening. Something is destroying the only haven within the Other Side.


    I rush through distortions, but wherever I look, caverns rapidly collapse. The order is random, yet with each breath, another half of the visible caverns disappear.


    Right before I dive through the last rift to the only stable cavern I know, I glimpse the cause.


    Less than a body length away, a cove collapses beyond a distortion. But before it can fully close, I witness the forest of diamond stalagmites cleave through each wall as they rush to bury the cavern.


    There is no longer anywhere else to move. Only this cavern, and the stable one ahead. The rest burst like one of Scia¡¯s favourite berries when she bites into it. Any hole or rift that doesn¡¯t collapse reveals nothing but the depths of earth, or the hard surface of diamond.


    With no other option and Scia still squeaking in fear, I dive through the last rift, returning us to the only cavern with some stability. The moment I do, a crystal spike that wasn¡¯t there an instant ago strikes me out of the air. I tumble to the earth. Earth that is quickly replaced by the hard, sharp surface of diamond.


    Then a heavy, powerful growl pierces my core. The lynx is here. The lynx tracked us.

 Chapter 41: Hyperfixation

    The sharp pinpricks of diamond scrape across my scales, gouging ugly scars through the once pristine shine. But the marring of my scales is hardly a concern right now.


    What''s far more distressing is the major presence squeezing down on me. The power of the Lynx''s growl crushes my scales and clenches every muscle through my body without permission. It bellows through the cavern, bouncing off the diamond spike walls and repeatedly slams through my chest with a rolling rumble.


    The growl is consistent, overwhelming even the sound of grinding earth.


    But that grinding soon stops. The crystals growing from each wall push back the fluid gravel and the churning that has remained for as long as I¡¯ve been on the Other Side. Soon there is nothing left in my sight except the diamond growths. They spike out from the walls like a predator¡¯s teeth, a maw of spears all pointed directly at me.


    Each spike shifts, ready to pierce me should I move.


    I cannot see the Lynx, but its deep growls are impossible to misplace.


    I cannot move. Paralysed by the presence, my body refuses my commands. The pressure squeezes down on every fibre of my being. I feel sharp pinpricks through every scale, regardless of whether the stalagmites of diamond pierce me or not.


    How did it find us?


    How could it follow us?


    I fell so long down that Titans tear. The fall should have made finding us far too difficult. With how rapidly the earth shifts down here, it should have been impossible to find us.


    Did it follow my blood trail?


    As much as the earth should have dispersed my blood through the rock, it is the only way I can imagine it could have caught us. We fell so far it shouldn¡¯t have chanced upon us, but it has and that''s all that matters.


    Scia, frozen on my back, is no different than myself. Her eyes are wide, ears flattened against her head; the growl doing terrible things to her.


    Suddenly the growl stops, but not all goes quiet. The immense mass of diamond and crystal around us scrapes and shatters as it moves and reforms the cavern around us. What was once a relatively small cavern, sized only enough to fit my full length, now grows. Widening until the massive paw of the lynx steps into the open space.


    The giant claws are identical to the diamond they step on, yet they scrape through with a shrieking wail. Above, the glistening ceiling splits down the middle and opens up to reveal the Titan''s head glaring down on us.


    I may have called the lynx a pseudo-Titan back up in the Graveyard, but down here it doesn¡¯t seem all that much different from a true Titan.


    It is too large to fit in any cavern, but that means nothing when you can twist the earth to your command. The crystal peels back for the beast to tower over everything in this cavern, yet most of its body from shoulders to tail remain hidden from sight. A mere head and paws, but it is still the largest thing in sight.


    I hadn''t ever considered the possibility that Titans could move through the earth like this. It was foolish, but I had assumed that they would be stuck to the Graveyard of the Titans where the space was both large enough to hold them, and keep them away from us. I shouldn¡¯t have; I¡¯d already seen one Titan tear its way through solid stone. There was no reason to think they couldn¡¯t come after us down here.


    This was supposed to be at least some form of haven from the beasts that hunt us. But that was a foolish mistake. The lynx was hunting us. It may have taken a while to find us, but it has.


    The damn beast gloats, it stands above us, obviously capable of collapsing the cavern in an instant, like it did with every other of the hundreds of ones around, but it doesn¡¯t. It could destroy us with the wave of a leg, and yet it prefers to stand there gloating.


    It roars, demanding we submit to its supremacy before it kills us. It¡¯s pressure crashes into us once more, spearing through my body, paralysing me further. My eyes, completely frozen, catch sight of the sole rend to the abyss.


    That is our only hope of survival. If we can get there, we can live.


    I struggle, twisting any muscle that will answer against the pressure. I writhe against the weight bearing down on us, trying to fight against the overwhelming strength of the beast.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    But it is too strong.


    With one final snap, I unleash a hiss, layered with my own presence. It does nothing against the massive beast, but it is enough to push back against its command on my terror and my body jolts. As soon as control is mine, I snap forward. A bend swallows me and the abyss rend appears ahead of me.


    So close, and we¡¯ll be free.


    But the lynx is aware of my plan. Its paw swats me from the air. Hardly with any force for a being as large as itself, but still strong enough to slap me to the diamond ground with enough power to send throbs through my aching body. Growing to my max size might make such strikes easier to deal with, but I was four times larger the last time I took it head on, and that didn¡¯t help at all. All I can rely on, is the distortions I¡¯ve always known.


    If only my wound didn¡¯t prevent me from shrinking further.


    I try to twist, to move back and try for the rend again, but I notice Scia is no longer with me. I scan the cavern, immediately spotting her beneath the beast''s head. She seems so tiny there, a mere pinprick beneath the titan''s heft. A single hair of the beast is thicker than the small bat.


    She is nothing compared to the Titan.


    Whether it doesn''t notice her, frozen between its paws as she is, or if it just considers her too small to pay attention to, I don''t know.


    But the lynx only has eyes for me.


    Scia¡¯s eyes remain wide, yet she still cannot move. Paralysed as she is, she can only experience terror as it stands over her.


    The titan growls once more. A deep, rumbling threat floods my body with terror. Its massive teeth snarl, gnawing, gloating at its supremacy. It knows it''s stronger than me. I can feel the hate directed at me through its sharp eyes that shimmer with an ever so slight ripple. It despises me for whatever stupid reason it has decided to hate me for. Whether it is intruding into its lair, or stealing the moss from it, I don¡¯t know, but knowing wouldn¡¯t change my current situation.


    The lynx knows it is stronger than me, and it is all too happy to enjoy its time before ripping me apart.


    The beast plays with me. In its eyes, there¡¯s nothing I can do against it. Again, I raise my head, ready to try anything that might save us, might get us to the abyss before it kills us both.


    Its massive eyes narrow, as if it knows I still intend to escape. The lynx wants to cow me. It wants to see me curl up and accept my inferiority.


    But I refuse. If I were alone, I¡¯d probably never let my pride do the same as it did with the phantom Titan. But I need to do something to protect Scia, so I allow my pride to give me strength in opposition to this obviously overwhelming being.


    I must take us from this cabin while I can, there''s no other way to hide. The earth is this Titan''s domain; the longer I stay, the more likely it''ll give up on its haughtiness and finally end us.


    The titan doesn''t take kindly to my returning glare, it stomps its paw into the diamond ground, sharp claws scraping through the earth, and a wave of diamond ripples outwards. It slams into me, but I have no eyes for the damage I take. I see blood, and suddenly, nothing else matters.


    The wet drip carries on the diamond and I lose sight of Scia. The diamond stalagmites rise to block her from view. I spin, looking for another bend to find her, and when I spot her, I freeze as if the lynx¡¯s presence crushes me once more.


    Scia lies there, blood trickling down a pair of crystal stalagmites she¡¯s pinned between.


    Her wings are shredded and a tiny leg is missing, but all I can focus on is the blood. The scent of her blood stings my nose. I dare not taste the air. The scent is so strong; so intense for such a small creature. Scia remains as still as before, but the lack of movement now stabs at my mind.


    Immediately, the Titan''s presence disappears from my mind. All that matters is that Scia is hurt.


    All restraints are discarded. I shrink myself down as small as I can and dive forward. I push myself past the limit. Agony spreads along my lower spine, but it hardly registers in my mind.


    The lynx snarls, sending out a wave of crystal my way to stop me from moving. I dive to the nearest bend, but a spike of diamond hits me before I can reach. I¡¯m battered through the air, but as the pain continues to ramp along my tail, I search for a distortion.


    I find one, but it is tiny. With a firm grip on my size muscle, my body squeezes on itself. My body forces itself to lose size faster than ever to fit through the bend. A snap. The agony gutting my spine suddenly hits unimaginable levels and despite my attempts, I cannot ignore it. My body stiffens as I pass through the bend, but I glance a the back of my tail.


    The lower half of my tail sheers clean off.


    My wound, unable to spread further across my body with the reduced size cut right through my spine and severed the lower portion of my tail. For a moment, I stare blankly as it flops through the air, twisting as if still alive. That moment quickly disappears as a spike of diamond rushes towards me.


    I fall through another bend and orient myself toward another. In an instant, I''ve passed through three more and land right before Scia. The Titan must have expected me to dive for the rend, as it sent diamonds to spear through me had I chosen that direction. Glistening, sharp spears that would have been my end.


    I snap Scia up in my jaw and dive through another bend before the wave of diamonds can hit us. The lynx has not yet given up and collapsed the cavern on us, so it is clearly still playing with its food. That is the only thing saving us right now.


    I shrink even more and the agony reaches a crescendo. Too much to manage. It is unbearable, but I throw myself through the next few bends, regardless. Even as small as I already am, I scrape through a hole that is nearly too small for myself.


    I push through, diamond scraping along my sides as they try to stop me reaching the abyss rend. The Titan thought I was too large to fit through that bend, but I still had room to shrink. A painful change, but it works.


    The lynx shrieks again, an enraged roar, stronger and more crippling than the others. I hiss a burst of pressure to hold off the Titan¡¯s presence just enough to push through the rend and slide out into the abyss.

 Chapter 42: Abnegation

    We fall.


    The abyss welcomes us with its vast emptiness. Nothing reaches my sight. There¡¯s not a rock to be seen, nor does space bend and weave beyond the rend we just fell through.


    Gravity grips us tight and drags us down.


    The Titan''s roar bellows into us from behind, unleashing the fury of the lynx whose arrogance allowed us to escape. It was complacent. It let us free; twice. The first may have been because of Titans far larger than itself, but this time it knows fault for our slip lies entirely in its own hubris.


    Its howls reveal every thought it has, every ounce of irritation it feels.


    They remind me of the same discontent I had with myself when the encroaching emotion of pride had overcome my actions. Is the lynx facing the same problems with sapience that I only recently pushed through? Considering the beast¡¯s power, I expected it to have long since gone through the troubles I am. Or, has the lynx simply never needed to work through those problems?


    Regardless of the Titan¡¯s thoughts and troubles, its enraged roar freezes my body stiff. I don''t have the strength to fight back. I can¡¯t lift my presence to put up any sort of opposition. The pressure rips through me and jabs into every scale and muscle of my already aching body. The pain, while thick and heavy, is secondary to the success of actually escaping the beast.


    We are free.


    While we''re free of the Titan, Scia and I still tumble through the endless abyss. Every breath, we gain speed; gravity¡¯s tug growing fiercer despite the air already pelting me from below. We¡¯ve escaped the immediate danger of the lynx, but this is not a place I could ever consider safe.


    I turn my eyes ¡ª barely able to overcome the instinctual terror of the presence I feel ¡ª looking for anywhere we may flee. But the only distortion is this sole one that we came through. Not another in sight. In a dozen heartbeats, we''ve fallen out of range of the rend, leaving absolutely nothing in my sight.


    I can no longer see the spatial distortion, but the Lynx''s enraged bellows still pelt us from above. They never stop, yet the longer we fall, the quieter it becomes. The roar dims in the distance as we continue to tumble.


    Scia''s blood, I can taste it.


    She lays limp in my mouth, protected from the intense winds that would otherwise cut at her wounds.


    With a flick of my tongue, I feel over her body. Her wings, shredded; chest, mangled; and a leg, missing. She is not in a good state right now. There¡¯s so much blood. It fills my mouth and I reflexively swallow some of it. I would never allow myself to eat the small bat, but my body instinctively reacts to the presence of a creature in my mouth. I feel my throat contract, but the moment I realise what I¡¯m doing, I clamp down on the feeling, preventing it from reoccurring.


    She is bleeding too much. Her wounds are debilitating. With immense difficulty, I attempt to wrap my tongue around her body, covering her wounds in hopes of suppressing the blood-loss.


    She squeaks at the contact. It is a subdued, weak little noise, but the relief that flows through my chest is immense.


    More blood trickles down my throat, and I recoil. Usually, the taste would be more than welcome; an indulgence. But right now, the taste disgusts me. I wish there was any other way to hold her, but with the lower half of my tail gone, there is none.


    The Lynx''s echoing roars finally fade into the distance, and with full control over my body back, I try to readjust her to a more comfortable position where I can look after her better.


    She whimpers. Pained and frail.


    The sound pierces my chest sharper than any diamond spike or Titan''s presence. It is good to hear her voice, to know she¡¯s still okay, but the agony, the fragility of her tone¡­ it is terrifying.


    I want to let her out, to check her body with my eyes and see what I could do to help her, but with the wind whipping over my scales in the fall, doing so would be reckless. Instead, I regain some of my size, hoping that the more room between my teeth makes it more comfortable for her.


    As we fall, I keep searching for something¡­ anything that might help us. We no longer face the danger of the Other Side, but without distortions or any sort of ground, I have no control over my descent. I can angle myself one way or the other through the air, but lacking anything visible, it¡¯s not like I know where to go.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Gravity continues to tug at us. A hundred, a thousand, tens of thousands of breaths and still nothing. All that happens is we continue falling, endlessly. The abyss is overwhelming. Regardless of how far we drop, regardless of how fast gravity drags us down, no solutions present themselves.


    The abyss is vaster than I could have imagined, yet the nothingness is suffocating. I feel so small in this emptiness, but there is so much I know I cannot see. We may have escaped the Titans, we have escaped the lynx, but how are we going to escape the abyss? Is there even an end?


    Scia chirps; a hollow noise, barely audible even in the silence. It strikes me like a physical blow. The lynx¡¯s howls have long since grown too faint. While the silence of the abyss is unsettling after so long having my ears pounded by the constant grinding of earth, that ever so slight whimper from my little companion is deafening.


    The blood on my tongue is not something I ever wished to taste. It grows thick in my mouth, but the quantity screams at how bad Scia''s state is. I need to find a way to help her, I need to help her wounds recover, but all I can do is wrap my tongue around her body and hope it''s enough to stem the flow.


    But the blood keeps coming. It fills my maw with its distinct metallic tang. My throat convulses again, and I coil in on myself to stop any further attempts of my body to instinctively swallow my little friend. My grip gets so tight that I nearly choke myself, but it keeps Scia safe.


    For a while, the only sound that reaches my ears is the rush of wind from our fall. But soon, even that disappears. I still feel like I¡¯m falling, but the slap of air reduces until it¡¯s barely noticeable. Eventually, all that remains is silence.


    Overwhelming silence.


    With a start, I realise Scia no longer lets out those pained chirps. Her whimpers and her cries are gone. All I can hear in this endless abyss is the huff of my breath.


    Scia has stopped chirping, stopped moving. I try to jostle her with my tongue to keep her awake. The last thing I want is her to pass out while in such a precarious state, but it does nothing. She doesn¡¯t react.


    I panic. What can I do? I wanted to keep her hidden away from the world to stifle the bleeding, but I can¡¯t stay here and do nothing while she¡¯s unresponsive. I open my jaw. First slowly, so that I know the wind ¡ª what little remains ¡ª won¡¯t tear her from my grip. Assured by the lack of force, I let her float through the air before me.


    Blood spills from my mouth, but I keep it wide in case I need to snap her up in an instant. Casting my eyes over her form, only the slowed bleeding from her chest is comforting. That is the only positive thought I can gather from her form. No matter where I look, there are more wounds to find. I scan her body, trying to think of something I can do to help her, but it is hopeless.


    No!


    I snap her back into my mouth, keeping her wrapped in my tongue to hold in what little blood she has left. She slumps, limp.


    She¡¯ll be alright. She has to be.


    Scia is in too dangerous a state now to allow her out into the open.


    As much as I want to look at her, as much as I want to fix everything afflicting her¡­


    I can''t.


    I just need to fall, I need to look for an escape, find something that can help Scia and hope she''ll be alright. There is nothing else I can do.


    So we keep falling.


    I rapidly lose count of the breaths I take. How many heartbeats have passed? Thousands? Millions? I don¡¯t know. I can''t believe we''re continuing to fall; it truly is an endless abyss. It never ends, we just keep falling and tumbling with gravity dragging us evermore down.


    Will it ever end? Does down have a bottom? Or have we breached the edge of the caverns? I thought there would be an endless wall of stone at the edge of the world, not endless nothingness.


    Scia¡¯s bleeding finally stops completely. No more blood flows from her wounds onto my sodden tongue. This¡­ this is a good thing. Her wounds must be healing. She¡¯ll be alright.


    Constantly, every chance I can, I spin my head around, searching for an answer; a rock, shard, a bend, a hole or distortion. Anything to take us from this endless fall. Anything to help the tiny, hurting bat I hold.


    Scia must be sleeping, but she''s growing so cold. I can feel her nestled in the soft flesh between my fangs. Her body is usually so warm, but now¡­


    I do my best to warm her with my breath, but that works no better than simply leaving her within my jaw; my body is not all that warm compared to Scia. Compared to her normal state. No matter what I try, her body continues to cool.


    She will be okay. She has to be. She has to be okay.


    I won''t accept any other outcome.


    But there is no way for me to help her, so I need to hold on to hope that we finally reach something that can. As I fall through this horribly constraining abyss, that¡¯s all I can do; hope.


    But hope doesn¡¯t stop the chill of her body. Hope cannot hold back reality.


    Scia is dead.


    I refuse to believe it. I refuse. I want to strike out at something, but as ever, the abyss is empty. Refusing the thought, I open my jaw, twist around and nestle Scia within a loop of what¡¯s left of my tail. My gaze pierces her, searching for the signs of life I know must be there.


    Her eyes are wide, unseeing and glossy. She slumps over my coil, talons no longer clutch to the ridges between scales. No longer does she hold tight.


    It''s okay, she''s just sleeping. She''s just resting.


    This has happened before; I''ll find her something to eat and all will be good. Scia will be back to normal. She''ll be back to blinking all around me with that unreasonable excitability of hers. She''ll be back to refusing to leave my side.


    She''ll be back to the Scia I have come to love.


    Scia is not dead.


    I refuse to accept it.


    I refuse.


    I cannot.


    Please.

 Interlude III: Hirsh

    ¡°This is an inconvenient situation for all. Upper management would like you all to know that you remain important and shall be generously compensated once these difficulties pass, but we must ask that you follow regulations and comply with the Order¡¯s changes.¡±


    Hirsh watched on from the back of the gathered crowd of mercenaries as a bureaucrat from headquarters delivered his speech. He had to give the albanic credit; as he delivered the news that the Mercenary Order has taken to thievery of its own workers, he stood fearless of the thousands whose sole job was to fight and kill.


    ¡°From this day on, all beast corpses shall be shipped back to headquarters in order to recover from the losses of the past years. As loyal workers of the pact nations, we thank you for your understanding and wish you the best in our homelands¡¯ continued defence.¡±


    Wrapping up his speech, the representative for the Mercenary Order took a step from the podium, and with a hurried spin that revealed a nervousness far greater than the calm facade, he clambered up the steps of the train he¡¯d arrived on.


    The gathered crowd was anything but pleased with the announcement. Amongst the dozen Beiths and thousands of lower ranked mercs, grumbles and curses were spoken in a hushed disquiet. There was a fury there, barely suppressed and bubbling beneath the surface. It demanded they strike out at the weak bureaucrat who, while obviously nothing more than a messenger, delivered the spear through their livelihoods.


    But none dared raise their voice.


    Under the chilling glare of the Inner Circle mage, they couldn¡¯t. The woman, an albanic, extruded an air of cold; the ground around her feet frosted over, and the very air itself seemed to still in her presence. Despite none of her Markings being active, her frozen eyes glowed with the power of her hyle; daring the crowd to attack.


    Many clutched their weapons, not ready to take on such an overwhelming power, but also desiring to unleash their frustrations on the Mercenary Order that seemed determined to continue making their lives worse. They were close to the breaking point.


    Hirsh was no different. The immense grief of loss and the constantly reducing living standards made him want to strike out, allow his own Markings to ignite with the hyle of water and vie for change. But he had long since learnt to suppress any urge to use his Markings for anything besides battle. He still felt stricken with guilt that his exuberance had very nearly killed a child.


    The Inner Circle mercenary gave a final glance over the gathered warriors and placed her hand on the rail of the train. Not a moment later, the machine kicked into motion and rolled from the semi-permanent station they¡¯d erected at the edge of the city, ready to be built around. The ice mage hung from the side of the train and let it whip the hair around her face for a few minutes before entering the carriage with the man she guarded.


    If Hirsh was to guess, not even their entire congregation of mercenaries could hope to scratch her. A thousand on one, and they would lose. There was simply too great a gap between the general force and the elite.


    The Mercenary Order had almost never used the Inner Circle for such trivial tasks as guarding managers and bureaucrats. They were simply too important to the organisation. But in the last war, the Order had learnt many lessens; not all good.


    They¡¯d once kept all their most elite hidden from view. An effort to limit the intelligence leaking to the pact nations¡¯ enemies so they couldn¡¯t develop countermeasures. After the last war against the mermineae and their tyrannical leader Kalma, they¡¯d learnt that keeping all their strongest out of the war until they¡¯d already lost everything was beyond foolish. Unfortunately, the lesson they¡¯d taken from that was to use those elite as canes to keep the rest of the mercenaries in line.


    No one was happy with this. And this latest order given down by the Order was another nail in the already cracking relationship between mercenaries and the management that had been mutually beneficial for centuries.


    The Mercenary Order was to take their entire reason for fighting. Likely redirected toward empowering the already strong Inner Circle that they had a stronger grip over.


    Hirsh, along with the vast majority of mercenaries, fought primarily to empower their own strength. Despite serving the same purpose as a traditional military, the mercenaries of the Order approached its structure differently. It gave its members the means to gain strength themselves rather than try to control every aspect as an army would with soldiers. This had proven to allow far greater personal growth in those with the determination, and an overall efficiency boost over the traditional armies. Not that traditional armies didn¡¯t have their place, what with the acceleration of mass-production.


    But the Mercenary Order was now taking away the beasts they hunted, completely stripping them from their reason to fight. Sure, most had some level of nationalism and they would try to defend their homeland, but this was akin to stripping a worker of pay and expecting them to continue working.


    In fact, as Hirsh looked over the now dispersing crowd of disgruntled mercs, he was sure many would abandon their duties. It would make his own work all the harder, but he didn¡¯t blame them. This was an incredibly dangerous line of work, and not being given the chance to grow made it a complete waste.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    To Hirsh''s side, Ceph was quiet. A couple of her tentacles not used to hold her weight were curled up beneath her; an obvious expression of rage and frustration. He placed one of his antler arms on her soft head. The purple membrane of the dohrni wiggled under the weight of his arm a bit like jelly¡­ though he wouldn¡¯t dare mention such a thing.


    Ceph didn¡¯t react. Too busy glaring at the train that had already passed beyond sight.


    Things had been tough for everyone in the months since the Alps fell, and Hirsh knew she was taking the deaths of their teammates hard. Glaus and Telum had been good friends of his for decades, and finding they hadn¡¯t escaped the collapse was saddening, but Hirsh had lived long enough to have learnt to deal with death. It happened. Ceph was still young; she would learn. It was only unfortunate that her first such experience had been such an impossibly great disaster.


    The survival rate had been extraordinarily low amongst those caught in the Lower Elevation or above. Most of the survivors had been Beith, with a few Luis mercs. Only those who had the strength to fling themselves over the wall of rushing earth and had been lucky not to be swallowed the moment they were on top had survived.


    Even then, more than half the Beiths stationed at the tunnel entrance hadn¡¯t made it out. It was a horrible situation all around.


    Throwing his antler around her side, he started leading her away. The dohrni were strange in that none had a default forward face. Their eyes rolled in their heads and changed which direction they were facing. Because of the way their tentacles grew from their heads, you could view them from any direction, and they would remain symmetrical.


    They walked through the streets before reaching the line where all construction stopped. Hirsh led her up the hill to their post standing at the top of a cliff that peered down into an endless hole in the earth. Hirsh found no humour in the fact that his team¡¯s manager had sent them to the only other massive hole in the earth after his friends¡¯ loss. It felt intentional; like the bureaucrats were blaming the mercenaries who survived for the Titan Alps¡¯ collapse.


    Kalma¡¯s Pit.


    That¡¯s what this endless hole had been lovingly named. After the tyrant who lead the mermineae across the Alps in a bloody war with nothing but death as her goal. He¡¯d heard the hole was made by the same person who tore open the ranked stone of the entrance into the mountain, but it was difficult to imagine any single person could inflict so much damage. It would have been hard to picture a Titan causing this much of a shift in the landscape¡­ if not for the fall of the Alps.


    The Pit was wider, and so much deeper than what he¡¯d previously had to deal with. It was over a kilometre wide. So much earth, simply vaporised in her attempt to kill a couple of elite. And somehow, Kalma was the one who died. Hirsh never wanted to meet the ursu who had beaten her.


    Nobody could determine the Pit¡¯s depth. The investigation team ¡ª mostly volans and the mages that could fly ¡ª had given up after falling fifty kilometres. It had become a bit of a tradition of the city¡¯s residents and the mercenaries defending them to toss burning lumps of wood and cloth to watch it plummet. It was always intriguing to watch the flame continue to grow smaller, but never pass out of view.


    Given that there were still creatures flying out of the Pit, theories had circulated that it connected with the tunnel system under the Titan Alps. Hirsh hoped that wasn¡¯t true; the only real benefit that came out of the Alps¡¯ collapse was the destruction of the entrance to the world of beasts far greater than any person had a hope of facing.


    For a long while, he¡¯d been sated by the fact that the most dangerous creatures were too large to fit through the small chamber that separated them from the surface, but that snake shedding they¡¯d found changed things. Hirsh never wanted something like that escaping the deep caverns it belonged.


    At his side, Ceph kicked a rock. It clattered once, then was over the cliff and didn¡¯t make another sound.


    ¡°Things are only going to get worse, aren¡¯t they?¡± She asks, her eyes tilting upward.


    Hirsh followed her sight to the clouds of ash that had permeated every part of the sky ever since the disaster. Night was coming now, so the dark grey sky was slowly shifting to a crimson.


    He didn¡¯t respond. There was no answer to that question that he wanted to say.


    Even without millions of deaths the collapse had caused, the creeping winter was going to cause greater harm than anything. There had been talks about approaching their southern neighbours for trade with their vast farmlands, but Hirsh wasn¡¯t sure how willing New Vetus would be. The large ursu loved their feasts, after all.


    ¡°I¡­ I was talking to some of the girls,¡± Ceph said. ¡°There¡¯s word that Henosis is gathering their forces along the border.¡±


    Hirsh snapped his gaze down to the dohrni beside him. If that was true, no wonder the Mercenary Order was taking such drastic actions; an invasion from the Empire in their current state would be the death of the pact nations. The Vanguard were still stuck in their endless war against the Theocracy, and were unlikely to assist.


    ¡°Maybe it¡¯s simply a threat; a political manoeuvre.¡± Even as the words left his mouth, Hirsh knew they were unlikely. Henosis had been an expansionist power for as long as it existed. The pact nations had only survived the last war against the alien mermineae because the Empire had been engulfed in civil war. If that had finally ended¡­ well, things didn¡¯t look good for the pact nations.


    The alliance between the two-dozen nations of the pact had resulted in economic dominance for the past two centuries. And now, the wealthy pact nations were descending into a recession of never before seen scope. They were not ready for war.


    She didn¡¯t grace his optimistic answer with a reply. Instead, she unsheathed the two blades she¡¯d received from Glaus before his death, and stared into the inscription lining its length.


    ¡°Hirsh¡­ I¡¯ve had this feeling since the Alps fell, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s over.¡± Ceph¡¯s voice wavered with each word. ¡°The world isn¡¯t done. I don¡¯t know why, but I believe we have more disasters to come.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it¡¯s just the stress.¡± Hirsh tried to placate her. ¡°The Alps fell because of the Euroclydon. It didn¡¯t climb over to our side, so we have nothing to worry about.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Ceph snapped, suddenly yelling. ¡°We''ve already seen a Titan climb the bloody thing. It couldn''t possibly collapse from a single Titan¡¯s effort, no matter how strong. Especially considering the damage spreads all along the Alps and not our section alone.¡±


    Hirsh remained quiet. He¡¯d also felt the piercing sense of unease that had lingered since he felt that shatter of a presence. It was possible everyone felt that unease, and it had done nothing but amplify the problems they¡¯d had.


    Ceph took a breath and calmed herself before speaking again. ¡°Something is happening, Hirsh. Something dangerous. Going to war now will not help us.¡±

 Chapter 43: Despair

    Scia is dead.


    There''s no denying it any longer, no arguing against fate, no fighting reality, no refusing what''s real, no living in a fantasy I so wished was true.


    Scia is dead.


    The lack of heartbeat in her cold body is nothing if not undeniable proof. Without so much as a breath through her tiny muzzle, I cannot ignore the blatant truth that floats before me; she''s gone.


    Scia''s gone.


    Such possibility barely even seems real. It feels like she''ll just wake any second, be up and start chirping that lighthearted, excitable sputter she¡¯s done ever since I met her all that time ago. My life has come to revolve around her; she''s near all I can think of anymore. And now, she''s gone. What am I meant to do without Scia?


    Our goal to escape the warped tunnels becomes irrelevant if Scia is not there with me. I may have begun the search alone, but the little bat rapidly became core to my determination. Considering the Magma Ocean and Crippling Depths were more likely than most to have a way beyond, and I¡¯d forgone those paths in order to keep Scia safe. If I can¡¯t escape with Scia, I see no point.


    Without Scia¡­ what reason is there to go on?


    This is not fair. The world has already taken my home from me, my territory, and forced me to flee everything I know. Now it must take her as well?


    I wrap around Scia''s motionless body. She''s already dead, but I can''t help but hold her tight. I know she cannot come back; death does not work that way, and yet I cling to her wilted form, unwilling to let her go. Her soft fur contorts under the touch of my hard scales. With the stump of my tail, I pat her head, her sole remaining ear folding under the motion.


    I shouldn¡¯t be this small. With my wound as it is, in addition to the danger of the unknown, it would be wise to stay as large as I can¡­ but doing so prevents me from cradling Scia. If I grow, I cannot hold her close. Even as small as I dare push my body with my wound in the state it is, I desire to shrink further. To reach a size closer to the little bat and make this unreciprocated embrace fulfilling.


    I wish for her to return. Her excitement, her enthusiasm for everything she did; I wish to experience it again.


    I know I never will. Scia is gone. The life in her eyes has faded from existence. Her body; cold as death. There will be no more enjoyment; that is gone along with her.


    I¡¯ve come to learn the feeling of positive emotions, but every single one of them was associated with Scia. Now, those feelings invert. Everything good I¡¯ve felt is now replaced with an onslaught of horrific spikes right through my spine worse than any wound. My initial experiences feel like mere scratches compared to the engulfing agony Scia¡¯s death has wrought.


    So many parts of myself strike out, refusing to believe what¡¯s happened. Anger at everything and nothing. Guilt at not protecting her well enough. Hatred at the lynx and all other Titans for causing this. All the invasive compulsions that I was finally coming to accept converge in a complex muddle that leaves me in nothing but a state of despair.


    With Scia gone, it will be impossible to ever feel those positive emotions she seemed to ignite within me. I will return to how I was before we met, only so much worse knowing what I will never have again.


    I squeeze the tiny bat, not to choke any more life out of her, but simply to hold her close.


    I didn''t get to say goodbye. I didn''t get to enjoy the last moments while she was still beside me. It was all so sudden. One moment, she was happily munching on her snack. The next, the lynx struck, and she was dead.


    I wish she could hold me back. While I wrap around her, the sliver of hope that I¡¯m wrong and she wakes up remains. It is foolish, yet the hope is impossible to remove from my mind.


    But no movement ever comes. I wish she would; I wish her tiny, little form would just reach up and stretch around my scales¡­ but it never happens.


    The corpse within my grip is unbearable to watch. In the past, lifeless bodies were nothing to me; if they were dead, they rarely made a good meal. I never thought of them much beyond that. But now, watching Scia linger while her being had already fled¡­ it was taunting.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    In a weak attempt to bring my attention away from the little bat, I focus outward. I have no clue how long I''ve been falling, but there remains nothing in sight. The abyss is as vast as ever.


    The whip of wind is long gone now. Honestly, it is difficult to even tell we are falling any more. It was simple when air resisted us and I could still hear the Titan¡¯s dimming bellows, but now there is nothing observable to reveal our current state. For all I know, there¡¯s nothing left to fall into, and we simply float here.


    But eventually, an ever so slight tingle reaches my ears. At first, it¡¯s nothing but an itch. A quiet whisper. A barely audible melody. The tune is fleeting, yet with each heartbeat, it grows louder, until the song floods my body with its ethereal sound.


    Soon, it is clear; a melody of fervent highs and harrowing lows. The ballad is simple; only a few notes on repeat, but somehow there is an aspect to them that gives depth beyond any casual listen could reveal. They are the same notes, but every time they reach my ears, they sound different, as if unveiling a different story, a different world, with each rendition.


    The song cuts through my core, striking up memories of Scia unbidden. I don¡¯t know whether it is the ethereal nature of the notes themselves, or the sudden realisation that this is the song that Scia would sing that stirs up these thoughts and amplifies my already agonising pain, but I recoil from the noise.


    Unfortunately, there is nowhere to hide. Despite its soft start, the sound rapidly amplifies until it is a roar to my ears. It¡¯s obvious we¡¯re falling towards the song by the way it constantly amplifies, but not once does it sound like it comes from below. No, it seems to come from all around us. It permeates the space itself rather than spreading from any single point.


    The otherworldly melody sinks in through my scales, through my very muscles and bones. It resounds within me. As it continues to amplify, the noise seems to seep out of my ears and I can suddenly hear it through my being instead. A hymn surpassing any normal sound. Beyond what even the Titans of the Other Side could achieve with volume alone.


    I suddenly realise: this song is laden with presence. It doesn¡¯t incite that horrid instinctual terror, but this is the pressure of some impossible being, refined to an extent where it enhances the song and yet leaves those who feel it unaffected by the all-encompassing fear such a massive presence should inflict.


    The being this song belongs to is greater than any of the Titans of the Other Side. It seems impossible, but I simply know this as fact. It is only comparable to the phantom Titan.


    The soft tones ¡ª while not terror inducing ¡ª are both soothing and maddening. They want to bring out good memories one moment, then flip and remind me of Scia¡¯s death, reinforcing my despair.


    As I fall and hold Scia close, the melody no longer grows stronger, but that doesn¡¯t mean it is any less intense. My spine absorbs the song. My muscles jerk in dance. And my scales sing, as if reflecting the song back into the abyss. It is not painful, rather, unsettling. In the ballad¡¯s embrace, I am to do as it wishes, and yet it passes over us without so much as a care.


    For the first time since succumbing to the vastness of the abyss, something breaches the range of my sight. It is nothing impressive, nothing physical, simply a ripple in space. The same ripple I''d seen scorching down on the Graveyard of the Titans. It is far more subtle here; akin to the bugs in the ¨­mukade cavern.


    As the song continues through my core, the spatial ripple intensifies. I know I¡¯m heading for something. Between the contradictory melody and this new ripple, I must be approaching it fast. Regardless of my speed, I still have no idea how long it will take to reach. I¡¯ve been falling for so long that I can¡¯t be certain, especially when, a sleep ago, I would have said it was impossible to fall for longer than a dozen heartbeats.


    So this is my end? I¡¯m obviously falling towards the source of the melody, and I don¡¯t count my chances highly facing whatever being is on the other side of this song.


    In a way, it¡¯s fitting; I failed Scia, so maybe I deserve death too. I can join her in existencelessness.


    Just when I believe that I''m destined to fall into the waiting maw of a Titan somewhere far below, a pillar breaches my sight. It is far to my side, barely sliding into view, but it is there. The solid, smooth surface extends both far below and above, reaching beyond sight. The pillar stretches towards the origin of ripples. Its long, unbroken surface is identical to the one hidden beneath my old resting spot.


    Without a moment''s delay, I angle my body towards it. My control over direction is impossibly difficult with how little air resistance there is. Usually, I have little control over my descent, but right now I don¡¯t even have that minimal amount. Regardless, the pillar gets closer with each passing breath.


    Finally, with something physical to see, I get a grasp of my speed¡­ and immediately blanch. After a point enters my sight below, it is gone behind me within a breath. I¡¯ve never moved this fast, and yet with such limited control over my descent, the pillar gets closer.


    Without distortions to allow me to push off myself, it takes forever, but eventually I reach it. I rush down beside the pillar with immense speed. Snapping Scia in my mouth again, I grow. I need the size; I¡¯m moving too fast and the pillar is too wide to try this with anything but my larger size. Soon, I crash into the shaft and whip my length around it.


    I scrape along the pillar. The rapid speed of my body along the motionless pillar leaves my scales grinding and tearing off in my desperate attempt to halt my momentum. The sudden, loud screech of my body straining against the unbreakable material of the pillar mixes with the song still permeating my being, creating a bizarre dissonance.


    I jerk to a stop. My body aches something terrible, but it isn¡¯t hard to ignore it; the pain is nothing on my loss.


    Strangely enough, I don¡¯t feel the constant pull anymore. While holding myself to the pillar, I reach my head outward over the abyss, and find, to my surprise, that I barely have to put any strength into holding myself up. I simply float there. Gravity is gone.

 Chapter 44: Depression

    I stretch far from the pillar, but as always, gravity remains absent.


    It is such a strange sensation, like constantly falling, but that could only be the case if the pillar I cling to is falling alongside me. Lacking an external point of reference, it is impossible to say. Only the fact that the ever-constant melody remains the same leads me to believe I¡¯m not moving.


    I could suspend myself in the air before, but that was always taking advantage of the counteracting forces of gravity that would tug at different parts of my body with the help of spatial distortions. There was never a time gravity wasn¡¯t present.


    Gravity is likely the only thing that has remained consistent throughout my life. When my territory was gone, when my distortions were gone, even when my supremacy was taken, gravity was always the same.


    And here, it doesn¡¯t exist.


    Or at least not to any extent that I can feel. My body lingers out over an endless fall, but nothing pulls me down. I could even let go of the pillar itself and remain floating here, endlessly. But I never do; I can¡¯t risk losing the only thing I can cling to. In this vast abyss, the pillar is the only thing solid. The only thing I know is real.


    The haunting melody continues endlessly. Time disappears as I cling to Scia¡¯s corpse and wrap around the only refuge I have. It is difficult to care for the passing time. Out of all things I can do, resisting its passage seems almost pointless with my little companion gone.


    Occasionally, a crack of ethereal lightning branches out from below ¡ª or what I believe to be below now that gravity is gone ¡ª it spears through the air all around me, only for the odd power to be smothered by the permeating ballad. There is no sound; whether it has none, or I just can¡¯t hear it through the song, I don¡¯t know. But when the ethereal lightning recedes, it leaves behind a shattered spatial fabric.


    It is not like bent space, nor is it akin to the manipulation of the phantom Titan, instead it seems to almost reveal another plane of existence. One where the space is beyond strange; where the fabric appears shredded, and yet still holds an orderly structure not even undistorted space could replicate. The very existence is a contradiction to my sight, and confusion bubbles within my mind simply by viewing the plane.


    The fractal shaped rifts quickly close; patched by the melody that prevented its spread. Again, the space returns to its natural state. It''s... strange to see what I thought was a titan heal the fabric. The song suppresses great damage to this world inflicted by something below.


    I reconsider my initial position where I believed it to be a titan without doubt. Titans have only shown a nature of destruction. Whatever being creates this ballad, it is obviously the Titans¡¯ equal, and yet their opposite. It fights something below that is desperate to spread and damage space.


    Suddenly, I remember the shattering presence that proceeded the collapse of the tunnels around the Amber Barrier. If the same being that creates the planar rifts is the cause of that devastation, it can only be impossibly strong. More-so than the Titans themselves. Or, more likely, the greatest of them. This melody holds it back from destroying my warped tunnels, but it won¡¯t last forever. Both the Beyond and the phantom Titan knew this.


    I am both curious and terrified of what lies below, but I will never dare fall into the depths. Well, without gravity, there is no below, only what hides at the end of this pillar. The streaks of ethereal lightning always originate from the far direction of the pillar, but never come near the stonework itself. As with how the pillar seems completely unaffected by the alteration of space, each ethereal bolt rebounds as soon as it comes near.


    Another reason to never stray from the one source of comfort I have left to me.


    I uncurl, freeing Scia from my scales. She floats before my face, looking increasingly sickly and stiff with how long she¡¯s gone without life. She¡¯s horrible to look at. I know I can''t continue to hold her like this. She is already gone, but as much as I understand that death has already claimed her... I can''t let go.


    Her little corpse is so fragile within my grip and even shrinking myself down to hold her better, it won''t be long before she succumbs to decay.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    I don''t want to see her like that. I don''t want to see her crumble away to nothingness. Even the current state of her corpse is sickening to look at. And yet... I can¡¯t gather the courage to let her go.


    If only I didn¡¯t need to. If only I could keep her close forever, but this is a necessity. I understand that.


    I need to finally let her go.


    Nothing good will come from allowing her body to linger.


    And so, uncoiling the tail that has only barely begun to regrow, I release her. I let her float in the empty space before me for only a few moments before I finally gather myself and push her away.


    For the next thousand breaths, I cannot snatch my gaze from the little dead bat as she floats to the very furthest edges of my sight. Eventually, she passes beyond the threshold. Scia disappears entirely. Claimed by the abyss. Claimed by that endless song she so loved. I¡¯m glad that she gets at least that in death, but it is merely a bittersweet feeling that doesn¡¯t come close to acceptance. Scia''s body is gone.


    I am finally, truly alone.


    It¡¯s better than carrying her already dead body along with me forever. That would be nothing but foolish. Desecrating her corpse because I can¡¯t accept that she¡¯s gone feels like a horribly wrong thing to do. I don¡¯t want my last memories of her to be the world eating her out from inside as she decays. The very thought churns my stomach.


    I was once so ready to do the same thing I¡¯m now forced; to let her go. To let her stay with her family. The time we¡¯d met the other sciacylch, I hadn¡¯t wanted to let her go, but I had been prepared. A preparedness I¡¯ve since lost. I had been sad and terrified by the concept that she would leave me, but I could accept that she might want to.


    When she hadn''t left me, I had been so happy.


    And now... I regret that immensely.


    I wish I had just left her. I wish I''d... pushed her away and made her stay with her own kind. It would have been hard. It would have been almost impossible to face that crushed face of hers, but she would still be alive. I''d already been trying to get rid of her so often before then, and if I¡¯d kept it up, Scia would be hidden in a fold of space along with a hundred others of her kind.


    If she hadn¡¯t stuck to my side, nothing would have gone this horribly. She would still be alright. Even if I wouldn''t be there to see her. Even if, eventually, the outcome would be the same.


    The collapse of the warped tunnels would claim her, but she could enjoy her short life with others of her kind until that inevitable day finally came.


    I stay still for a very long time, simply glaring out into the abyss. My eyes stuck to the last point of Scia¡¯s body before she disappeared. The cracks of ethereal lightning shattering the spatial fabric continue, and are mended in turn by the melody¡¯s ever-present touch, but I barely notice.


    The world fades into the background.


    And I continue to watch the point which will be the last I ever see of the little lesser creature that became everything.


    There is nothing else to do. Nothing besides regret my mistakes, and consider what I could have done better to keep her alive. What could have been if she was still with me? I do nothing but regret and stare out into the endless emptiness.


    Even as hunger gnaws.


    Even as exhaustion seeps.


    I ignore that which afflicts me. They do nothing to numb the pain of Scia''s loss. I would take another diamond spear through the spine if it meant I didn¡¯t have to deal with this agony. Nothing compares to the knowledge that Scia is gone and will never come back.


    There¡¯s nothing to see any more ¡ª hasn¡¯t been for a while ¡ª but I cannot tear my eyes away. The abyss song plays through my body, impossible to ignore, resounding with the emptiness that grows within. My mind reflects the abyss itself; empty besides a single thread. The abyss¡¯s pillar stands undaunted by time, nor any external forces. The thought of Scia is the same.


    But I cannot last as long as the pillar. Eventually, the hunger grows too great. My stomach writhes, furious at the neglect. It demands I hunt. It demands I feast. Regardless of my wish to wait for a being I know will not return, the pangs of starvation pierce my mind.


    I''ve spent far too long wallowing.


    My head snaps upward for the first time in far too long, snatching the sight of Scia¡¯s last position from me. My gaze follows the pillar to the furthest reaches. Beyond my sight, that pillar might reach the warped tunnels. If I climb it, I can reach distorted space again and find prey to settle my raging stomach.


    No. Not yet. I flinch at the thought of fleeing. Of leaving Scia here all alone, even in death. I try to return my sight to the spot I¡¯ve stared for the last million heartbeats, but I can¡¯t find it. The abyss looks the same everywhere. I cannot find the last place Scia drifted.


    Is this what I want?


    Do I wish to remain forever enclosed here? Trembling for eternity from Scia''s death? Do I want to allow myself to die in this grief that overwhelms me? Do I want to allow what has happened to Scia to happen to me?


    Do I wish for death?


    The answer is no.


    Scia is gone and I shall never forget her, but I can¡¯t throw away what remains. I¡¯ve lived for thousands of hunts, and this will not be the end of me. All that remains of Scia is that in my head. And I¡¯m not about to let more of her die.


    So I climb. My body curls around the large pillar and I tug upwards. I climb, ready to reach¡­ whatever lies above. I don¡¯t dare descend. Not with the beings in constant conflict that might very well be greater than Titans. Their battle is subtle, but the Titans of the Other Side didn¡¯t cut space. Their size altered it, bent it from their sheer weight, but never broke it.


    This pillar should return me to the warped tunnels. With the future I know lies ahead of the place, it will be dangerous, but at least there¡­


    I can try to move on.

 Chapter 45: Discovery

    The climb is far slower than I hoped.


    Considering how long we fell, it''s not all that surprising that it takes forever. Each curl around the pillar seems to bring me no closer to my goal, but there¡¯s no other way.


    My body coils around the pillar, gripping it and pulling myself up in a constant slither. Without my weight dragging me down under the effect of gravity, it¡¯s not at all difficult to gain some speed, though I never come close to the pace of the fall.


    Even then, the climb is endless. Each spiral brings me that little bit closer, that little bit higher, and still, change is slow to come. The shaft that I flow over is the only reason I know I¡¯m moving. Without it, not only would I have no way to move, but I wouldn¡¯t know it if I was.


    No matter how fast I slither up the pillar, I can''t possibly reach the same speeds that brought us down into this abyss. Just how long must I continue to climb?


    The only benefit I have is that the warmth flowing off the pillar energises me. Not enough to stave off the hunger, but enough for me to continue onwards without complaint. The energy is that same comforting warmth as I felt seeping through the rock of my old favourite resting spot. It no longer brings about the same comfort it once did, simply the energy to move through my exhausted state.


    After millions of heartbeats ¡ª so long that each repetitive curl blends into the next ¡ª something finally changes. It is slight, barely perceptible, but I can feel my weight returning. Gravity is nothing but a slight tug, weaker even than Scia¡¯s touch, but it is back. Will it return to its former strength as I climb? Does its pull grow stronger the higher I am? How have I never noticed this before?


    Just as I¡¯m considering what it could mean, I discover that the pillar above is littered with cracks. They start small and inconsequential, only to spread into a bisecting rift through the middle as I climb. This solid stone that stood unaffected by spatial distortions and could stand the strike of a titan¡­ is fractured. It still remains whole, for now, but the higher I climb, the worse the fissure spreads.


    The warmth seeping from the pillar diminishes until nothing remains to fend off the chill of hunger. I slither upwards, ignoring the pangs and fending off the ever-growing weight of gravity.


    I continue onwards until there¡¯s no more to climb.


    A sight I hoped not to see makes itself clear. The pillar is shattered. Like a broken twig, snapped into a sharp edge. The pillar stands fractured, nothing but a spike spearing the abyss.


    The sheared pylon is alone. The rest is gone. Nowhere in my sight can I see the rest of its length. There¡¯s nowhere more to climb.


    I''ve been so determined, so assured that I was on the right path, that this was a way back, but now that option is gone. Do I leap? Hope for the best and throw myself through the abyss with only the slightest tug of gravity pulling me down? Would I reach the warped tunnels or am I doomed to remain here for as long as I live?


    What can I do now but linger and die?


    Thoughts of escape and returning to my warped tunnels now disillusioned, I loosen my grip on the pillar. Gravity, what little there is, snatches its hold of me and I slowly sink back into the depths. The sudden revelation that there is no way out ¡ª even to an arduous effort ¡ª drains the last of my energy from me. I feel my body slow, entering a fugue state where nothing seems to react the way I want it to. My reactions and speed are a fraction of their usual agility.


    It takes so much out of me simply to clamp down on the pillar once I reach the region of warmth, but as soon as I¡¯m still, I feel my heartbeats slow. My perception joins it, becoming sluggish. The song permeating all accelerates as I listen. One note flows into two, then four, then it all blends.


    The heat of the pillar fills me, but it is not enough. Not when no options remain. I can¡¯t go up; there is no path. I can¡¯t go down; I still wish to avoid death. My body understands the hopelessness of the situation and cuts any source of expenditure. I¡¯m curled around the pillar, my muscles locked and mind slow, and I enter brumation.


    I don''t want to give up. I don''t want to accept the fate before me. But what can I do? There is no escaping this peril. The pillar is my only safety amongst this abyss, but it alone will not save me. There are no bends to flee; no simple escape to abuse.


    Unless I wish death at the maw of the Titans below, I must find a way. As much as it appears impossible, I can¡¯t allow myself to die. Not when her only remnants are the memories inside my head. They will not fade into nothingness along with her.


    Lacking any other option, my mind filters back to how Scia replicated my own size shifting ability. It was a poor imitation; nothing close to that which my body can achieve. But she succeeded. I gave up so quick the last time I attempted as such, but now? Time is all I have.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    That nonphysical muscle that controls my size: I grab a hold of it. All I know is how to use it to alter myself; that¡¯s what comes naturally. But if it can shift the space of my body, then surely it can do the same for that which is outside it.


    If there¡¯s one thing I know after having lived as long as I have, it¡¯s the spatial fabric. It doesn¡¯t matter what fills a space, the fabric that holds it remains connected. Whether it¡¯s rock or a living being, the space itself is only ¡ª ever so slightly ¡ª curved from their presence. They do not make any substantial changes. I can change the space for myself, so why can I not do the same for anything beyond myself?


    Even spatial distortions don¡¯t break the fabric. They simply appear where space bends back on itself. For one such as myself, able to shift as much mass as I do down to nearly nothing, simple bends should be easy to make¡­ and yet I can¡¯t. Why?


    Through my thousands of hunts, I have come to see much of the spatial fabric. The time having given me an understanding beyond mere instinct. I¡¯ve always considered the possibility to be beyond my ability, but that makes no sense; the shift of my body should be an immense alteration on the fabric ¡ª far greater than a standard distortion ¡ª and yet whenever I view myself change, space itself barely alters.


    How did Scia bend space? Whenever she manipulated space, it was never directly on her body like me. She could blink around by attaching the part of space she was clutched within to another, giving her a way to move. There¡¯s something there for me. Some reason she can¡­ could do as she did and I can¡¯t, despite the magnitude of my shift.


    There is the possibility that our abilities simply don¡¯t work the same way. Maybe I don¡¯t shrink by altering space at all; I don¡¯t notice space morphing when I shrink or grow, after all. But I want to believe that I share this one thing with Scia, even if she¡¯s no longer around to enjoy our commonality with me.


    That thought strikes me. Why can¡¯t I sense my own changes? How can I fold my own body away without shrinking space itself? Nothing I¡¯ve seen has ever been capable of something even remotely similar. Sciacylch can alter the spatial fabric, but I¡¯ve never seen anything that can alter something as fundamental as size and mass without touching the fabric.


    But¡­ I¡¯m confident I am altering space. I might have been humbled in terms of my true-sight, but it still allows me to see the shift of space greater than any other creature; hopefully that assumption will never be overturned. I can see space better than near any other creature, and considering it is incredibly rare for a being to gain binding in more than one direction, it is highly likely my sight is connected to my size-shifting; meaning spatial alteration. No air elemental will start growing stone scales, after all. Well¡­ the Titans might.


    So I am bending space, but not any space I can see? Is it hidden somehow?


    I focus on a single scale along my tail. Ignoring my instincts that scream in opposition, I try to bend the space in the same way I¡¯ve seen it happen countless times. A subdued crack reaches my ears, nearly hidden by the melody. The scale breaks, but it spikes out from another where it clearly shouldn¡¯t. The sting is barely noticeable over my other injury, but I have no care for it.


    I succeeded!


    While I still couldn¡¯t see the distortion form, it clearly happened. If not, my scale would never have snapped. It would never have moved to overlap the other.


    The only answer I can think for this is that I have a secondary layer of spatial fabric linked to my body alone. I can¡¯t see it, because the spatial layer surrounding everything overlays it. The fabric is hidden and intricately interwoven through every part of my body.


    Wistfulness overcomes me. The confirmation that I did share this capability with Scia is both relieving and sad. What could we have taught each other had she still been here? I shake off the depressing thoughts before they can gather and crush this achievement before I¡¯ve had any time to relish it.


    I can work with this. All that is important is that I can expand my influence from this hidden layer and attach to the natural one¡­ if that¡¯s even possible.


    And so, I force my control to expand. I direct it not outside my body, but rather to breach the gap between fabrics. The layers may not connect directly, but my body lives in both simultaneously, so it must be possible to use my body to cross the separation and touch the space that connects with all.


    It takes a long time. What would have been dozens ¡ª hundreds ¡ª of sleeps before, pass before I see any sort of progress. It feels like I¡¯m trying to stretch to the edge of sight while clinging to the pillar. An impossible distance to reach. But I never stop. I can¡¯t; not with this being my sole path out. That¡¯s not my only reason; I couldn¡¯t pass up the possibility of creating distortions myself. Anything to keep Scia with me, even if it¡¯s only an inheritance of her ability.


    Eventually, I succeed. Before my eyes, the fabric of space bends under its own weight. It is not a distortion; only a simple crinkle in space, nothing more. Regardless, I alter the natural fabric all the same.


    A simple stability in space, and yet it means so much. I have the capability I never believed possible. I share Scia¡¯s ability to bend space. It may be minuscule and ineffective for now ¡ª the link between my fabric and that of all other space still poses an immense challenge ¡ª but I¡¯m sure with time, I can improve.


    Credit lies entirely on Scia. If I had not spent so long watching her, watching how she bent space, how she blinked around my body with barely the slightest touch of her will¡­ this would not have been possible. I never would have discovered how to stretch my manipulation beyond my body. Size would have remained the only thing that could change and I would die down here.


    Because of Scia, I have a path before me.


    I dive back into my efforts. Much more time passes, stretching that nonphysical muscle more as the bridge between the layers grows stronger with dedication and effort, until eventually, I create one. A bend pops into existence before my head. I can create distortions myself. Soon, I will escape this abyss under my own power.


    No, I correct myself, not my power. This is Scia¡¯s ability. Her gift. With this, she will be with me forever. Even in death, Scia wishes to help me, and for her, I will use it well.

 Chapter 46: Hope

    With my full sized girth locked around the pillar, I create a distortion in the air before my face. The spatial fabric bends in on itself before touching and creating a link between the two separate points.


    This is not the first time I¡¯ve achieved so, but finally, the distortions open wide enough to pass through. The bend is still small, and only my smallest size can fit, but with this, I can move on.


    It will be a tight fit, and the bends barely cross any distance at all, yet I cannot remain clutched to this pillar any longer. I have my escape from the abyss, and I intend to use it.


    With sluggish effort, I angle my head back on myself, inspecting my body that has frozen in place for so long. I need to push myself out of this slumber. The longer I stay, the less strength I''ll have to make the climb.


    I fell a long way coming down here.


    It shall not be a short journey returning to the lands above. I ignore any of the creeping doubts that there is somewhere to return to. That there is only abyss. Such thoughts will only make finally releasing the pillar so much harder.


    If Scia''s efforts and my recent practice have shown me anything, it''s that creating distortions becomes increasingly more difficult the further they connect space. I cannot simply create a rift to the warped tunnels and be done with it¡­ no matter how much I wish such were possible.


    I''m sure with effort and time, I''ll eventually grow both the size of these distortions and the distance they cross, but for now, I do not have the luxury to delay.


    My body grows more sluggish as time goes on. The stillness of brumation and the seeping energy from the pillar slow the loss of strength, yet it won¡¯t last forever. My hunger has reached a point where I can barely even feel. Nothing but a numbness permeates my mind and body.


    I need to feed. My stomach demands I hunt.


    If I intend to survive, I need to leave this abyss. The problem is, as soon as I shrink to the point I can pass through these bends, I will be too small to wrap around the pillar. I will no longer be able to hold myself to safety. If I fail to create these bends once I commit, I¡¯ll float into the abyss until death takes me.


    Despite that, it is my only option. I need to throw myself off, and rise. But I hesitate.


    I''m limited by what I can do, but I can make distortions endlessly. It takes all my focus and an immense effort to create a single shift in the fabric; what worries me is that I¡¯ll fail while my body moves.


    Scia has always shown difficulty in creating bends one after the other, yet even with my exhaustion and starvation, I''ve found no issue in that regard. All my capabilities are tied up in my spatial fabric. Compared to Scia, I have an inexhaustible strength at manipulating space. Only¡­ my space and that of the natural fabric are disconnected. It is a mental effort to cross the bridge and assert my influence on the world. What if that is too difficult while my exhausted body is in motion?


    Still, I need to do this. If I can create bends while in motion, then the endless distortions I create will be the only reason I escape. If not for that, there wouldn¡¯t be a path. It is the only reason I believe I can cross the vast distances of the abyss.


    The combination between Scia and my own strengths, the synergy between us, brings her ability to an unprecedented standard. Our combined efforts will be what brings us success.


    A subtle hiss escapes my throat. The first sound beyond the constant melody I have heard in so long. The world seems so wrong without Scia¡¯s constant chirps.


    I let my bend destabilise and snap out of existence as I brace to release my sole remaining safety. Trying not to think too hard, I loosen the tight grip of my body around the pillar. At least¡­ I attempt to, but my body doesn¡¯t respond. Too slow and sluggish, it refuses to wake from its low effort state.


    My body¡¯s refusal to cooperate is followed soon by creeping doubts. I hear them whispering at me, calling for me to just wait and sleep until some foolish prey comes along and we can snap them up. Completely disregarding the fact that no prey would ever fall down here.


    I react immediately; shrinking my body and forcing the growing pillar to become too large to continue to grip.


    My instincts scream to stay still and wait. Too little energy remains to be moving around, but such thoughts are wrong. There will be no prey coming down here. I need to get up and move before nothing left of me remains.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Only when I¡¯m at my smallest does my body finally listen. I press against the pillar and softly ¡ª using all my strength ¡ª push off. Unable to move my length with anywhere near the fluidity or strength I¡¯m used to, I¡¯m incredibly disappointed to find I barely gain any speed.


    Scia could have pushed me harder than this.


    Still, with the gravity as minuscule as it is, I have little fear of falling. Not yet, at least.


    I focus my attention forward and straighten my body as much as it is willing, before forcing the spatial fabric to bend. Thankfully, my fears are unfounded and the distortion appears without issue. I flow through, and begin moving up.


    With my smallest size, I can pass through my spatial creations, but I am slow. I trudge along at a pace that could never return me to the distorted tunnels above, flexing my muscles in an effort to regain control over my body.


    With this little gravity, I¡¯ll never be able to swim through the air. I cannot gather speed from something that is absent. The only thing I can do is spring off my body, but for that to work, my body must respond to me.


    I curl on myself as I float through the air; the effort leaving my muscles aching and spine quivering. Having gone so long without moving has left me in a rough shape. With great pains, I flow through the next bend of my own make, and twirl my tail until it presses against the ventral scales beneath my head.


    I push. It feels like thrusting against a mountain and the results are nearly as ineffective. My muscles refuse to contract as they should. I gain speed, but it¡¯s ever so slight.


    My body screams at me, and I lose focus on my bend. Destabilised, it slams down on my tail; held from closing by the hardness of my scales. I gain more speed by the bend collapsing and squeezing me out than I do from pushing off myself. If that was a rift, I would have been bisected ¡ª I glance at the stump of my tail ¡ª again.


    As much as I¡¯d love to rely on the collapse of bends to push me forward ¡ª as it would mean far less effort ¡ª their acceleration is insufficient. If I¡¯m to escape the abyss before I succumb to starvation, I need the strength of my body¡­ even if it tears my muscles apart.


    And so, I command my sluggish body to respond. I bite down on the instincts that hold my muscles to sleep. Blood rushes beneath my scales as I will my heart to thump harder. It burns like magma in my veins, but I ignore it. This is the only way.


    Again, I curl on myself through another bend. This time, the force is incomparable to before. My tail whips through the distortion long before it has a chance to collapse. The pillar at my side descends as I rise.


    It is still not enough.


    I flick against myself, continually freeing the slumber of my muscles, and gradually growing faster. Soon, the shattered tip of the pillar passes by and disappears from sight.


    Only the abyss remains. Only nothingness to see.


    I don¡¯t waver. I don¡¯t have such luxury; the moment I slow, the moment I stop, I won¡¯t be able to move. My body tears itself apart to free itself from the clutches of the abyss, but it is all I can do.


    The strength of each thrust is an embarrassment to what I could previously exert, even in this tiniest of my sizes, yet it allows me to climb. Gravity increases its grip, clutching me with the promise to drag me down should I falter.


    After some point, I can no longer accelerate; my body moves too fast to flick myself through a bend. I¡¯m already rising rapidly, but not near the speed we fell.


    Instincts scream once more to cower and wait for some meal to happen upon me ¡ª a foolish thought down here ¡ª I ignore it. Exhaustion pleads to stop, to rest, to cease this endless drain. I ignore it.


    I wish I could relish in the feeling of flying under my own power, or swimming through bends again, but the lack of energy drains any enjoyment I may have had.


    Time passes. So much time with my body cannibalising itself to continue, that I become numb to it. The motions become repetitive, and fade into the background, leaving my battle against exhaustion to sap at my efforts at creating bends.


    As time slips away and the melody fades from my ear, I count the bends I make. Lacking sight or sound, I need something to suggest progress. But in the thousands, the count trails off. The task too difficult. No longer can I focus on anything but the bends themselves.


    Scales clatter against scales in an endless rhythm. I keep my eyes forward, waiting for something to fill the space, waiting for the warped tunnels to appear.


    And eventually, they do.


    All at once, a sea of bends explodes into view. Distortions; thousands of them, expanding through the far reaches of my sight. The flood of things filling space is immense to my eyes, so used to the nothingness.


    My vision expands. The distortions above widening the scope of my sight once more. No longer am I compressed within the suffocating abyss. I can see again. I¡¯m back in my warped tunnels.


    As I rise to the wall of distortions, I realise I¡¯m moving far slower than I thought I was. A dozen breaths pass before the bends reach even half the distance. Far from the speed I fell.


    I don''t know how long it took me to climb out, but I''ve finally done it. The very sight of bends themselves is a joy to my eye.


    A sudden burst of energy washes through me as I push the last stretch and allow myself into the embrace of bending space. Through bend, hole, and rift, I swim, relishing the feeling of finally succeeding. Finally returning.


    So many familiar sights enter my eye. The relief is overwhelming. The collapse that brought me to the Other Side did not destroy all I know. That fate still lies in the future, but it is not yet upon me.


    I slide through distortions, along rivers of magma, through oceans, and beneath forests. For a few moments, I enjoy the sights, the feeling of countless distortions caressing my scales, and the simple joy of returning after so long.


    Stone; simple, unbroken, unchurned stone. Never did I think I would relish such common rock.


    With a flick of my tongue, my excitement evaporates. I still, and turn to watch a four-eared bilby dash across a cavern. Suddenly, there is only one thing on my mind.


    Hunger.


    It is time to hunt.

 Chapter 47: Hunger

    The quad-eared bilby didn¡¯t know what hit it. Before it can even detect my presence, I¡¯ve already swallowed it whole.


    Once, I enjoyed watching the little burrowing creatures. They were nothing on the joy of being with Scia, but it was amusing to watch them play. None of that enters my mind as I consume it without hesitance.


    The critter slides down my throat, unable to resist. I relish in the satiation that floods my body, my starvation finally being appeased.


    But it doesn¡¯t last.


    Mere moments after it reaches my stomach, the feeling disappears, and I¡¯m ravenous again. As if I never ate the bilby. It is not enough. Such a small creature, with such negligent nutritional energy, is barely better than nothing.


    I whip through the tunnels, passing many of the places only moments ago I had been so excited to see again. I pass by the amber barrier, the stone near it destroyed beyond expectation, but the distortions remain as dense as ever. There is so much to see. So much to relish after having been away for so long, but all my mind can focus on is another meal.


    There. A harsh acrid stench stings my tongue. I lap it up and dive through a rift as my body grows involuntarily. The sight of something larger, more filling, reaches me. Through a dozen bends, a diosgris slinks through a grassy cavern.


    The rare electrified tiger is in its own territory this time, with far fewer distortions through the cavern. Regardless, I rush it head on. The beast notices me as soon as I enter its cavern, but doesn¡¯t react immediately. It believes it is hidden where it crouches. That doesn¡¯t last. I don¡¯t have the patience to take it on with the assistance of the few bends around, or create my own. I simply snap towards it.


    The diosgris understands I can see it immediately, and pounces. Lightning sparks along the walls before slamming into my sides. The tiger¡¯s pounce is a feint ¡ª or maybe it reconsiders ¡ª and it immediately tries to leap away as its paws strike earth, but I¡¯m too fast. I widen my jaw, intent on sinking my fangs into its spine and uncaring for my typical strategy; all I care for is sating this hunger.


    My fangs miss, but the diosgris does not escape. In my snap strike at my prey, its entire body lands within my jaw. My mouth slams shut, and I swallow the beast as it struggles, scratches and sparks at my innards, but it could do nothing last time and it can do nothing now.


    Without realising, I¡¯d enlarged in my haste to feed. Now at my full size, I barely fit in the cavern itself, and succumbing to my strength, the diosgris is quick to still in the crushing prison of my stomach.


    One of these tigers has always been enough to tide me over for a few dozen sleeps, but now, it barely feels like I¡¯ve eaten anything. The satiation of its consumption is there, and it is enough to push past the base level of hunger, but it is not filling. Unsatisfying. I need more.


    I am far too large for this beast to sustain me. Maybe if I hadn¡¯t starved for so long down in the abyss, I could limit my size and survive off a standard beast. But my body refuses. It demands I fill my stomach to the absolute maximum.


    I must continue my hunt, but the diosgris has energised me enough to return my focus to more than simply food.


    After having spent so long in the company of one I¡¯d considered less than prey, I find I have changed. I no longer find satisfaction in the squirming of prey within my gullet. They had no chance to flee. To them, I¡¯m just a Titan that brings suffering and takes any hopes of the future they may have had.


    They could not oppose me. Had no time to flee. Their lives ended in the agony of being crushed and digested. The squirming of life struggling in my stomach no longer brings satisfaction. Instead, disgust is all I feel for the way their lives have to end.


    But I cannot avoid the wretched demands of my body that have gone far too long unanswered. I continue through the familiar caverns, swallowing every beast I cross. They find their end at the fangs of a being they had no hope against.


    Is this how things must be? Must I continue to treat these creatures as nothing more than food and lesser beings? Must I take away any future they may have, and the opportunity to grow beyond their lesser origins. Scia did so; why can¡¯t others?


    No. I immediately deny the thought. Scia was unique. A singularity upon herself. No other creature could act as she did. No other creature could replace what she had been to me.


    I do not like thinking these thoughts, these questions of the way of things. Scia and the Titans have upended everything I knew. And now, I view the world differently. But I wish the world was not so complicated.Stolen novel; please report.


    As I shatter through a stone wall and chomp on a colony of centipedes, I cast my mind away from the doubts. For now, I must feast. I cannot allow myself to falter from these questions cast over my understanding of the way things should be.


    For now, they are prey, and nothing more.


    And so, I hunt. I hunt for beasts that fill my ravenous stomach. I hunt until I can no longer shrink, bloated on the mass of my feast. I hunt far longer than I should.


    And when my stomach is full, sleep follows soon after.


    I awake with a start, feeling the tight grasp of stone around me. I uncurl from my locking coils, but the motion topples a wall of stone over my scales. My body freezes, saving myself from any further collapse as I gain my bearings.


    The tumbling stone momentarily terrified me; thinking I¡¯d somehow landed back on the Other Side, with walls ready to swallow me the instant I wasn¡¯t ready. No, the stone here is too solid, unbroken, and¡­ well, maybe not all that strong, but it is stable.


    I twist my head, finding a crumbling tunnel behind my coiled-up form. The bends within this space are tiny, none large enough to hold me, and I rest on the soft ground that tears up beneath my subtle motions. Splotches of blood linger in some places along my scales, and the remnants of flattened plant-matter stick to others.


    I shake off the weariness of sleep and stretch myself out, careful to avoid breaking any more of the low, enclosed rock. Despite my attempts, I can do nothing to stop the stone beneath my ventral scales from cracking under my weight.


    As the last of the sleep grogginess clears, I realise I¡¯m in my largest form. It is rare to find caverns in the warped tunnels large enough for my girth, so it is more likely I carved this one out with my size. In my sole-minded hunt ¡ª which seems like such a blur in my memory ¡ª I¡¯d not cared for the damage I left in my wake. All I wanted was to eat my fill, even after having consumed a thousand beasts.


    I worry for a moment that I won''t be able to shrink, as the creatures I killed in my uncontrolled hunger contributed a considerable mass. Even in all my previous hunts, it has taken a sleep or two before I could reduce my size entirely. For as many bodies as I¡¯ve swallowed, it should be a considerable time before I return to swimming through the air.


    But no.


    As I inflict my will on my body, it shrinks by an immense degree that shouldn¡¯t be this easy so soon after a feast; especially not one this immense. Yet I find the cavern growing around me until the ceiling looms overhead. From my largest to smallest, the world becomes alien. No longer am I cramped within the tight encasement of rock, but a tall cavern with limitless distortions available to extend it further.


    I slide through one, leaving the damaged earth and splotches of blood behind. Not all my hunts were clean; most I swallowed without resistance, but a few put up the minimum of a fight.


    I''ve never felt bad for the prey I''ve eaten before. But as I slither away from the remnants of the creatures that fell, I cannot help the pang of pity I feel. They are just as I was in the face of a Titan; incapable of resisting, unable to flee.


    But this is the way things are, the way things always will be. The rule of nature; the strong will do as they wish. One either avoids them, or succumbs to their will. Which, more often than not, means one¡¯s death.


    That is how it had always been¡­ until I was struck down to that of a lesser being.


    A vicious hiss escapes my throat, despising the thought that I have done wrong. I have hunted plenty throughout my life, so why do I care when I think of those victims of my most recent hunt?


    Why does it matter if these small creatures die if I cannot have Scia?


    So again, even with my mind gathered and wakeful, I push the thoughts out of mind. I have done nothing I shouldn''t have. They are prey, and that is all they are. I should not worry about their fear, their pain, their deaths at my fangs.


    They could not protect themselves; that is the only misfortune that has befallen them.


    With my smaller size, I whip through the caverns. Aimless in my passage. I¡¯ve not been back in a while, and yet, now that I¡¯m here, it does not feel so comforting. This has been my home for thousands of hunts, but the brief time I¡¯ve been gone now makes this place an unwelcome sight.


    I don¡¯t understand. I should relish my return; the bends are the same as ever, and the food is plentiful. But it now seems so¡­ lacking.


    I am here, I am safe, I am alive, and yet I do not feel victorious.


    I slither along the surface of the Magma Ocean. A casual observation, but not truly investing into the search. The Crippling Depths come next, and I skim across the geysers that explode from bends where they connect to not-yet-flooded caverns. I gaze inside, but find nothing of interest.


    Neither the wind channels nor the labyrinth hold my attention long. The effort of the search too great for any desire I have to actually find my way beyond. I should care; I know the warped tunnels will not remain forever, but I just can¡¯t seem to gather any energy at the idea of escaping.


    As I contemplate wasting away my remaining days in these rock tunnels, I glimpse something through half a dozen distortions.


    It is no rend to the Other Side, nor is it anything dangerous. Rather, what I see tugs at memories from before the Titan destroyed my home. I turn, and immediately head towards it.


    Soon, I find myself at the edge of the abyss, in the area of unbroken stone that once neighboured my territory. I cast a wary glance out into the abyss and the pillar that shines through the distortions that extend my sight. Only for a moment do I peer out into that which I only just escaped, before turning to that which gained my attention.


    A massive column voided of earth. It reaches wider than my full size can extend and endlessly upward. The piles of rock along the ground seem far thicker than the last time I was here, but it is clearly the same tower I¡¯d once attempted to climb.


    This is the first place my emotions tempted me, and it is the first place I discovered just how horrific they could be. I lay there in the centre of the wide open cavern, simply staring up into the expanse where my sight trails off with the dispersal of distortions. Somewhere up there, space becomes as flat as down in the abyss. Whether it truly is another path down to that empty place, or it leads up to the ¨­mukade¡¯s large chamber, I don¡¯t know.


    To my annoyance, I find my curiosity peaks once more. I never did discover what lies up there. And now I have the method to create bends where none were before.


    The climb might not be so impossible.

 Chapter 48: Guilt

    The climb was long, but not nearly as difficult as the abyss had been. With a satisfied stomach and a body willing to cooperate, the flight is so much more enjoyable.


    Spatial distortions extend only a quarter up the voided column¡¯s height; no wonder I never found the end last time I tried. My rise slowed tremendously once I''d escaped the natural distortions, unable to take advantage of the further reaching bends and holes that allow me to abuse the shift in gravity to gain speed as I rise higher. I had to rely on the same trick that allowed me to escape the abyss: pushing off myself while half protruding through a bend.


    With my muscles not fighting my every attempt at movement, the climb has been pleasant. Enjoyable. The heat emanating through the spatial ripple from above only adds to that comfort. It has grown increasingly strong as I rise, my scales absorbing the heat with eagerness. The Magma Ocean gives much the same feeling, but this seems to be less intense and more soothing.


    I''d been fearful that I was climbing back into the Other Side when I first felt how strong the ripple grew ¡ª especially because of the similarity between the Titan¡¯s tear and this circular column ¡ª but no matter how high I climbed, the earth around remained solid. Not a single instance of stone grinding itself into gravel under the immense power of a Titan¡¯s step.


    It must simply be a coincidence that both the Other Side and whatever lies above have the same ripple bearing through the cavern.


    ¡­ I hope.


    Between the calming flow of my body through the air and the warmth of the strange ripple phenomenon, I find I¡¯m enjoying this climb. I enjoy it, and the very fact that I do fills me with guilt. How can I find pleasure in such feeling when Scia is no longer by my side to enjoy it in my company? It is wrong. I shouldn¡¯t be able to feel this way. Scia doesn¡¯t get to feel this comfort floating endlessly in the deathly abyss.


    I try to ignore it, but my body relishes in the heat. I try to pretend I don¡¯t find enjoyment in the slithering motion, but the freedom to move is intoxicating.


    Above, a ledge appears all along the column. I¡¯m finally so close to my goal. So close to discovering what lies beyond the edges of my warped tunnels. This curiosity; how can I dive into the trap of such emotion after everything has happened? I need to know what is above, and while I know I shouldn¡¯t allow myself to fall for such bait again, I cannot resist the temptation.


    And, before I can prepare myself, I reach the lands beyond.


    The vertical walls of the column snap outward at an angle. They climb slightly into an almost exact ring of hilly earth besides a few sections that seem to have crumbled and slid into the pit below, but beyond them, the land lowers and flattens for as far as I can see. Without the bends of my warped tunnels, that distance is cripplingly short, but it is enough for many strange sights to reach me.


    The ripple pelts my scales with greater intensity than ever before, and like on the Other Side, it scatters off the land and all the strange formations at the bottom of the hill.


    I stare, awed by the flourishing life in a cavern of comparable size as the Other Side. For this many creatures and plants to survive, there mustn¡¯t be any Titans to devastate their ecosystems.


    It is something I¡¯d been worried about; what if my home had been the only place where life can grow? The creatures that foretold of the warped tunnels ¡ª both the Beyond and the Titan ¡ª were neither standard beings. Could they truly understand what it means for a smaller being to survive, in much the same way I struggled to understand what Scia needed to live?


    I am relieved to find that not the case.


    Strange formations combining wood and stone litter the ground at the base of the hills. They are far too identical and arranged too orderly to be natural. The fact that many creatures walk between their heights and move inside their forms only emphasises the strangeness.


    Those creatures themselves aren¡¯t familiar. In fact, the way they interact is nothing like what I know. Plenty of creatures form colonies. Some of those even form coexisting relationships with other species. But so many differing families interacting like this is odd.


    Maybe it¡¯s because this cavern is far larger than those of the warped tunnels, but the swarming type creatures here are much bigger than below... are there truly no Titans here?


    Closer to me, on the hills with far younger flora than the taller trees further away, stands a bunch of the swarming species. They are not nearly as frequent, but there¡¯s also none of those structures around for them to hide in.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    In a way, this place is the same as the warped tunnels. Life exists no differently, and yet the very sight in such a large expanse intrigues me greatly. These creatures don¡¯t have to deal with the likes of ¨­mukade or Nareau, otherwise they wouldn¡¯t stay out in the open so obviously. How far does this cavern spread? Unlike on the Other Side, I can actually explore here.


    I flow through a bend, altering my momentum to head out over the land. I¡¯ve not yet placed land beneath me when something nicks my scales. A little metal pellet spins off into the sky above. Confused, I turn to its origin, only for a dozen other little balls to fly through the air around me. One hits me directly, bouncing harmlessly off my scales. It doesn¡¯t hurt, but there¡¯s quite a lot of momentum packed into such a small pellet.


    A sputter of bangs reach my ears, and I focus on a trio of creatures holding what appears to be tree branches. Tree branches that are oddly identical.


    I watch with a curious eye as I cruise through the air. Many of the hundreds of creatures below are looking up at me, but only those directly before me seem to put any haste into reacting. The trio with the branches raise them again, and suddenly a dozen iron pellets rip through the air towards me.


    Oh. They¡¯re attacking me.


    In my smallest size, most shots come nowhere near me, and the few that do merely skid off my scales, arcing through the air before falling to the depths of the column.


    For a moment, I simply watch the ineffective attack as it passes me by, followed by a series of audible cracks. The attempt surprises me. Ignoring the Titans, most beasts that attack only do so because I¡¯ve approached too close. As far as I am, that can¡¯t be the case. There are some predators that make the attempt on me when they hadn¡¯t realised my true size, but a swarm? They are rarely the type to attack first; especially when they show tendencies to coexist with other species.


    An irritation rises in my chest. I¡¯ve gone through all that effort to reach this place, abandoned my home, my territory and lost the only one I care for, and this is how it welcomes me? I¡¯ve still not sorted my mind on how I should treat creatures I¡¯d once considered lesser, but those who attack without reason I have no qualms about slaughtering even without hunger.


    I shift through a bend, carrying myself headfirst towards the trio, but they are already backing away. Barely audible screeches echo up to me as they flee after having started this fight. Well, I¡¯m not about to let them. They were dead the moment they struck me out of the slight enjoyment I had at having finally achieved my long-term goal.


    But before I can so much as half the distance, an explosion of fire and shrapnel slams into me from below. I stagger, not injured, but the blast having knocked me off-course. Below, a few of those creatures clamber over a large metal branch. I watch as they angle the branch towards me. With a flash and a kick-up of dust, another lump of metal flies towards me. If the little pellets were pebbles, then this one might as well be a boulder.


    The iron explodes in my face, tossing my light-weight body back the way I came.


    This is nothing like what I¡¯ve faced before. Even the creatures with a binding towards some particular element don¡¯t have abilities this strange. Still, it isn¡¯t enough to stop me. It only adds to the deaths that will come.


    I slide through a bend, reversing my direction and returning myself towards the swarm below. Another metal lump explodes before me, but I¡¯m ready this time. A bend appears before my head, protecting me from both the force and the shrapnel. I remove the bend and flow through the smoke cloud with eyes on my prey.


    Shouts resound with an urgency that wasn¡¯t there before. More of the creatures rush around the hill, while the four on the large metal stick stop throwing those exploding metal rocks at me.


    Half a dozen small squirrel-like creatures rocket into the air. Each have strangely clean leather from some other creature strapped to their arms like fake wings. Fake wings that allow them to arc through the air with incredible agility.


    Below them, ten creatures are the only ones not to flee as I continue to close in on them. They spread out as they rush to intercept my flight. I guess these are to take me on in place of those that instigated this? If that¡¯s what they want, I will accept their challenge. They aren¡¯t Titans after all, and I really need to unleash some pent up energy.


    Amongst them, the most common species is a creature that appears more like it should live in the Crippling Depths. Their bulbous torsos and tentacles are similar enough to squids, octopus, or jellyfish, with the only difference being that their bodies have a far more solid look to them, which is reflected by their ability to not instantly flop to the ground on dry land.


    The other species amongst those ready to face me are the less populous I¡¯ve seen down at the bottom of the hill; having only two of each amongst the ten. One of which is covered in antlers or bone-like growths. It looks like a ribcage having grown too large for the flesh held within. It has two arms and legs, each of which are simple extensions of their antlers. But strangely enough, not a single one of their kind has an identical formation of antlers; they grow out in unique ways for each.


    The last are clearly mammals like the Apikull apes, yet they stand taller, straighter. Like the antler species, they stand on two legs with two arms dangling pointlessly by their sides.


    Of those that rush me, some carry strange metal extensions from their arms, like straightened claws that appear unnatural to their bodies. Others emanate energy from odd lines that weave across their bodies.


    As I peal through the sky, I watch them. Each and every one of them has a confidence in their eye as if they don¡¯t believe it possible they could lose. Back before I met Scia, I would have assumed arrogance and taught them all a lesson¡­ but I know better now. I will treat them cautiously and retreat if they are too much for me.


    If they truly are arrogant¡­ well, then they deserve what¡¯s coming.

 Chapter 49: Offence

    The first to attack, is one of those flying squirrels with fake wings. I snap at the creature, but its reaction time is swift, and it twists away from my jaws. Small claws that extend from the fake wings ¡ª and are likely just as unnatural ¡ª scrape against my scales to no effect.


    Following close behind the first, the other four dive for me, each just as agile. I slide through a bend, reversing my momentum, and they sail right past me. Before I¡¯ve even finished slithering through my first bend, I form another ¡ª an improvement gained in the climb up the column ¡ª and redirect toward the tail of one of the small creatures.


    Despite how sharply they can turn, and the opportunity that gives them, they immediately disengage. I follow, but it¡¯s only because I¡¯m remaining cautious that I notice the projectiles from below. A dozen spikes of stone spear past me in an instant, faster even than those metal pellets from earlier. But as soon as I¡¯ve avoided that, I find the air churns with turbulence before a beam of water almost as pressurised as the crushing depths rails towards me.


    Any creature reliant on wings for flight would find themselves flailing in turbulent air as the water blade came for them. Fortunately, such is hardly an issue for myself. My momentum carries me through another bend and harmlessly out of the path.


    I trace the origin, and find the three with strange lines covering their bodies to be glowing with energy. Water pools around the feet of one, while the other two ¡ª both tentacle-limbed creatures ¡ª stand together as the earth around them forms into rock spikes before spearing up at me with speed.


    The rest rush ahead with those strange metal implements they carry. Only two run unadorned. In this wide open cavern, I have a far greater advantage over them simply by being able to fly, but that doesn¡¯t mean they cannot reach me completely. Creatures this self-assured are doubtlessly strong enough to leap high enough to reach me. Doesn¡¯t mean I have to stay still for them. Without distortions, there¡¯s few ways they can redirect themselves mid-air, and with the pit behind me, they would be stupid to leap at me where they are.


    Rock and water stop coming for me, just as those flying squirrels dive in for me again. They work together better than any other creatures I¡¯ve seen. So much better than the Nareaus that fought each other rather than coordinated. If they¡¯d stopped that rain of stone or beam of water any later, these little creatures would be dead¡­ unless their appearance belies their strength.


    Still not yet ready to engage fully ¡ª wanting to see what the running seven can do ¡ª I slide through a bend to avoid the squirrels¡¯ strikes. Apparently, my avoidance annoys one. It diverts and strikes at me rather than disengage with the others. I don¡¯t so much as give it the chance to dig those fake claws into my scales; my tail whips around and swats the creature.


    The strike was barely hard at all ¡ª not even using the full weight of my smallest form ¡ª and yet the creature crashes to the ground. Its reaction time was incredible, and it did almost avoid my strike, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Well, at least I know the squirrels aren¡¯t a threat.


    It is still alive, and quickly flings itself towards one of the rushing tentacle-limbed creatures, who throw it hard through the air again, giving it the speed it needs to rip through the air and join its kin.


    Finally, the first few of the metal wielding creatures leap at me. I focus only on avoidance; creating bends that allow me to dodge the path of the sharp metal claws and slithering around their body as they attempt to strike. As the first two fall behind me, the third swings at me with a pair of blades. Deciding that none of their attacks have appeared too dangerous so far, I allow the creature¡¯s second attack to collide along the lower end of my tail.


    I¡¯ve grown a bit of my tail back after my massive feast, but it wouldn¡¯t be too terrible to lose it again.


    The sharp edge knocks me away, and as I look down to assess the damage, I find my scale fractured and a small cut through the middle. It penetrated my scales, which isn¡¯t all that comforting, but considering this is my smallest form, it hardly means much.


    Now that I¡¯m aware these creatures pose no threat to myself, I stop playing around.


    I snap off my body, rushing to face the most recent of the antler creatures to leap at me. My body spins, and meets them head on. Their sharp antler of an arm extends towards me, as if ready to drive me through, but I twist through a bend and uncurl my tail on their arm with a snap.


    With my body weighing as little as it does, there¡¯s only so much force I can put into the blow, but I am still greeted with the sound of a satisfying crack as the antler shatters beneath my scales. They fall to the earth screaming.


    Unfortunately, the strike cancelled all my momentum. Limited only to bends, I cannot rely on holes or rifts to escape, and leave myself vulnerable to attack while I curl up to spring off myself again. The five squirrels dive at me. Rather than wasting time dodging or striking at them, I form a bend right in front of the first.


    The flying creature flies directly into my mouth and barely has the time to shriek before I¡¯ve snapped my jaw shut and crushed it within. The others of its kind falter, backing away with shock written all over their faces.


    I crunch the body once more and swallow. There¡¯s little need to eat right now, but it is faster than spitting out right now. The instant death of the fake flying squirrel sends a sudden stillness through the gathered creatures; each stand with wide eyes, as if they can¡¯t believe such a scenario. Well, that¡¯s what you get for arrogance.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    My smaller size does give the appearance of a far weaker being, but while size is a fairly good indicator for strength, it is hardly a rule without exception. They shouldn¡¯t be this surprised by the death of one of their own.


    Apparently, I am wrong, as half the creatures below me scream with fury. One of the octopus-like creatures throws itself through the air, its tentacles spinning rapidly, each fully extended. The being twists with speed that might even be dangerous to my current size. Fortunately, the stone flinger behind them has started up their volley again. The spikes pierce the air in parallel to the octopus¡¯ path. It is as simple as placing a bend in the path of those projectiles, and suddenly the tentacle creature is dead.


    All limbs lose strength upon the first stone piercing the bulbous head of the creature, but the volley continues, pelting the already dead being with a dozen spikes. The blades fly outward, no longer held by the tentacles¡¯ grip.


    The one at the rear of the group stops the flow of stone spikes as soon as they realise what they caused, but it is too late. I dive for the next that rushes to attack me, sliding through a bend right before they strike at me with their bare hand. My teeth slide into the neck of the ape-like creature and pierce the spine within. It drops to the ground wide eyed and pained, but limp.


    In an instant, I¡¯m on the next. My body slides past the tentacles that strike at me and wrap around the body. I have to allow myself to grow slightly to get a grip, but soon enough I¡¯m constricting tight while they grasp and flail, their tentacles unable to pull me off. The body of these creatures deforms immensely under the power of my muscles, clearly revealing the lack of bones within, but the pressure continues to grow.


    As the body struck with spikes sails into the deep pit behind me and the beast in my grip grows desperate, I discover that the swarm¡¯s actions have shifted. While they all appear furious or horrified, those with energy flowing along their bodies no longer strike, and the rest refuse to strike at their own. One even drops their weapon to pull me off, to no avail.


    Before more of them can approach or the one closest can jab their fake-claw at my eye, the pressure of the body beneath me grows too great. The being bursts. It explodes, covering the others in its innards. It¡¯s rather spectacular, in a macabre way; most creatures don¡¯t pop so violently when you crush them.


    There is silence for a moment, until as one they flee up the hill. A chaotic mess of noise echoing between them.


    They are the ones that instigated this fight, so they can hardly blame me for hunting them down. Despite having had my fill, I can make room for those that deserve to be eaten.


    I whip towards the fastest ones first. The flying squirrels have kept their distance ever since I ate the first, but they never fled like the first creatures with the metal branches. They scatter as soon as they realise I¡¯m hunting them, but it doesn¡¯t help much. They apparently have no way of gaining momentum themselves, relying entirely on being thrown by the other creatures, so it is no challenge to catch up. Fake wings will be inferior, after all.


    I swallow three before the last can land on the head of a tentacled creature. Considering their size, it is not even a challenge to redirect them towards my mouth as soon as I¡¯m close enough to create bends where they fly.


    The next I target is the antlered beast with the shattered arm. I consider growing to a larger size so I can start swallowing these larger creatures, but with how fast they¡¯re rushing up the slope, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to keep up. Instead, I settle to take them out with this size alone.


    Antlers block my path to the creature¡¯s head, but with such limited girth, it is no issue to slither between those protective bone growths and reach the soft flesh within. It dies quickly as my fangs crush their skull.


    It takes a moment to extract myself from the cage of antlers as the beast falls to the ground, and by the time I am back on the hunt, those energy marking beings reignite their assault towards me. This time, they don¡¯t use projectiles I can reflect back, but manipulate the elements in wider effects.


    Water gushed down the slope, rising into a wave of spinning blades. I simply fly higher to avoid it. Pillars of dirt rise to block me, but they are thin by the time they reach the height I fly, and pose no difficulty to my bends. The only one that poses a challenge, is the gusts of air that try to slow me down and hold me back. Yet I am quick to adapt; soon the gusts ¡ª with the help of my bends ¡ª accelerate me forward.


    I dive over the head of the last physical fighters that try, and fail, to hit me. My fangs slide into the squishy flesh of the one creating those air gusts. It will take too long to crush the beast, or let it bleed out from my fangs, so I press my body up against it and rip my jaw out, taking a significant part of their head with it.


    At some point, they must have thrown the little flying squirrel, as they now sail far into the distance. I ignore that for now. The few remaining finally understand that there¡¯s no escape. Not after their initial aggressiveness. They turn to me together. As one, shifting from fleeing to striking at my scales.


    ¡°Now!¡± they scream.


    I falter, having heard them speak the words of the Beyond. Words not even I can speak. Their blades scrape against my sides. The creatures leave my scales torn up, but they barely pierced deeper. Even as they wound me, all I care for is the fact that these creatures speak.


    I don¡¯t know whether to be enraged or confused. Only sapient creatures can speak, and these critters are far too weak for that.


    Another bend appears, allowing me to pivot from the front of a creature to its back. It¡¯s the furthest bend I¡¯ve yet made, so I take advantage of the opportunity and end the creature¡¯s life instantly before spearing towards the last two with energy flowing across their skin. They try to throw up their defences, to hold themselves within a bubble or dome of their own elements, but it is all too easy to pass through by altering space. Both die quick.


    The single remaining creature has a look of utter defeat across its face, but it stands to face me, anyway. I snap forward, but instead of striking at me, the creature welcomes me with wide tentacles. Tentacles that hold me tight, and stab a pair of those smaller claws down on my spine. It tries its best, but the sharp metal doesn¡¯t pierce. I feel them squeezing, but they¡¯ve chosen the wrong opponent to try such a tactic.


    I constrict around the being until it too joins the rest.


    Everywhere around, the swarm is active. They rush about like any other hive under attack. To my sides, I can already see the numbers gathering to take me on.


    They are sapient.


    I don¡¯t know what to think of that. But what I do know, is that right now, I really don¡¯t feel like fighting through an entire swarm. I¡¯ve taken out the fools who attacked me first, but I shouldn¡¯t give an opportunity to those who have not yet made such an offence.


    I fly over their structures, and into the open fields beyond.

 Interlude IV: What Just Hit Us?

    The defensive ring was in an uproar. Mercenaries rushed around, those closer to the attack moving to fill the gap in their defence, while those further away tried to figure out what happened.


    Ceph was no different. She crept toward Hirsh¡¯s station in the hopes he had a better understanding of the wave that had just broken through.


    It was a snake, she knew. She¡¯d gotten that much information from the volan scouting over her head. The little wingsuit-lovers had far better eyesight than her and had apparently witnessed a snake no larger than the garden variety take down an entire wedge of their defences, before flying off.


    After months of relatively weak creatures ¡ª at least compared to those that had considered the Titan Alps their home ¡ª it seemed almost impossible that the creature that had the strength to breach their defences was small enough that most couldn¡¯t even see it. They should consider nothing out of the realm of reality after the collapse of the Titan Alps, but everyone had been prepared to fight some Titanic being crawling from the depths¡­ not whatever this had been.


    ¡°Ah, good. You¡¯re already here,¡± Hirsh said as Ceph jogged up besides him. One of the Mercenary Order¡¯s management staff rushing back down to the city beyond the mound, having already spoken to the large khirig. ¡°We¡¯re to have our team reorganised.¡±


    ¡°Right now? Why?¡± They¡¯d held off this long on reallocation, why do so in the middle of a crisis. Who knew where the monster was? The trade hub around Kalma¡¯s pit seemed to have avoided it¡¯s attention, but what was to say the next city would avoid such fate?


    ¡°We¡¯re to track it down.¡±


    Well, that would explain the timing. ¡°And who have they decided will replace Glaus and Telum?¡± Ceph tried to keep her voice even with the question, but even to her ears it sounded venomous.


    Hirsh gave her an analytical eye for a moment before he turned and gestured her to follow. ¡°Don¡¯t treat them harshly. They have no more say where they are placed then we do.¡±


    Ceph winced. ¡°So, not Beiths?¡±


    ¡°You say that as if we ever earned the right to be labelled that ourselves.¡±


    She wanted to argue. To point out that they were more than they had been. But that would be lying.


    When they finally arrived at the chaotic mess of people moving around the site of the brief battle, Ceph watched the corpses being carried to a large pitched tent that had been erected in only the past few minutes. One of them, one of her kin, a dohrni, was little more than tentacle and pulp. She¡¯d seen plenty of gore in her time through war and as a merc, but that made even her stomach flip. She looked away.


    ¡°Where are the new additions to Beith Thirty Seven?¡± Hirsh¡¯s voice carries over the clamber. Some glance our way at his call, but most ignore him.


    ¡°That will be us.¡±


    Turning to the side, Ceph found the three that will be joining them and can¡¯t help a groan. ¡°You can¡¯t be serious.¡±


    The one who spoke is a short albanic with a glaive near twice as long as he. There was nothing wrong with him really, but the fact that he was supposed to replace Glaus tinged at her. The albanic simply didn¡¯t have the same air of intimidation that Glaus could exude.


    It was the other two she found the most annoyance with. Why double up on volans? Sure they would be helpful in tracking down the creature, but in a team, they made each other redundant. Even back at the tunnel entrance on the Titan Alps, her team had been a man short. Was this the Order¡¯s way of saying they now had a full team despite disregarding all fundamentals of compatibility?


    Sure the stronger of Beiths tended to ignore the more common structures, but these new additions to her team were not that. Neither was Ceph. This was simply calling an eyeball a hand, and expecting it to behave as such.


    She noticed the look the volans were giving her, and realised they¡¯d heard her. A twinge of guilt struck at her, but not enough for her to apologise. She turned, and head toward the Beith that was organising the cleanup.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to get started on finding out what we¡¯re dealing with,¡± Ceph said to Hirsh. ¡°You deal with our new teammates.¡± Again, she didn¡¯t mean to antagonistic, but the snide tone just seemed to slip out.


    No matter how much she knew better, it just felt too much like her comrades were being replaced. Like they were nothing more than disposable and replaceable.


    ¡°So what is it we¡¯re dealing with?¡± Ceph asked as soon as she stepped up besides the Beith.


    ¡°Ah, Ceph. Your team is heading out?¡± he asked in a gruff tone, to which she nodded. ¡°Well, good luck. You¡¯ll need it. The beast took out two Luis teams and a pair of old Beiths all before we could gather a proper force.¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°It was that strong?¡± The Luis teams she could understand, but if it took them all out while being assisted by a pair of old Beiths ¡ª the ones not tainted by the Mercenary Order¡¯s newly inflated ranks ¡ª then¡­ ¡°Why are we being sent out? I doubt our team can handle this.¡±


    The man shakes head. ¡°You¡¯re task is to track the snake down. The Order will send one of their Inner Circle to assist¡±


    Ceph gave the man a doubtful look.


    ¡°Of course,¡± he continued. ¡°If the Order fail to provide, then you have no need to engage¡­ but it would be best for all of us if the Order doesn¡¯t hear I said as such. You know how things have been.¡±


    Ceph sighed at the disappointing state of things. They didn¡¯t have this low trust in their organisation ten years ago, but things had only seemed to spiral since. ¡°Just tell me what you know of the snake.¡±


    The Beith hums before answering. ¡°Well, it¡¯s quick for sure. Bout as long as an albanic, and scales harder than rock. If you want more, visit the survivors. They¡¯ve been taken down to the hospital.¡±


    ¡°So there are survivors?¡± Ceph asks.


    ¡°Barely.¡± His gaze travelled back to the slope where so many had lost their lives. ¡°It all happened so quick. Besides the volan who escaped with a boost, the albanic to survive¡­ well, you¡¯ll see.¡±


    With that note, Ceph left. She grabbed Hirsh ¡ª and the new additions who followed in tow ¡ª and ran down the hill to the line of buildings.


    The hospital wasn¡¯t a particularly glamorous building, but it was large and one of the first on her path from the defensive circle. As soon as she was through the front doors, an Order manager was by her side and leading her to where she needed to be in moments.


    ¡°I¡¯ll speak with the albanic, you find out what you can from the volan.¡±


    Ceph was not at all surprised that the two volans now part of her team followed Hirsh into the separate room, but certainly was by the albanic choosing to come with her.


    Deciding it wouldn¡¯t be appropriate to be completely hostile to the people she needed to work with, she asked, ¡°What¡¯s you¡¯re name?¡± as they walked to the ward for more critical patients.


    ¡°Albin,¡± he said simply.


    Ceph swirled her eyes back at the distinctly Theocratic name, inspecting the man¡¯s hair.


    Albin the albanic shrugged. ¡°I was born in the Theocracy.¡±


    Born in the Theocracy, had perfectly pure hair, and yet he was a part of the pact nations? She was curious, but not so much as to distract from her current goal.


    ¡°Ceph,¡± she gave her name as she opened the door to the room where a crowd of doctors and nurses crowded the bed-bound mercenary.


    A nurse tried to halt Ceph¡¯s path, but a doctor standing at the head of the cot called them off. She approached until she was standing right beside the injured albanic¡¯s head, thankful that she was conscious, but disturbed by the sight.


    Around the woman¡¯s neck was a thick, unwieldy brace that seemed almost bolted in place to the bone at the side of her head and spine. She was propped up on her side, but it didn¡¯t at all look like she could move.


    ¡°Please keep this brief. She has experienced comminuted fractures to three of her cervical vertebra and a cervical plexus avulsion. We shall operate the moment you are done. Really, if not for her enhancement, she would be dead. It¡¯s already unlikely she will regain motor function.¡±


    ¡°Is the Lu-Lum family not going to help her?¡± Ceph asked, shocked that they¡¯re not already doing so.


    ¡°Not unless you wish to pay.¡±


    ¡°But it¡¯s in our contract. The Order should be paying.¡±


    ¡°For Beiths.¡± The doctor nods. ¡°But no longer for Luis.¡±


    ¡°Fuck¡¯n bastards,¡± the crippled woman spits, finally making itself known just how awake she is despite her grievous injury. ¡°Changed it without my knowing.¡±


    Well, this was going to cause havoc amongst the mercs once everyone found out about this. But unfortunately, Ceph needed to do her job. If not because the Mercenary Order ordered it, then the fact that a beast strong enough to do this could cause widespread devastation. They had not yet recovered from the Alps¡¯ collapse; the pact nations couldn¡¯t handle any more disasters.


    ¡°Please, tell me everything you can about the snake,¡± Ceph prompted.


    Whether it be a determination on the albanic¡¯s part, or the pain reducing inscription painted into the cot beneath her body, the Luis merc was all too willing to talk.


    ¡°Well, we started things as usual; moving in once both shot guns and airburst guns failed. It was, you know, same as usual¡­ until it wasn¡¯t.¡± She clenched her teeth, and Ceph imagined her gripping her hand into a fist, but that was no longer possible.


    ¡°It was completely our failure. We underestimated it¡¯s strength because of both its size, and the lack of aggression it showed at first. We should have backed off. We should have given the battle to those stronger in reserve. But by the time we realised we were in over our heads, it was too late.¡±


    ¡°One moment, it went from passively avoiding our blows and taking the occasional hit, to decimating us. Things were going so well, then, out of nowhere, Icaru flew into its mouth. Dead in an instant. I still remember the crunch.¡± She pauses to take a breath, her eyes no longer gazing at anyone, but staring into the corner.


    ¡°He was the best flyer. His reaction time and instincts were impeccable. If not held back by my team, I¡¯m sure he would have been promoted to Beith years ago,¡± she said, eyes unblinking. ¡°The snake did something. Altered his trajectory somehow. It had been doing the same to its own the entire fight. Even now I still can¡¯t wrap my head around it; it just seemed to move so strangely, jerking and changing directions sharper than any other serpent I¡¯ve seen.¡±


    ¡°A momentum hyle bound?¡± Ceph asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the albanic admitted with hesitance. ¡°It seemed too disjointed for that. Do you know any momentum mage that can instantaneously alter direction, rather than an over time effect?¡±


    ¡°Some creatures have access to some rather unique abilities our mages can¡¯t replicate.¡± Ceph¡¯s response felt more like an excuse even to her own ears. Sure it was possible, common even, but even the incredibly rare elements like momentum were rather easy to distinguish.


    ¡°Well, whatever ability it is, it made our mage fire completely ineffective. No, worse than that; it turned those attacks against us. Poor Junjie¡­¡± she glared into that corner as if it had done her personal harm.


    ¡°So that¡¯s all I need to worry about? Its momentum-bound abilities?¡± Ceph asked, acutely aware of the doctor¡¯s impatience.


    ¡°No.¡± The denial came with a snap of the woman¡¯s eyes back to Ceph¡¯s. They were panicked and frantic, as if terrified what she¡¯d already seen would happen again. ¡°Don¡¯t let it close. It is strong. Far, far stronger than anything that size should be.¡±

 Chapter 50: Interest

    The land is covered by the touch of these sapients.


    Between their large stone nests, the perfectly organised plant-life, and the web of compact dirt that carries moving structures, nothing is untouched by these beings. They¡¯ve reshaped the land, and made it more suited to their needs to such an extent that even after a thousand breaths flying through the air, I cannot find anywhere their influence doesn¡¯t reach.


    Not only are they one of the larger sized swarm creatures, but they control more area than any other I¡¯ve come across.


    Yet I still can¡¯t understand how they are sapient. These creatures, as I have found from the previous fight, aren¡¯t particularly strong. Maybe there are some amongst them that are stronger; one of those tentacle creatures was certainly stronger than the others, and those flying squirrels couldn¡¯t even compare to the other races, yet they spoke too.


    It could be that the entire gathered strength of a race is what determines if ones are considered intelligent, but even that seems wrong. I¡¯ve never so much as seen another of my own kind, so I doubt the gathered strength is enough, especially as I grew into it over time.


    And the Titan lynx, the vile beast, did not seem to have progressed any further than I with its emotions and intelligence, so I have to accept that I¡¯m likely wrong about what causes sapience.


    There¡¯s also the thought that it is age that gives one intelligence, but with how incredibly quantified these swarm creatures are, and how weak, I find it extremely unlikely even one has lived as long as I. That tosses my second theory out.


    It could simply be random chance that decides which races gain intelligence, and how easy it is to achieve. My arrogance has been beaten down enough now to realise I¡¯m not special in this world. Just because something happens, doesn¡¯t mean I earned it; I might even be one of the more unlucky creatures, considering how long it took to appear. Not like there are many beings with the fortune to live as long as I.


    As I slither through the sky, I find I attract a whole lot of stares. Any time I pass overhead of the sapients, they turn and watch. Not that such a reaction is any different from most other creatures down in the warped tunnels; in fact most of those would flee the moment they glimpse me, instincts screaming at them to hide.


    What¡¯s strange is that¡¯s all they do. Of course some react a bit when I move their way, but most just watch dumbly as if they¡¯ve never seen a snake before. And I know that¡¯s wrong; there¡¯s plenty of snakes hiding in the bushes along with other critters that all keep their distance from the obvious dominant species of this massive cavern.


    I¡¯m a bit annoyed to find none of those serpents appear at all strong, but some are as large as my smallest form, so why do they stare? Well, I¡¯m sure it¡¯s probably just them being wary of a potential predator hunting them. Despite their prevalence, there¡¯s surely creatures stronger than them around.


    Their glances are annoying, and without the dense cover of spatial distortions, I cannot hide from them, but for now, I ignore them. They do not attack like the first of their kind, so I can continue my flow through the air without trouble.


    Where am I to go? This is the goal I¡¯ve been aiming for so long now. I¡¯m finally beyond the bounds of the warped tunnels, safe from the eventual destruction both the Beyond and the Phantom Titan warned.


    I still remember the Beyond¡¯s words clearly, telling me to wait for them once I¡¯ve reached this surface it spoke of. But when will that be? I¡¯ve already lost everything to reach this place, and nothing to show for it. All that is different, is the weak sapients that flood the earth, and a lack of a spatial forest to enshroud myself within.


    I return my attention to those plentiful sapients. Those same four species are all incredibly frequent, but it is those tentacle creatures that are the most populous. Does that make them the dominant species of the bunch?


    The longer I fly, the more eyes there are to follow me. I find my curiosity growing. Those that attacked me spoke to each other. I hadn¡¯t noticed it at first ¡ª what with it being my first experience of the mundane vocalised communication ¡ª but I¡¯m now certain that¡¯s what it was. What do they say? Do they speak freely, voicing every thought that crosses their minds? Or hold their tones only for when it is required?


    What might it have been like to speak with Scia? What might she have said to me before disappearing forever?


    Curiosity. I once thought it a horrible thing. I now know that not to be the case. It, along with every other emotion, is neither good nor bad; they simply are. Curiosity, without Scia to revel in it feels hollow, but I need to believe she¡¯s still with me. It is her presence that creates bends, therefor it isn¡¯t a betrayal of her memory to interact with these emotions in a way other than negatively. I must satisfy her curiosity, and only in that can I feel the same.


    Those sapient creatures; I want to hear them.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    I dive for a congregation of the creatures standing in a gap between those nests of theirs. My sudden change in direction seems to startle a few, who run to hide inside their burrows. Amongst those that remain, a few lift pellet-sticks similar to those I faced when first reaching this surface.


    My immediate response is aggression.


    How dare these creatures raise their inept rock-flingers at me? Surely they understand that only death awaits should they make any such attempt.


    But I quickly get a hold of myself. Of course they''re going to attack something that is diving for them. Right now, I am no different from a charging beast. Like with the apikull, these sapients stand firm and ready to protect their kin, even at the expense of their lives. Those back at the ledge of the column didn''t give me so much as a chance to leave them alone. They attacked without reason, and they got what they deserved.


    These creatures below still hold their fire even as I fall to within a few dozen of their body lengths. A few bark at each other, short illegible words, but most of the rest are quiet.


    This is not what I want. I want to listen to them speak. To hear that same communication I discovered they could do back in that battle. This situation can only lead to a fight; no battle would have one waste time chatting.


    So I pass through a bend and fling myself skyward again. The creatures I leave behind slump in relief. As well they should.


    Continuing on, I figure a bit more discretion will be required if I¡¯m to listen to their words without those words devolving to aggressive growls or whimpers of fear. Now, how to go about not being noticed? I could hardly pose as any ordinary snake I¡¯ve seen wandering around; there¡¯s not a creature alive with instincts poor enough they couldn¡¯t tell a J?tnorm from a common snake.


    Another strange sight drags my attention to the land far ahead of me. A metal snake about as large as my full size enters a tunnel just barely wide enough to fit it. Intrigued, I slither through the air, racing after the fast moving metal serpent. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever met another snake as large as myself, so it¡¯s surprising to see one here of all places.


    I dive into the earth after it, and soon catch up to the metal beast that hums a constant growl. Not the first creature with an outer layer consisting entirely of metal, but it certainly is the first snake of the kind. There¡¯s only just enough space between it¡¯s oddly flat scales and the tunnel ceiling for me to slither on top of it.


    Strangely, the creature doesn¡¯t really slither, but rather continues in a straight line. For a moment, a terrifying thought that I might have mistaken a worm for a snake crosses my mind. But I quickly wipe away that fear. It doesn¡¯t use that compressing motion worms use, and also moves far too fast for it to be one of them.


    I soon discover that the being isn¡¯t a creature at all. The not-snake is divided into rather short segments, separated entirely except for a lump of metal where the ventral scales should be. As I¡¯m peeking out into the space between two segments, the not-snake breaks out from the tunnel again, but not to open air.


    I find myself in a fully enclosed cavern, but the structure is far too much like the sapients nests to be anything natural. And as I cast my gaze around ¡ª eyes still limited to whats ahead of them making the motion required ¡ª I find the area bustling with the creatures.


    The not-serpent ¡ª my ride ¡ª slows to a stop before the crowd, and I watch as hundreds of the creatures clamber out from the not-guts of the not-snake. What is this? Once unloaded, just as many squeeze past each other to fit inside the tube of metal.


    Considering the lack of eyes my way, I¡¯m pretty confident I¡¯m hidden up here, on top of the not-snake. It gives me the opportunity to listen in to all their chatter. And there is a lot. They chat and shout in such a disorderly cacophony that not a word is discernible.


    The low rumble returns, and the not-serpent moves again. In no time we¡¯re speeding through the landscape filled with the sapient creature¡¯s nests of various sizes. Most appear to be formed from wood or stone, but that¡¯s not what I care about. I¡¯ve got a not-snake full of sapients to listen to.


    Placing two sides of a bend above me, I place my tail against the metal for leverage, before pushing my head against the soft metal not-scales. It buckles with ease and soon snaps, breaking open a hole for me to fall in through. I find myself in a tight space, but I can hear the murmur of voices below. One more and I¡¯ll be in.


    When I breach through, and fall twice my current body length to the floor of this moving cavern, I¡¯m met with a dozen shrieks. Half a dozen sapients jump up from where they sit and back away down the central open space. Before more can spot me, I dive for the cramped corner, where a tunnel passes all through the cavern, broken into the open at regular intervals.


    ¡°Snake!¡± I hear a few of those who ran away shouting. Oh! They actually know the right word. Bit disappointed they didn¡¯t use my actual race name, but I guess it can¡¯t be helped. Actually, it would probably be better if they didn¡¯t recognise what I was from such a brief glance. Even better if they don¡¯t know my species at all.


    One of those antlered creatures stand on their bone-like limbs right before me, rising along with a dozen others at the shouts of those who saw me. I create a bend to the other side of those legs, where the tunnel resumes. Doing this a few more times, I reach far enough from the point where they saw me that they¡¯ll think I wandered off.


    ¡°Somebody call the conductor. We need to stop, there¡¯s a snake.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just a snake, what harm can it do? Throw it out the window if you¡¯re that upset.¡± The one to speak is one of those antler creatures I¡¯d just passed under.


    ¡°Easy for you to say, khirig. Why don¡¯t you?¡± There seems to be a murmur of agreement from the others, and I peek my head out to look at the crowd from behind. Most, as with everywhere else, seem to be those squishy looking tentacle sapients. Maybe they¡¯re more fearful of snakes than the antlered ones. They certainly look more appealing to bite than the¡­ Khirig? I wish the Beyond would answer.


    The khirig seems to grunt in annoyance before pushing past the fearful creatures. ¡°Fine. Fine. You cowards.¡± it puts in a pretty lazy effort to look into the tunnel, and while I don¡¯t believe it¡¯ll see me down this way, I climb up into the cavity of the odd construction an ape-like creature sits on, out of view.


    ¡°Are you sure it was a snake you saw?¡± The voice is now filled with a strange inclination that it didn¡¯t have before. I wonder what it means? ¡°Wait! There¡¯s no way a snake did this. Something cleared a hole clean through the roof of this train.¡±


    The call seems to interest more of the sapients, as they gather around to look up out the path I made for myself.


    ¡­Should I have found another way in?

 Chapter 51: Communication

    "I''m telling you, there''s no way a snake made this hole. Are you sure it wasn''t, I dunno, a bit of pipe or something?¡±


    ¡°And you think all of us hallucinated together? Unless there¡¯s a mage playing tricks on us, there¡¯s a snake in this train.¡±


    ¡°A mage huh? Well that¡¯s a bit more believable than a snake breaking through the roof. Can someone head up to the conductor; let them know something might¡¯ve broken.¡±


    ¡°Already on it.¡± After saying so, one of the sapients steps past my secluded spot, and peels open the wall. It steps through to the next segmented cavern, as the wall slowly seals itself closed. How strange.


    I listen in to all the voices, but there are so many and they all try to speak over another that it becomes a confusing mess. How do they all understand what¡¯s being said when everyone speaks at once?


    ¡°Can we first make sure there is no snake,¡± the same antlered khirig who inspected the hole I made says, raising his voice over everyone else. ¡°Please check under your seats. Wouldn¡¯t want anyone getting bit ¡®cause there actually was one.¡±


    All around, those that had remained relaxed in their¡­ seats rise and crouch to look for me. I know I¡¯m pretty well hidden, but I¡¯m not so sure I¡¯ll be able to hide if the sapients closest to me actually check under their legs, so I follow the creature that peeled back the wall.


    I have no idea how to do the same without destroying it ¡ª I wonder if it¡¯s a special ability of his species? ¡ª so instead I create a bend and blink through the thin wall. Considering how my first entrance attracted their attention so greatly, this method seems far less likely for them to notice my presence.


    The new cavern I find myself is identical to the last, except the sapients aren¡¯t as loud and roused. Most chatter in small groups, seated facing each other. Some sit quietly, eyes buried in bundles of thin sheets like square leaves, but they are less common of the bunch.


    Here, I¡¯ve arrived without notice, and none of the creatures shout snake. I slither beneath the seats of the first group of talking sapients. While they speak amongst themselves with a fast clip over the hum of surrounding chatter, the closer proximity makes it easier to distinguish their words from the rest.


    ¡°Rather drab here, huh?¡± I make out amongst the weaving mess of words.


    It is truly quite strange that most of my life, sound has been a near pointless sense, and yet it is the vehicle in which these beings all coordinate their thoughts. The words they speak, I know them from the Beyond, but it takes focus and effort to decipher these noises to the words of the Beyond.


    The phantom Titan all that time ago used sound, I¡¯m sure, but its very voice shook the air with such intensity that I felt those words through my spine rather than with my ears. Are there other ways to speak beyond speech? Maybe I could learn to warp space into language¡­ if I find another with true-sight for that to work.


    ¡°Ah, what I would do to see the sky again,¡± a voice moans in¡­ pain? Sadness? It¡¯s surprising to hear how expressive tone can be, even if I¡¯m not entirely sure of the emotion I hear.


    These creatures truly are sapient, in more than just their communication. They feel these strange, advanced emotions, and they don¡¯t even consider them odd. It is interwoven through speech in a way I find difficult to understand, but I can recognise its presence.


    ¡°Well, you could always come stay at my family¡¯s home in the east. The ash isn¡¯t nearly as thick, and you can actually see the blood moon; eerie as it has been after The Collapse.¡±


    I create a slight bend to peek out from under the seat without being spotted. The first thing I spot is the unnaturally flat and thin crystal that makes up a good chunk of the side walls. My sight of space is reduced substantially, but I can easily see the outside of this not-snake. We are moving along at a rapid pace. Not comparable to my best speeds, but impressive for something that isn¡¯t alive.


    ¡°No, I couldn¡¯t,¡± the voice replies, and I realise the two are speaking back and forth, not to any of the other talkers around them. These creatures don¡¯t all talk together? I guess that makes sense. Sometimes you only want a single being to hear what you have to say.


    ¡°Things may be hard, but I know I have it better than most,¡± it continues. ¡°I know so many who¡¯ve lost their entire livelihoods in these past years. Not to mention those that fell in The Collapse. An entire race, wiped out¡­¡±


    ¡°And for the better.¡± A third voice joins in. Oh? I thought this was only a conversation between the two? Can others jump in whenever they want? I tilt my gaze upward, where one of those small fake flying squirrels sits on a rack above the heads of the other species. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t all be in such difficult times if not for them. I¡¯d bet it was them that fell the Titan Alps. Poked a sleeping Titan.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    Oh? So they do know about the Titans. Then, is this place not as safe from them as I¡¯d originally guessed?


    ¡°How could you say such a thing.¡± The previous speaker shouts, silencing much of the other conversations in the cavern as they rise to their tentacles. ¡°Even if we were at war with them, it¡¯s wrong to celebrate such a tragedy. You heard that shatter prior The Collapse; it came from beneath our feet before the Titan¡¯s shriek blew across the land.¡±


    The shatter? The same shatter that I heard before the Amber barrier shifted and the land broke?


    ¡°Both Titans we know about are on their side of the Alps. And they were already weakened from their loss. Of course it was the mermineae that awoke a natural disaster. What other explanation is there?¡±


    Wait¡­ mermineae? I know that species. The Beyond said that¡¯s what the creature with the camouflaging fur was back in the ¨­mukade¡¯s nest. Was I¡­ actually close to escaping back then?


    The tentacle creature clenches their tentacles and suddenly their height doubles. Their head looms over the small sapient squirrel with glaring eyes, nearly reaching the cavern ceiling. The little creature, despite its size and obvious disadvantage, doesn¡¯t back down in the face of it¡¯s burning gaze.


    ¡°Calm it you two,¡± the one who invited the first to its home in the east says. ¡°This is not the place to fight.¡±


    Both glance around at all the watching eyes they¡¯ve gained, before a clack of the rear wall opening drags almost everyone away from the aggression these two sapients held for each other. Taking advantage of the distraction, they return to their seats, quieter than before.


    ¡°So how big is this hole? Was anything smoking, or did you smell any burning?¡± the creature that stepped through the peeled wall, another tentacle-limb, asks the sapient following in tow. The same one I saw peel back the wall first.


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. Some saw something fall from the hole, and they say it looked like a snake, but I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Both hurried past all the curious eyes, paying them no mind. Considering the silence between the sapients above me, I figure it¡¯s unlikely they¡¯ll continue what they were talking about, no matter how interesting, and confusing I found it. Fortunately, other circles of conversation rise again. Plenty for me to listen in to.


    As I¡¯ve seen up till now, the tentacle species is still by far the most common, but the apes and antlered creatures are of similar enough proportions that they all share the sames seats. It is only the small fake winged rodents that have their own allocated area near the ceiling.


    ¡°-ts impossible. How likely is it that some unknown race just appears, and coincidentally opposes the Henosis Empire while they prepare to invade?¡± the sapient throws a bundle of those square leaves to the free seat before them in a motion I¡¯m pretty sure screams frustration. ¡°I¡¯m telling you, they¡¯re either scammers, or this is some thick propaganda the coalition is throwing up.¡±


    ¡°I heard that they¡¯re like the ¨¢infean, but fire instead of lightning. That¡¯s what Incendia was; an ¨¢ed,¡± a softer voice says.


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t she just an albanic fire mage?¡± a third says, a khirig this time compared to the two tentacle race that I still need to learn the name of. Beyond still refuses to answer.


    ¡°No. I think the news papers reported that at first, but there was an article that corrected that,¡± The soft tone says.


    I peek an eye out to watch the khirig furrow its brow beneath the cage of antlers. ¡°So this race of fire elementals are coming, but¡­ is it alright to let them? I was close enough to the front during the last stretch of war to see that young woman¡¯s fires burn the skies; If others are even a fraction that strong, I don¡¯t know if we should welcome them in the nation. Fire is deadly as it is.¡±


    ¡°I doubt that¡¯s what you need to worry about,¡± the frustrated one says. ¡°The likelihood of a race nobody¡¯s heard about, of a nation nobody¡¯s heard about, suddenly appearing ¡ª and from the southern wasteland of all places ¡ª is preposterous. Even if they are fire elementals, They¡¯re likely nothing impressive. Shams taking advantage of the Pact Nations¡¯ desperation.¡±


    There are elemental sapient races?


    Of course there are. The creatures are annoying to take out when they''re dumb, I can''t imagine how annoying they''d be with sapience.


    Slightly disgruntled at hearing something less than ideal, I move onto the next group. Leaving the trio to continue talking about a some threat of war. I don¡¯t recognise the name from any species the Beyond ever told me, so there¡¯s little I can do until I meet one.


    I pass under a few more seats, before I find myself stopping before a pair of the tentacled creatures. They aren¡¯t talking much, so there¡¯s not much reason to stop, but I do anyway. One is as tall as I¡¯ve seen any other, but the other is half it¡¯s size. They sit side by side; the little one a pad of those thin leaflets and something like a narrow piece of bound charcoal wrapped in the tip of its tentacle.


    Despite barely comprehending their features, I understand when the little one scrunches up it¡¯s tentacle and narrows its eyes in frustration.


    ¡°Do you need me to help?¡± the taller one asks softly, having noticed the same as I.


    ¡°No, I can do it, Daddy.¡±


    I find myself staring at the creature. While lacking a snout ¡ª or a visible mouth at all ¡ª its pout is obvious. It has that same innocent determination to do whatever it¡¯s doing itself. Just as Scia had.


    When I look back over the two, I can¡¯t help but feel parallels where I shouldn¡¯t. The taller one even backs off, with a smile of its eyes that reveal an amusement I¡¯m all too familiar with.


    ¡°How long until we see Auntie Coralie, Daddy?¡± the little one asks, pivoting away from the frustration of a moment ago as if it never happened.


    ¡°A few hours still, Sweetie. We¡¯ve barely left.¡±


    A hollowness fills me as I watch the two interact, reminding me all too easily of what I¡¯ve lost. I realise too late that I¡¯ve poked my head out from my beneath the seat.


    ¡°Snake?¡± the young of the tentacle creature is the first to spot me, and is quick to scream. ¡°Ah! Snake!¡±


    Before any can turn at her racket, I¡¯ve slid through a bend, revealing myself to all, and slide out onto the top of the not-snake again. This time without breaking the not-scales.


    I suddenly don¡¯t feel like listening to any more conversations. My ventral scales lay along the metal surface of this train, as they called it, and I free myself from the decision of where to go. I settle in to have this not-snake take a real snake to whatever destination it chooses.


    Better than having to think right now.

 Chapter 52: Literate

    I remain on the back of the not-snake, the train, for a good long while. So long that the warm spatial ripple gradually disappears.


    Without knowing what exactly the energy is, or where it originates, its disappearance means nothing to me. I don¡¯t know if it indicates I¡¯ve moved to a different cavern, or if the origin simply ceases to exist, but none of the sapients either inside the train or along the earth we pass seem concerned; why should I? Well, there is the possibility that they cannot see the spatial ripple at all with their sight, but they¡¯re the ones that have lived up here the longest; I¡¯m sure they would have adapted to any dangers in the area. As long as I keep their reaction in mind, there shouldn¡¯t be anything to worry about.


    After the earliest stretch of my ride on this artificially constructed snake, the tall nests grew scarce, and were replaced with oddly orderly plant-life and flocks of beasts bound by cut-up dead trees and tiny, yet infinitely long metal fibres. But despite the structure thrust upon the flora and the contained fauna, those that are most likely to have shaped the land this way, the sapients, are sparse. Compared to the built up nature of their previous nests, they barely even reside out here, and yet, their influence remains absolute.


    For all of this to exist, it must mean their dominance is never ¡ª or at least rarely ¡ª questioned. They have no direct predators that thrive in this cavern. If even one of the beings I know from the depths rise, they will experience devastation to their entire ecosystem. It is unstable, fragile. The only safety they have is how difficult it is to reach this space. With such large prey so numerous, I doubt any of the predators that once challenged me would pass up such a place.


    And that¡¯s without considering Titans.


    The plants themselves look almost sickly. They are similar enough to those that flourish around magma pools, but they droop as if unable to hold their own weight. The land cannot support them; without magma nearby, there is no heat for them to grow.


    Eventually, the land returns to the more densely packed nests that stand in orderly lines, leaving space between them for the sapients to wander freely. Occasionally, I¡¯ll spot a smaller version of the not-snake I ride upon; the trains hold a fraction of the number that the one beneath me can, but can curve through the tight spaces between stone and wooden structures.


    It''s quite a surprise when the nests grow more tightly packed than even when I landed on this train. And the longer I lay on top of it ¡ª my ventral scales digging into the rather soft metal ¡ª the more dense the swarm becomes.


    I¡¯d heard the species arguing amongst themselves back inside the train. Now that I think about it, the very fact that they can fight and disagree is surprising. They¡¯re a swarm, and yet they they don¡¯t have that one-minded unity of all other swarms I¡¯ve seen. Agreement doesn¡¯t come naturally. They don¡¯t all follow one will.


    It can only be because of the sapience they hold that they remain able to coexist. If not for my time with Scia, I wouldn¡¯t have imagined any creature with its own individuality could ever cooperate with one of a different species. Even without the sapience I know, she was intelligent enough to force her way into a beneficial relationship. But to see a similar thing occur on such large scale is shocking.


    The train tilts into an incline, the nests growing ever larger and more closely packed together. A cliff-face comes into view¡­ or at least that what I assume it is until I notice the square shape of all the stone it consists of. As with everything else around here, the wall too is built by the sapients.


    It spirals up from one side to the other, gradually rising along the slope. More nests sit atop it all the way to another wall that spirals even higher. My ride speeds through the dense hive; no other term could describe this place, what with how not a single patch of dirt or uncut stone remains.


    So many sapients, all in one place. The fake-winged squirrels in the air, or atop the other races heads, and those other races weaving between themselves in a constant flow. It feels almost unfair that there are so many sapients here, amongst these weak species. Up here, the status is the norm, not an achievement. I¡¯m not special for having this intelligence.


    It is only when I feel the train finally starting to slow, do I spot the fissure splitting the hive. A massive gorge splitting everything from the earth to the stone walls. And this train I ride is barrelling straight towards it. With such limited deceleration, it is hardly going to stop in time.


    I ready myself to dive off. Flit away from any pit back to the warped tunnels. They may have been my home for as long as I¡¯ve lived, and I may wish to have the shroud of bends to hug me tight, but it will fall eventually. I cannot return.


    Considering how deep the hole would have to be to reach my former territory, it¡¯s unlikely this fissure will lead there ¡ª the column I climbed was strange enough itself ¡ª but I won¡¯t tempt fate.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    I prepare to spring off the moment I feel the train fall out beneath me, yet it never does. The not-snake passes over the massive crevice, unbothered.


    Before I realise it, I¡¯m on the other side without even the slightest of disturbances in its flow. But¡­ how? Even I can¡¯t fly without my bends at my disposal, and this not-snake hardly has any wings.


    I slither to the rear of the train, and peer over the back ledge to the fissure. There, perfectly where we passed, is a narrow path bridging the gap. Large stone pillars spike out from the cliff faces to hold up the thin planks, origin clearly reminiscent of the ability some beasts wield.


    So that¡¯s how it didn¡¯t fall? The train took such a narrow bridge despite its size. I¡¯m surprised it didn¡¯t even hesitate¡­ which I shouldn¡¯t be, considering its lack of life. Still, seeing something moving with such control and not being alive is strange.


    My ride continues to slow, and peering ahead I spot another massive cluster of sapients standing around in the distance. It is likely going to stop now, and amongst such a highly populated section of the swarm¡¯s nest, remaining unseen might well be impossible.


    Fortunately, the area nearest the fissure appears almost uninhabited.


    I leap off, threading through a couple bends to eliminate my momentum and touch down in the tight space between two quiet nests. As much as I hate slithering across surfaces, it has become obvious that weaving through the air with my bends attracts far too much attention. It still gnaws at me ¡ª being mistaken for a lesser creature ¡ª but I find such feeling is suppressed easily.


    One of those apikull-like creatures clatters down the gap ahead of me, rushing to get somewhere. I blink inside the wall of the building I hug before I can be seen ¡ª taking a subdued interest in the smaller cavern I find myself ¡ª before blinking back out behind the creature.


    In no time, I¡¯ve reached the section of the hive without any sapient life at all. The ruins of their nests remain, albeit often cracked and semi destroyed, but there are none of the creators here to bother me.


    Before I head deeper, I notice a few planks of bisected tree bound together and held upright. I almost miss it entirely; there¡¯s so many other unfamiliar sights to see. But the slight indent in the wood halts me in my tracks.


    Danger: Off Limits


    Words. Actual words inscribed into the wood. I¡¯d considered if such a thing was possible after hearing the conversations between the sapients, but this isn¡¯t exactly what I had in mind.


    Unlike the spoken word, these are permanent¡­ or at least as permanent as the timber they¡¯re inscribed. Speech is momentary. Fleeting. Great for transferring one¡¯s thoughts and emotions, but this allows one to speak without even being there. A warning for any that can understand.


    Unstable Ground


    My idea had been closer to bending space slightly so the words would form that way¡­ but such would be unlikely to allow communication between those without true-sight. From what I¡¯ve seen so far, these sapients have worse spatial senses than most creatures I¡¯ve come across. Though that might simply be a factor of their environment; why see distortions if you never have to experience them, after all.


    The warning itself is curious. Unstable ground? They¡¯ve clearly had nests constructed behind this sign, so did the sapients not actually create these nests? Are they simply inhabiting them after something else formed them?


    I try inspecting the ground ahead, but it is far from the broken earth of the Other Side. Even the sections of that place that were somewhat stable appear like sand pits compared to this. Is it actually unstable?.


    Maybe they¡¯re worried the edge of the fissure will spread. If its just that, I don¡¯t understand why they¡¯re concerned. The sapients I fought when first arriving in this cavern had the strength to throw themselves many times their body lengths through the air; if they fell from a collapsing cliff-plate, then I¡¯m sure they could throw themselves back up. It would only become a problem if there was no stable ground to throw themselves too, or the earth that fell beneath them was nothing but powder. As it is, I don¡¯t see how the current landscape is a problem.


    Despite the sign warning danger, I take it as an invitation and slither past.


    I¡¯m used to places without life, but the presence of these towering nests going completely unused, gives them a rather odd sense of emptiness that not even the lifeless caverns of my past could achieve.


    While the sapients have abandoned this place, the same is not true for the critters and wild plants that have moved in with their absence. They all fill the space, and yet the sense of emptiness remains. Strange.


    The further I slither through this ¡®dangerous¡¯ area, I find the nests grow more broken. Early on, there were some cracks, but nearer the fissure, it is far more common a sight for them to have crumbled walls, or having collapsed completely.


    Considering the proximity to the sheared earth, I have to revise my thought that these nests are something the sapients moved into but didn¡¯t build. No, it¡¯s far more likely that they abandoned these because of disaster, rather than this having always been what the ground was like. Did the fissure tear open recently?


    The soft echo of voices overlays the hive¡¯s subtle hum.


    Curious. I thought no sapients would come into this place. They had a sign specifically saying not to. Why would they ignore that? I didn¡¯t, but that warning wasn¡¯t meant for me.


    ¡°Come on, Kael. Don¡¯t be a wimp.¡± The words finally become decipherable as I poke my head around the last corner. There, standing a few steps away from the ledge of the fissure, is a trio of those squid-like creatures.


    ¡°N-No. I¡¯m good here.¡±


    The three are smaller than most of their kind. Their species¡¯ young. What are they doing here, where even the stronger, older, don¡¯t come?


    The third one who has yet to speak steps forward and snatches a stone from the tentacle of the other. With a twist of its body, it flings the stone clear across the fissure, where I hear it clatter somewhere along the other side.


    ¡°You¡¯re not gonna beat us if you don¡¯t take a step forward.¡±


    Beat? Are they fighting?


    Curious of what they¡¯re so invested in, I slither forward.

 Chapter 53: Repeat

    The trio of young are completely oblivious to their surroundings. As I slither up beside them, not one even glances my way. Of course, the fallen nests and broken stones are the perfect environment to remain obscured, but they are unbelievably unwary of their surroundings. Do they believe nothing can threaten them?


    Is this the foolishness of younglings? Those who have not yet grown into the fears of their instincts. Or do their kind truly not have anything to worry about around here?


    The three collect stones from the ground beneath their tentacled limbs. Each piece a broken remnant of the former nests that remain nothing but a pile of rocks this close to the fissure. Flexing their flowing limbs, they fling the stones across the chasm, where they clatter against the opposite wall.


    One of the trio lingers many of its body length¡¯s further from the ledge, and tries to throw from there. Its stones consistently fall short of where its two kin¡¯s throws impact.


    ¡°Come on Kael¡±, one of the pair standing on the ledge says in a soft, high-pitched tone. ¡°You''re never going to win if you can''t step forward.¡±


    The other one says nothing, but its eyes swirl to the back of its head to smirk at the only one of them that actually seems somewhat wary. Kael? Is that what its species are called?


    ¡°Nixie, Asmis, you really shouldn¡¯t get so close. What if the cliff breaks?¡±


    I guess not. Nixie? Asmis? Are they individual names? With how many sapients there are, there couldn¡¯t possibly be enough names for each one. How could they come up with them all? Are these three special? Even though they are obviously so weak? Their throws across the fissure don¡¯t reveal much strength, after all.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s not going to break,¡± the high-pitched one, Nixie, says. The young slaps a couple tentacles against the earth, as if to prove the point. Though, completely misses the small section that breaks away and tumbles into the chasm with its next words. ¡°See? It hasn¡¯t fallen away in months. What are the chances it will do so today?¡±


    I scoot around the three, who seem completely unbothered by how much noise they make, and slither up to the ledge. Peering down, I find it isn''t as deep as I''d expected. Only about a far to the bottom as my full size is long. Nothing like the Titan''s tear or the voided column I took to reach this surface.


    For most of the way down, the cliff-walls are vertical. Only near the bottom does it narrow into an unmoving stream. I gaze up to where the stones clank against the fractured wall opposite. The front two tentacle creatures come rather close to hitting an oddly-perfect circular tunnel protruding from the wall. Above the cliff, the image is much the same as around me; an abandoned section of the hive with countless broken nests.


    ¡°Fine, you two can fall all you want, but I''d rather keep my life. I¡¯m staying back here.¡±


    The two near the ledge watch the tentacled young for a moment, before they burst into snickers. The one that has yet to speak talks in a hushed tone that I¡¯d imagine was intended not to be overheard¡­ if not for the fact it was loud enough to echo across the fissure. ¡°Oh well, leave him be. He will lose, and then he''ll have to face the punishment.¡± Abandoning the fake subtlety, the being¡¯s voice calls to the more nervous of the three. ¡°You do know you will be facing the punishment, right, Kael? You¡¯re hardly going to win from back there.¡±


    The wary young, rather than responding, picks up another rock and grunts as it heaves it across the fissure. The stone still falls short. I don''t really understand what the point is, but the failure seems to annoy Kael, as its eyes narrow in frustration.


    The other two quickly return to throwing stones, intent on whatever victory they believe throwing rocks will achieve. As far as I can tell, there is nothing over there. What reason is there to fling stones like this? Is there a point at all?


    Not a single one of them has any strength in their throw, and even if they are young, it makes it difficult to believe they are from the same species as those I first fought upon arriving here. If they had one of those fake-claws, neither of these three could even scratch the scales of my smallest form.


    It¡¯s incredibly underwhelming; the rocks ¡ª not even ranked stone ¡ª don¡¯t so much as break when they impact. They simply bounce off, rarely leaving any damage at all.


    I understand they are the young of their species, but this strength is the equivalent of being prey of prey to those I first encountered. It is rare for mature creatures to be this disproportionate from their young unless they have lived for a vast time. Did I misjudge? Are those I fought actually far older than I expected? For their young to be this weak, I must have; they are the exception amongst their species, rather than the norm.


    Which means that this swarm is even weaker than I¡¯d thought. Assuming the three other races have much the same basic strength, this extensive swarm has pitiful individual strength barely greater than a bilby¡¯s. A single apikull or diosgris might be enough to clean out this hive. How have they survived so long? There¡¯s not a chance I¡¯m the first creature to rise from the depths. It would be impossible, considering the sheer scale of the warped tunnels.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Sure, there are those exceptions in the ones I fought as I exited the column, but the opposition I faced would be insufficient to hold back many of the greater residents of my former territory. And yet¡­ these young continue to be completely unwary to their surroundings. They truly do not believe anything could threaten them here.


    I continue to watch as the trio bicker while throwing their stones across the chasm. Soon enough, it becomes obvious they are aiming for that tunnel that protrudes from the opposite wall like a hollow root. Their aim isn¡¯t great, but now and then, they get closer.


    I¡¯d originally thought ¡ª what with the challenging tone the front two took for Kael ¡ª that they weren¡¯t on good terms. The way they spoke suggested a sort of aggression that I might expect from beasts fighting over territory¡­ but the front two show their back to the one they snarl at far too easily. This Kael has all the opportunity he needs to shove them into the fissure and come out victorious from whatever internal dispute they have between each other¡­ but doesn¡¯t take it. They simply throw stones with a strange trust in one another.


    The sight reminds me of Scia. At first, we didn¡¯t get along perfectly, and yet I still found myself protecting her. As did she. Scia was intelligent ¡ª more-so than most creatures of my former home ¡ª would it have been possible, assuming she¡¯d lived long enough, that she too could have grown into sapience? The memories of our wordless interactions are irreplaceable; but what might it have been like to speak with her? What did she think of me?


    ¡°Yes!¡± One cheers. Nixie, if I followed their chatter correctly. Across the fissure, one of the stones has clattered within the extruding tunnel and slides deep within. The reverberating echo is louder than any of the other stone impacts.


    She laughs, her eyes spinning in her head back to the more cowardly young. ¡°Take that!¡±


    Not a moment later, another stone lands within the tunnel, and the other standing at the cliff-edge makes a strange clicking noise, but obviously annoyed at not succeeding first.


    ¡°Damn it, Nixie,¡± Kael groans, being the only one not to have succeeded.


    ¡°You know what this means, right Kael?¡± her tone inclines with a lilt. Amusement, maybe? Or closer to smugness?


    Kael simply sighs, dropping the last few stones held in a curl of one of his tentacles.


    ¡°But¡­¡± Nixie continues, stretching the word far longer than is necessary. ¡°I¡¯ll give you one chance to avoid the punishment.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s already dark, Nixie. Mum¡¯ll skin me alive if I¡¯m not home when she gets off work.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. This will take only a minute.¡± She crouches to dig up one of the countless rectangular stones that cover the earth between fallen nests. ¡°All you need to do, is throw a brick further than Asmis and I. Easy, right?¡±


    Asmis, by her side, smirks with his eyes before following her lead and picking up another of those identical stones. ¡°Right. I like the sound of that.¡±


    ¡°But that''s unfair,¡± Kael moans, but neither of the other two pay his complaints any mind.


    As one, Asmis and Nixie take a step towards the cliff. One more and they¡¯d both fall. With great effort, they lug the stones out ahead of them. Despite not being all that much larger than the other stones they¡¯d been throwing, these fall out of their tentacles more than they fly. Asmis¡¯s stone crashes into the opposite embankment before rebounding into the water. Nixie¡¯s simply hits the water.


    I slither away from the edge and pick up one of the same stones along the patterned ground to inspect its weight, but find it lighter than expected. It isn¡¯t so much heavier than the stones they were throwing, so why¡¯d they have such a problem with these?


    Both having already completed their throws, turn to the third, who picks up one of his own and reluctantly takes a few steps towards the ledge. He stops a few of his body lengths short, refusing to go farther. With two tentacles, he pulls back the stone, before heaving it forward.


    To his credit, he seems to put more strength into the throw than the other two¡­ but it still falls short. So short, that it doesn¡¯t even clear the ledge.


    The stone crashes into the ground, and immediately the lip of the cliff breaks away. Nixie and Asmis can only stare for a moment before the ledge breaks away beneath their tentacles, neither having the chance to leap away from the collapsing earth.


    They scream as they fall, Kael¡¯s voice joining as he stretches a limb forward, far too slow to help either. The creatures flail as they descend, terrified eyes glancing up, almost like they¡¯re pleading at me. But even poking my head over the ledge, they haven¡¯t noticed me. They might have, if they weren¡¯t so panicked.


    Really, it is the trio¡¯s own foolishness that this happened. They had a permanent communication set in place warning of this exact thing, and yet they discarded such knowledge. Young as they are, they should know better. It is none but their own fault if they die from this.


    I¡¯ve not seen foolishness like this since¡­


    A bend appears and I¡¯ve shot through it before I even realise what I¡¯m doing. The two falling sapients scramble against the stone as they slide down the cliff, only to find they have no grip, and pull away from the wall along with the earth they previously stood on. They fall, unable to save themselves.


    I snap forward, growing as quickly as my body will allow. The fissure isn¡¯t all that deep, so the fall won¡¯t be long. That might have been thankful in any other scenario, but these creatures are so weak such a fall will surely kill them. All it does is limit the time I have to react, and prevents me gaining any sufficient size, leaving me to halt their fall with only my smallest of forms.


    Another bend appears, and immediately upon exiting, my tail whips around the middle of one. The soft flesh squishes under my strength, and I have to put in effort not to squeeze the young dead in an instant.


    With most of my body already occupied with the one called Asmis, my distortions become useless. Not only that, I have no more room to curl around the other while also halting their fall. An idea pops into mind, and while I¡¯m sure the sapient won¡¯t like it, it will keep them alive.


    At the same time I spike my tail into the wall, I snap my head forward. My teeth sink deep into the tentacle, facing no resistance. Again, I have to hold myself back from snapping my jaw shut and bursting the boneless flesh as I¡¯d done with the first of these creatures I¡¯d seen.


    My tail, hooked within the wall, grinds away the weak standard stone until the three of us jerk to a stop, slamming into the cliff-face as the loose earth continues to shatter along the slope until it hits the water.


    Well, they¡¯re alive¡­ but I really wish the one called Nixie would stop screaming.

 Chapter 54: Empathy

    The two in my grasp couldn¡¯t have more different reactions.


    Nixie screams as she dangles from my fangs. Her five free tentacles not pulled taught by her own weight flick around in a desperate attempt to grapple something solid. She scrapes against the cliff-wall, but can¡¯t seem to gain a grip. She is delirious; uncomprehending of her safety.


    Asmis, comparatively, is inexplicably calm. While stiff within my coils, his eyes remain wide. His limbs curl around my spine, but he doesn¡¯t fight. No screams come from him. Not even a squeak. I find myself thankful to the young; the silent stillness is so much easier to deal with than the other that continues to sway and tug at my fangs.


    I loosen the hold my tail-tip has in the rock, and we slowly scrape down the vertical wall. Asmis remains unsquirming in my coil, but Nixie redoubles her desperate struggles and screams. It would be so much more convenient to enlarge myself so that I can have the weight advantage over her and stop her from making this harder than it needs to be¡­ but doing so would rip her tentacle to ribbons as my fangs expand.


    Saving them was a momentary decision, but I do not regret it. A while ago, I would have simply watched on as they fell to their deaths. What was the life of a lesser creature, after all? But now, I can sympathise with these less¡­ No, not lesser; simply weaker. After having experienced the horror of being at the whim of Titans, I empathise with these weaker species.


    This fall is tiny from my perspective. Hardly anything worth worrying about. Yet to the young of their species, survival is unlikely. It took hardly an effort on my part to save them from the worst fate.


    Their sapience certainly adds to the parallels between us, but I would have done the same even had they lacked that intelligence. I cannot look at these creatures in the same way I once did. I have experienced too much to return to such apathy. The feeling of powerlessness against the true rulers of the world; I empathise.


    The cliff angles into the stream. I wanted to let them go before falling into the water, but with how Nixie continues to struggle against me, they cannot find their grip on the steep surface. I rappel down until the three of us crash into the stream.


    Finally in a position to free them both, I unclench my jaw and loosen my coil. My teeth slide from the soft flesh and blood flows freely from the puncture wounds. As soon as my fangs no longer hold her tentacle still, Nixie snatches it away. She slaps the water, scrambling to escape. Asmis does much the same, but he appears far more in control of his limbs and doesn¡¯t flail as much.


    Before Nixie moves far enough, one of her tentacles whacks my head in her distress.


    I flinch. It doesn¡¯t hurt at all, but the strike takes me by surprise. I just saved this young, and she returns the favour with an assault? How ungrateful. It would have been so easy to let her fall to her death if I knew she would show this kind of appreciation.


    I hiss at the girl, and the sound only makes her scrambling all the more desperate. Asmis flows through the water to her side, his limbs pressing on her to calm her down. As they both swim, I find it strange that despite having a form closely resembling an octopus or squid, neither shares those species¡¯ familiarity with the water. They move their tentacles to scoop the water, rather than allowing their bodies to pulse.


    I hiss again, but this time more out of resignation than anger. It is obvious that the strike wasn¡¯t malicious; not like the attackers I¡¯d encountered upon reaching the surface. The young is incapable of controlling her emotions and is striking out without understanding why. I experienced something similar, after all.


    ¡°Are you two okay?¡± a voice carries down into the gorge.


    My gaze returns to the ledge we just fell from. At the top, peeking out ever so slightly, is the head of the wary sapient, Kael. The young overcame his fear to check on the others¡¯ safety, but still crouches as low as he can and clings to the earth. It¡¯s surprising, consider how terrified he¡¯d been of getting anywhere near the ledge, and having just watched it collapse, that he would even tread near it.


    ¡°Stay there. I''m going to get help.¡± And in an instant, he¡¯s gone again. A light patter tentacles slapping against stone echo down into the gorge.


    I return my gaze to the two I''ve just saved. They float together, unaware of their companion and staring at me. Nixie has calmed somewhat now that she¡¯s out of my jaws, but her eyes don¡¯t stray from my form for a moment. She doesn¡¯t try to attack, but she keeps her distance.The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    Now that I think about it, this is the proper reaction, right? It is far more realistic for creatures to experience terrible fear in the face of a predator, even if their actions saved you. Remaining vigilant and leary could save them from a creature looking for an easy meal.


    But¡­ it¡¯s odd that my first reaction now is to expect respect after saving a creature rather than the fear that has been constant all my life. Scia was the strange one for doing so. The little bat¡¯s choice may have been smart, but I can¡¯t expect the same reaction from any others. Not even sapients.


    These young see a predator ¡ª not helped by my drawing of Nixie¡¯s blood ¡ª and react as any creature does when their lives are on the line; fear.


    The wound I inflicted catches my eye. A lot of blood flows into the stagnant water; far more than I would have expected from a couple of pierce wounds. I slither closer, gliding along the water¡¯s surface. Nixie cradles the limb, while using the other four to tread. The tentacle looks to be in a far worse state than I expected; not only are there very obvious holes where my fangs sunk, but the entire opposite side is shredded. The row of teeth on my lower jaw rarely break skin, but apparently I gripped her too tight and tore up the outer muscle horribly.


    I slither closer, considering how I might fix, or at least ease the wound, but Asmis, the one who¡¯s stayed passive until now, strikes out. A bend appears and I dodge the tentacle with ease. I slide through the air, taking some distance from the obviously unsettled young. As I fall into a loop of distortions and watch them from above, both their eyes widen further. They paddle backwards without peeling their gazes from mine.


    I wanted to make sure the wound I inflicted wouldn¡¯t cause her death after I put so much effort into assuring her safety, but with both young as tense as they are, I¡¯ll have to leave them alone. My help is not welcome, and I shouldn¡¯t push them. If I were in the same situation, with a Titan looming above me, the last thing I would want is the being to approach.


    Once there is enough space between us, the two begin looking around. Their wary eyes continually flick back to me, where I spin in the air. What are they searching for? As I join them in craning my head through the fissure, I discover the most likely reason; there is no path out.


    Without the benefit of my spatial distortions or wings, neither can fly. With the cliff-side walls as steep and muddy as they are, climbing isn¡¯t an option either. No path up to the hive above is apparent. How can they get back up?


    As I consider growing myself and carrying the two back up ¡ª I should have no issue carving a path through the basic rock of these walls ¡ª a clatter attracts my attention back up to the recently collapsed cliff ledge. Already, a pair of mature sapients fall into the gorge, having leapt without so much as a moment of hesitation. These must be some more of the stronger specimens of their respective species.


    One is the same as the two young floating in the water below me, and the other is of that ape-like race that is far less populous than the other three. Above them, a pair of fake flying squirrels circle above like vultures.


    The two mature sapients crash into the lower slope of the cliff, hitting hard enough to dislodge a shelf of stone, and speed down to the waters. Their gazes land on the young treading water before they snap to me, where I casually twist through the air. Immediately, fake-claws appear in their hands and their eyes turn hostile. Their muscles tense and the trajectory of their slide shifts toward me.


    Realising that if I stick around, I¡¯ll have to kill two more idiots without the instinct to detect a predator¡¯s strength. I whip myself upward and out of striking range. I don¡¯t look back. A few bends and I rise over the edge the pair of young had fallen from¡­ only to come face to face with a gathering crowd.


    Dozens of sapients stand around between the remnants of their nests, and more seem to arrive with each moment. All these mature creatures¡­ are they not listening to the permanent warning communication either? I can understand the young being foolish ¡ª and put themselves in a deadly position ¡ª but I thought those with more experience would understand the written warning and give the unstable area its proper consideration.


    Well, unless each of them can handle the fall longer than my full size. Then I guess it would be fine.


    Only a few dare approach the ledge itself, and those do are the ones that I almost barrel into upon breaching the clifftop. Their reactions are quick; a lump of metal covering the tip of a tentacle swings at me, but not quick enough; I curl around the blow, creating a bend before the creature¡¯s face and sliding out from its back.


    I whip my tail to punish the sapient, and watch as it tumbles down into the gorge. With as quick as it struck those heavy metal balls, I¡¯m sure it will survive the fall, but like the others of its species, it cannot fly, so it cannot retaliate.


    The crowd, which had been a buzz of chatter, now falls silent. They watch me, shocked. For a few long moments, nobody moves, and I half believe that they must have all felt the pressure of a powerful presence. Instead of waiting to be attacked by whichever tries next, I turn back out over the fissure. Crossing to the other side ¡ª where there is no gathering crowd to halt me ¡ª is easy, and as I slither between the broken nests, the chatter starts up again at an elevated volume that carries over the gorge.


    Out of curiosity, I craft a bend to gaze behind me. They should be thankful I saved one of their young, but all I see is hostility now that they¡¯ve broken their shock. It¡¯s not like I even killed the one who attacked me; simply nudged him over the edge.


    I hiss, continuing away from the swarm. As with any hive, you poke it ¡ª even accidentally ¡ª and they all grow agitated as one. Well, if they attack me, that is their own deaths.


    But maybe I better stay hidden for a while. I¡¯d rather not fight any unnecessary battles, after all.


    I glance back, and find the pair of flying sapients following me. They don¡¯t attack, nor do they speak. They simply watch as I slither away from the deepest parts of the restricted area and head toward the populated region of the nest.


    They¡­ might be hard to lose.

 Chapter 55: Misjudgement

    For a couple of flying rodents, this sapient pair is annoyingly persistent.


    I''m now nearing the end of the abandoned region, but regardless of the rocks I weave between, the obscuring broken overhangs I slide beneath, or the speed at which I slip through them all, the fake-winged rats keep on my tail. Soon enough, there will be more of the creatures swarming this place, and I¡¯d rather not have any knowing exactly where I am.


    Their observation might not be terrible. As they hold their distance, it is clear they have no intent on attacking like many of the other sapient races. If they want to follow me without getting in my way, then I hold no opposition. But I don¡¯t trust they won¡¯t. I don¡¯t believe they won¡¯t try to attack or ambush me the moment they think they can get away with it, regardless of how obvious it should be that I am too much for them.


    Swarms can be like that.


    As I slither further from the fissure, the nests grow far more intact. The walls around me are whole, and the places to hide become sparse. I try to use the corners of the nest to have my pursuers lose sight of me, but such attempts never work. They read my mind. Any time there is a section of wall that I can hide behind, one of the two diverts their flight to where they can keep an eye on me at all times. I have to remember that while these sapients don¡¯t have the strength, they are intelligent. Such basic tactics I¡¯ve become accustomed to will not work.


    But, despite their intelligence, it''s obvious they have no familiarity with spatial distortions.


    I form a bend at my current maximum distance ¡ª not even as long as my smallest length ¡ª but it is enough to connect myself to the interior of the enclosed nest. From the perspective of the sharp, yet lacking eyes above, I have disappeared.


    The interior of this abandoned nest is filthy. A thick sheen of dust covers the floor, and kicks up into a plume through the small cavern as I rush to the other side. I don¡¯t have time to waste. The quicker I breach the other side, the better my chances will be to avoid being found again. Hopefully, those two will waste time trying to find where I went.


    I could kill those two in an instant. It would be easy. A flick through the air and a snap with my jaw and they¡¯d be gone in moments. But¡­ I now find the very idea of attacking first distasteful. Unless I¡¯m hunting, or have already been struck, I don¡¯t want to subject other creatures to the horror of being so completely overwhelmed and unable to defend themselves.


    A bend appears and I slide out the other side of the nest. Not a flying sapient in sight. Wasting no time, I slither forward. The moment I pass another of those permanent communication warnings, signs of life suddenly become regular. Each nest holds the sound of conversation, random clatters, and the thump of footsteps; all muffled by the walls that hold them, but apparent non-the-less.


    The gap between rows of nests extends far through the hive; an extensive path of stone arrayed near perfectly flat. In the distance, thousands of sapients congregate in the space between nests, their numbers continuing until the path curves to the side and my sight is blocked.


    Before I can consider my options ¡ª whether to avoid the creatures completely, or rush through them ¡ª a whistle echoes from behind me. The flying rodent has found me. The second turns around the nest, coming from the opposite side of the one who whistled. It¡¯s eyes snap to me instantly upon turning the corner, once again proving the species only good aspects; their eyesight and reaction time.


    Wasting no time, I snap along the earth, sliding through bends but mostly keeping low. If they¡¯ve found me this quick, than there will be no point doing making the same attempt again. I need to shake them with another method¡­ and the large crowd provide just that.


    My sudden increased pace startles the two, and I hear a few indecipherable squeaks before one glides off to the side, passing through a narrower path linked to this main one. Where is it going? Has it given up the chase? If so, good. It will be much easier to lose only one through the crowd of sapients.


    I¡¯m a bit annoyed at myself. Once I¡¯d slithered out from the nest I passed through, I should have gotten out of sight immediately. These are sapients. They have the intelligence to see through the plan that would have worked on any other beast. I¡¯d assumed they would try to find me directly; either breaking through the wall where I entered, or staying near in hopes I would come out. Of course, they would keep an eye on the perimeter of the nest rather than chase me into what could easily be a trap. I see that now.


    Many sapients shout in surprise and leap out of the way as I brush past them in my rush down the path. Their reactions are mostly startled. As soon as I¡¯m a couple paces away, they relax, as if I couldn¡¯t close the distance and pierce their necks in an instant.


    I do take comfort in the fact that none that notice me attack. They shout to their neighbours, warning them of my approach, but they don¡¯t bring out their fake-claws or pellet-flingers to attack me. Confirmation that it is only their strongest that are inherently aggressive. Does that mean there are dedicated roles amongst them? As with any other species that survives with colonies, there must be castes. I thought that might have been fulfilled by the differing species, but it looks like I was wrong. Any can be warriors. And any can be workers.


    This is good; I can slither through the entire crowd without having to slaughter every one that strikes at me.


    As I slither through the hive ¡ª attracting no small amount of attention ¡ª I find that the rock and wood that form each nest are inlaid with patterns that exude energy. It is similar, albeit far inferior, from that which I felt in the pillar of the warped tunnels. This energy holds a slight warmth to it, but the warmth holds none of the nourishment that came with the pillar.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Strange, pleasant, scents reach my nostrils. My tongue darts out. The intense array of new smells quickly makes my mouth water.


    All around me, the sapients ¡ª those who haven¡¯t leapt away in fright of me ¡ª sit in seats similar to those I saw in the train, but thinner. The creatures often sit in circles, with a flat surface held up by four wooden legs between them. These small groups are numerous; taking up the majority of the sapients in this section of the path. The rest walk, often stopping before the open walls of the nests to the sides.


    It doesn¡¯t take more than a moment to realise that this must be where they feed. Between the pleasant scent of meat and the sapients¡¯ strange use of smaller fake-claws to carry the foods to their mouths, it is obvious¡­ but I can¡¯t smell blood at all. Somehow these sapients have managed to make things smell amazing without the raw tinge of blood tingling my tongue.


    I leap up onto one of those raised surfaces the sapients use to hold their prey. The action startles each of the five out of their seats, but I have eyes only for their meals. I recognise nothing. No animal I know has such a crisp texture to it in death. Maybe some crustaceans come close, but this is obviously not that.


    There are the obvious signs of leaves and other small plants besides the pieces of meat, but I ignore them. It¡¯s the one item on the plate that I cannot comprehend at all. Why do these sapients have such an obsession with having things in rectangular shapes.


    Curious, I snap up the square stick, still blinded by the intense unfamiliar scents. As soon as the square touches my mouth, I nearly gag. Spitting it out, I turn to the last object on the ¡ª stone? crystal? ¡ª disk. This must be where the scent of meat is coming from. It smells vaguely avian, but there is so much covering the scent, that I can¡¯t be sure.


    The moment it''s in my mouth, my saliva flows. It hasn''t even been that long since I''ve feasted, and yet I swallow it without restraint.


    The incredible taste touching my stomach isn''t nearly as filling as the ¨­mukade, but its beauty lies in its taste.


    How have they made such wondrous meat?


    My guess was right. It is the breast of some sort of fowl, and yet it tastes nothing like any other. I''ve always thought that meat could never taste good without it being alive, But this¡­ It remains warm even long after death.


    If I could learn how they do this, then maybe the unfortunate creatures that become my prey won¡¯t have to suffer being digested alive. Sure, they may have to die regardless ¡ª as is the way of nature ¡ª but they won¡¯t have to feel the agony and horror of living their last moments knowing they can do nothing in the face of a creature far stronger.


    As I relish the warmth of my meal, one of those antlered khirig ¡ª the same one who I stole this prey from ¡ª swings some sort of satchel at me. It knocks me from the raised surface, but also it sends all the disks holding their food to the ground along with me. The disks shatter, revealing them not to be either stone or crystal at all.


    I hiss at the creature, ready to give it all its worth for striking me but I¡¯m stopped when, from the corner of my eye, I catch that flying squirrel again. It peels out from the side gap between nests, moving far faster than before.


    That¡¯s strange. I didn¡¯t think they could move that fast without being thrown by one of the other sapient races. As soon as I have the thought, another sapient bounds out from behind the little creature. Like the one who just knocked me from the surface, a khirig.


    Considering its pace, and the distance it leaps with each step, this is not one of the common worker caste.


    I, unfortunately, have to forgive the one who swung at me the moment the khirig''s eyes land on mine. The undeniable scent and taste of the sapients¡¯ feast was too much of a distraction, and I had forgotten my reason for rushing through the crowd in the first place. So, I snap away from the table, once again slithering between the legs and tentacles of any I pass.


    Most aren''t even quick enough to realise I''ve been there, and those that are, stumble away long after I''ve already shot past them.


    I¡¯d been complacent. Of course the fake-winged rodent hadn¡¯t given up on the chase. It can communicate after all, it would be simple to collect one of the warrior caste and direct them to my location. Again, I had treated these sapients as I would any other creature. I need to adjust to their methods; they aren¡¯t nearly as simple as any common beast or swarm.


    Thankfully, the crowd itself seems incredibly slow to realise that there''s danger in their midst. Conversation continue overhead, not even realising that a predator strong enough to eat them all just slithered between them.


    A glance through a mirrored bend reveals that the khirig chasing me has trouble spotting me through the dense crowd, but the two flying above have no such problems. Their eyes never leave my form. And whenever the khirig seems to lose me, their presence directly above me reorients it.


    It only takes a couple repetitions of this for the focus of the antlered warrior to shift. The moment its eyes shift to the walls of the nests, I know its plan has changed. It steps away. In a moment, its antler slaps against the wall. Not hard, but the action sends energy thrumming through the lines covering each wall. I watch as it spreads along the path faster than I could ever hope to move, and branches through and overhanging arch connecting the nests on both sides of the path. Rapidly, the energy spreads through every nest in sight, and unleashes a high pitched shriek.


    The sound is brief, but it is enough for all conversation to stop and every worker caste to halt.


    A voice takes the place of the shriek. Loud, and originating from everywhere. ¡°Lockdown is now in effect. Leave the streets and make your way to the nearest building before locking the shutters.¡±


    I realise that despite the words coming from all around me, it is the khirig empowering the wall that moves its mouth. How does it do that? Can it somehow replicate the effect of the warped tunnels without making any distortions?


    ¡°The mercenary order will soon arrive to deal with the threat. If you see a snake or any other serpentine creature, please scream.¡±


    The khirig¡¯s voice carries over all, but for a few moments, nobody moves. It¡¯s as if they were struck by the pressure of a presence. The khirig, realising the same, raises its voice, only this time not projecting it through the energy.


    ¡°Move. Now.¡± Its voice carries a slight tinge of presence where before there was none. I find it incredibly odd that these creatures move when feeling that pressure, yet freeze when there is none. Every other time I¡¯ve felt or used it, the effect has been the opposite.


    I may have been making the mistake of treating these sapients as any other creatures, but it seems they aren¡¯t immune to doing the same. I take the foolishly given warning, and follow the sapients into their nests ¡ª buildings ¡ª before blinking through the wall to brush off the fake-winged sapients¡¯ gazes. Hiding amongst the crowd cramped within the next nest is easy.


    Good luck if they want to find me now.

 Chapter 56: Intelligence

    Dozens of sapients crowd together in the tight space of the nest I find myself. They murmur amongst themselves, concerned, but not quite fearful of the lockdown. I hear questions thrown around. Speculation about the cause.


    None realise that the very thing they are hiding from slithers beneath the cluttered mess of objects stacked at the side of the room. Hiding from them here is rather easy, assuming I stay still and out of sight, but I know the flying squirrels saw the nest I flew into, so I should move further away before they find me only a wall away.


    Oddly enough, there are some of those fake-winged rodents amongst them, but even when I poke my head out from cover, they are far slower to react than the two that had been following me. Another difference in caste? Using the term ¡®warrior¡¯ doesn¡¯t seem to fit, but their speed and sight were far greater then the few hugging the heads of other races in the confines of this nest.


    Of course, they are still far sharper than the others, but I don¡¯t even hear a squeak of surprise from them as I slither through cover to the other side of the room and pass beyond the wall.


    The next nest I find myself is incredibly cold. A far cry from the comfortable warm air outside. Along the ceiling of the small cavern are more of those lines of energy curving in odd patterns. Unlike those outside, they emit a chill; likely the source of this cavern¡¯s differing temperature.


    My scales are resilient and hold off the cold well, but I will never not prefer the sensation of a warm climate over a cold one. I slide across the narrow cavern, grateful for the lack of sapients sharing the space and ignoring the subtle hum of conversation from the wall to the side, when the scent of fowl licks my tongue again.


    Held along the wall are cubical forms ¡ª more of the sapients¡¯ favourite shape ¡ª stacked one on top of the other. I poke it with my tail, and the shape shatters, revealing the pile of dead, skinned, bird meat held within. It is obviously the same species as the prey I just ate, but it looks nothing alike. It smells nothing alike. Colder than any other creature besides maybe an apikull, this can¡¯t possibly be where that meal came from. Far too much time has passed since the creatures¡¯ death that even if they hadn¡¯t been hidden away within this chilly chamber, they¡¯d be too cold to eat.


    Why would the sapients leave their prey here to rot? I hardly thought they were carrion eaters, considering the wonderful taste they¡¯d given non-living meat.


    Not wanting to linger in a cavern of distasteful long-dead prey, I create a bend out through the nearest wall. Before I pass through, I discover it leads back outside. Manipulating the bend¡¯s connection point on the other side, I alter the angle until I get a full view of the surroundings. It¡¯s too open and one of those flying squirrels would only have to pass over to spot me.


    Manipulating the distortions while they are already in place is surprisingly easy to do. I¡¯d never considered such a thing possible at first, considering those in the warped tunnels rarely change after they are formed, but I can twist the entry and exit points as long as they don¡¯t shift angles or divert position in space rapidly. Doesn¡¯t help much when I¡¯m trying to slither through the air or move rapidly, but times like now when I need to view the world without being seen myself, it is useful.


    I shift back, going through the other wall and hiding beneath chairs that have been stacked against one wall to make room for more sapients to squeeze into the tight space. Right now, I¡¯m still too close to the nest I entered, and the fake-winged creatures will be sure to spot me if I go outside. Just as they did last time.


    Now that I think about it, they do know which nest I flew within, so they¡¯ll probably have all the surrounding ones searched soon. I don¡¯t think they are stupid enough to not have figured out I can ignore their walls. So instead of hiding, I dart forward, slithering beneath limbs and objects so I can reach the opposite wall quick and pass through. I do my best to remain unseen but sometimes that is simply impossible. The small flyers eyes are simply too good.


    In the first huddled group, I discovered that most of the sapients rarely tend to look up, so as I swim through the next few nests, I keep near the ceiling. Unfortunately, this has the opposite effect. Even sticking to the corners, the moment I slide over some points in the sprawled veins of energy through the ceiling, every eye snaps my way.


    I don¡¯t know what gave me away, but from then on I keep low. Slithering between tentacles and feet often startles the one I move through, but at least it isn¡¯t the whole nest watching me.


    As I pass through the sixth wall, I realise, again, I¡¯m not treating the sapients with the respect their intelligence deserves, and chide myself with a soft hiss. Going straight like this will reveal my path in no time. Considering those behind me can speak and communicate, there¡¯s no hiding where I¡¯ve been. It wouldn¡¯t be surprising if they¡¯ve already set up an ambush ahead.


    For the next cavern, I make sure I¡¯m more subtle than before. I keep out of all creatures¡¯ sight as I make my way to the rear of the nest and peer out into the open space behind the building. Finding none looking in the tight gap between nests, I dart across, leaving myself visible only for an instant.Stolen story; please report.


    Leaving the bend open behind me, I twist it around to see if any witnessed my passage. Nothing. Not even the slightest movement.


    I make sure to keep my path unpredictable from then on, putting more effort to remain out of sight the further I travel. After a short while, the nests I pass through are no longer filled with the sapients under lockdown. Instead, the few I do come across are completely enraptured with gazing through their thin crystal walls touching the outside to notice my passage through their homes.


    With each new nest I pass through, awareness of the lockdown grows less frequent, until the point where I find some not even paying attention to what is outside their nests, and they eat on surfaces similar to those in the street back where I came from.


    I¡¯d assumed that street had been where the sapients feasted; a sort of storage and preparation area for the prey they gathered. But if they eat in their nests too, than I must be wrong.


    It is, unfortunately, impossible to travel through the densely packed nests without sometimes slithering out into a street. The only reason I can do so without much worry, is that they appear almost abandoned compared to how busy the feeding street or any other I¡¯d seen from the train had been.


    The longer I travel through the hive, the quieter the streets become. And the reason is just as confusing as the shift in activity; they are resting. That creatures would sleep is hardly unsurprising in itself, but they all do it at the same time. Such a vast hive, and they all want to sleep in sync. Why?


    I don¡¯t even need to worry about being spotted anymore. Any time I slither in through a nest, the occupants are dead to the world. I can pass them by out in the open without being noticed.


    I don''t understand it. No other creatures down in my warped tunnels ever slept with such unison, even amongst members of the same species. It is only the sight of the rare group of warrior cast rushing through the streets in search of me that it becomes apparent that they aren¡¯t purely leaving themselves open to attack. Of course the defenders would hold more standard sleep patterns while the rest stick to their oddities.


    As this is a swarm of intelligent creatures, I¡¯m sure these groups of warrior caste are searching for me. They wouldn¡¯t give up on me simply because they lost me. I am still within the hive, and they know it. But what I find strange, is that they don¡¯t search with any great depth.


    More than once already, they¡¯ve passed where I hide, and all it would take is to crouch or turn a corner and they¡¯ll discover me. But they never do. They run along, seeing nothing. Even the way they flick their eyes around to search their surroundings seems inadequate. As if they''re waiting more for a noise to reveal my location for them.


    Because of this insufficient effort on their part, I can filter through the hive without problem. I remain wary of the flying rodents and the open spaces where they can see me, but otherwise I¡¯m unimpeded.


    The hive is immense. I slither through the streets that never seem to end, always branching off in another strange direction. I came here to listen in on the conversation of sapients, but with them all unconscious, I find that there is far more to capture my interest than some idle chatter.


    Most of their nests rise ten times their height. Those nearer the large curving wall only climb higher. When not blocked by the buildings themselves, my sight cannot reach the edge of the hive. In any direction. I struggle to imagine just how many of their kind lives here.


    The more I see, the more impressed I grow with what such weak creatures have created. Besides very few of their warrior caste, they hold strength equivalent to the weakest of species, yet they have not let that hold them back. Between those energy lines, their sleep schedule, and so many other ways I¡¯ve seen them interact, both with themselves and the outside world, there is so much about them I cannot comprehend.


    Sapience truly is incredible. I¡¯d been thinking otherwise for a long time now ¡ª what is a slight improvement to intelligence over more strength, after all ¡ª but they can create things that could never be possible with strength alone.


    The flowing pool of water from what is otherwise a mountain of rock is a perfect example.


    From a pillar of stone carved into the shape of some strange beast ¡ª one of multiple species that wouldn¡¯t likely survive long if it were real ¡ª flows a stream of water. The water splashes down into a small pond that appears unnaturally clean, unlike the murk at the bottom of the fissure.


    At a surface glance, such doesn¡¯t appear all that impressive. A single distortion from the depths would geyser out far more water. But there are no rends here. Even if I could create one, I wouldn¡¯t want to keep it active indefinitely, and these creatures obviously don¡¯t have such ability.


    No. What they¡¯ve done is direct the water where there isn¡¯t any naturally. Even in the warped tunnels, so much life relies on the flow of water. In sections where it doesn¡¯t flow, only creatures that prey on others can survive.


    But they have directed that water to their whims. Whether they¡¯ve done it with those strange energy lines or some other method, I don¡¯t know. It is simply because they can, that their hive has grown to such expanses.


    These sapients do not rely on the environment being perfect for them to survive, as every other creature does. The environment is their plaything, to morph however their tastes desire.


    It makes me wonder how they have so much meat available for so many of their kind. Despite how long I¡¯ve wandered through this hive, not once have I seen the fowl the meat I ate came from. How do they sustain their requirements?


    The empty streets make searching the hive easy, and I take full advantage. Every sight is amazing and new, and I can only wish that Scia was still here to enjoy it with me.


    Eventually, the quiet recedes. The sudden ramping of bird chirps surprises me. I hadn¡¯t even realised there were birds in this nest, not with how I¡¯d avoided the sky or any place a flying squirrel might see. Had they been sleeping too, along with the sapients? Why does everything rest at the same time up here?


    Almost as if timed with the increase of bird-chirps, the spatial ripple that had left while I rode along the back of the train returns. Initially, it is slight, but it rapidly overwhelms the air. Not a street of the hive remains untouched by the warmth.

 Chapter 57: Forsake

    The return of the strong spatial ripple is surprising. Especially considering it reappeared without my moving. That very fact clears away my original thought of it being a natural part of the cavern.


    While I didn¡¯t know what caused it, it had remained present both in this cavern and the Other Side. When riding on the spine of that train, it had disappeared so quickly because of some shift in the cavern ceiling far above. But for it to have returned while I linger in the same spot, it means the origin is moving.


    Maybe it''s a beast clinging to the ceiling of this giant cavern. Is there a titan simply lying in wait above all these creatures, and none knows any better? It has become blatantly clear in the time since arriving at the surface, that I am the only one who can see space. The rest see¡­ something else.


    Could these sapients be completely oblivious to such a danger lurking just beyond the reach of their sight?


    As the ripple pleasantly warms my scales, I allow myself to calm down. If there truly is a Titan hanging above ¡ª disregarding just how strong the cavern ceiling would have to be to support such a creature ¡ª then it must be unlikely to drop and destroy everything as a Nareau would. If that was the case, such a massive hive of sapients couldn¡¯t possibly have reached this size. It would simply take too long to build if they had to face such beings.


    Around me, the sapients grow noisy again. Few chatter, but there are plenty slamming their doors behind them as they leave their abode. It can¡¯t be a coincidence that the birds and sapients all awake in time with this intense spatial ripple. I¡¯m sure it¡¯s not, but I can¡¯t concoct a connection that fits.


    There aren¡¯t many sapients wandering around yet, but with the rate they grow, they¡¯ll fill the streets in no time. Should I wait in hiding somewhere so that I can overhear more conversation, or should I continue moving? It¡¯s a difficult choice.


    I slither around another corner and find a small group of sapients. Despite their differing species, they all have similar fake-skins strapped over their bodies. The octopus-like beings each have bands of cloth around each limb where the tentacles connect to their body, while the khirig amongst them has the same strap around its upper arms. In the khirig¡¯s case, the cloth stretches across the whole soft body contained within its cage of antlers.


    The three wearing similar fake-skins surround another tentacle creature wearing nothing. It sits on the ledge of a series of steps leading up to the door of a nest.


    ¡°Do you have the relevant paperwork this time? You know we have been lenient and given you two extra weeks. Not many are so lucky.¡± One of those wearing the fake-skin speaks with a hard tone, and I settle out of sight to listen in.


    ¡°Please, just another week. I¡¯m trying to get a job, but nobody is hiring,¡± the one sitting on the steps pleads.


    ¡°As you have remained unemployed for three months, you are to be conscripted into the Meja Armed Forces.¡±


    The other two besides the speaker step forward and grab a hold of the seated sapient, forcing him to stand.


    ¡°You can¡¯t do this! I¡¯ve seen the papers; I know how many died in the last war. Don¡¯t send me to my death,¡± he struggles for a moment in the grasp of others, but quickly concedes to them when they start gripping tighter.


    ¡°Those numbers are simple exaggeration. Do-¡±


    ¡°Exaggeration!?¡± the creature interrupts. ¡°Half the friends I had are now dead.¡±


    The fake-skin wearing one sighs. ¡°I understand, but that is the fault of the Mercenary Order¡¯s previous heads. They have been executed, and the tragedy of the last war will not be repeated. Things will be different. Are you not a proud dohrni of Meja? Do you not wish to provide for your family? The people of the matriarchy need you.¡±


    Dohrni? Is that what these tentacle creatures are called? I¡¯m not sure about much else that is said, as there is simply so many words thrown around that I¡¯m unfamiliar with the context, but I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯m right in regards to the species name.


    The dohrni grunts and his eyes drop to the ground beneath his limbs. ¡°No. I want to live.¡±


    The dohrni wearing the bands of fake-skin sighs again. ¡°Well, we gave him the opportunity.¡± His words no longer seem directed at the one he had been speaking to. ¡°He¡¯ll be marked as unwilling.¡± And with that said, his eyes turn in his head and he walks to the centre of the road where one of those small trains waits.


    The other two fake-skin wearing sapients drag the dohrni behind him and load him into the open back of the train before shutting the door. The dohrni struggles and shouts as they do, but cannot break from their grip.


    I watch the small train roar to life before rolling down the street and turning the corner. The front of the nest, quiet once more.


    Any time these sapients speak, I struggle to decipher their meaning. The words themselves make sense, but so often the way they weave them together leaves me dumbfounded and confused. All I can do is grasp at possible meanings behind what they say.


    What is employment? What did the fact that half the dohrni¡¯s friends were dead have to do with anything they were speaking of? Bits and pieces like how he was being forced to do something was clear, but exactly what that is, I don¡¯t know. At best, I can guess they are imposing a change of caste upon him¡­ but even that doesn¡¯t seem right. He doesn¡¯t have the strength to survive a shift to he warrior caste, and what others could there be besides worker and warrior for the vast majority?Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Not having the answers to any of my questions readily available, I turn to slither away. Only to immediately bump into another dohrni I somehow didn¡¯t hear coming. Before I can react, a tentacle whips out and curls around my head. The strength behind the limb strong enough to clamp my jaw shut. I struggle to open my mouth, but it won¡¯t budge. It may only be my smallest size, but the fact that It can overpower me means its the strongest sapient I¡¯ve met.


    Before the creature can use its advantage, I curl up my body and whip out at the tentacle holding me. Free once more, I pass through a bend, avoiding the next tentacle that tried to recapture me and slither through the air until I¡¯m a good few body lengths away.


    ¡°Well, you''re quite the strange one, aren¡¯t you.¡± The dohrni¡¯s eyes curl into an obvious smile despite having lost its hold on me. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen a flying snake before. Nor one that can do¡­ whatever that is you¡¯re doing.¡±


    Almost as if the relatively strong dohrni had planned it, an instant after he said the words, a search group of warrior caste turned the corner. I glance at them through a bend, but keep my attention mostly on the one ahead of me. He¡¯s the only threat here. Not likely much of one, but still.


    The group of warrior caste clearly didn¡¯t expect to see me here, but they react quickly, and surround me from behind while I stare down the dohrni.


    ¡°Ah, I guess you¡¯re the one that riled up the lower city last night. What are the chances I¡¯d be the one to run into you?¡± the dohrni speaks to me, but it is clear the words are more musings than any actual effort to communicate.


    With a snap of its limbs, I watch as sharp slabs of metal suddenly appear on the end of each tentacle after curling up for an instant. As with any other sapient I¡¯ve come across, this one seems to rely on creations rather than their natural bodies to fight. The four behind me rush up until they¡¯re almost within striking range, but I never take my eyes from the sapient ahead of me. I¡¯d rather not make any assumptions about this one¡¯s strength until I¡¯ve seen everything. After all my wandering, I realised it¡¯s possible there are those still far stronger than the ones who failed to stop me breaching the surface.


    ¡°That''s a frightening look you''ve got in your eye,¡± the dohrni says, his own eyes widening slightly. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t happen to be able to speak, would you?¡±


    That is a strange question from one of the castes that''s done nothing but attack me so far, but unlike the earlier musings, this is clearly a direct question. It has spoken to me, and expects an answer.


    All thoughts of punishing this dohrni for grabbing me as he did flee my mind. Instead, all I can focus on is that this is my first opportunity to engage in conversation with another creature.


    But¡­ how do I speak? I never did figure that part out. The Beyond told me that any sapient creature can speak, but I still do not know how. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have pushed the task off so long.


    Before I can figure out how I''m supposed to respond, one of the weaker warrior caste strike me from behind. The creature has the audacity to think it could sneak up on me, and the picture of confidence on its face shows it doesn¡¯t think it could miss.


    Unfortunately for it, I barely even need bends to avoid its slow strikes. I curl around the fake-claw, slithering past its body, and bite the back of its neck as punishment. It collapses to the earth almost too easily.


    Returning my gaze to the surprisingly friendly dohrni, I ready myself to try communicating in some fashion despite being unable to speak. Shake my head or gesture with my tail; it looks close enough to the dohrni¡¯s tentacles, after all. I can imitate their body language. But I no longer find those kind, smiling eyes.


    The dohrni stands stiff as the body of my attacker crumbles to the ground before him. ¡°Why do I never learn,¡± he mumbles, staring down at the fresh corpse. ¡°I am sorry child. I should have acted sooner.¡±


    The metal gauntlets slam into my side, sending me skidding along the earth, tearing up hundreds of rectangular stones. The dohrni moved faster than I expected. In an instant, it had gone from an unhostile stance, to its limbs swinging through air before I have the time to react.


    I slither back into the air and inspect where the dohrni struck. Half a dozen scales are crushed, blood leaking through the remnants despite the mostly blunt force. A few ribs are broken, and I¡¯ll have to grow at least twice my size to recover.


    If I could grow to just that much, the strike, no matter how fast it is, won¡¯t hurt me¡­ but I can¡¯t do that without sacrificing my bends. I still can¡¯t force them much bigger than my smallest size.


    The dohrni stares me down as I watch from a loop of bends above. He flicks each limb one after the other, shattering the air and leaving crack after crack to echo through the streets. None of the other warrior caste move. Upon this dohrni¡¯s attack, they each back away.


    ¡°Remus? Sir?¡±


    ¡°You three should stay out of this,¡± the dohrni says, never breaking eye contact with me.


    A gauntlet crashes past me, my head whipping out of the way to avoid it. My eyes left the dohrni for only a moment, but that is all he needed to spring forward, and arrive close enough to swing. Sneaky. But also Intelligent. I slide through a bend, but the creature alters the trajectory of its swing mid-course. The impact uses the bend against me, pinning me in place to take the full brunt.


    I coil around in pain, passing through another bend to bite at the base of tentacle before ripping the flesh free. The dohrni takes a step back, and I take some space too. My wound is rather bad, and I really should gain some size before I get any worse injuries; I don¡¯t know what other tricks the sapients can pull that I¡¯m not accustomed to in my fights.


    Just as I¡¯m about to give up on my bends and take on the dohrni with my greater size, the streets suddenly thrive with warrior caste members. Dozens turn the street corner in near unison, and are quickly followed by plenty more.


    The hive is reacting, and if I do take on my true size, there will be no leaving; the only path I would have is that of a slaughter.


    My opponent, the dohrni, clutches his wounded tentacle. It hangs unmoving, while blood flows freely, dripping over the stone of the street. I¡¯ll have to be satisfied with that as its punishment alone. Any more fighting is only asking for more of the hive to show up.


    I let go of any reservations about hiding myself. It¡¯s not like they don¡¯t already know where I am.


    A powerful hiss ripples through my minuscule throat with the full power of my being. Doing so with my smallest size makes me feel like I¡¯m squeezing through a tight hole, but my presence flows regardless.


    My hiss thrums through space, freezing everything it holds. The world falls silent. Every sapient¡¯s muscles grow stiff, unable to move. Their eyes glaze over, unable to see. Water stills in the fountain, no longer flowing, and the warm lines threading through the nests extinguish entirely.


    Only the dohrni before me seems to remain aware, even if his muscles grow as stiff as any other. Wide eyes show realisation and fear where they weren¡¯t a moment ago.


    I have no hope for this hive any longer. They¡¯ve grown too aware of my existence and it will only grow more difficult to listen in to conversations if warrior caste like this dohrni search for me. As much as they seem determined to die at my fangs, I don¡¯t actually want to kill them.


    Twisting, I pass through a bend and disappear from his sight. The next hive I find, I¡¯ll learn from this one and remain far more discreet.


    I ignore the permeating silence as I leave the hive.

 Interlude V: Meja

    ¡°The city froze. It was quiet, but unmissable. A hiss struck at everyone¡¯s hearts, no matter where they were or what they were doing. Gripping them like we were all only a moment away from having the fangs of a beast taste our lifeblood. I thought for sure it was our end. It was just as bad as the shatter that destroyed the mountain, only this was close. It was right next to us, and our bodies refused to move.¡±


    Ceph wasn¡¯t sure if she appreciated the exaggeration, but it was clear the unleashed presence of her quarry had send the capital into chaos. So many had believed the Collapse was occurring again. Ceph despised the thought that such a horrid disaster could happen more than once in her lifetime.


    ¡°That is¡­ appreciated, but you said you saw the serpent. What can you tell me? How did it move? Where did it go?¡± Ceph asked impatiently.


    ¡°Oh, of course.¡± The ageing dohrni woman said, and pointed to an alley behind her. ¡°I saw the snake slither down there. It was orange and black, I think, and it definitely seemed to float before it disappeared into the darkness.¡±


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t happen to have the same colouring as that one there, would it?¡± Ceph asked, pointing to the very alley the woman had been, where an orange and black prail sat licking its long tail.


    ¡°Yes!¡± the woman said. ¡°It¡¯s exactly-¡± Ceph sighed before the woman could even finish. ¡°Oh.¡± The woman¡¯s purple shade darkened slightly in realisation.


    Ceph turned away from the waste of time and the feline pest across the street. It was already afternoon, and the longer they took, the harder it would be to find the serpent before it struck again.


    The snake had been incredibly subtle in its passage through Meja, and it had made Ceph and her team¡¯s job incredibly difficult. They¡¯d already been on the way to the capital to investigate a loose lead of a few eye witness reports of a disappearing snake. Considering the deaths it left in its wake upon breaking through Kalma¡¯s Pit, Ceph thought the disappearing snake was unlikely to be the creature they were looking for. But she was proven wrong the moment they¡¯d arrived to mass panic.


    The entire city¡¯s mercenary division was in full alert. This would have been a good thing¡­ if any of them knew where the snake had gone.


    Despite the creature having incited such a reaction, there had been impossibly few deaths. Only a single Sail merc with little more enhancement than a normal soldier. The fact that the Sail even made the attempt to fight showed that they hadn¡¯t known what they were up against.


    Ceph returned to Hirsh, where he and her new volan teammates listened to a child shout at them. ¡°It saved them, I swear it. Nixie and Asmis would have died if the snake hadn¡¯t done what it did. Its a portian, I¡¯m sure.¡±


    Hirsh, upon noticing her, rose and left the volan duo to calm the child larger then themselves.


    ¡°What¡¯s up with the kid?¡± Ceph asked.


    ¡°Apparently there was an accident,¡± the tall khirig said. ¡°Says the snake leapt after his friends to help them. Doctor report describes the bite wound of one of the kids as far too vicious to have been anything in line with what the boy is saying. She¡¯s lucky she¡¯ll be able to keep the limb.¡±


    ¡°All portian know the process to distinguish themselves from beasts,¡± Ceph overheard the volan, Tavi. ¡°If it were one, it wouldn¡¯t have acted as it did.¡±


    Ceph wanted to scream at the one that had replaced Telum. That wasn¡¯t how you consoled a kid. She was just about to storm over and give him a piece of her mind when Hirsh placed an antler on her head to stop her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± he said. ¡°I have something I need you to do, anyway.¡±


    Ceph glared, but upon seeing the other volan, Fay, push Tavi away and take the reigns of the conversation, she settled down.


    ¡°I need you to go speak with Remus. He was there to see the serpent, and if anyone can give a proper analysis of what we¡¯re up against, then he can.¡±


    ¡°Remus? The Remus?¡± Ceph asked, surprised. He was one of the odd few that was a part of the Mercenary Order and didn¡¯t care to improve his strength, having refused the promotion to Beith for a hundred years after he first met the requirements. ¡°Didn¡¯t you say he was like a grandpa to you? Shouldn¡¯t you be the one to speak with him?¡±


    Ceph was surprised to see Hirsh physically flinch at her words. ¡°I¡­ made a mistake the last time we met. It would be best if we don¡¯t bring up old issues while we¡¯re on a timer.¡±


    Ceph suspected this had something to do with what happened before Hirsh went out of commission for a few months. He¡¯d always been quiet about the reason, but it was obvious it bothered him.


    She inclined her body, agreeing. It wasn¡¯t anything she would have trouble with. She might have even enjoyed meeting a living legend¡­ if they didn¡¯t need to hurry their search.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°Where is he?¡± she asked, looking around.


    ¡°In the upper city,¡± Hirsh said, but was cut off before he could continue.


    ¡°The upper city!?¡± Ceph spun on him. ¡°Why is he there when such a danger is on the loose? I thought the Remus would stick around in case the beast came back.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s a busy man, you know.¡± Hirsh¡¯s brows furrow. ¡°It¡¯s almost exclusively because of his efforts the government hasn¡¯t collapsed after the war.¡±


    Ceph didn¡¯t know. She knew things weren¡¯t good; everyone knew that. But the people involved were never really relevant. Ever since the death of the last queen a decade or so ago, she didn¡¯t know the faces of any behind the running of the nation. It was odd to hear a career mercenary had picked up such a position.


    Her eyes turned to face the towering mountain of a city that had been her birthplace. The spiralling walls that curled thrice around the ever increasing height of buildings until it reached the massive castle was almost the same as she remembered.


    Almost.


    The fissure splitting the castle, and the entire city below it, was not something she would ever become accustomed to.


    ???


    The upper city was difficult to traverse. Buildings built upon the ruins of others left the streets narrow and twisting despite the impressiveness of the structures. Only the royal road had remained wide in the region of excessively in-demand real estate.


    Ever since the the pact was signed between all the nations between the Titan Alps and the encroaching Empire, Meja had blossomed as the central hub for many businesses. Its central location and stable industry proved ideal for many.


    The Mercenary Order was supposed to be an unbiased entity formed with the Pact, but things were never so simple. While the Order¡¯s official headquarters was on a border between three central nations, it was clear to anyone who saw the size of their office here in Meja¡¯s capital where the power truly lay.


    The forecourt alone was enough to make Ceph question whether this was a military institute and not a part of the palace itself.


    She strode out from one of the many narrow streets into the wide, open space decorated with a lush flower garden and a path bound by statues of important figures. Few of them legendary mercenaries.


    Unlike the lower city, vehicles could not navigate the tight spaces. That wasn¡¯t an issue. Ceph, like most enhanced individuals, found the lumps of metal unnecessary, what with their running always being faster. But she did wish they would allow parkour again. It was always easier to find where she need to be when she could avoid the confusing ¡ª and often multilevel ¡ª streets.


    Ceph stepped through the open front of the building into the cooled foyer and approached the concierge.


    ¡°Can I speak to Beith Remus,¡± Ceph asked. ¡°It¡¯s urgent.¡±


    ¡°He said he was expecting you,¡± the dohrni nods, before gesturing to the main staircase. ¡°Eighth floor. There will be someone to guide you further.¡±


    Thankfully, there was none of the bureaucracy she had to deal with in her last visits. Ceph was given permission, and was guided to Remus¡¯ office without appointment or lengthy identity verification.


    For someone as important as Remus, his office was surprisingly small. An entire wall held trays filled with papers and names labelled over the front. His desk, shoved into the other corner, was piled with letters and documents, albeit well organised.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one they sent?¡± Remus said, before looking up at her.


    ¡°Yes, we¡¯ve been following it since it broke through the defence at Kalma¡¯s pit.¡±


    Ceph felt like she was nothing but a child again under the gaze of the ancient dohrni. His eyes were kind, smiling, but his body language displayed nothing but seriousness.


    ¡°Don¡¯t chase it,¡± he said, turning back to scribble the last of his letter.


    Ceph stood there staring for a moment. Had this legend¡­ just dismissed her? Did he even know anything about her, or had he just assumed she wouldn¡¯t be good enough?


    ¡°I¡¯m not about to abandon my responsibilities,¡± Ceph ground out, trying her best not to show disrespect, while also making it clear she wasn¡¯t about to back down.


    Remus sealed the letter with a rare wax inscriber she¡¯d only ever heard about ¡ª intended to burn the contents if opened by the wrong person ¡ª and tapped a symbol on the wall before turning to Ceph.


    ¡°Sorry, I was rude. I simply meant that this isn¡¯t a beast any but the inner circle can deal with. I wouldn¡¯t even try unless I had my full team with me, and even then the presence I felt revealed more strength than it showed.¡±


    He rose from his seat, carrying the letter to the door besides Ceph. The moment he opened the door, there was a hand ready to take the letter. He handed it over, and that was that. Ceph didn¡¯t even see the person¡¯s face before the door was closed.


    ¡°There is supposedly an Inner Circle merc coming,¡± Ceph said. ¡°I need to at least know where the serpent went so they can act immediately when they come¡­ if they come.¡±


    Suddenly the room seemed to chill. Remus stopped before he could reach his desk again, and his eyes fall back on the door. Frost cracked through the wood, before it opened and an albanic walked in.


    The woman was tall, and strode like nothing could stop her. That nothing would dare. Frost followed her. The air fell to freezing temperatures anywhere near her. As if her proximity was antithesis to heat itself. Simply standing in the same room as her, Ceph felt her muscles constrict. The cold permeated every part of her. For the first time in a very long time, Ceph felt her body shiver.


    Ceph had seen this woman before. She was the Inner Circle ice mage protecting the Mercenary Order official.


    ¡°You need not worry about that,¡± the snow-haired albanic said with a glance to Ceph, before locking onto Remus. ¡°Where is the creature?¡±


    ¡°Beira,¡± Remus greeted without hiding his distaste. ¡°Eastward. That¡¯s all I know.¡±


    The mage turned and pulled the door shut without so much as a word of acknowledgement, shattering the frozen door-handle as she did.


    ¡°Why did it have to be her?¡± Remus let out an audible sigh. His eyes trailing back to Ceph as he slumped in his chair. ¡°I know with her on the task, you should be free to return to your post¡­ but can I ask that you continue?¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t you ask me to do the opposite only moments ago?¡± Ceph asked, finally shaking off the chill that permeated her body.


    Remus glanced at the door. ¡°Yes, but with Beira chasing the snake down, I¡¯m worried. You see, I believe the serpent I faced was intelligent. More than most,¡± he said. ¡°The smarter ones have a tendency to hold grudges, and yet it left without striking me down. Without leaving the city in ruins.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t fight the creature, but if you reach it first ¡ª or Beira fails ¡ª please, try to communicate with it. I believe it might be one of the rare creatures that can understand.¡±

 Chapter 58: Receptiveness

    After leaving the hive, I decided not to follow another train. I saw plenty in passing, but opted to veer away. As much as I want to overhear conversations, it was best to keep away from being discovered until I¡¯d gained at least some distance.


    I want to start again. Without an entire hive of sapients chasing me down. If I was to be discovered right after leaving, I¡¯d just leave myself open to being rediscovered in whichever new hive of theirs I find myself.


    Somewhere I can learn to communicate would be nice.


    In the time since leaving the hive, I''ve found that the intense ripple comes and leaves in oddly consistent intervals. The origin appears from one side of the cavern, crawls along the ceiling, then disappears at the other, confirming that it is moving.


    Lacking any better options, I decide to follow the path of the origin. It spends all its time heading in a single direction ¡ª before somehow appearing back where it started ¡ª so I want to see where it is heading. For something that exudes so much energy to head there, it must be important.


    Leaving the hive proper took far longer than I¡¯d expected. The nests extended far beyond what I could see ¡ª albeit with decreasing density ¡ª and after crossing a fair distance, they stopped almost surprisingly abruptly.


    In this new land, I spent most of my time travelling. More of those undiversified vegetation fields and growing populations of khirig over dohrni. The change in majority sapient species is interesting; do they have specific areas where one type is more dominant over the others? Or is it left entirely up to randomness.


    I don¡¯t rush. Slithering through the air takes me to so many new sights, and amongst the frequent small hive I come across ¡ª nothing near the size of the last one ¡ª there are conversations to listen. They rarely have anything important to say, but sometimes I¡¯ll pick up on context that has previously been impossible to parse.


    I now know that the fake-winged squirrels are called volans, and the ape-like beings are albanics. That is on top of the dohrni and khirig I already knew. Beyond that, I¡¯ve discovered how these sapients get all the prey that sustains their hive. Husbandry. They raise beasts from youth, before eating them once they¡¯re mature.


    I¡¯m not sure what to think of such a concept. They provide safety and security that these weak creatures would never find out in wild, but they sacrifice that small chance that they will grow to survive under their own power and efforts. It¡¯s certainly not an offer I would have ever taken, but then again, I¡¯ve never had much problem defending myself. Not until the Titans arrived.


    My flight remains uninterrupted. Whenever there are enough sapients that I fear being spotted, I linger near the ground, but mostly I can fly through the air without issue. Though I don¡¯t rise higher than where I can still see the earth beneath me. Both because I don''t want to accidentally find myself in the abyss again, but also to avoid the ceiling where the ripple¡¯s origin crosses. I¡¯m still unsure whether it¡¯s a Titan or not, but better to be safe.


    A sudden series of dull bangs reaches my ears. I halt, twirling in mid-air. Somewhere beyond sight, those same pellet shooters that I first faced upon exiting the depths fired. There¡¯s no sign of the metal pieces flying through the air anywhere in sight, so I doubt I¡¯m the target.


    I don¡¯t have to wait long to hear more. A guttural chain of pops fill the air. What are they fighting? If they¡¯re resorting to those pellet throwers, then it can¡¯t be anything dangerous. Nothing their average warrior caste couldn¡¯t handle.


    Curious, I follow the sound.


    I¡¯ve not yet seen them fight anything besides myself. And I can¡¯t help the desire to see how they battle against non-sapients. They¡¯ve already shown that the way they do things is different than what I¡¯m familiar, and I can only imagine what else they might still have to show me.


    A small hive of fifty or so nests comes into view, surrounded on one side by artificial fields and a forest on the other. Half a dozen mini-trains have torn up the earth along where the plants grow, ruining the efforts of those who live here.


    Clamouring all around the trains are albanics. Only albanics. Every one of them holds pellet flinging sticks, except for a pair standing in the centre of the congregation with sheathed fake-claws. Besides their heads, not a mote of their bodies remains open to air, and even then their heads carry shells like that of a tortoise on top. Their fake-skins that cover their true bodies are identical. Somewhat similar to that which I saw back in the large hive, but considering there is only one species, they appear far more identical.


    It was already hard to tell individuals apart, but now that they all wear exactly the same thing and hold no species variation, I can no longer see a difference between any.


    In the small hive, there are a dozen dead khirig lying in the street. All of them with small pinprick wounds that bleed like fang marks. My gaze flicks between them, trying to figure out what kind of creature killed them.


    An enraged shout snaps my head to the side. I watch as a khirig with antlers sharpened into spikes rushes out from its nest. It charges the albanics. Or, it tries. A round of bangs rip out from those sticks the identical albanics hold, and those tiny pieces of metal crash into the khirig. Sometimes ricocheting off the antlers, but mostly sinking into the soft flesh beneath.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    The sapient doesn¡¯t make it half way to the albanics before it collapses, dead.


    After killing the khirig, the albanics pay barely a glance to its body as they storm into the nest he came from. A few more bangs follow soon after.


    This is the first time I''ve seen these sapients actually fight each other. Until now, I thought there was some sort of natural alliance between their races, but this shatters that thought. Why are these ape-like albanics slaughtering other sapients?


    Another bang, followed by a scream. I twist to the forest where one of the small trains has halted outside the thick line of trees.


    I drop to the ground and slither through the long grass where I can¡¯t be seen before slithering into the forest. Soon, I find myself watching a group of four albanics standing over the prone, curled up form of a khirig. They hold their weapons threateningly close to the creatures head


    ¡°Where are the rest of your village hiding?¡± one of the albanics shouts, standing taller than the other three. ¡°We saw your lot run off into the trees before we arrived. Where''d they go? Which hole have they dug themselves?¡±


    The khirig, being held down by the pair to his sides, spits. The spittle lands in the mud beneath his antlered arms ¡°As if I would tell you.¡±


    The response only earns a strike to the caged head with the metal stick in the albanic''s arms.


    ¡°You won''t tell us? I see¡­¡± The speaking albanic takes a small lump from his waist and holds it to the base of an antler, where it connects to the khirig''s spine. For a moment, all sapients are still, and I don''t think anything will happen. But a bang rips out from the small object, severing the antler with a crack.


    The khirig screams in agony, and I watch with growing understanding as the albanics chuckle at his pain.


    ¡°Feel like talking now?¡± one asks, an arrogant snarl across its face.


    I suddenly find myself hissing.


    They''re obviously the stronger creatures here. They have an overwhelming advantage over the one unable to move on the ground, and yet they play with him.


    They inflict pain for the sake of it? Toying with prey they should kill.


    What kind of brutality is this?


    There is no intent to hunt this one for food or pose a challenge. Nothing but a display of superiority. They torment this creature simply because it is weaker. They are no different to the Titans.


    My hiss becomes louder as my agitation grows.


    ¡°What''s that?¡± one asks, raising his head a moment before my fangs sink into his throat.


    I rip my head back, taking half the flesh of his neck with me and showering myself in his blood. The other three startle, turning only fast enough to see their partner fall to the ground clutching his missing throat.


    Only one of them has the wherewithal to raise their weapon in time, but when they fire, the shrapnel tears the wood and metal stick into splinters and explodes its hand into chunks. I¡¯ve seen how they work. A single bend is enough to render their pellet-flingers ineffective.


    While the albanic screams at his devastated hand, I leap to another. Too slow to react, it can only struggle as I curl around its torso. The first thing to shatter is the weapon, lodging plenty of splinters into its chest, which are only pushed deeper as I continue to constrict. It is already unconscious before more than a couple ribs break. I finish it off with a bite into its soft head, squishing the brain within.


    Small metal pieces ping off my scales, ricocheting without a scratch as I uncurl from the dead disappointment of a sapient. The last two ¡ª one uninjured, and the other with only one hand ¡ª fire at me with terrified expressions. Despite having shot off its own hand, it hasn¡¯t learnt? Now it uses the smaller lump to fling harmless pellets my way.


    I pass through a series of bends and appear in front of its face before it can react. Before its eyes can even comprehend my appearance. My fangs tear through its face, striking its brain and killing it instantly.


    So weak¡­ and they thought it good to abuse those weaker than them?


    The last runs. Its weapon forgotten as it scrambles back towards the other albanics, often tripping in the mud in its desperation.


    It dares to act as it does to the weak, and still flees when faced with something more? Coward.


    A bend appears beneath its foot, trapping the beast. I pass through another, slowly approaching from behind as it scrambles to pull its leg from the hole. It pulls its own small pellet shooter, firing off a dozen shots. The terror rises in its eyes as it realises that none of the metal pebbles work. They simply skid off my scales as I slowly slither forward, undaunted.


    The beast dies quickly.


    It might be too great a mercy not to return the torment they dealt, but I¡¯ve already sworn to myself not to inflict any unnecessary suffering when I can avoid it. I don¡¯t want to be like those Titans I despise. Never.


    I turn back to the recipient of the albanic¡¯s toying. The khirig lays on ground, staring wide eyed and terrified.


    Well, wide-eyed and frozen is better than aggressive. I still want to attempt communication. Hopefully this one will react like Scia did to being saved, and not like the young from the fissure.


    As I slither forward, inspecting the cracked antler of what once formed its leg, the khirig scrambles away. After a moment, it has to stop, pain scarring its face, likely from the wound inflicted upon its spine antler.


    I stop. If my proximity terrifies it, then I cannot continue how I am. I need to change my approach. Twisting my head, I try to think of some way to get the creature to calm down.


    ¡°Are you a portian?¡± But the khirig¡¯s voice comes first. He still seems terrified, and it¡¯s not the unwavering trust that Scia showed from the start ¡ª especially with the uncertainty marring his face ¡ª but it¡¯s a question directed at me.


    I almost leap forward in excitement at having been spoken to again, but manage to hold myself back. This is an opportunity, and I don¡¯t intend to miss it. Without any words to speak, I follow a motion that I''ve seen plenty of other sapients make in my travel.


    My head raises and lowers in a repeating cycle. I know it represents a response similar to a yes, or other acknowledgement. While I¡¯m not sure what a ¡®portian¡¯ is, giving the khirig a response that shows I can communicate ¡ª even if in limited capability ¡ª seems like the right thing to do.


    ¡°Then, thank you.¡± Suddenly the creature seems to slump in relief. Its head bows to me¡­ which seems strange, but I don¡¯t question it. I have a creature that doesn¡¯t see me and immediately think ¡®attack¡¯ or ¡®run in fear¡¯.


    The khirig rolls onto its chest before pushing itself to its leg antlers. One of which lacks a major branch, leaving it with a lopsided gait.


    ¡°We should get out of here,¡± the khirig says. ¡°There¡¯ll be more Henosis soldiers soon.¡±


    And like that, I¡¯m suddenly no longer alone.

 Chapter 59: Dispossession

    After the slaughter of albanic soldiers, as the khirig calls them, I follow the sapient deep into the woods. Knowing just how startled these creatures can get upon seeing my ability to fly or shear distortions into space, I limit myself to slithering over the earth.


    If only the me of a dozen hunts ago saw me now. I wouldn¡¯t believe it. It¡¯s not that I have grown to enjoy slithering across the surface ¡ª it still bothers me greatly ¡ª but my desire to communicate and remain in positive terms with these sapients is stronger than I could have imagined.


    When the air grows quiet and there¡¯s no sign we¡¯re being chased, the khirig slows his hobbled step and throws himself to the ground. Despite his admittance that I saved him, the creature throws worried glances my way every time he fumbles or trips.


    This time, the khirig doesn¡¯t rise. Instead, it takes a short fake-claw that he pilfered from one of the soldiers¡¯ corpses from his waist, and holds it to his undamaged leg antler. The khirig saws into the hard growth without a moment of hesitation.


    I watch with morbid curiosity as the creature mutilates itself before my eyes. Each back and forth motion digs the blade deeper into the bone-like antlers, creating a sharp scratching noise. At the rate he¡¯s cutting, the ripple will disappear again before he¡¯s done.


    As if detecting my thoughts, the khirig stops. He stares my way. A mixture of fear and resignation marring his features. ¡°You''ve got enhancement, don¡¯t you?¡± he asks. ¡°That body''s like nothing I¡¯ve heard of.¡± He gestures an antlered hand to the leg he¡¯s trying to cut. ¡°Do you mind?¡±


    I¡¯m not sure what he¡¯s asking, so I simply stare back at him, tilting my head how Scia would when she was confused.


    ¡°Break it,¡± the khirig says, wincing as he does.


    My eyes flick between the antler with a not-claw jammed inside, and the face of the khirig. This isn¡¯t some trick is it? He¡¯s not going to suddenly treat the action as aggression and strike at me, is he? Well, it¡¯s the first time I¡¯m being spoken to properly, so I¡¯m a bit more willing to agree¡­ even if I find the request odd.


    I snap forward and strike the back of the blade with my tail before the khirig can flinch. The not-claw slices through without splintering the leg and lodges deep into the soil. No scream. No shout of pain. Thankfully, the khirig shows no more reaction to my action than to stare wide eyed where the blade has sunk beneath the surface.


    ¡°Well¡­ I guess there¡¯s no need to fear any desire for my body, huh?¡± the khirig mumbles under his breath before scrambling to his feet. He stands shorter than before, but now his legs are of even length and he needs not limp with each step. ¡°Thanks. I¡¯m Ryles, by the way.¡±


    Unable to give a proper response, I simply bob my head again. We fall into a silence after that. A silence I detest. There is this opportunity sitting right before me and it seems more interested in making frequent sideward glances at me than speaking. I have a thousand questions I want to ask, but no method to realise them. Even the few questions this sapient has asked until now I¡¯ve been unable to reply with anything but a yes or no.


    It¡¯s endlessly frustrating.


    The undergrowth is thick here, but the khirig, Ryles, wades through it with purpose. He knows where he¡¯s going, despite the unaltered-by-sapients nature of the forest. I follow, slithering in pace besides him. I¡¯ve noticed he gets unreasonably antsy when I¡¯m not in his sight, so following him at the side keeps him calm.


    Eventually, we make our way into a valley, and the taste of burning wood fills the air.


    ¡°Uncle,¡± Ryles shouts, repeating himself after a few moments.


    The khirig that lumbers through the trees is not at all subtle in their rush to meet us. ¡°Ryles!¡± a high pitched voice cries as they crash into the khirig besides me. ¡°How are you alive?¡±


    Ryles gestures an antler my way. ¡°This portian came to my rescue,¡± he says with a chuckle.


    Being introduced, I slither out from the obscuring weeds, revealing myself. Considering these creatures are not ones I¡¯ve saved, I have very little hope that they will treat me with the same consideration as Ryles, but there¡¯s no reason to remain hidden when one of them already knows I¡¯m here.


    ¡°A portian, huh?¡± another khirig steps passed the embracing duo to look down at me. His gaze is sharp, and I barely stop myself from sliding through a bend to face him at eye-height. Better they don¡¯t know.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The khirig looks old. His antlers are brittle, and riddled with chips. Some sections have snapped off, leaving his cage exposing more of the fleshy body underneath than any other of his kind. Despite the weakness of his antlers, he stands tall. His gaze strong. He may not have much strength, but it is clear he doesn¡¯t have the mentality of prey.


    ¡°And where did you come from?¡± he asks, eyes narrowing.


    The khirig doesn¡¯t act all that friendly, but he still speaks direct to me, which is more than I can say for most sapients I¡¯ve come across so far. Without words to respond, I settle on the next best thing. I twist my head back the way I came. Towards the large hive far beyond my sight.


    The khirig hums, and I turn back to find him softening his gaze, but never taking his eyes from me. ¡°Then I must thank you for helping my nephew.¡± He bows his head. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I cannot offer you a lavish gratitude, but I can show you to the chicken coop if you¡¯d like to sate your hunger. We kept a few here in preparation for the worst. Unfortunately, the worst seems to have become reality.¡±


    Not really understanding much of the context behind his words, I simply nod. Ryles seems to respond well when do. Plus, there¡¯s a mention of sating hunger involved. I¡¯ve no appetite for now, but I would love to see more of how these creatures prepare their food. I still don¡¯t know how to make dead meat taste so good.


    ¡°You can¡¯t speak?¡± He hums again as he leads me to the smallest nest I¡¯ve seen.


    Oh! I have a question I can respond with the other motion I¡¯ve learnt. My head shakes side to side, imitating the action of a few sapients. As much as I wish the answer to be the opposite, its not like I can answer with a nod. If I¡¯m not responding with the appropriate motion, then all I¡¯m doing is making odd movements with my body. Communication would collapse if they lose their meaning.


    ¡°Is that body new?¡± he asks, brow raised.


    We stop before the small nest dense with the scent of fowl. I look up at the khirig, confused. Is that body new. Its only four words, and yet I¡¯m entirely lost on his meaning. I consider nodding again, simply because I¡¯m unsure, but I stop myself; that wouldn¡¯t be right. I¡¯ve had this body as long as I can remember, after all. I shake my head.


    ¡°Alright then, we¡¯ll have a private reunion with Ryles. Help yourself.¡± The khirig gestures to the small nest then strides off.


    I poke my head into the nest¡­ or what I¡¯m guessing they call a coop, and immediately the dozen fowl rush around in a frenzy, terrified, but alive.


    Was he not going to show my how they prepare their food?


    I glance around for a few moments, wandering whether there¡¯s another sapient with the caste of meal-preparer, but the one named Uncle calls for everyone to gather, leaving none to show me how its done.


    The hive itself is small. Hardly even worthy of being called a hive at all. There are no major structures besides the bundle of sticks that makes the coop and what appears to be a thick skin that is tied between a few trees and creates a cover. I wonder what beast could be so large, and yet have such fragile looking skin?


    There are not even twenty sapients here, leaving it the smallest congregation of sapients I¡¯ve seen. They gather together on the opposite side of the clearing from where they left me.


    I realise there is no meat-preparer coming. They leave me here to speak amongst themselves. A stab of annoyance hits me as I realise they¡¯ve intentionally left me out of the communication between so many beings. Most I¡¯ve seen so far have been talks amongst small groups. The total number of sapients here might be limited, but I¡¯ve not seen this type of conversation before, where Uncle stands and talks to them all.


    I pass a few bends and fall out of sight of the few that look my way. To them, it looks like I¡¯ve entered the coop, but I divert around the outside and sneak up on their hushed chatter to listen in.


    ¡°¡­but I saw it kill four of them in a matter of seconds,¡± Ryles says.


    ¡°No, I won¡¯t trust a portian,¡± Uncle snaps. ¡°And I¡¯m not even convinced that thing is a portian. If they are a parasite, and as strong as you say, then they would have morphed the host¡¯s throat to speak.¡±


    ¡°Then what else could it be?¡± Ryles asks, lowering his voice again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± Uncle shakes his head. ¡°But I cannot trust it. We will not be involving it in our fight.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure?¡± another khirig asks. ¡°We could send it out first, and not worry about it striking our backs.¡±


    ¡°No. The Henosis killed our family, and it will be by our hands that we bring vengeance.¡±


    Most of the gathered khirig grunt in approval, while a sparse few show nothing but apprehension.


    ¡°They are going to regret killing my child.¡± The sharpness is back in Uncle¡¯s eye, accompanied by a burning fury.


    They want to fight against the Albanics.


    The idea lingers in my mind, but I can barely comprehend it. These creatures are supposed to be sapient, and yet they want to attack a force stronger than themselves? It is beyond foolish.


    Not only do the soldiers outnumber them four to one, they have weapons that can shred them apart in moments. There are a few similar pellet-throwers scattered through their camp, but not nearly enough for every khirig. Even if there are no warrior caste amongst the soldiers, these sapients will only die if they attempt to take them on.


    Unless there are some here with more strength than the average warrior caste, then I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯ll survive.


    Why would they even consider it? They''ve already escaped. They can hold on to their lives. Why would they run back to fight the strong?


    It makes no sense.


    It is the natural way of things. You cannot fight things stronger than yourself. You can flee, and hide from the Titanic beings that hunt you, but challenging those you have no chance against is suicide.


    It simply doesn''t work like that.


    Why are they determined to initiate a battle they cannot win?

 Chapter 60: Reconsideration

    I slither through the bush just out of sight of the dozen khirig lying in wait.


    After they decided to foolishly take on the forces greater than themselves, they had asked me to leave. In no uncertain terms, they made sure I knew I wasn¡¯t welcome¡­ and yet they still held back from attacking, which is better than the rest of the sapients I¡¯ve come across.


    Of course, I could hardly do that.


    I wasn''t about to leave these idiots to get themselves killed because they took on something greater than themselves, but I also didn''t want to oppose their wishes immediately. Not when they''d given me the courtesy of direct communication.


    Their small hive had been dismantled, and while a couple of the khirig that had seemed reluctant to take on the albanics were now trekking through the forest away with what supplies they could carry, most were ready to fight.


    It has been a unique experience actually being spoken to, and I can''t say I dislike it, even if these creatures doubt my intentions. It¡¯s a connection. One shared between species completely different from one another. One I¡¯ve been included.


    ¡°Four trucks,¡± a khirig says, running down from the cleft of the hill. It sprints along the side of the road, repeating itself.


    One of the khirig hiding in the ditch scrambles to its feet, dashes after her a few steps before diving in besides a few more of the hidden khirig, picking up a rope and covering itself in dirt. In no time, the creature has hidden near as well as the others besides it.


    There are seven khirig laying in the mud and undergrowth, yet it is difficult to spot them. Their antlers appear like broken, dead branches or tree roots rising from the ground. Without distorted space to give me a perfect view of every angle, they are hard for even me to distinguish.


    The hum of trucks, what they call the mini-trains, soon carries over the hill. They rumble like a large beast¡¯s growl. The khirig I watch over remain silent. Neither a word nor twitch to reveal their presence even as the thick sapient creations roll over the hill and bear down the mountain with speed.


    I pass through a couple bends and appear in the upper branches of the trees overlooking the road. I coil around the branch and hang, ready to strike whenever necessary.


    The front of the trucks are open, revealing eight albanics in each. All hold weapons ¡ª those pellet-flingers I¡¯ve learnt are called guns ¡ª but only those at the forefront of each truck appear wary of the forest.


    It is clear that despite their overall weakness, they know they have little to worry about from the creatures of this area. My instincts tell me that even if the albanics didn¡¯t have such numerical superiority, then they¡¯d still have the upper hand in strength. Not to mention the khirig only have three guns to share between them.


    The more I see, the more I doubt the khirig¡¯s intelligence.


    If they go through with this, they are only asking for death. I only hope they come to their senses and allow the trucks to pass by without opposition. That¡¯s the only way to survive. Allow the strong to do what they wish, and never bring attention to yourself.


    But they don¡¯t listen to my silent demands.


    ¡°Now!¡± a voice carries through the trees, and immediately, the prone khirig scamper into a run.


    The mud clings to them as they run from the road. Ropes bound to their antlers pull taut and snap out of the divots through the road. Long wooden planks riddled with metal spikes spring out from the opposite ditch, pulled by the khirig until they slam into the sides of the trucks.


    Gunfire suppresses the sound of screams. A spiked of a log tears through the side of a truck, piercing the arm of an albanic. One of the ropes gets caught in a circular roller beneath the second truck, jerking both the log beneath it with a horrid screech and snapping the khirig on the other end of the rope to a sudden stop. Unlike the rest that safely flee into the cover of trees, this one is quickly riddled with holes.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Only the front truck avoids the logs crashing into the side. The rest find the nails devastating. They don¡¯t kill the albanics, but instead cripple the trucks. Longs spikes both pierce the trucks and grind through the earth, propping the trucks on one side and scraping them to a halt. The sound of burst air only adds to the cacophony brought upon the logs wedging themselves between truck and earth.


    The three rear trucks stop immediately, soldiers rush out and unleash a shower of metal pellets ¡ª bullets ¡ª into the trees after the khirig. The front truck is slower to stop, having avoided damage from the spike ridden logs, and rolls to a halt further down the road. Before it even stops completely, there are albanics leaping from the back and charging back to assist the broken vehicles.


    Suddenly the area is crawling with soldiers, many of them firing their guns wildly into the woods.


    And that''s when the rest of the khirig strike. The front truck, left with only four soldiers ¡ª all of which are too busy watching back where the original attack occurred ¡ª is suddenly surrounded by the remaining khirig. They dash out from the trees, a trio of gunshots leave three albanics dead, and the remaining one can¡¯t raise its own gun before a khirig pair tackle it to the ground and begin beating on it.


    In only a moment, the truck is moving again, this time with a khirig in control. Picking up one of the albanics weapons, they kill the one unable to defend from the brutal beating. Before the rest of the soldiers can react, the khirig are loaded in the back of the truck and driving into the distance.


    Indignant shouts follow them, bullets clanking off the truck, but they¡¯ve already sped far enough away to avoid the worst. The albanics, with their inoperable trucks, cannot follow.


    The khirig¡­ won?


    I slither through the trees, finding that besides the one unfortunate khirig shot down at the start, the rest have cut their ropes and fled deep into the forest. They are alive.


    I speed after the khirig controlled truck, soon finding them having stopped along the side of the road to pick up the khirig that fled at the start. They waste no time to continue on once everyone is inside.


    They never even needed me.


    I land on the back of the truck and ride it like I did the train. Below, I hear excited chatter only dulled by the loss of one of their own. They achieved success against impossible odds.


    Sure they didn¡¯t kill all the albanics, but they¡¯ve come out on top while having clearly the lesser strength, numbers and weapons than their opponents. Something I had assumed couldn¡¯t be done even with all my intelligence.


    They killed four to only their one, stole a truck, and left the rest crippled. It is beyond comprehension. They knew what they were doing, and even when things looked good, they didn¡¯t get greedy and try for more lives than they planned. They didn¡¯t take the soldiers head on. Each khirig knew exactly what they had to do, and if a single one hadn¡¯t done their role, none of this would have worked.


    It is something I could never see from any non-sapient. No swarm species could do this. They are beyond that. Somehow achieving victory despite lacking in everything I thought important for a fight.


    I¡¯ve seen ambush predators before, but all the ambushes give the predator is the surprise over their prey. If they don¡¯t have the strength to take advantage of that surprise, then there is no point to their subtlety. But these khirig barely even fought, and came out on top.


    I was prepared to fight the albanics for them. I thought for sure that if I didn¡¯t, these creatures actually willing to speak to me, would be slaughtered. They didn¡¯t need me.


    ¡°We move on immediately,¡± I hear Uncle¡¯s voice below. ¡°I want to strike their camp before word carries back.¡±


    They want to keep going? He sounds so sure it wasn¡¯t just luck that allowed their success. He isn¡¯t surprised at all. Confident that he can do it again.


    The truck veers off the road, and slowly makes its way through a narrow clearing of trees through the woods. My ride becomes incredibly bumpy, but I hardly notice.


    It is actually possible to fight against the odds. Not only do these khirig believe so, they¡¯ve gone out of their way to prove it. You can battle without direct confrontation to slowly improve your position. You can weaken your enemy, so the next time you clash, your position will be better.


    The khirig below had nothing. Now they have a truck full of equipment that belonged to their enemies.


    They didn¡¯t give up in the face of near impossible odds.


    So what does that say of myself? Am I the fool for having just given up? Am I wrong for having abandoned all consideration for opposing Scia''s murderer when these weak, weak creatures can fight back against their own aggressor?


    Why did I never even consider avenging Scia?


    I simply accepted that she was dead and it was a titan that killed her. Absolutely nothing to be done about it. Her death was simply a natural result of coming across a creature greater than herself. Of my failure to keep her away from the Titan. I did nothing, because there was nothing to be done.


    But am I happy with such a response?


    Why didn''t I even try? Why didn¡¯t I try to bury a spike within those damned claws, or sink my fangs into the lynx¡¯s eyes, or simply take away more of that moss it loved so much it would go out of its way to kill Scia.


    I despair having left that lynx unbothered by the suffering it has inflicted.


    A chill wind washes away all warmth in the air.


    Scia¡¯s death has not yet seen retribution. If these creatures can achieve results with roundabout methods, then I will do the same.

 Chapter 61: Faltering

    The truck bounds through the thicket, often needing the khirig to push it out of the mud when it gets stuck. I take to following from above; the constant bouncing is unpleasant. This continues for a while, before they come out on another road and their speed returns.


    Soon, it rolls into a stop outside a lone nest with no others in sight. The structure is small ¡ª which is strange to consider, what with all of them being larger than most other creatures¡¯ nests down in the tunnels.


    ¡°Load up the explosives,¡± Uncle calls, climbing out of the front of the truck. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be here longer than ten minutes.¡±


    Without his say so, the khirig have already stormed through the door of the nest and carry dozens of boxes out into the truck.


    ¡°Do you really think these¡¯ll work?¡± Ryles says, having taken one of the objects within the boxes to inspect. The crystal jar contains some sort of liquid, but its the ever so slight energy-filled lines marked along the outside which attracts my attention. ¡°I mean, these are decades old now. What if all the inscriptions are bust?¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Uncle says. ¡°As long as the fire running through the engine inscriptions still burns, the fluid will ignite.¡± He slaps the truck when saying ¡®engine¡¯ so I have to imagine it has something to do with the vehicle.


    I don¡¯t know how those things will help, but I can guess well enough by the mention of explosives. Whether it¡¯s the explosive power of a magma chamber or something different, I¡¯m excited to see.


    A gust of wind blows over the group, and the khirig collectively hunch with a shiver. ¡°When did it get so cold?¡± I hear one murmur before they move on with their work. Quickly, the last of the explosives are loaded into the back of the truck and they¡¯re off down the road again.


    I follow in tow, watching as they unload the explosive jars and fiddle with them before tying them in place near the front of the trucks innards. Despite having handled them multiple times until now, the khirig sit far from them. Each visibly winces with each lurch of the vehicle.


    ¡°We have a short window before the camp gets word and ups their guard,¡± Uncle shouts over the strengthening wind. ¡°They¡¯ll be preparing for more of their army to arrive in a few days. There¡¯ll be Enhanced amongst the next group. So before then, I want to destroy their munitions storage and cause as much damage as we can.¡±


    The wind is cold. Almost as cold as some of the isolated caverns in the warped tunnels, and the khirig can feel it. As they listen to Uncle¡¯s speech, they huddle close. Some pull out not-skin the albanics left in the back of the truck and distribute it. The fit is strange when they throw it over themselves ¡ª often having to tear holes to fit their antlers through ¡ª but it seems to help them with the weather.


    ¡°Who would have thought there would be a blizzard this late in the year,¡± one murmurs, followed but grunts of agreement at their side.


    A thick mist carries along with the strong wind, slowly obscuring more and more of my sight. Frost builds upon the tips of grass and along the lengths of leaves.


    ¡°I want you all to take Henosis¡¯ guns and fire upon their camp from the cover of trees. If you can, target the command tent or the barracks. I don¡¯t expect much from that range, but it would be nice to get a lucky shot. As soon as they mobilise, flee into the bush. I¡¯ll use your distraction to send the truck rolling for their munitions storage.¡±


    Not long after giving the task, Uncle stops to let each of the khirig off.


    ¡°Be safe, Uncle,¡± Ryles says, before he and the rest dash into the thick cover of trees.


    I twist my head between the truck, and the group. As much as I want to keep listening to their conversations and protect them should things go wrong, I¡¯m rather interested in these explosives they¡¯ve got prepared.


    Uncle drives the truck back off-road, slowly rolling the vehicle along the base of a valley, where a river once might have flowed.  The path he takes is long and winding, considering it would have taken a tenth of the time to go straight there, but considering that would have taken the vehicle over the ridgeline and in clear view of all who look, I can see why he took the long route.


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    By the time Uncle gets to where he needs to be, the icy fog intensifies into a raging storm. Frost batters the side of the truck and leaves a trail of snow over the landscape. I cannot avoid the tiny pieces of crystallised water crashing against my scales. They whip through the landscape, carried by the wind.


    A shot resounds over the hill before Uncle can reach his destination. ¡°Fuck,¡± he says, then immediately accelerates over the lip of the hill. As he does, dozens more shots echo up to us. Cresting the hill, the camp comes into sight. Uncle doesn¡¯t wait. Ducking his head low behind the wheel, he pushes the truck to a roar and has it crash into the open plain and tear down the hill  towards his target.


    Below, through the haze of the icy wind, I see the khirig already firing into the camp from the line of trees on the other side. Their bullets rarely reaching anywhere near the soldiers, but a couple fortunate strikes do ring through. The albanics react with force. A large barrel spins and the bangs come so fast they blend into the next. Trees melt before the power and speed of this weapon, but by the time it is brought into play, the khirig have already abandoned the attack.


    Uncle has driven half-way down the hill almost without opposition. But that doesn¡¯t last. The truck spears towards the gap between fortifications where the hive¡¯s defences haven¡¯t been completed yet. He was supposed to send the truck rolling before running to safety, but as I watch, I find his eyes are hard and focused. He holds no intent to flee.


    He knows how this will end. He knows he will die. But he doesn¡¯t care. The rage in his eyes are absolute. He will do anything to achieve that vengeance.


    Yet, the opportunity is stolen from him.


    A sudden, unbearably cold gust of wind rushes over the landscape. The wind slams into the truck, freezing it in place despite all the momentum it carried. Razor-sharp ice spikes pierce through the side, riddling the vehicle with millions of tiny fractures.


    Within seconds, the edges of the truck crumble away. Uncle; dead before he could feel the chill. The ground frosts over. The temperature collapses. And a being appears.


    A woman. Another albanic. The frozen winds circle her in a comforting embrace while cutting through earth trees and anything else that poses an obstacle. Patterns emerge through the earth. Rings carved from her deadly frost shards leave her the centrepiece in the eye of the storm.


    There is a lull in the gunfire as the soldiers stare in disbelief. Considering it is another albanic, I assume she¡¯s on their side, but that thought disappears when the gunfire turns on her. Even the larger multi-barrel gun is finally turned to fire upon her.


    Despite the vast quantity of metal fired her way, not a single one come close. The frost blades circling her like a storm slice the bullets into motes of metal dust that are harmlessly swept away in the wind.


    ¡°You''re not supposed to be here.¡± Her voice is curt, and manifests a chill through my core as it washes over me.


    This is no apikull equivalent. This creature has a true command over frost and wind that I¡¯ve not seen before. Her voice, while not yelled, carries over the clearing with weight. Each pronunciation, a piercing storm of cold wind that chills my scales.


    ¡°I''m quite sure I would have been the first to know if Henosis had declared war.¡±


    Suddenly, all gunfire halts. And not from a lack of effort; the albanic soldiers squeeze their weapons with all the panic of cornered prey, but the frost crawls over their guns, disabling them. Metal triggers shatter under the soldiers attempts to continue attacking. Fingers follow suit soon after, stiffening until they no longer move.


    ¡°None of you should be here,¡± the albanic mutters, her voice still carrying over the frozen wasteland reshaping under the weather. ¡°Unfortunately for you, I''m not allowed to leave survivors.¡±


    In an instant, the storm converges around the woman. It twists and explodes forward. A powerful gust slams through the camp, flattening nests and freezing sapients solid. It carries onward, bathing the forest behind the camp in its icy wind.


    Nothing survives.


    Trees, animal, sapients. It doesn¡¯t matter; everything freezes before the wave of ice razors spears through them.


    Not only has the albanic killed the Henosis soldiers, she¡¯s left none of the khirig hiding in the woods alive. The range of devastation leaves no doubt. Being as weak as they are, their survival is impossible.


    All that remains of the camp is the frozen boots of the sapients that were alive only moments ago. A vast swathe of open plains and surrounding forest now turned frozen and dead. Cold air burns at my scales. Even the land not within range of the attack is affected by this being¡¯s power.


    I¡¯d been prepared to rush forward and protect the khirig if it looked like they were going to fail, but after their first success, I¡¯d backed off. Now, because I¡¯d allowed them to do as they wanted, they are all dead.


    This creature is an albanic. It can speak. It is sapient. And at the same time, it is incredibly powerful. After being disappointed by all the warrior caste until now, I¡¯d assumed they couldn¡¯t pose a threat to the creatures of the warped tunnels.


    But this one is different.


    Intense energy flows across lines painting her body. They twist and circle every part of her skin, glowing bright through the fake-hide she wears atop her own.


    My instincts scream. While not a Titan, this isn¡¯t a creature I can treat as any old competitor. It is powerful. It is experienced. And worst of all, it is sapient.


    ¡°Now¡­¡± She brushes a hand over her shoulder, knocking free a tuft of snow. ¡°For the actual reason I''m here.¡±


    Ice digs into my spine as the creature turns and looks me in the eye, not bothered by distance or the foliage I hide.


    She sees.

 Interlude VI: Blizzard

    A vast wall of white blanketed the horizon.


    What breaks in the cloud she could see, shifted slowly from right to left, churning and deforming constantly. Only the sheer distance, and the winds whipping past Ceph herself, revealed that apparent laggard motion to be deceptive.


    Ceph, along with the mercenaries that replaced her team, ran across open plains toward the storm. Frigid gusts pelted them. The winds grew stronger with each passing second, along with the hurricane that had erupted to life; the target of their chase.


    The chill carried by stormwind clung to their bodies, sapping all warmth. It was intense. Even with their enhancement, the cold seeped deep, slowing their muscles and stealing their energy.


    The weather had been clear for the past week; the perfect late spring day. Growing ever nicer as they had travelled east, away from the constant ash cloud spreading from the Titan Alps. A few minutes. That¡¯s all it took for the weather to turn sideways and grow to this nightmare of a hurricane.


    A frozen storm.


    Ceph knew its origin ¡ª not a single one of the people beside her could feign ignorance ¡ª and she wasn''t looking forward to reaching it. Nobody wanted to cross her path.


    Beira. The Inner Circle Mage.


    The elite of the Mercenary Order were a terrifying group. Stories spread about them were frequent and terrifying ¡ª contrary to how infrequently they fought ¡ª yet there was one constant; the mages were the worst. While those of skill and strength focuses were powerful in their own right, the Inner Circle mages were horrifying not only to their enemies. Vast, unrepressed power shaped weather and land to their will, caring not for the beings in their way, whether they be friend or foe.


    For the storm to have grown this strong. For the ice to sting at their skin despite the distance. Then the ice mage had found her target.


    With each pounding step forward, Ceph and her entourage were pelted with winds and chill that would kill any unenhanced in an instant. The volans couldn¡¯t fly; if they tried, they¡¯d be flung far through the air. It made them burdens, having to cling to Hirsh and Albin as they ran through the intensifying winds.


    Frost already covered the landscape. Blades of grass were left frozen in place. Rivers turned solid. The branches of countless trees had either been stilled in place, or the winds had shattered them and left the forest floor flooded in crystallised foliage. The air itself had long shifted below freezing, and each step it only grew colder.


    If there had been any villages nearby, they certainly wouldn¡¯t remain.


    ¡°Should we really be running towards the storm?¡± one of the volans asked. Fay, if Ceph remembered right. ¡°This isn¡¯t something our team can handle.¡±


    Ceph swallowed the insult that nearly, involuntarily, rose to her mouth.


    Her team wouldn¡¯t be this cowardly. Her team wouldn¡¯t cower at a little blizzard.


    But she knew this wasn''t the time for that. Not only was it pointless to say, she knew her true feelings would not be well received.


    ¡°We aren''t going there to fight,¡± she said. ¡°We are simply here to oversee the creature¡¯s death.¡±


    A sudden intense gust washes over them. A rain of small crystallised shards of ice pelt their forms and the air temperature sinks rapidly. Both volans were torn from their holds, and slammed into the ground. The wind nearly does the same to the rest.


    Ceph grips the hilt of her snake-shed blades, and braces against the assault. How she wished for the comfortable grip of her hand-cannons. Glaus had been right that they were pointless and ineffective, so she¡¯d had the hard scales incorporated into blades instead. The same type he¡¯d been teaching her.


    ¡°Fuck,¡± Albin swears besides Ceph. ¡°She¡¯s going all out.¡± The albanic had been mostly stoic since she¡¯d met him, but now his eyes showed a tinge of terror, anger, and he refused to step forward. ¡°I was near enough the front she fought during the war. Any closer is death.¡± His voice carried no indecision.


    Despite his concerns ¡ª or maybe because of them ¡ª Ceph started forward again. She made it only a few metres before a heavy thump jolted up her tentacles. Only moments later another quake thrums along the earth. Nothing intense like the Collapse, but not something that can be ignored either.


    A second overwhelming icy gust washes over them. The rest of the water wave Hirsh uses to keep up freezes in place, locking his lower antlers inside.


    This was as far as her teammate and the prospective members would come. They couldn¡¯t handle the power of an Inner Circle. Ceph didn¡¯t have the arrogance to believe she would survive if an attack came her way, but she was quick. She likely had the most enhancement of any of them. She would need to do this herself.


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    ¡°Hirsh,¡± Ceph said. ¡°You and the others stay here. I¡¯ll head on and assure the worst doesn¡¯t happen.¡±


    She ran on before any could state their opposition. Her speed too great for any but the volans to catch, and they were out of commission in this wind.


    What exactly the worst would be, she didn¡¯t know. Ceph didn¡¯t know whether the serpent beating an Inner Circle mercenary would be worse than that mage leaving thousands of casualties in her path to kill it. All Ceph could hope, was that the fight didn¡¯t carry on too long, nor would it extend far.


    They''d spent the last days racing after the Inner Circle mage. The Albanic left a clear trail of her passage that made it easy. Well, easier than finding the snake. Ceph didn¡¯t know if the snake had grown more subtle after causing a stir in Meja¡¯s capital, or if Beira destroyed any signs, but following the mage certainly had them passing through the pact nations quick.


    They had been outside Meja within a day, and had rushed through the regional farmland of Kizthak for the remainder of their travel. Thankfully, the land they passed wasn¡¯t home to any major residential areas. No cities or suburbs. No large populous that might have fallen prey to the serpent¡­ or Beira.


    It was surprising how sure the Inner Circle mage had been of her path. Ceph didn¡¯t know what the woman¡¯s markings could do ¡ª that was something the Mercenary Order had historically been very dedicated to keeping quiet, using any means ¡ª but if she was to take a guess, there would have to be some part of her arsenal that detected traces otherwise invisible to the eye. Nothing else could allow such rapid tracking.


    Ceph pushed through the strengthening wind. There was nothing but storm around her now. Debris carried through the air forced her into a hurdle course to avoid. Despite it being day, it was dark. Darker than she¡¯d experienced in months. Even night didn¡¯t grow this dark; not with the blood moon burning the ashen sky a deep crimson.


    What Remus had said, his hunch that the serpent could be intelligent never left Ceph¡¯s mind. It was a hopeful thought. One she might have even considered naive if it hadn¡¯t been such a universally respected figure to propose it. She wanted to believe that it could be convinced to leave them alone. To return to the depths. But if Beira had already attacked ¡ª which is a certainty, considering the weather ¡ª then the serpent is almost assured to hold a grudge.


    Considering the circumstances, it would be best if the snake simply died to the mage. But¡­ the Remus had shown doubts at her ability to kill it. The remnant from her great-grandfather¡¯s time wasn¡¯t to the level of an Inner Circle mercenary himself sure, but he had gained a legend greater than one. Anything that concerned him should terrify Ceph.


    If the serpent killed the mage, or even if it simply survived and fled, the grudge Beira might inflict could leave the pact nations within the fangs of a beast it could not handle. A hatred for her nation that it had yet to gain. Those it had faced so far must have seemed less than inconsequential, after all.


    If the serpent could beat an Inner Circle and turned its fangs on Meja or the other pact nations, then who could stop it? Tore Hund? She doubted the southern ruler would be so kind.


    No. If Beira failed, then Ceph needed to speak with it. She needed to try and get across her non-hostile intent so that the beast didn¡¯t begin killing indiscriminately.


    She had hope. The snake hadn¡¯t killed any of the residents of the land it passed so far. It could be that it simply wasn¡¯t hungry, but that wasn¡¯t the only indication. That boy¡¯s story of the serpent saving his friends, it could be true¡­ or it could be the snake trying to snatch up an easy meal.


    Regardless of what went through the serpent¡¯s mind, Ceph had little hope to defeat the creature herself. All she could do was hope it wouldn¡¯t bite her head off immediately. Hope that even if not domesticatable, the creature could be convinced of a lack of threat from her kind.


    If, as Remus hinted, it was sapient, that might actually turn out the worse than if it only had some intelligence. Ceph could speak with it all she wanted, and it could listen all it wanted, but the moment it interacted with some of the people of the nations¡­ things could get ugly.


    True, intelligent creatures could hold grudges, but those held nothing to the grudges of a person.


    Portians relied on the bodies of animals and beasts to survive, and yet their parasitic nature terrified many ¡ª herself included, admittedly ¡ª despite their overall amiable disposition. They could not leave their sole village because of the distrust and hate. If a creature with the power of an Inner Circle had to face harshness of that scale, Ceph doubted it would settle with isolating itself as the portians did.


    It wasn¡¯t even a question. Should Beira fail, Ceph needed to try.


    The winds grew ever stronger as Ceph ran through the obscuring weather. If her eyes were exposed like any of the other races and not free-moving beneath her membrane, the rain of frozen blades would have cut them open. She would have had to cover her eyes to move. Instead, all she needed to worry about was the small welts that rose from each impact. Each little ice shard sent the chill further through her body.


    If she¡¯d had any less enhancement than she did, then she was sure she would have died in seconds under this onslaught. The constant gusts crashing into her body kept freezing her further, and there was nothing she could do to fight it off. As she ran forward ¡ª the odd thump shaking her limbs ¡ª the chill spread deeper through her muscles.


    Finally, she crested a ridge and her eyes landed on what could only be called a frozen wasteland. The swarming winds of ice blades were dense below, having carved away the earth for kilometres. What wasn¡¯t sliced apart, was frozen over and chilled to the point ice crystals rose from the earth; they never lasted long under the intense winds.


    Beira, the ice mage, was here. That was obvious. But it was her opponent that surprised Ceph.


    Slithering along the ground with enough weight to send quakes through the earth, was a snake. But not the snake they¡¯d been following. This one was massive. A hundred metres long, and its thickness twice that of the albanic it attacked.


    It snapped through the air far faster than something its size should ever be allowed. The terrifying size, weight, and speed, only second to the fact that Ceph recognised this serpent. Of course she did, she had the same glistening green hue embedded into her blades.


    This was the same snake from beneath the Titan Alps. And it was terrifying.

 Chapter 62: Frozen

    Even with an immediate reaction and the assistance of a distortion, I''m nearly overwhelmed by the gust of icy wind that slams over me. To my side, the land disappears beneath a blanket of frozen crystals, only for them to fracture and peel away in the wind.


    The line of fragmented icicles extends beyond my sight. A path twice as wide as my current length. The forest its path now frozen and shredded, leaving lone frozen stumps with crystallised trunks shattered. Hardened earth left with countless, long gouges.


    I waste no time. Immediately, I push my body to shift. With distortions, my current size is faster than even my largest, but I cannot afford to treat this opponent with anything but my strongest. The chill emanating from the wave of cold power that barely passed me by already seeps deep through my spine.


    But I change too slow.


    The albanic hovers in the air, carried by gentle winds that slice through anything else. Gales twirl around her, endless swarms of tiny icicle blades spun with deadly speed. In the few moments since she arrived, the forest all around has been left in frozen splinters, and the earth an algific waste.


    I force myself through another bend, already too thick to pass through easily, as I barely avoid another blast of frost bearing down on me. I avoid the attack, but a wall of ice blades crash into my side regardless. They scratch at my scales, carving away deep ridges that leave me riddled and pass the chill further through my body.


    Not wanting to sit here taking the sapient¡¯s attacks without retaliation, I slide through a dozen bends. I go for her neck. An ape-like being like this of such limited size and soft-looking flesh should be easy to kill, regardless of the energy flowing through her skin.


    But I find it impossible to get close. The intense winds grow stronger the nearer they circle the albanic, carrying and endless quantity of icicles that slice through my scales with hardly any resistance. They stab at my innards like I¡¯m the one with soft flesh.


    The wind pushes me back and I don''t fight it. I¡¯m too small. My scales not hard enough. I need to shift to my full size to survive against this onslaught, but I¡¯m not given a chance.


    I shift larger than my bends can support, leaving me vulnerable to the albanics power. The thrumming lines of energy covering her skin ¡ª and glowing through the fake-skin she wears ¡ª shift. The spinning winds converge, compressing down on the sapient and whip around her faster than ever, right before they explode forward.


    Feeling a true existential threat, I leap away. A bend appears, torn wider than I¡¯ve ever forced it, and thread through. My body scrapes against the sides; the bend immediately destabilising as I lose control over it.


    Not quick enough. Despite creating a bend wider than ever, it didn¡¯t carry me far enough. The intense chill washes over my lower half of my tail, effortlessly breaching my scales and freezing solid every fibre it touches. All heat saps from my body, and even that the muscles not caught in the blast slow with lethargy.


    The ice needles follow immediately after. They pass painlessly through my tail, leaving me riddled with countless tiny fractures and holes.


    Slithering forward, I find my lower half doesn¡¯t listen. Neither muscles, bone nor scales can move. They¡¯re not coated in ice, but frozen to the deepest fibre. Behind me, nothing of the land remains. Ten times thicker than the last blast trail, the earth is cratered beyond my sight, small and deep fissures carve through the otherwise smooth icy surface. At the edge of the blast¡¯s path stands massive crystal growths standing well over the head of the sapient that caused it.


    The Albanic looms above, carried by an embracing wind. She lingers there, the central eye of the storm tearing through every part of my sight. Her gaze alone, piercing with a terrible chill.


    I refuse to allow things to stand as they are. That arrogant glare; enraging. I push my body harder than its ever needed to grow. My size, I need it now. The longer it takes, the worse things will get. I can¡¯t dodge any more of those compressed storm blasts, not with my current body, and neither can I handle the cold it inflicts.


    Agony wracks my spine as it is forced out of the isolated space unnaturally fast. The metaphorical muscle connecting my fabric to the rest of space strains under the effort, screaming at me to relent. The scales along my tail crack as I grow. The frozen sections shattering by the forced addition to my body.


    Bones break, only to make way for more. The fractured remnants soon incorporating into the rest, leaving odd notches all along my spine. My muscles are less affected by being torn and mixed, but the twitches quaking across my length are hardly soothed by the chill.


    Far sooner than I should, I snap forward. My rapidly expanding tail crashing against the earth throws me speeding through the air towards where the sapient hovers. The air itself is impossibly cold, leaving my strike to slow as if crashing through a wall of rock.


    Her eyes widen, clearly not expecting me to be moving after having been struck by her condensed storm. But that surprise doesn¡¯t stop her from reacting. The wind lifts her higher, while also blasting me back. Icy blades continue to rip through my scales, but as I grow to half as thick as she is tall, they begin to scrape off, rather than pierce through.


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    The storm gathers around her again, spiralling into a tornado of glacial winds. I impact the ground, but spring back at the albanic long before her blast is ready to unleash.


    Unlike my first fight against sapients, our roles have been reversed; now, my opponent is the one able to float in the air and I¡¯m forced to arc up towards her. It¡¯s a disadvantageous position ¡ª one made worse by my still lacking size ¡ª but I don¡¯t hesitate to attack.


    My jaw widens, giving the albanic a view of my fangs already the size of her arms. Each razor carried by the wind now slams into my side, leaving small nicks in my scales and nothing more.


    The albanic reacts predictably, shifting to the side to avoid my trajectory, but I spin and slam my tail down on top of her. She hits the earth in an instant. Already with the weight advantage, my strike buried her in a crater of ice.


    The twister explodes along my tail, no longer gathered by the sapient beneath me. Thick, cold crystals spread over me, covering me in a skin of ice. I fall through the air, encased.


    At least, until my growth shatters the crystallised second skin.


    In the crater below, the albanic stands again. She glares up at my form with distaste. It¡¯s not the hate of one opponent to another, but the annoyance towards prey that doesn¡¯t know its place. The very thought enrages me.


    I hit the ground ¡ª sending a heavy quake through the rock ¡ª and launch forward. The albanic doesn¡¯t move. Instead, she raises a hand and at the same time an intense gust crashes into my side, my mouth, ready to bite into the woman¡¯s torso, fills with ice and cold wind.


    The wind only pushes me slightly off course, and I try to swing my tail again, but she steps out of range, the wind gracefully lifting her back into the air.


    I crash into the earth again, disoriented. My body tears through the surface frost, only to find the rock beneath the soil just as chilled, and not the reprieve I¡¯d hoped. My tongue aches. My fangs burn at their roots, feeling like they¡¯ve become so brittle a single touch could shatter them. I try to shut my jaw, but find it sluggish to respond; the chill seeping too deeply through the muscle.


    The albanic has returned to the sky, floating higher than before, yet still looks down on me as if I¡¯m nothing more than an annoyance. I find her eyes flicker across my form with more care than before, but overall, her attitude remains the same.


    Would it not be better to flee? I don¡¯t need to risk fighting a creature as strong as her. I¡¯m not in my distorted tunnels. This is not the optimal place for me to fight. An open aired cavern like this one is far more beneficial to this sapient than myself, and I have no reason to play this to her benefit.


    The wind gathers around her. The very environment listening to her will, ready to crash down and kill me all in one blow, while she watches over and enjoys playing with her prey.


    The lynx flashes over the albanic, her haughty stance the same as the Titan.


    No. She is not beyond me. She is a challenger I must eradicate. If I¡¯m unable to beat this simple albanic, then how can I ever hope to threaten the lynx? She is sapient; head-on attacks are never going to work. I need to do better. I need to think my efforts through properly. No longer can I rely only on my size and strength alone. I must use the same tools she does.


    I work my jaw, trying to overcome the cold permeating the muscles. Considering the blow she took earlier, she¡¯s stronger than her small ape-like appearance reveals. That should have crushed every bone in her body¡­ and yet she got of with mere bruising. I need my mouth. I need my fangs.


    The storm converges around the albanic again, spinning faster as it tears through the air around her. As fast as the wind moves ¡ª engulfing the air with the sound of its shrieks ¡ª it should cut through her, but as always the frozen wind treats her with a gentle caress despite everything.


    With my body now as thick as she is tall, and far longer than that beam of hers, there will be no dodging. I can either brace, or take her on.


    I snap off the earth. The sudden spring crushes all the rock beneath flattened and frozen soil. Each progressive shock, louder and more powerful than the last.


    As I spear through the air, the blizzard around the albanic finally compresses to a point and explodes directly at me. The powerful wave freezes air as it passes, creating shards of ice from nothing, only for them to tear apart and be carried along with the wind. A blast powerful enough I would never want to feel it again, even at my full size.


    And yet I don¡¯t deviate.


    I tear through the air, spearing along the path of the frostbitten gale. Before it collides, I strain my spatial muscle again, I create three bends before me of the same, larger size I forced into existence before. Both entrance and exit pair of each distortion appears side by side, creating six holes in space to reflect the tempest.


    It is not enough to obscure my body entirely, but the mitigation allows me to brush off the effects and continue soaring towards the albanic. The reflected gust slides over her form without consequence, but the widening of her eyes as she realises what happened is a memory I will never forget.


    The wind gathers above her and tries to push her out of my path again, but I¡¯m ready. Without realising, her wind pushes a leg down through a bend I formed beneath it. She stares, uncomprehending at her own leg rising before her face.


    She jolts to a stop, doubling over as her leg suddenly wants to stop entirely while the rest of her body still pushes down with the wind. So great is her disorientation, that I reach her without any retaliation. I snap my jaw shut. My fangs sink deep through flesh and breach the other side. One passes through her chest, while the other scrapes bone of her thigh.


    Her scream is just as delicious as the blood that flows over my tongue.


    Her liquid life is unsurprisingly just as cold as the energy flowing along her skin. Temperature low enough it should be frozen, but it remains a liquid.


    The screams reach a fevered pitch as my fangs widen while still buried deep within her. Not only widening the wounds, but stretching her leg away from her torso.


    Before long, my mouth is once more flooded with a freezing chill. I lose feeling and in a rapid motion, the albanic snaps herself out of my hold. She floats high into the sky as I fall.


    Upon hitting the ground, I find feeling coming back to my mouth quicker than before. Her energy less effective against my strengthened body.


    ¡°You will die.¡±


    Her words fill with such intense presence that even an animal unable to understand language could understand her meaning. The albanic halts in the air. All air around her stills as a chill seeps through my scales even without wind. The energy flowing along her skin rapidly intensify, shining where they didn¡¯t before. Her eyes land on me again, glowing with unrepressed power.


    She¡¯s finally serious. No longer treating me as something lesser.


    But that¡¯s fine; I¡¯m twice as thick as she is tall and as long as the clearing.


    I¡¯ve reached my full size.

 Chapter 63: Revelation

    High above, the albanic stands stalwart. Staring down. Wind curls around her arms and legs to keep her aloft. The touch of breeze passes over her wounds, freezing the blood and stemming the flow.


    All around us, the storm rages. Only in her vicinity ¡ª the centre of the blizzard ¡ª does the wind falter, slowing to a stop. The last volley of razor icicles pelts my scales, leaving nothing more than scratches over my form where before they cut deep. When the wind halts, so too do those countless blades.


    The sapient¡¯s gaze is nothing if not serious. Rage burns beneath the surface, barely repressed, but mostly her features express the blank sincerity of battle preparedness. No longer does she treat this as a simple extermination or hunt. This is a fight for her life.


    With the entirety of my body freed from its isolated space, I have enough length to bunch up beneath myself to hold my head high above the former forest canopy. My head rises near fifty times the size of my opponent, and she still flies higher.


    Even in the lull, she holds herself above me. Despite finally realising this isn¡¯t a fight she can handle, it¡¯s as if she still believes herself superior. The arrogance churns my anger, but I force it to settle. I¡¯m familiar enough with emotion now that I know this isn¡¯t the time to allow it to go unchecked.


    Anger leads to aggression. And blind aggression will only be used against me by a sapient so clearly in control of her emotions.


    With her flying so high above, I¡¯m wary of leaping at her as I have until now. The air grows stiff, far colder than before, feeling more like I¡¯m pushing through ranked stone than something intangible. There is no wind, but I don¡¯t have to feel the power thrumming through the air to know that means nothing. The albanic¡¯s bright, analytical eyes wait for an opportunity.


    With the air as suffocating as it is, I will have to leap hard and fast to assure I reach her before she dodges. Even then, she¡¯s far enough that she has a decent chance of avoiding me anyway. I can already see how she could take advantage of a scenario in which I miss; the slowed air is her doing, she could simply undo that and allow me to become a free target until I finally crash down to the earth again. Maybe I can put all my strength into my strike and hope I find the ceiling of this cavern, but there¡¯s also the problem that the earth beneath me isn¡¯t likely to support such immense forces.


    After a few moments of the two of us simply staring at each other, I discover the temperature is still dropping. A forest of ice stalagmites rise to replace the wooden one shredded to nothing. She¡¯s not waiting for me to act to do so herself, I realise. She¡¯s already attacking.


    The stalagmites do nothing but rise around me, but the air itself grows impossibly cold. The chill seeps through my body, passing through even my strongest scales. As with my smaller form, my muscles and bones gradually grow stiff and unresponsive. The longer I wait, the worse things will become.


    I don¡¯t hesitate any longer. I snap forward, crushing the earth beneath me and shattering every nearby icicle. The air, instead of flowing out of my way, fractures like ice without ever being solid. An explosion of sound deafens my ears as I spear towards the albanic floating above.


    As expected, a wind appears to knock her out of my path. In retaliation, I create a bend in hers. To avoid being trapped again, she alters her trajectory, but that leaves her within striking range of my tail.


    With my full weight behind me, I coil and twist, slamming my length into the albanic and transferring as much momentum as I can to the small creature before me. It is, unfortunately, a glancing blow at most, yet I still hear something crack, and she shoots through the air above.


    One of her arms dangles uselessly. Energy laden lines shining and blinking out of existence repeatedly along the broken limb. She struggles for a moment, before the energy through the arm ceases entirely.


    Both of us rise through the air quickly now, and I need to scramble for a way to get closer to her before she gains distance and pelts me with more of her blizzard. I whip my tail out behind me, and find that the physical air is enough to push off. It isn¡¯t much, but in an instant I figure how to slither off the air as if it were a more slippery water.


    The albanic, in the meantime, isn¡¯t even looking my way. Too busy readjusting energy through different lines of her remaining limbs. As soon as a set of the shining lines snap into place, a sudden, intense gust pushes down on her from above.


    The wind is indiscriminate; slamming into me just as much as her. It takes effect on her quicker ¡ª what with her far less mass ¡ª but as she is rising far faster than myself, we come to rather similar heights before falling again. It isn¡¯t until we¡¯re on our way down that she returns her attention to me, but I¡¯m already swimming through the air and gaining on her. The moment she deviates, I will strike.


    She understands this. With the ground rapidly approaching, and a giant serpent baring down on her from above, her head whips around, looking for something to save herself. She makes her mind at the last second, deciding to knock herself sideways. But with that broken arm of hers, it seems what kept her afloat doesn¡¯t work as perfectly as before.


    The wind slams into her, but also angles me her way. With my weight, it¡¯s ever so slight, but I barely need to stretch to slam my head into her back and sent her crashing through the earth. An instant later, I impact the ground. Earth, multiple times my length all around, caves in. What doesn¡¯t, explodes outward, only to be swallowed by the motion sapping cold permeating the air.


    I shake off the stone and slither toward my challenger. An impact like this isn¡¯t much to worry about, but as I catch sight of the albanic, I discover it very much was for her. She is bloody and broken, struggling to stand after being thrown through a hill.


    Her eyes snap to mine. Cold fury burning in her gaze and overtaking that calm intellect that held her prior. She is a sapient, and despite her strength and intelligence, not even she can overcome the emotions that writhe within her.


    I slither forward, and she hurriedly lifts herself with that same stilted wind. I don¡¯t intend to give her the chance to gain air again, but she doesn¡¯t rise high before she stops. Her eyes burn as the lines across her body rapidly intensify with cold energy.


    Out of caution, I pause. There is so much energy flowing off her that it far outstrips what the pillar of my old home could achieve.


    The hurricane surrounding us stops. Thick mist and icicle blades hang unnaturally motionless. The roar of the storm dies, leaving not a whisper to remain in the dead land.


    ¡°This is not how I find my end,¡± she murmurs to herself. ¡°Not against some beast from a pit. Not with the Henosis war so close.¡± Her eyes narrow. The gaze itself, cold enough to freeze all air around.


    ¡°Fucking die already.¡±


    Her words, again infused with the weight of her presence, slams into my mind with intent. I can feel the hatred, the frustration, but mostly the determination layered through her words. She will put everything into her next attack. Anything to wipe me from existence.


    The storm moves again. No longer does it spin; it funnels inward. From further than I can see, winds, icicles and unrelenting cold collapses towards us. Instead of converging around her like the blasts from earlier, it simply crashes down upon us with rapidly increasing force.


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    At first, it¡¯s hardly worth note, but it rapidly intensifies to the same strength as that blast. The hurricane tunnels inward, and with each moment, my body grows colder, my muscles cramp, and my spine becomes increasingly brittle.


    The rush of air is loud in my ears; a Titan¡¯s roar. As the world collapses around us, the chill becomes impossible to ignore. My scales freeze, then fracture under the downpour of suddenly far more powerful ice needles.


    I twist and rush for the Albanic. She is no longer immune to the frozen winds and blades; they slice open her skin, leaving her fake outer layer shredded in moments. The damage is less than myself, and avoids her head and heart, but she is hurt.


    My body snaps forward, the storm doing everything in its power to freeze me in place. To knock me off course and keep its origin safe. But my mass is too great even for such intense winds. Only the damage it does to my innards threatens to stop me.


    As I lunge, I create a bend both beneath her feet and besides her arms. She recoils from both, keeping her extremities close to her body so they no longer get trapped. Her winds carry her out of the range of my fangs, but with the entire storm continuing to crash down on us, neither of us can rise high. I¡¯m shoved into the earth again with a heavy impact, while she floats, avoiding the brunt of the storm.


    My tail grows heavy. Much of its length refusing to move as I command. I cannot fail my next strike.


    She hovers in the air, but I notice that the wind holding her aloft has to fight against that of the blizzard crashing down. She cannot move up fast, but should she need to, she could probably rocket downward in moments. I doubt she doesn¡¯t realise that. In fact, it¡¯s likely her plan to avoid me. But I can¡¯t just strike out below her, that gives her too much room to dodge any other direction.


    An idea comes to me.


    I snap forward, aiming below her legs. Predictably, she keeps the wind rising beneath her, intending to carry her up and out of my range. I decide to give her an assist.


    Two bends appear below her feet, both redirecting the intense stormwinds upward. They add to the speed of her ascent, surprising her, and taking away the time to react to the third bend that appears right above her head.


    It is the widest I can stretch it, and her head slides through an instant before it destabilises and slams shut. Or at least the distortion tries to collapse. With her neck in the way, the bend snaps tight, but doesn¡¯t close. If it were a rift or rend, then I have no doubt she would have been beheaded.


    Her immediate reaction is to reverse her wind direction, but it is already too late. The wind simply stretches her legs down into my mouth as I twist in mid-air to snap at her. My fangs miss her completely, passing around the outside of her legs. But as my jaw slams shut, my smaller, gripping teeth sink into the flesh of her thighs and hold tight.


    As my weight continues through the air, the albanic is suddenly pulled hard against the spatial noose that holds her still. The bend is the first to cave under the forces. It widens just enough for the albanics head to slip through before disappearing from existence.


    A bloody mark beneath her chin reveals where all the force was being applied. I am incredibly surprised she¡¯s still alive after that.


    Carrying the albanic to the earth with me, I readjust her in my jaw. Her first reaction to losing sight of the outside world is to strike at me with her one good arm. Unlike the power of her ice and wind, her physical strength leaves much to be desired. I ignore it and continue to try and crush her in my jaw.


    She doesn¡¯t leave that as is. My jaw suddenly grows cold; the frost permeating my tongue teeth and muscles become unresponsive, and I feel my mouth loosening from the cold.


    Reacting immediately, I coil around my head, clamping it shut tighter than my own jaw could crush. On the earth, I curl into a tight ball crushing the albanic in my grasp while also defending as much of my head as possible from the constant rain of an ever worsening storm.


    My head is long numb when the blizzard abates. I can¡¯t tell if the albanic is dead, but I don¡¯t dare open my jaw to check. Instead, I force my throat to swallow. It¡¯s a bit difficult, considering I can¡¯t actually feel whats in my mouth, but soon the source of the cold hits my stomach.


    My initial reaction is pure disgust. Such cold meat is worse than horrid, but before I even need to bother stopping the instinct to regurgitate, a feeling of satiation greater than any I¡¯ve felt before floods my body. The energy of even the skin breaking down is immense. More than even an ¨­mukade.


    And this is all packed within such a small body.


    I am not in a good state. As I uncurl, a forest of crystals shatters. The frozen growths settled all over my body and the surroundings leaving a mountain of ice with me at the centre. It takes a lot of flexing and uncoiling ¡ª which stabs me with pain each time ¡ª to break free. My body is less scale than it is open wound. My exposed muscles are more like slush than flesh.


    I stretch out, and simply slump in relief. She¡¯s dead. Probably the hardest battle I¡¯ve ever had. One I certainly would have lost without both sapience and Scia¡¯s distortions. The albanic posed a threat I didn¡¯t think the sapient species up here could possibly pose. It now makes sense that they are unopposed with beings like that as part of their warrior caste.


    I am thankful that the creature is so cold that it numbs my taste, as I¡¯m sure it would be horrible, but the feeling of nutrients flowing from my stomach and spreading through my body is glorious. An unbeatable sensation of both achievement and satisfaction.


    As I lay still on the frozen earth, simply resting after such a battle, I notice the ground moves ever so slightly beneath me. Bringing my gaze down to focus on the phenomena, it soon becomes obvious that it¡¯s not the ground but me who¡¯s moving.


    It is minuscule, but every moment, my scales shift along the ground. I¡¯m growing. But I¡¯m already at my largest size?


    For the next little while, I simply watch as my size trickles upward ever so gradually. The energy of my prey fuels my growth by such an unprecedented amount. I add an entire tenth to my size in the time since swallowing her. Nothing else has had this drastic an effect.


    And her flesh is still digesting.


    Suddenly a path opens up for me. This is how I can take on the lynx. Using the intelligence and alternative methods of sapience to achieve success is great, but those khirig were still weak and fell to the first random chance encounter that happened upon them. Unfortunate creatures.


    If hunting beasts of such great energy allows me to grow, then I have an option before me to at least reach the point where I can make use of the methods I learnt from the khirig.


    I cannot simply sustain myself on a meal once every dozen rests now. That won¡¯t be sufficient. I need to actively hunt those that can give me such growth.


    My tongue darts out and I suddenly smell dohrni, tinged with¡­ something else. I turn my head their way, I spot them walking out of the frozen forest at the edge of my sight left mostly undestroyed. Well, the trees were frozen, riddled with holes, and all their branches were shattered, but they weren¡¯t the cratered, gelid, icicle stalagmite riddled waste that surrounded where our fight ended.


    I watch them close, wary that I might have another attempt on my life. I¡¯m not ready to take on another at that albanic¡¯s level, but I don¡¯t feel all that much threat from the one before me.


    My body rises, painfully, and I glare down at the creature. My tongue darts out as I begin to hiss at the dohrni, but immediately I halt. That second scent; it¡¯s serpent. Specifically, it¡¯s my own scent. Why do they smell like me?


    The dohrni¡¯s body is covered in small welts, obviously having not been excluded from the blade rain of the blizzard. The creature shivers as it approaches. The cold must be terrible for one not of sufficient strength, and yet they push forward.


    My tongue darts out, and I find my scent is more specifically coming from the fake-claws at her sides. Considering it has my own scent, should that make it not-fangs?


    Clearly terrified, it approaches my form that towers far above its head. I can see it in their eyes; they want to do nothing more than run, but the dedication there prevents it. It is determined to do what it must, even if they must face a being far beyond oneself. I suddenly empathise with this creature. Another sapient showing me what it is I need to do.


    ¡°Do you understand?¡± she asks, cowering beneath eyes larger than her torso.


    She is another willing to communicate with me? I raise my head in surprise, accidentally startling the dohrni and having her stumble back before she gets a hold of herself and stands stiff.


    The presence of another willing to speak almost fills me with joy¡­ but I have already dedicated myself to a goal.


    I gather a breath and with the full intensity of my presence, I layer the hiss that escapes my jaw with as much intent and knowledge of word as I can. With effort, I morph my serpentine hiss into understandable language.


    ¡°Yes-¡±


    The creature, instead of responding to my word, simply freezes. Instinctual terror a natural response to the heavy weight of my pressure. It is unfortunate, but there is no avoiding this situation.


    I¡¯ll simply have to take this talent taught to me by the ice albanic, and work on speaking. Even if it is through presence.


    Turning away, I leave the dohrni to her unfortunate frozen terror, and make my way back the way I came.


    I am going to kill the lynx, and to do that, I need to return to the warped tunnels.