Mhaieiyu

Arc 1, Chapter 3
The Facility

“Don’t get… used to it?” Tokken repeated, the statement seeming out of place after the veteran’s flawless victory. Emris ignored the youth’s question as he glanced over to his subordinate, flashing a mischievous grin that he failed to hide.

“Thanks, ‘C’. I’ll take things from here. You’re dismissed,” Emris ordered, the authority in his voice so profound that it could force a clueless stranger to follow the order without a word for complaint. The angel lookalike still brushed him off.

Noticing Tokken’s unusual leg position, the winged man offered him an arm for support. Seeing this, the boy nodded, wrapping his arm around the Lieutenant’s shoulder, just above his wings. Embracing the sudden range of events that transpired in such a short time, it struck him odd how sudden his outlook on strangers was changing.

“Excuse me, Ma’am.” Corvus directed himself towards the Cryptid that stood shakily beside the teen. Chloe nodded knowingly in response, giving room to allow the injured Tokken the assistance he needed. She kept as close as she could, however, due to how unforgiving her environment had made itself out to be. The taller soldier only huffed, rolling his eyes.

“Oy… I’m losin’ my sovereignty…” Emris mused, signalling towards the exit with a tilt of his head. As the group moved along at a slow pace so as to give ease to Tokken’s injury, Chloe finally broke the silence.

“Is the city so horrible… often? I heard rumours in the past, but there’s only so much you can believe from see-and-tell. To be honest... I still can’t believe my eyes,” she said, her tone quiet, sombre, and astonished.

“I agree…” Tokken added with a heavy head. “I thought I’d seen enough evil to change my opinions on such, but... that was just sickening…”

“Aye, they were some lot of ruffians, but not evil by much,” Emris replied, much to their wide-eyed surprise. “Those youngsters were just gettin' by however they could."

" 'Getting by'?! By killing a sapient...?!" Tokken protested.

"Aye, by killin' the lass. Those kids don't work alone, ye know. No groups that last do. Probably worked for the Urchins," he explained, the information not seeming to concern him too much as they marched on, keeping an eye on the vulnerable pair while also scanning their surroundings so as to spot any who might follow.

"So... they work for someone?" Chloe said, making Tokken flinch as he interjected.

"Does that mean they can be eliminated?"

The young man's voice carried a tinge of desperation, the likes of which concerned the quadruped. Emris raised a brow.

"Aye, I guess. They're sneaky as shite though. Ye cut 'em down and one'll always prevail to uh... build it all up again. Maulderhund style."

"B—But if you could track them down, then——" Tokken stammered, cutting himself off as Emris raised a mute hand.

"Ye're sayin' this like it'd be easy, kid. These fellers stride with all walks of life, ye know. Most'd be surprised how bad unemployment and financial ruin are 'ere. Gambling's the fuckin' worst, oy. Leaves ‘em either starvin' or joinin'. Shite, I bet even if we neutralized the lot they'd still be back in two. Just gotta take 'em on as they come. Don't take much not to wander at night like an idiot."

Both Chloe and Tokken looked down at his sharp remark, feeling slightly bitter yet grateful for their protection. Looking forward as they exited the park and reached the streets, Emris continued.

"Nay. If you want evil, look no further than what's in front of ye. Politics and money are nasty little shites, and this city is some right proof of it. And if ye need somethin' less metaphorical... Crimsoneers are yer best bet."

The expression of silent bitterness and loss that befell his angelic supporter's face, combined with the monotony of Emris' voice—both men he had just witnessed slaughter a group of thugs like second nature—made it clear to Tokken that whomever this other group consisted of must be far worse than he would like to discover. Not wanting to pry, the lad merely looked on in thought.

It was then he realized something.

“Where… are we going?” the boy asked, noting that they were walking away from the forest.

“We’re going to take care of you two for a bit. Make sure you’re in working condition before cutting you loose,” Corvus explained, pointing at the lad’s foot to emphasize his directive.

“That sounds like a damn kidnapping!” Tokken protested.

“It ain’t,” Emris shrugged, turning around to face him with a toothed smirk, walking backwards. “Just means we’re takin’ ye to a place against better judgment and keepin’ ye around for a few moons ‘till we deem ye’re set.”

Chloe held a puzzled face, noticing the redundancy of his defence.

“That just sounds like a more complicated kidnapping...”

“That’s the point, sugar,” Emris chuckled, turning to face forward again.

Corvus cackled to himself quietly, giving the veteran a glance.

“You tease the youth too much, man.”

“Heheh, aye. One of the few luxuries of adulthood.”

Noticing the Cryptid slugging in the rear of the group with a downcast gaze, Emris turned his head to probe.

“Ay, Snowy. Where do ye hail from?”

“M—Me?” Chloe stuttered, shrinking under his glare. “Nowhere special. 'The mountains' is the best answer I could give.”

“So you are from the Outskirts. How come ye ain’t foaming at the teeth and all?”

“We aren’t all savages… it’s just that those that are often last longer...” she said, her voice wavering.

“Why not join ‘em?” Emris jested.

“Come on, who would? From what I’ve seen, they’ve reduced themselves to animals...” Tokken said.

“Brave statement, champ. But I wasn’t askin’ a human," Emris spewed, silencing the lad. "Why die sooner if ye have the choice not to? Hell, why not join high society for a bit if savagery ain’t yer style? Pops disapprove or somethin’?”

“Because that means associating with the humans!” she blurted, silencing herself to not offend the boy more than necessary. Corvus laughed, butting in his opinion.

“Hey, humans can be pretty mean sometimes——”

“Dickheads, the lot of 'em,” Emris remarked, taking a sip from his hip flask.

“Hush. They can be morally askew, yes, but look at this kid here. He rescued you, didn’t he?”

“Ahem, I saved their asses——”

“I’d say that’s a prime example to start you off. Society might not be worth it, but you’ll never know until you try. If you ask me? There’s not much harm in giving it a go. Not with us, anyway,” Corvus concluded.

Emris cringed with a low croaking noise.

Watching as the human was swept along by the angel, Chloe didn’t even notice her own smile growing on her face. With a quirky new step to her paws, she pushed on alongside the group, strangely determined.

It was nothing short of fascinating to see such a diverse set of Cryptid beasts—biped and quadruped alike—blend in so smoothly with the humans they walked beside. Giant, anthropoid creatures up to twice the size of the average person with bulking arms that dwarfed those of their smaller counterparts, walking side by side as if the very deed couldn't be more mundane and natural.

Despite the massive disparity of sizes and shapes, there seemed to be little concern regarding their proximity. No fierce, teeth-baring Howlers nor barbaric, anger-riddled Mynotaurs. All seemed deceptively symbiotic from a simple glance, much to Chloe’s silent appreciation.

 

It was a lengthy walk and drive to their destination with few incidents in between — though Emris did catch eye of many a suspicious observer, be it from ground level or even amongst the rooftops. No norms were breached by the fact. Deciding not to concern the blissfully unaware younger pair, he kept the frightening reality under wraps, confident that the presence of his celestial co-worker whose clothing was indistinguishable coupled with his own reputation would ward off any potential dangers.

The amount of walking traffic had decreased to a mere fraction of the mass that marched in raw daylight, either due to exhaustion or the threat of the nightly hazards that lurked out from their dens and tucked away apartments, looking for another easy victim to leech off of.

Hours would pass and the night would develop and envelop the land before the group reached the outer edges of the city, standing at the foot of a mountain with a lavishly decorated road leading into a forest-surrounded building of vast proportions; its foundation sitting atop the gushing waters of the river beneath it. The building was nothing short of majestic—if not intimidating—standing tall with several floors to count, its length stretching almost as far as the horizon’s limits. The entire structure was designed in a sleek, modern fashion, with a blend of metals and concrete so imposing that one would wonder if an explosive could ever hope to crumble it. The town-sized complex contrasted with its natural and scenic environment, which only aided in wowing the two young newcomers.

Noticing their bewilderment, Corvus and Emris shared a short chuckle before advancing toward the main doors. Stepping inside, even the interior was worth a long look; adorned with many smooth, artistic patterns and water-flowing fountains. Everything seemed crystal clear and flawless to the naked eye with not a spec of dust or filth in sight. Even stepping on the carpeted floors felt heavenly to the two forest inhabitants. Not wasting time, the dutiful soldiers advanced towards the residential area, with what could easily be hundreds—even thousands—of dormitories. Choosing a door that wasn’t occupied, they eased the teenager inside and helped him lie down on the bed. While the mattress was far from perfect, it was significantly more comfortable than what Tokken had become used to, and thus took him seconds to relax his tired body as he sunk into it.

“Sorry, bub. Doctors are a lil’ busy at night. We’ll get ye fixed up proper tomorrow, eh?” Emris offered, his arms folded. “I won’t be here to greet ye by mornin’, so if ye can’t get out of bed, just give a holler. Ask around for the medical ward if ye can, and if William’s in his office, say thanks from me," Emris requested, turning to the door.

“I’ll keep it in mind," Tokken replied tiredly, closing his eyes.

Not wanting to be left alone in such a vast, unknown space, Chloe jumped onto his bed by his feet, laying down like a house cat. Having fulfilled his duties, Corvus gave a quick bow before walking out with the older veteran, closing the door behind him.

The two soldiers walked away in silence, with few words to exchange. Lethal force was common practice in this line of work; it’s the victims that truly mark its significance. Especially for vets their age, the dispatching of youngsters was never a pleasant experience, but the bustle never paused for moral respite. Regardless of whether Corvus noticed Emris’ displeased complexion or not, the winged soldier gave a short salute before departing for his quarters. Emris pressed on, navigating the vast, quiet facility on his lonesome in search of a rather gigantic room in particular. Pressing his hands on the large steel doors that lead to the room, he pushed them open with some resistance — the enormous doors themselves designed to be a fitness challenge. The humongous gates swung wide with a loud, rumbling creak, and thus, the interior revealed itself.

The arena was exceptionally large and its ceiling climbed high, at least a dozen humans in height. The floor was made of sand, with chairs lining the edges of the area behind a wall of hard glass to keep any spectators within safe from any stray bursts of energy or misdirected spells. Standing in the middle of the sand-based field, he fell on his knees in deep thought.

If the threat of the invading Crimsoneers were to be as serious as he predicted, training his platoon was a must. It was the duty of the superior military ranks to ensure their inferiors were kept capable, mentally prepared, and loyal; a fact that was especially true for the army’s Brigadiers and, more significantly, the General.

He chuckled sympathetically at the thought of how tiresome it must be to be just one rank above his own; being the single man or woman in charge of guiding an entire army, ensuring they never lost the will to fight and die for the sake of the Syndicate’s cause, as well as keeping command in check. The thought of such amused him, and he for once blessed his old age to not have to experience such a responsibility, for in time he might’ve been cursed with it. Few names came to mind when supreme loyalty for the Facility was questioned, and loyalty was a trait most valued within the ranks of the Military Force, among a mirage of other capacities.

Shaking his head, Emris stood tall once more, embracing the reality of his future for the first time and, acknowledging its importance, swore to revitalize his platoon. Raising his hands and leaning his back forward in a practised defensive position, he whistled sharply at nothing in particular. The wordless command was heeded as several mechanical, highly articulated mannequins of steel were released into the arena. Their movements were so natural and smooth that they could easily be mistaken as normal folk from a distance or a relaxed view. The faceless androids carried a plethora of different weapons; ranging from guns to daggers and other varieties of blades, some remaining unarmed. As the non-organic figures readied their stance, dangerous intent programmed into their code, Emris took in a deep breath of arguably fresh air.

 

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

 

Feeling a slight movement in his sheets, Tokken stirred from his slumber, his vision meeting a roof he didn’t recognize. Different from the wooden cottage he always slept in, its planks creaking from the wind and heft of life, this roof was made of smooth, painted concrete. It wasn’t long before he felt that same rustle again, snapping him away from his trance as he quickly sat up. Seeing the Cryptid he felt so conflicted for sleeping with some difficulty at the end of the bed, he couldn’t suppress a sigh. How could he allow her to sleep uncovered like a house pet? So foolish.

"Still..." he thought to himself, staring at his dorm’s door with some unease.

It had been some time since he felt like this — his life changing direction as suddenly as a lightning bolt, always guided by another like a sheep following his shepherd with blissful ignorance.

He despised being led around like a mule, but deep inside he knew how terrifying solitude was, as well as how hopeless he’d become if he truly made decisions of his own. When the last person in his life left him, nearly as abruptly as his parents did, the pure solace that followed was nothing short of unbearable. Even at his age, he often pondered what path would be even worth attempting, and what point there was in following a blind future he never cared for in the past.

In a strange way, he always thought he had somehow cursed his bloodline. Carrying a fate heavier than he could imagine was certainly a worrisome thought, but his familiars always seemed so proud of him. They saw a boy arrogantly close himself off to the world, yet they seemed to admire him so much. It confused him. It frustrated him. Disappointed him.

“Foolish family,” he thought. “They looked upon me as a saviour. Maybe now they would’ve realized just how normal I am.”

He felt his eyes grow weary at the mere suggestion.

“Foolish family. Wasting away for a myth. For a tradition. For destiny?”

Tokken felt his feet touch the cold floor, wincing from the pain of his swollen ankle.

“Was it too difficult to make a new heir?” he wondered, stepping towards the door. Turning the knob, he looked back at Chloe’s sleeping body.

“I’m no saviour. You wasted your time. And now? What am I expected to do? Am I still supposed to fulfil your promises?”

Closing the door behind him, he walked through the sunlit hallways, the large windows giving light aplenty.

“The legend will die in my time. You should have seen I wasn’t strong enough. Perhaps I was the fool, thinking they were wise enough to simply know they were right. Entertaining their idiotic fantasies with promises of eventual success, that they might one day see their boy shine the way they imagined he would.”

Bumping into a passing officer, he nearly lost his footing as he offered a quick apology.

“Perhaps we all played the role of fools,” he concluded, looking up from the floor only to find himself in what seemed to be a gigantic dining area.

Startled at the vast change in space coupled with the hundreds of other beings, primarily humanoid in shape crowding his view of the area, Tokken felt his jaw drop agape as he contemplated his next action. He stood rooted to the spot awkwardly, feeling out of place in front of the crowd of battle-worn troopers hungrily devouring their food among small bouts of laughter between the more satisfied, social comrades. It was surprisingly light-heartening to see such troubled and dutiful soldiers laughing uproariously, even in the early hours of dawn. After a few wordless moments standing by the entrance, a large, furred hand fell upon his shoulder, making the boy yelp. A wide, tooth-filled smile became visible in his peripheral as a Mynotaur’s head lowered to meet his gaze from behind.

“Doin’ alright, buck-o?” the beast spoke, his voice low and raspy, much to his monstrous appearance. Notwithstanding, his demeanour seemed mischievous at worst.

Swallowing saliva and bypassing his fears, Tokken scratched his head bashfully as he replied in as friendly a tone as possible.

“Y—Yeah, sorry. Spaced out for a second.”

The humanoid bull scratched his cheek, straightening up; his stature two or so heads above the teen’s with a bulky body to match. Understanding that his frame made him seem unwelcoming, he broke into a burst of roaring laughter, hammering his hand against Tokken’s shoulder much to his discomfort.

“It’s the bod, is it? Hah, sorry pal. Sometimes I forget what I look like,” he apologised, and rightly so. His whole body required little clothing as his dense fur clung to his entire being much like his fellow kin, adding to his monstrous appearance. His hands could easily crush bone with enough force, and the two horns atop his head had clearly seen some use, having been lined with several cracks and marks of erosion. His large yellow eyes peered at the boy curiously as Tokken spoke.

“Among other things… Sorry, just looking for something.”

“Need directions?” the Cryptid teased, folding his arms.

“Yeah, actually. I’m looking for a doctor. I totalled my ankle...”

“Doctor? The Ward? Ah, cadet, eh? Sure, bud. Let me get a bite and I’ll be right with ya. Fancy some?” the Mynotaur offered, walking towards a self-service area with the teen.

The offer took Tokken off his guard, and while it did seem tempting, the suggestion was blunted by the giver’s appearance. Setting aside his worries for a moment as his stomach reminded him just how hungry he was, he opted to follow the beast. Expecting the food equivalent of bricks and dirt for choice, he was surprised to see a plethora of decent-looking dinners pre-made and still hot for a hungry soldier’s selection, all packed with nutrients and flavours he may not have ever experienced before. The smell was divine.

The food might’ve looked completely mediocre to high society, but to Tokken, whose origins had humbled drastically over the years, the dishes looked more akin to a selection of meals hand-crafted by the loving, aspired hands of a world-class chef. Once the two had chosen their meals, the two sat down some distance away from the banter of the more jolly soldiers.

“Man… it’s surprisingly lively here. It’s uplifting,” Tokken said, a small grin on his face.

“Hah, yeah. Folks here learn to have fun, y’know? Raises morale a bunch,” the Mynotaur replied, guffawing at the antics of his fellow soldiers. “Gotta keep spirits high. Only way to keep the mind sane.”

Tokken chuckled a bit, filling his cheeks with the delicious meal.

“Holy heavens, the food!”

“Slow it, you’ll choke!” The bull insisted, raising from his seat as the lad sputtered over a few bits of rice. “But yeah, gotta take the little victories. Hey, don’t take this the wrong way, my understanding of human growth ain’t the handiest, but you look real young to be hanging around these parts. Guess you’re not the first… How’s training treating ya?”

“Training? Oh, no. I’m not working here. I came in last night to keep myself… safe.” Tokken explained, catching the bull by surprise.

“Huh? How’d you get in a place like this?”

“Oh! Ehm… two soldiers brought me and my friend here after saving us. I think their names were… Cyrus and Emris.”

Hearing this, the Cryptid nearly spat out his food. Acting like a wowed child, he proceeded to ask with a giddy voice unbefitting his own.

“You mean Corvus and Emris? Holy shit, kid! That’s a climb!”

“What do you mean?” Tokken inquired, puzzled and amused by the bull's childish expression.

“What do I mean? Those two are some serious tough’uns! Have you seen those freaks fight?”

“Now that you mention it…” the youth called back, thinking on just how fast they took down the threats that seemed inescapable moments before their arrival. It was indeed impressive, but he was too trapped in vengeful thought to pay close notice. It must’ve been a minute or less, and the needless fistfight could’ve been shortened substantially had Emris not discarded his gun for funsies.

“Brigadier Emris is a hell of a wallop — hits real hard, the man,” the Mynotaur gossiped, “but that Corvus guy? Man, don’t ever pick a sword fight with him. He’ll cut through ya like butter.”

The bull recalled just how many times he was tripped and defeated by his superior during training. Tokken suppressed a laugh, humoured by the beast’s insistence.

“My name’s Tokken, by the way. Figured if we’re acquaintances all of a sudden...” the lad said.

“Hah, true. I’m always too many steps ahead of myself, right? Name’s Norman. Proud family man and Corporal of the Syndicate,” he declared, his voice filled with conviction and honour, relishing in his title and entertaining the young man.

Noticing several dozens of soldiers almost simultaneously stand up to leave, Tokken raised a brow.

“Huh… Strict schedule?”

“Not usually as much. Them Crimsons are back apparently; everybody’s getting trained for it,” Norman said, looking more stern. “We’re tough as nails. It’s insane they’re making us work so much harder. Really shows us what we’re dealing with, huh?”

“Crimsons? I think Emris mentioned something of the sort… Crimsoneers?”

“Yup, that’s them. Apparently, they’re much more dangerous than Urchins. I’ve never even seen ‘em, myself. Makes you wonder what the hell they’re doing out of hiding all of a sudden, huh?”

After finishing up his plate, Norman stood up.

“Alright, buck-o. Let’s see ya by the Ward, huh?” he asked, Tokken agreeing wordlessly as he too took to his feet. His ankle was starting to become an issue.

The pair walked through the hallways of the enormous building, the two’s size laughably unalike. Tokken hissed at the pain, limping so as to not worsen his already blundered state. He wondered if Chloe had woken up, his complexion dulling as he realized just how bad he felt for leaving her all alone in that room.

Once the door to the medical ward was within arm’s reach, Norman turned to look at the lad sympathetically.

“The doctors are right behind here. Doubt they’ll be too packed, so they shouldn’t keep ya waiting. I best be making way, ‘fore they make a joke of me. Take care of yourself, buck-o!” Norman exclaimed, taking off. Wishing the Mynotaur well, Tokken turned to the door in front of him, now alone once more.

“I can’t tell which I like less,” the lad sighed to himself, “that I hate disturbances, or that I blame them on decent folk.”

Opening the door, he found himself in a room with several chairs and benches, a desk with a snoring receptionist, and several sets of doors leading into different rooms. The waiting room looked dull and—ironically enough—devoid of life. Before the youngster could reach the counter harbouring the sleeper, a door had swung open unexpectedly as a gentle face peered outside, causing the lad to stumble. Another worker at the ward; his long, sleek silver hair giving him a brilliantly radiant complexion. Everything, from his skin to the long medical gown he wore were eye-stunningly white, set aside his grey boots.

“A patient? Do you need assistance, young man?” a mellow voice spoke. Despite being a male, the teen melted in place. Whoever just spoke was irredeemably an angel.

Turning to face the emitter, Tokken tried to mouth the words necessary to explain his condition, but the keen-eyed physician almost immediately noticed his awkward foot posture; a feat most impressive considering how vague it would seem from several feet away.

“Oh, blast. A leg injury? Please, allow me to help you. Besides...” Pointing at the receptionist, he quipped, “I don’t think waking him up would be too necessary, would it? He’s not too much help, you see... Come, come!”

The doctor retreated back into the room, his voice avid and soothingly tempting. With an awkward croak, the teen followed him inside.

The interior of the room looked just as any infirmary would; meticulously clean and organized. The white walls, floor, and surfaces of the room were almost blindingly clean. It became clear to the youth that this man was some sort of a perfectionist, and his dulcet yet prideful smile proved this was of common practice. Offering Tokken a seat for inspection, the doctor acted swiftly yet delicately, examining the injury with expertise and care.

“Oh my, quite the little sprain here,” he commented, looking up at the teen with his crystalline blue eyes. “You couldn’t tell me how this happened, could you?”

“I just… tripped, honestly,” Tokken admitted, giving a soft laugh at how ludicrous the injury really was. “It’ll heal, right?”

With a sigh, the analysis was briefed.

“I’m afraid not. Your foot’s been under too much use and has irreparably dislocated from its joints… When would you like to schedule your amputation?”

“A—Ampu—— WHAT!?” the boy recoiled, earning a mischievous giggle from the doctor.

“I jest, I jest. Forgive me. You will be fine, but do give it some rest, yes? I’ll give you a splint and a pair of crutches for now,” he offered, turning around to file some documents in complete disregard for the lad’s shock. He couldn’t resist a smile at the dropped jaw of the teenager.

Spinning in place, the physician beamed a pleasant, heart-melting grin.

“Could you do me a flavour? Sorry, favour. I’ve been so consumed with work these days that I’ve not had the chance to grab my muffin baskets in weeks… My sugar levels are dropping like flies!”

“...I don’t remember heart attacks being a currency to buy services. And you didn’t seem that busy when I came here,” Tokken challenged, folding his arms at the doctor. In response, the robed man opened a heavy drawer before pulling out a few books-worth of papers, all while beaming that sly yet harmless grin.

“I’m no ordinary doctor, good man. I’m this establishment’s Head of Med! Fely himself, at your grateful service. And a good doctor needs his fuel! Please, I promise I won’t pick on you too often. I can even offer some advice regarding that curious knife on your hip,” Fely offered persuasively, pointing at the sheathed switchblade attached to him.

The act caught the teen off guard once more, leaving him confused with a frustrated grunt.

“How did you——?”

“——Know it’s no ordinary item? Well, it does give off quite the nasty little feeling, wouldn’t you agree?” Fely interrupted, holding a few fingers to his chin.

“Not… really? I don’t feel anything.”

“Novices in the world of spellcasting and enchantments would say so, yes. I’m positive the Head of Arms would be less than happy to study such a piece.”

As the doctor finished applying the necessary measures to ensure the injury would heal swiftly, he stood up one last time to face the boy. Thinking on how that might prove a challenge considering the blade’s properties, Tokken tried to explain.

“I don’t think they’ll be able to study——”

“I’m sorry to say, friend, but I’m devilishly busy, even as we speak. Oh, dear Victus, I can practically feel the clock’s hands push me! Please do heed my task, hm...? Bless you!” Fely interrupted, gently helping Tokken to his feet and easing the crutches into his hands.

After abruptly removing him from the room, Tokken found himself confused in the silent waiting room once more, the receptionist still snoring away carelessly to his heart’s content.

 

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

 

A mass of soldiers varying in proportions stood side by side in a sizeable room, their heads made unrecognizable through the helms and masks they wore, as their instructors — their highest superiors spoke atop a podium. The veterans instructed with informing the general populace of the army looked battle-worn, their faces stern with resolution and purpose; the fear of death that might’ve filled their eyes in the past long gone as they stood fiercely in place. Stepping forward, a Brigadier of old age and greying hair sharply announced.

“Comrades, you who be the driving force of the Syndicate’s greased gears. You, who be the fiercest of fighters and who offer the humblest of service to the cause. Today marks a day many a time repeated through history, I do know,” the old man spoke, his voice darkening at the harshness of reality. Nevertheless, he showed conviction. “As many of you may already be aware, the scourge of the Jealous God’s hellish infantry has been cast upon us once again. ‘Tis been nigh a decade since they were last pushed back, and I am positive many of ye know not the severity of our threat. They recede into darkness so much in life as they do in history, yet the marks they leave ache like no other wound. We must face the future with not reckless abandon. Victus forbid, failure would surely lead to a truly terrifying event.”

Another Brigadier, Emris, nodded, stepping forward to face the ocean of soldiers.

“Aye. Losin’ ain’t a choice to consider. They’re comin’ faster than we can count, and by the time they’re at our door, we best be damn sure ye fiends are great in strength and number. They’ve had time to grow, and I’ve no doubt they’ll arrive as voluminous as they have before.” Emris cleared his throat as he raised his head high. “Listen up. These bastards are tough as nails. Consider each your worst enemy, and face them with furious tactical prowess. Underestimate absolutely none. Prepare to face them with every bit of caution and efficiency as ye can muster,” he concluded, retreating back to the line of elites as another man stepped up to the podium’s extreme.

The General of the entire army stood strong, absolute silence filling the room as he appeared before them; the figure of highest power within the army, and easily the most respected individual among his countless allies.

“I’ve no right looking down upon any of you. I’m proud to have you people to fight alongside within the great heat of battle. When we should at last face the horizon of spite that draws near, I would like you all to think for whom you fight. Be it your life, your sons, daughters, country… I have no doubt in my mind you will all do me proud, just as you have for all these long years. That said, we cannot allow our arrogance to throw us off our feet. Starting from this day, you will be assigned to an intense training regiment to bolster your body, quicken your step and hone your skills.”

Raising a sword to the heavens, Kev proclaimed. “For this task encharged to us by the cruelty of fate, along with the faith of our people and the Goddess that sent us, will have its outcome determined entirely by our effort today! We must blind them with our speed, cripple them with our strength and defeat them with our might! Raise arms!” Kev exclaimed, the field of troops raising their weapons high as their shouts echoed through the room.

The army disbanded in a somewhat high-spirited cluster, with some brawnier groups cheering between them about ‘stretching their legs for once’ and ‘meeting a brawl worth fighting for’. Whilst the crowd marched on to their training stations, Emris couldn’t suppress a sigh, looking at a sheet of plans alongside the other veterans.

“They sure have spirit, at least,” Emris jested. The oldest of Brigadiers looked at him with a raised brow.

“Aye, that they do. Spirit alone will do them no favour, mind you. If anything, it’ll make them too arrogant and proud. They need a damn instructor. I see them waste away just trying to be quick and tough, forgetting the importance of the mind. Teach those kids to dance, and we might have a better go at this,” the eldest Brigadier affirmed sternly, breaking into a coughing fit as he reached for some water to quell his dry throat. Kev nodded, straightening his back and looking up with hope.

“Keep your chin up. We’ll see through this.”

“Heheh, stay optimistic, ‘guv,” Emris chuckled, patting the General on the back.

 

♦ ♥ ♣ ♠

 

A heaving mess of a Cryptid walked unevenly through the darkness of an alleyway, grasping his head in pain as he collided with the walls for short rests. He had never run so far so fast, and he felt his malnourished, unfit body punish him for it. His lungs were on fire, his legs felt as though they were about to snap under his weight, and his heart was beating so fast he swore he’d get a heart attack.

The bleeding wound on his head throbbed, forcing him to clench his teeth in pain as he felt his brain ache from the sheer force of the previous impact. Everything had been going smoothly these last few weeks; nobody in his group ever got hurt thanks to him. That day was supposed to be just like any other, and just as successful as such. But instead, he had lost his entire crew and felt as though his life would soon be met in the hands of another if he didn’t make haste for safety. Seeing the door that separated the world he lived under from the den he felt safe in, he could feel his eyes well up as he slammed on the door in a mix of fear and agony. Even now, he couldn’t feel more vulnerable.

Death was terrifying to any man with a soul that wasn’t damaged or wilted. The very thought of meeting a blade’s end or becoming a bullet’s thundering destination was completely mind-numbing to the feline; self-preservation racking his mind as his body dropped down to the foot of the door he pounded on.

When the metal finally pulled away to reveal a dingy, smoke-hazed interior, the thug dragged himself inside with maddened haste, yelling out for the door to be slammed shut.

“Ease, you nutcase! Th’ shit happened out there?” one of the den-dwellers asked, looking just as dodgy and foul as the rest of the lot.

“The fuckin’ Syndies got ‘em, man. Victus shit I—I almost…” he tried to choke out, feeling faint. “They killed Ully and the boys. They blew Jackson’s fuckin’ head off!”

“Shit! You dumbasses should’a checked your spot, man!” one of them shouted.

“Amateurs...” another muttered, grim for their loss as he massaged the bridge of his nose.

A short chuckle was heard as another figure made himself visible from the darkness of the

dimly lit room, carrying a can of beer in his hand despite being visibly underage. The boy was arguably short, standing a head lower than the average man. Despite this, his large, shark-toothed grin sent chills down the gang’s spines, forcing them into silence. The boy pushed his exceedingly long, spiky hair to one side as he approached the deathly pale hooligan.

“Mumble——” the fearful thug murmured in a plea.

The same instant he spoke, the boy dashed towards him loud as a bullet with impossible velocity, a sharp wire being pushed against the feline’s throat and wrapped around behind his nape, choking the Cryptid as the metal pushed through his fur and sliced at his skin. With a foot on his back, the boy flashed an eerie smirk as he retorted.

“That’s ‘Pride’ to ya, bu-bub,” his young, smoky voice spoke, full of mischief. “Where’d it happen?”

“The park...” the feline said, his eyes turning red as he grasped at the wire in vain.

“Anythin’ else?” Mumble asked, his teeth next to the Cryptid’s ear, creeping into the beast’s peripheral.

“Hagh… they’re… urck…!” he tried to speak, incapable of finishing his sentence as he felt blood seep from his neck. One of the thugs in the room stepped forward awkwardly.

“Ay, Pride. Give the man a break, aight…?” he implored, a good deal of uncharacteristic cowardice noticeable in his tone.

Chuckling at his request, Mumble shrugged before unwinding the cable and removing it from his sliced skin, letting the feline breathe between gags.

“Adult men… Leather jacket… Wings——” the struggling hooligan chocked out, his head finally collapsing from weakness.

With an impish, amused snigger, the boy headed for the door, waving his speechless comrades goodbye with a leather-gloved hand, whistling whimsically to himself.