Changeling

(44)

The fateful time had come. Nestra was summoned to attend preparatory training for the Sword King enclave mission, and the first and most important one would be survival training.

Well, summoning was perhaps pushing it. She could do some remote learning in a training center for military augs, or she could stay at home. Let’s see.

Remote training center:

• Have to travel.
• Shit food.
• Strangers who might initiate small talk.
• Uncomfortable.
• Protected by augs of dubious motivation.

Her home:

• No need to move or, indeed, put on makeup or a bra.
• Stellar food.
• Only the people she likes can come and they have to message her first.
• Over fourteen pillows per Aszhii and climbing.
• Protected by a point defense naval gun designed to take down small ships and cruise missiles.

Yeah that wasn’t even a choice, so wearing clean pajamas and with a cup of nice Qahwe within her grasp, Nestra set out to learn the basics of survival. It would definitely be more exciting than negotiation and cultural sensitivity training, also on the program. She wasn’t a negotiator. When would that ever be useful? And the cultural sensitivity training was just designed to make her hate the enclavers less. The same guys who justified her participation by being so prejudiced against baselines that her existence offended them.

Anyway, survival. Survival came first. Those lessons would likely help her beyond the scope of the enclave expedition, especially with raids taking longer and longer.

Some of the content was pretty obvious. The same basic precautions that were taught in MaxSec also applied in the wilderness, unsurprisingly. Others were more specific, like camping and orientation. Those would be expanded upon during the in person training, which would happen after she completed all the online classes.

During the first day, Nestra studied the basics. To her surprise, there was a lot of emphasis on mental preparedness, on how to stay calm and so on. It felt like a critical part of the program, though she was barely concerned. It helped to have a backup monstrous self if a problem arose. The rest covered shelter, navigation, water, fire, and food, with nice questionnaires and tests designed to help identify flaws in her understanding. Nestra grew bored at 6PM, had an Aszhii nap, and then went raiding as Crescent in a rare low C-class cold biome. The enemies here were weird creatures that were really good at blending into the environment, which would be more annoying if Nestra couldn’t see their beady eyes following her as she approached. At least she got some cold resistance out of that.

The next day, Nestra validated the safety and mental preparedness modules before moving onto fire, which she also validated before lunch. It wasn’t very difficult considering all modern gear came with multiple ways of lighting fire. The difficulty was in building a safe fireplace that wouldn’t block sight or send all the smoke into her eyes. Or attract predators. Water was quickly completed as well, considering their new continent was rife with fresh water sources, which could easily be filtered even if they were not boiled or chemically purified. She worked on the shelter module before her nap, then it was time to meet Sereth.

Nestra pushed through the B-class world’s heavy atmosphere in her desperate bid to stab her brother in the groin. That fucker had finally managed to adjust his strength and speed to match hers so he could punch her in the face without killing her, and now he was going to pay for it. He was the Face of the Mountain: direct, powerful, overwhelming. She was the Scornful Crescent: vicious, precise, relentless. They knew each other well. It was an even match. Their dance carried them across the pitted surface of an alien world, past shiny crystals and the strange remains of monsters Sereth had killed before Nestra’s arrival. Her feints and counters adapted to her foe just as he grew used to them while careful redirects dissipated the immense strength behind the older Aszhii’s strikes. Two gray demons of vastly different styles locked in a hail of blade and punches. Nestra accelerated, charging herself with electricity before releasing it into a single burst. A wall of obsidian stopped the assault, but her next strike came with an unpredictable teleport.

With a roar of triumph, she smacked her sword in the annoying man’s thigh, missing the vitals by a finger despite the use of precision. His backswing sent her tumbling face first into a wall.

“Aiming for my genitals only makes you more predictable,” Sereth calmly said.

“FUCK YOU!”

“Do not let your anger drive you. The Scornful Crescent is the school of the laughing predator. Again.”

“Yes, yes, you’re right. I’ll do better.”

They fought some more. Sereth must have been frustrated because he never let her win, instead facing her with the full extent of his trickery. He was over two hundred years old, earth time equivalent, and he’d been fighting for most of it. She was just a child by comparison. At least this time, it wasn’t her acting badly, but him simply being better.

“Uuhghgh.”

“Do not lose heart, little Nezhra. You are doing fairly well! Your drive is admirable, and not one we often see in the myriad worlds.”

She shrugged. She was feeling a bit sore. And so was her pride.

“Is it a human thing, or a me thing?” she asked with curiosity.

His ears wiggled a bit, which they did when he was considering a complex question. Nestra knew he felt self-conscious about it — apparently it was considered immature in his host species to do so — but it was also kind of cute and she didn’t want him to stop.

“Human drive is singular, perhaps as a consequence of individualism and your short lifespans. You are driven, even for a human.”

“Really? But I also waste time doing human stuff like survival training and law enforcement stuff.”

“Nonsense,” Sereth huffed. “Who decides what is time wasted? You are living your human life. The first life is important for every Aszhii. Those who have a miserable one…”

He frowned, perhaps remembering something unpleasant.

“Don’t you want to go home?” Nestra asked.

“Actually, no. I’m having fun here. I will return so long as Stibbs tolerates me. We could even have… children!”

“Ok.”

Somehow, the thought of the two of them having kids scared her. She was afraid of things moving too fast.

“Oh, are there other human traits that qualify… us? Or should I say them?”

“Both, since you inherited many of their traits. I would say… pack bonding and fine motor control.”

“Fine motor control?” Nestra asked, flabbergasted.

“Yes. Your muscles are not very powerful compared to other species, but your finger dexterity is amazing! Very versatile too. Do you know how hard it is to wield a blade with three large fingers designed to crush vertebrae? Very hard. In case you were wondering.”

She looked down at his fingers. He still had five.

“My species is relatively close to yours but even we are not that good. We were naturally good at magic though.”

“But you are a warrior.”

“And I am good at magic, but I prefer to punch things in the face. And I’m good at that too!”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

Nestra decided to clean her blade in the comfortable silence that followed. It was already cracking. She would need to change soon. Five thousand credits down the drain for this one, and she was going through them faster as her powers grew.

“Say, I don’t feel like I’m making much progress, style wise. I unlocked two steps of the Scornful Crescent: Interruption and Counter, but the next one eludes me.”

“Two steps is the work of a genius at your age. You are also integrating human and Aszhii fighting styles. We focus less on form and more on, errr, concepts. You will get used to it. You need to get used to it, in fact, for the next step is considerably more abstract. You just need more experience! You are already working very hard, don't worry.”

“I miss Fox Mask… Can you capture her for me?”

“Nope. Chase your own perfect prey,” he replied, black needles showing with his smirk.

“I don’t even want to kill her. She’s too fun.”

“Then don’t!”

He shrugged. Nestra wondered if all Aszhii were that serious about staying relaxed.

***

Nestra spent the entire next day studying how to shelter oneself. It wasn’t just finding a good, protected spot with water around to establish a camp, there were also plenty of safety precautions to take. She’d never guessed a supposedly good place could get flooded. She had also never guessed she was supposed to prepare and store food at least a hundred meters away from where she was sleeping, preferably in an airtight container on a tree. No enticing scents could be allowed near her shelter lest monsters find both.

And also add her to the snack list.

It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel right! The food should be stored where she was, in case she got stuck in the shelter because of the rain. Or got wounded. It made sense; it just pissed her off.

“I fear NOTHING! HISSS!”

Human Nestra ought to be afraid though. Ugh. And she would be tested. Whatever. Against her heart, she completed the module by admitting she wouldn’t keep any food where she slept.

“Alright, what’s next?”

It was food. There was a comprehensive list of all of the edible stuff that had ever been found on the Threshold sub-continent as well as another comprehensive list of all things that would kill her if ingested, with clear instructions on how to keep an updated database in one’s visor before leaving for an expedition. Threshold had very little coverage because sending satellites up was harder than it used to be.

“Wait, there is Sichuan pepper out there?”

Not just that apparently, but also a wild variety of earth and portal plants that had no business spreading so fast. The place had ginger, garlic, scallions, some alien spices, even cinnamon. Tubers and fruits were abundant, and many of them were still in season for now. The continent had many rivers and secluded lakes hidden across the rocky landscape. It was a treasure trove of tasty stuff. Nestra was suddenly super interested, and that was before it came to wildland cooking. She could use a buried fire pit with an air intake under some cover to hide the smoke and also for efficiency. This would be super useful in so many of her raids! She had ideas on how to cook inside of them rather than dragging the food out to eat it at home.

She validated the food module with a full score before taking optional classes in it. Hey, it was free. Unfortunately, the navigation module’s final test was completely stupid. Not only was she supposed to get a perfect grade on over 100 problems, but the questions were also ambiguous and the answers almost identical. Never had she wished she could strangle someone through a screen with more ardor.

***

It was Monday again. Nestra experienced that special Threshold rush hour with all the baffled horror of someone who had never had to cross the entire city by car. If the driving AI hadn’t taken over, she would have feared for her sanity. Thankfully, the traffic lightened as she approached the eastern gate that led to the Pacific Ocean and Threshold’s lone port. The early morning light bathed the blue water and the titanic fortress ships in red, blurring the people until she faced a tapestry of lumbering leviathans attended by skeletal cranes.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

The car then moved north towards a small peninsula. The road was carefully maintained but all around was wilderness, barely contained by barriers and fences. Private resorts lined the shore despite the risk of kaijus, probably built by people who didn’t mind the cost. She spotted a few manors of painted concrete and stucco, and once, parasols lining a black sand beach. Gleam resorts, for only they could risk it.

The farther she went and the more the concrete road felt like a shiny black wound across a pristine world that fought it like an infection. She took back control of the wheel for the sheer pleasure of driving the speeding pink roadster on an empty road. Crossing the lowland to the peninsula was an experience in itself, and the gawping armored car drivers passing her by only made it funnier. She soon arrived at a military checkpoint beyond which a fortified field camp waited. There were enough gun emplacements and sandbags to stop a monster herd, but as to why they would build it somewhere a kaiju could easily reach, she wasn’t sure. Maybe for territory control? The sentries barely checked her ID before letting her through. She was expected.

Or rather, they were expected. Nestra was directed to a bungalow only to find an entire class waiting for her. Those were augs, and not pushovers either but military augs with eye implants. Nestra decided to be polite and smiled at the lot since they didn’t look like they knew what to do with her.

“Hello! I’m Nestra Palladian, with Special Affairs.”

Poker faces all around.

“Previously with MaxSec.”

“Really? I got a cousin who joined MaxSec. Where?” a muscular woman asked

“Twenty-First. We were dealing with mercenaries and dokkaebi, mostly.”

“Really? From portal breaches?” another asked.

“Only for mopups but we got the occasional trash spiders as well. Leave a few eggs in a food warehouse and…”

They collectively winced.

“Gooed up in six hours tops. Yeah. I made that face as well. What about you guys?” Nestra asked.

“We’re Armored Infantry.”

“Walker pilots? Which model?” Nestra asked, suddenly interested. “Rangers? Engineering?”

“Dragoons, actually,” a muscular man said.

“I love flamethrowers,” Nestra confessed.

To Nestra’s surprise, they had a very nice conversation and the group overall seemed to accept her. They belonged to the rare class of muscle nerds, and when Nestra explained she was a kind of quirkie, they all accepted it to explain her own lack of augmentations. She managed to snatch some coffee from a nearby pot before the instructor arrived. He was a scarred pinoy who had to be at least 50% military augs. The rest was brutal efficiency.

“I’m Major Cortez, your wildland survival instructor. It is my job to train you on how to survive should you get stranded. You will listen and you will listen well or you will repeat this course until you do. Now, I’d like to know why you ladies are not in your suits yet? What is this, a picnic? Last one in line will help me with viscera disposal.”

***

“Palladian, what’s missing from this gear?”

“A shovel and regulation tarp, sir!”

“Could there be a brain between those ears? We’ll find out soon enough!”

***

“Palladian, build me a fire that can work on muddy ground.”

“Right away, sir!”

***

“Palladian, can this mushroom be eaten?”

“Only once, sir!”

“For all of you blockheads, this is a blue dream amanite, and eating it will be the last mistake you’ll ever make.”

***

“Palladian, where is a good place to shelter around those parts?”

“Under the stump of that upended tree, sir, but only for a while and not if it’s raining.”

“And why is that?”

“Flooding risk.”

“That’s right. If it’s raining, you can seek elevation in trees too. Now, for weapons training.”

***

“If you ladies get stranded, you’d better hope you don’t come across a D-class monster or above. If you do, may your end be swift and may you enter the afterlife of your choice. If it’s a dokkaebi, you’d better be ready to send that thing back to hell. Today, I’ll teach you how to do maintenance in muddy conditions… Palladian, what the hell is that thing?”

“It’s my shotgun, sir.”

“I can tell it’s a goddamn shotgun, you damn blockhead. Where is your regulation gun?”

“It’s my gun per MaxSec clearance, sir.”

“Are you going to carry that thing all the way through the exam?”

“Yes sir. Because it can, in fact, kill D-class monsters.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Very sure.”

***

Nestra had an unexpected amount of fun during training. The dragoon riders were a kind bunch who were more than eager to nerd out about their own gear. Major Cortez proved delightfully easy to deal with: if she knew the answers, he was happy. If she didn’t, he was less happy and she learned. There were no games and no tip toeing around topics of conversation. It was kind of relaxing, not to mention Cortez had a few ways of preparing plantain bananas in the wilds by wrapping them with special leaves.

“You can also add meat. Use the fattiest parts, white girl.”

“What about spice?”

“Whatever you can get your hands on. Aya, I told you you couldn't bring your spice rack.”

The two looked at each other in silence.

“It’s very small,” Nestra stated.

“You’re going to smuggle it in even if I tell you no, di ba?”

“I’d rather have salt than a pair of socks. I’m a strong girl. Really.”

The major left, swearing in tagalog the whole time but mostly Nestra was doing very well and he had other people to handle. Some of the dragoons were city birds to the core. They found guts icky. They could always find other stuff to eat but if Nestra had to be honest, it was a bit weird that people who drove flame-spitting combat walkers could find entrails revolting. Maybe because they were supposed to char things to death first? Whatever.

Finally, the fateful day of the exam arrived. In order to test their skills, the trainees would be dropped in the jungle alone for seven days, with gear but only three days worth of food and half a day of water. It was their goal to stay alive until evacuation. It meant surveillance drones so Nestra would be limited to her human form for a longer time than what she was used to, but such was the price of good knowledge. It would be fine. Most likely.

***

Nestra watched the thick jungle trail behind the gunship through its open back bay. Thick trees, gnarled and twisted to drink as much sunlight as they could, fought for every centimeter of soil and still, crags emerged between the canopies, showing the dark bones of the Threshold continent still uncovered after all of these decades. It was an endless tapestry, never the same but always so similar it didn’t really matter. The place smelled of damp air and the pungent scent of green things both living and dead, so overwhelming it reached even here. Half of the team was already on the ground, somewhere. She was next.

The Silent Horn was a rather mysterious territory to Threshold’s northwest, so called because it had very few portals to speak of. Even the air felt thin to Nestra’s senses, the mana sluggish and sleepy. It didn’t mean there were no monsters, of course, just that there were few and barely D-class. The rest preferred to stay in livelier pastures. That was where the test would take place to avoid unnecessary deaths. She looked at the drone that would monitor her life signs and possibly send a rescue request if she were in serious danger. It was a slow thing with solar panels at the back, designed for autonomy and not much else. It would stay afloat above her unless she gave up. She had no intention of doing so.

“You’re up next, Palladian!” the major yelled.

She fastened her suit to the rope as the gunship slowed down. A quick look around showed her where the nearest vantage point was while she rappelled down. That would be useful later.

Her boots hit the ground and she released the rope. A moment later, the gunship flew off.

The drone lazily followed. Her Wellington suit beeped as she turned on the cooling and life support systems, then another beep confirmed she had no signal. She was alone.

She took a deep breath. The smell here was just pungent, overwhelming her with its diversity. Trees fought for space alongside lianas, bushes, and even mushrooms here and there. Insects buzzed loudly. Nothing was really thriving here, not like in the carefully manicured parks of the city. Dead leaves, rotting wood, fading plants, the sickly and the dead mixed with the living and the strong to form a whole devoid of any reason or purpose beyond its own survival. There was so much to see, to feel, though for now, the Wellington suit offered a nice layer of safety against the outside world.

Right.

No immediate danger. She checked her shotgun one last time before setting out to the elevated outcropping, taking her time to do so. Effort consumed calories and water. She would need three liters a day to function optimally. Food was less important but still a factor. Everything cost calories. Now, they would be in shorter supply.

Nestra climbed with measured steps. She stopped to drink at the base of the hillock even though she wasn’t thirsty yet. Easy footholds led her atop flat volcanic rock. A single tree struggled to take root in a shallow crack, roots seeking nourishment like grasping hands. The wind had turned it gnarly and starved, so fragile Nestra didn’t dare use it for support. She surveyed the place.

She couldn’t even see the gunship anymore. The wind brushed against the skin of her face, and the little hair that fell from her hood. Far in the distance, she spotted the shimmering azure of the sea. Birds flew low over the canopies now that the strange steel predator had left, and their cries echoed each other in high-pitched arguments. She looked for water and, at first, didn’t find much.

Pulling down the hood, she turned on the optics. The onboard AI found patterns consistent with rivers. A careful study showed a small brook nearby, but it was rather exposed. A larger river in the distance attracted her gaze. She carefully studied it. She found a bend where the water would flow more slowly, just what she needed. It would still be a trek of a few kilometers, but this was the first day. She had to pick a good spot.

Using the Wellington’s navigation made keeping track trivial. Unfortunately nothing would help her cross several kilometers of untamed jungle. Brambles got in the way. Trees got in the way, their branches jealously spreading to catch rays of sunlight. Rocks got in the way, some of them impassable. A distance that would have been a fifteen minutes walk in the city turned into an hours-long trek, forcing her to take out her emotional support knife just so she could cut a path through some of the denser patches. Even with the Wellington cooling her body, she was sweating heavily halfway through, and considering giving up on preventing mosquitoes from landing on her nose.

Her mind wandered, even as she kept looking around. Her weight seemed fixed now, but it ought to fluctuate just from water loss. Was the human mask drawing moisture and nutrients from her true self? Could she even get dehydrated? Sereth had said that even if the human mask were destroyed, her true self would progressively rebuild it. That didn’t mean she would slack off now. Pain was still pain. Also, her pride wouldn’t allow it.

Nestra missed her destination by a hundred meters due to the vagaries of the place, but it was fine. On the way, she’d spotted and noted down a few promising foraging points. There were even mushrooms, though she wasn’t super confident about identifying them. The promising bend of the river she’d picked proved to be just as good as she’d hoped. The river widened and slowed over a rare piece of flat ground, gurgling happily as it moved downstream. Boulders cut through the placid surface at regular intervals. The water was surprisingly clear and she could spot fat fishes following the eddies. It was perfect.

Her quest for a resting spot proved more challenging. The nearest rock was steep and smooth, offering no shelter. She lucked out by finding an overhanging rock a short distance away. Tufts of hair showed it had been used for shelter before.

“This will do.”

Nestra cleared some debris, picked her shovel, and got to work.

***

It took Nestra a whole morning to clear and prepare her shelter, but it would be worth it. Moss and Liana would make for a nice nest to supplement the comfort of the armor. For water, she used a large gravity filter bag she hung next to her hidey hole. It was a nice piece of gear that took almost no space when folded, yet could filter five liters at a time. All the while, she kept her eye out for predators. This was a good spot to drink. If she thought so, then others certainly did, but nothing came to bite her ass.

The weirdest part of it all wasn’t the survival, because she’d been drilled by the major. The weird part was being alone with her thoughts. She wasn’t raiding or training, so the sensation of urgency was different. Here, she was just, well, surviving? No connection, just herself and her own mind. There were some basic media stored in the Wellington, mostly music, but she refrained from using them as it would needlessly drain the battery. It was just… quiet here, and she wanted to experience that for a while.

Nestra ate energy bars and had some fresh water for lunch, then she started her first project: building a fish trap. By using one of the boulders near the edge and quite a few rocks, she slowly built a sort of pool that fishes could swim into, but not easily leave without fighting against the current. It was a nice trick she’d learnt from Major Cortez and she was looking forward to making it work.

Next she built small snares.

That carried her into the late afternoon. The sun set quickly in this mountainous region, even in the late summer. She would forage for those tubers she’d spotted the next day. There was no rush.

Even though she was tired, it took a long time for her to fall asleep. The next morning, she washed herself with fresh water then climbed down to check on her fish farm. As soon as she approached, she knew something had gone wrong. Blood and scattered gore stained a rock by the shore, the remains of a nightly buffet. Of her fish.

“WHO THE FUCK STOLE MY DAMN FISH!”

First that stupid void squall thief, and now another? This would not stand.

“You’re so dead. No one steals from Nestra. I’ll find you, and I’ll eat you.”

***

Seven days later.

Major Cortez and his second dropped down from the gunship with some measure of apprehension. The girl wasn’t at her sleeping spot, which wasn’t unusual since the pick up was ‘sometime during the seventh day’, but still… Most people just waited there. He climbed the gentle slope to her encampment with care. Some people didn’t come out because predators were around. His artificial fingers tightened over the handle of his rifle. His optics searched for heat bleeding through the dense vegetation.

“I’ll be,” the lieutenant whispered.

The girl’s base was… something. A well-trodden path led to a rudimentary fence decorated with bleached bone totems, and beyond that, a garden of carefully dug up aromatic herbs waited. Despite his advice, a tightly packed food container hung from a nearby branch. He could see a lot of meat there. Sichuan pepper dried on nearby leaves while a smoking pit lay quiescent to the side. He spotted her sleeping spot under a rock, past another layer of wooden fences. Moss and flower formed a thick bedding though it was more a den than a true bed. Of the girl, there were no signs.

“Signal says she’s father north.”

“Hunting, maybe.”

They had a look at the food. It was a stupid thing to do to keep meat around like that. Damn, that was a lot of meat. She had to have depopulated the entire grid coordinate.

“Let’s go. The gunship can’t stick around forever.”

They picked up the pace, using the ping provided by the surveillance drone. The jungle was thick but they plowed through without much care, until they came upon a tiny clearing nestled between two sheer cliffs. There, a pile of steaming entrails greeted them, already buzzing with flies and all manner of insects.

“What the —”

A noise. A roar. Angry fur and slavering teeth emerged from the nearby patch, aiming straight for her. Major Cortez recognized a lesser mana ursus just as his gun automatically jumped up to acquire the target. A magical bear, dangerous, resilient—

BOOM

Its head exploded in a shower of brains and skull fragments.

“GOT YOU!”

The girl surged from behind a bush, screaming in triumph. She was wearing a sort of homemade ghillie suit that had made detection difficult. Only her furious eyes peered out from behind her hood. Fierce sigils were drawn in mud across the Wellington’s camo, making his mind skip a beat. He averted his eyes. Probably just a glitch.

“That fucking thing kept eating my damn fish. Who’s meat now, huh? Well played, idiot.”

“Miss Palladian, the gunship…”

“Sorry, yeah, sorry. Gotta go. No time to skin it, I suppose. We’ll just swing by home to get my meat.”

“Palladian…”

The lieutenant’s voice came in private convo.

“Sir, I think it would be faster and wiser just to play along.”

The girl frowned, aware of something. Cortez got the feeling he was right.

“Fine. Let’s hurry then.”

“Good! Oh, major, I got smoked river fish with fresh local pepper and salt. It’s such a good snack. I got garlic and scallion rabbit liver skewers as well. And mangoes. I would kill for a beer though.”

The major chuckled. He might just accept.

Unfortunately for Nestra, the quarantine department seized her entire stash due to contamination risks, and it was destroyed at the base camp.

***

The same evening, in a C-class portal world.

“MY FUCKING MEAT,” a voice roared in Aszhii.

Limbs flew through the air. Despite the portal lizards’ programmed aggression, their primitive brains could not help but flinch before the onslaught. The intruder was a storm of blade and magic tearing through them with vicious precision, and impeccable timing.

“MY FISH!”

The largest of them spat bolts of cobalt light. The intruder merely powered through as if it were merely an inconvenience. The beast fell from a devious thrust that caught it in its blind spot. Like a demon, the irate being tore through the last of the resistance with unbidden fury.

“THREE DAYS I SMOKED IT. THREE. FUCKING. DAYS!”

Her bloodthirst still unquenched, Nestra raced up a volcanic path towards the arid plateau where the guardian waited, under a sky as thunderous as her heart.

Suddenly, a shift in space made her flinch. She turned, surprised. Something had just come through the entrance portal behind her, back into the pine forest. Surely, that wasn’t right. The portal was reserved for Crescent and Crescent alone. An intruder? A cop? As a precaution, she reached for her mask.

She didn’t make it. The intruder was already here.

He was a Japanese man of medium height, completely shaved all over. A kind smile on his gentle face gave him a fatherly appearance, though the green and silvery eyes of a high gleam said otherwise. Muscular shoulders hid under an humble orange robe. In his hand, he held a staff. He was one of the only people on the planet who would never need to introduce himself.

“Oh shit,” Nestra squeaked.

Shinran’s response never began. His mouth, which had opened, closed shut. An immense pressure crushed Nestra then and there, forcing her to her knees. She couldn’t stand. She couldn’t even breathe. It took all her will to remember she existed. The ground shook with strange tremors like a breath, like a heartbeat, moaning with fear and anticipation.

Something pierced space like a dagger pushed through thin paper. Nestra screamed from sympathetic pain when the world was gutted. A fist emerged from the breach, though she couldn’t see it, couldn’t even look up. She knew it because she felt the fist like one felt a mountain at one’s back without a need to look. The thing that walked through the breach might have been Sereth, once, but now it was the mountain. Not the Face of the Mountain, as was its path, but the mountain, moving. A titan of hardened armor as unstoppable as time itself. The colossus’ sheer presence warped reality around it. Nestra forgot to even fight for that missing breath.

A-rank.

Azshii.

Warrior.

Might, incarnate.

The deadliest entity on earth by an order of magnitude.

“I warned you,” the mountain said.

Its punch cracked the world like an egg.

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