“And I can’t believe you tried to teach us an advanced Air IDM technique. The villagers hardly understand what IDM is.”
“Again, I apologize, Lotho. I may have gotten carried away. I saw the steps and thought they were part of a martial routine. However, your agility and skill were still remarkable, especially for your...” He paused, searching for the right word, “...vast experience.”
Lotho chuckled, waving off the comment. “Vast experience, eh? That’s one way to put it. But let me tell you, Kaito, what you turned our dance rehearsal into has set tongues wagging around the village.”
Kaito tilted his head, intrigued. “Oh, is that so?”
“Well, you see, some folks are under the impression that we were performing an elaborate courtship dance. Quite the scandal you say? Imagine that, me and you, in a courtship ritual!” Lotho let out a hearty laugh.
“A courtship dance? That’s a significant misunderstanding.”
Lotho nodded, still chuckling. “Oh, it was a spectacle, alright. I haven’t seen this much excitement in the village square since the Great Calmo Pie Contest of ‘78.”
Zenith hadn’t had this good of a laugh in a long time. “Is that so?” she asked. “You must be special then. Kaito has never done a courtship dance for me.
▬▬ι════════ﺤ
Shagal couldn’t believe what she was doing.
She squeezed the neck of a male kenibit until his head rolled by her feet, and threw the body at sharp claws aimed at her heart.
She couldn’t believe the state of her kingdom.
The kenibit began coordinating, five of them surrounded her. They levitated using mind IDM and circled around her.
Actually, she couldn’t believe the king.
How did they get here?
Her cloak was already torn to shreds, her pale-green skin stained with pastel blue blood, and her dark hair had been cut unevenly by the kenibits’ blades. She was nearly out of IDM and hadn’t slept since… well, she didn’t remember.
But she needed to reach
Kaito.
Rage IDM, consume my muscles and take them past their limit.
Her body doubled in size, with steam hissing from every pore. An invisible force emanated from her being, pushing the kenibits back, but more took their place.
All flora died around her from the sheer presence of her mana. She charged forward and her wounds burned, with blood pouring out of them.
It had all started with the kenibit tribe attacking Daiyudura’s workers. They forced the king’s hand, so he ordered her to subdue the tribe of three-foot-tall shamans and put them in their place before things escalated further.
She stared at her palms. What was she doing?
King Aldric left out the part about his initial decree to expand Daiyudura’s borders. It was a strategic move to claim unoccupied forest land. The kenibits initially sent emissaries, pleading for the preservation of their land.
When their pleas were ignored, they resorted to small-scale, protective attacks to drive the intruders away. The king interpreted the kenibits actions as a declaration of war. Small skirmishes turned into larger battles.
Her turmoil must have shown on her face. A Kenibit warrior took advantage of it, lunging at her with claws extended towards her throat. She reacted without thinking, grabbing the attacker and hurling them against a tree trunk. But she stopped herself just in time, only stunning the Kenibit instead of killing them.
She wasn’t there because the king ordered it. She was there because someone needed to protect the innocent daiyudurans who got embroiled in this nonsense.
Shagal used her forearms to block another flurry of blows from the Kenibit warrior, then knocked out the last five remaining opponents, making the kingdom’s soldiers break out in breathless cheering.
Yet, this victory was just a part of the larger battle; more Kenibit forces were regrouping in the distance.
The half-orc paused, chest heaving. With the sounds of clashing weapons and shouts, Daiyuduran soldiers pressed the attack, driving the straggler Kenibit defenders back towards their village.
Something deep in her rebelled at the sight.
Movement under some broken down barricades led her to the cries of a young Kenibit child, who tripped over a fallen log and crashed down an embankment. Shagal rushed over without thinking. The child whimpered, clutching his leg. Shagal examined the injury—just a sprain. She tore a strip of cloth from what was left of her tunic and bandaged the leg.
The child looked up at her, recoiling with fear after every single one of her movements. Then his expression softened. He spoke to her in native Kenibit. During her limited encounters with them, Shagal had only managed to pick up a few words, enough to grasp basic sentiments but not enough to hold a conversation. She couldn’t decipher the boy’s speech, but two words at the end were unmistakable. “Thank you,” he squeaked.
Shagal nodded through a tight knot in her throat. Her attention was drawn to the child’s shivering furry tail.
She pushed the kid into the bushes and gestured for him to run.
This has to stop, she thought as a rallying cry went up among the Daiyuduran forces. The Kenibit had begun to retreat, falling back towards their village. The army’s captain urged the soldiers to pursue their enemy.
“No!” Shagal shouted. “Halt!”
Her soldiers pulled up short, confusion rippling through their ranks.
“We’ve won, let’s retreat for now,” Shagal declared. “Tend to the wounded and set up camp.”
Murmured protests broke out, but none dared defy her orders openly. They had won the field; there was no need to terrorize the Kenibit in their own home. At least, they complied.
Two of the disgruntled soldiers kneeled by a makeshift fire pit, using flint and steel to spark a flame amidst the kindling. Others fanned out, collecting extra firewood and supplies from their packs.
Shagal tensed.
We are not alone.
A powerful aura emanated from the underbrush nearby, filled with killing intent that made her hair stand on end. Her tattoos were barely glowing, her ritual’s cooldown was nearing its end, and her IDM was running low.”
It was a female Kenibit, standing just over three feet tall—like the rest. Her fur was a deep emerald green, and she wore magnificent-looking jewelry: gold armbands encrusted with different-colored gems, a jeweled necklace, and a crown of feathers and beads atop her head. Nature-aligned tattoos marked her arms and face in swirling patterns with a fresh glow. She carried herself with an air of importance and authority. The kenibit matriarch. It had to be.
Shagal measured her steps and held up her hands, showing she meant no harm. But the matriarch snarled, baring her fangs. Her claws flexed as she took up a defensive stance.
The half-orc spoke the few kenibit words in her dictionary slowly and calmly, using the most soothing tone the raging chain berserker could muster. But it was no use. Neither understood the other’s language. The matriarch’s eyes burned with hatred for the invaders trespassing on her people’s ancestral land. She was set on destroying them all.
Shagal blinked, and the matriarch disappeared. The berserker barely had time to draw her rage IDM and withstand the incoming blows. Instead, she found herself driven back by the force of the smaller creature’s attacks. Claws raked across her skin as she struggled to mount any counterattack of her own.
The daiyuduran soldiers hung back, unsure of what to do. She didn’t blame them. Fighting typical kenibit warriors was one thing; most of them only possessed fundamental IDM. But to their eyes, watching her and the matriarch exchange blows must seem like a blur of lightning-fast motion.
While blocking and dodging, She tried speaking again, but her words fell on deaf ears.
Shagal’s arms burned from the effort of parrying the blows, her legs ached from the constant strain of dodging, and her lungs felt like they were on fire. She felt the matriarch’s claws raking across her skin, leaving bloody trails, but she ignored them.
The matriarch’s IDM-infused claws lashed out again and again.
Shagal’s arms were a mass of cuts and welts.
Twin suns help me, she thought when her right leg became unresponsive, and her enemy’s strike raked across her face, leaving a jagged gash from her temple to her jawline.
With her last fumes of rage magic, Shagal grabbed the matriarch by the throat, her fingers closing around the smaller creature’s neck. I should just crush and be done with it, crush and be done with the pain. The matriarch gasped, life draining from her face. Shagal lifted her off the ground, took one look at the small but resilient creature, and slammed the kenibit into a nearby tree, the impact shattering the wood like glass.
The matriarch rose, stronger than before, and attacked again.
On instinct, Shagal ripped off the arm from the matriarch’s torso, sending it flying through the air in a shower of blood and gorey flesh.
What happened? Shagal’s body was about to reach its limit, but her mind was way past it.
The matriarch rose again.
Her next attack was a blur.
It feels nice—the warmth of her own blood trickling down her cheek, mingling with the sweat that coated her body.
“And I can’t believe you tried to teach us an advanced Air IDM technique. The villagers hardly understand what IDM is.”
“Again, I apologize, Lotho. I may have gotten carried away. I saw the steps and thought they were part of a martial routine. However, your agility and skill were still remarkable, especially for your...” He paused, searching for the right word, “...vast experience.”
Lotho chuckled, waving off the comment. “Vast experience, eh? That’s one way to put it. But let me tell you, Kaito, what you turned our dance rehearsal into has set tongues wagging around the village.”
Kaito tilted his head, intrigued. “Oh, is that so?”
“Well, you see, some folks are under the impression that we were performing an elaborate courtship dance. Quite the scandal you say? Imagine that, me and you, in a courtship ritual!” Lotho let out a hearty laugh.
“A courtship dance? That’s a significant misunderstanding.”
Lotho nodded, still chuckling. “Oh, it was a spectacle, alright. I haven’t seen this much excitement in the village square since the Great Calmo Pie Contest of ‘78.”
Zenith hadn’t had this good of a laugh in a long time. “Is that so?” she asked. “You must be special then. Kaito has never done a courtship dance for me.
▬▬ι════════ﺤ
Shagal couldn’t believe what she was doing.
She squeezed the neck of a male kenibit until his head rolled by her feet, and threw the body at sharp claws aimed at her heart.
She couldn’t believe the state of her kingdom.
The kenibit began coordinating, five of them surrounded her. They levitated using mind IDM and circled around her.
Actually, she couldn’t believe the king.
How did they get here?
Her cloak was already torn to shreds, her pale-green skin stained with pastel blue blood, and her dark hair had been cut unevenly by the kenibits’ blades. She was nearly out of IDM and hadn’t slept since… well, she didn’t remember.
But she needed to reach
Kaito.
Rage IDM, consume my muscles and take them past their limit.
Her body doubled in size, with steam hissing from every pore. An invisible force emanated from her being, pushing the kenibits back, but more took their place.
All flora died around her from the sheer presence of her mana. She charged forward and her wounds burned, with blood pouring out of them.
It had all started with the kenibit tribe attacking Daiyudura’s workers. They forced the king’s hand, so he ordered her to subdue the tribe of three-foot-tall shamans and put them in their place before things escalated further.
She stared at her palms. What was she doing?
King Aldric left out the part about his initial decree to expand Daiyudura’s borders. It was a strategic move to claim unoccupied forest land. The kenibits initially sent emissaries, pleading for the preservation of their land.
When their pleas were ignored, they resorted to small-scale, protective attacks to drive the intruders away. The king interpreted the kenibits actions as a declaration of war. Small skirmishes turned into larger battles.
Her turmoil must have shown on her face. A Kenibit warrior took advantage of it, lunging at her with claws extended towards her throat. She reacted without thinking, grabbing the attacker and hurling them against a tree trunk. But she stopped herself just in time, only stunning the Kenibit instead of killing them.
She wasn’t there because the king ordered it. She was there because someone needed to protect the innocent daiyudurans who got embroiled in this nonsense.
Shagal used her forearms to block another flurry of blows from the Kenibit warrior, then knocked out the last five remaining opponents, making the kingdom’s soldiers break out in breathless cheering.
Yet, this victory was just a part of the larger battle; more Kenibit forces were regrouping in the distance.
The half-orc paused, chest heaving. With the sounds of clashing weapons and shouts, Daiyuduran soldiers pressed the attack, driving the straggler Kenibit defenders back towards their village.
Something deep in her rebelled at the sight.
Movement under some broken down barricades led her to the cries of a young Kenibit child, who tripped over a fallen log and crashed down an embankment. Shagal rushed over without thinking. The child whimpered, clutching his leg. Shagal examined the injury—just a sprain. She tore a strip of cloth from what was left of her tunic and bandaged the leg.
The child looked up at her, recoiling with fear after every single one of her movements. Then his expression softened. He spoke to her in native Kenibit. During her limited encounters with them, Shagal had only managed to pick up a few words, enough to grasp basic sentiments but not enough to hold a conversation. She couldn’t decipher the boy’s speech, but two words at the end were unmistakable. “Thank you,” he squeaked.
Shagal nodded through a tight knot in her throat. Her attention was drawn to the child’s shivering furry tail.
She pushed the kid into the bushes and gestured for him to run.
This has to stop, she thought as a rallying cry went up among the Daiyuduran forces. The Kenibit had begun to retreat, falling back towards their village. The army’s captain urged the soldiers to pursue their enemy.
“No!” Shagal shouted. “Halt!”
Her soldiers pulled up short, confusion rippling through their ranks.
“We’ve won, let’s retreat for now,” Shagal declared. “Tend to the wounded and set up camp.”
Murmured protests broke out, but none dared defy her orders openly. They had won the field; there was no need to terrorize the Kenibit in their own home. At least, they complied.
Two of the disgruntled soldiers kneeled by a makeshift fire pit, using flint and steel to spark a flame amidst the kindling. Others fanned out, collecting extra firewood and supplies from their packs.
Shagal tensed.
We are not alone.
A powerful aura emanated from the underbrush nearby, filled with killing intent that made her hair stand on end. Her tattoos were barely glowing, her ritual’s cooldown was nearing its end, and her IDM was running low.”
It was a female Kenibit, standing just over three feet tall—like the rest. Her fur was a deep emerald green, and she wore magnificent-looking jewelry: gold armbands encrusted with different-colored gems, a jeweled necklace, and a crown of feathers and beads atop her head. Nature-aligned tattoos marked her arms and face in swirling patterns with a fresh glow. She carried herself with an air of importance and authority. The kenibit matriarch. It had to be.
Shagal measured her steps and held up her hands, showing she meant no harm. But the matriarch snarled, baring her fangs. Her claws flexed as she took up a defensive stance.
The half-orc spoke the few kenibit words in her dictionary slowly and calmly, using the most soothing tone the raging chain berserker could muster. But it was no use. Neither understood the other’s language. The matriarch’s eyes burned with hatred for the invaders trespassing on her people’s ancestral land. She was set on destroying them all.
Shagal blinked, and the matriarch disappeared. The berserker barely had time to draw her rage IDM and withstand the incoming blows. Instead, she found herself driven back by the force of the smaller creature’s attacks. Claws raked across her skin as she struggled to mount any counterattack of her own.
The daiyuduran soldiers hung back, unsure of what to do. She didn’t blame them. Fighting typical kenibit warriors was one thing; most of them only possessed fundamental IDM. But to their eyes, watching her and the matriarch exchange blows must seem like a blur of lightning-fast motion.
While blocking and dodging, She tried speaking again, but her words fell on deaf ears.
Shagal’s arms burned from the effort of parrying the blows, her legs ached from the constant strain of dodging, and her lungs felt like they were on fire. She felt the matriarch’s claws raking across her skin, leaving bloody trails, but she ignored them.
The matriarch’s IDM-infused claws lashed out again and again.
Shagal’s arms were a mass of cuts and welts.
Twin suns help me, she thought when her right leg became unresponsive, and her enemy’s strike raked across her face, leaving a jagged gash from her temple to her jawline.
With her last fumes of rage magic, Shagal grabbed the matriarch by the throat, her fingers closing around the smaller creature’s neck. I should just crush and be done with it, crush and be done with the pain. The matriarch gasped, life draining from her face. Shagal lifted her off the ground, took one look at the small but resilient creature, and slammed the kenibit into a nearby tree, the impact shattering the wood like glass.
The matriarch rose, stronger than before, and attacked again.
On instinct, Shagal ripped off the arm from the matriarch’s torso, sending it flying through the air in a shower of blood and gorey flesh.
What happened? Shagal’s body was about to reach its limit, but her mind was way past it.
The matriarch rose again.
Her next attack was a blur.
It feels nice—the warmth of her own blood trickling down her cheek, mingling with the sweat that coated her body.
