The mont they set foot on the island, I knew.
Their presence was like a flicker of candlelight in a dark room, fragile but unmistakable. Even through the dense, molten haze of my cocoon, I felt them—a disturbance in the threads of fate and reality around . My psychic reach, dulled and strained as it was by the battle with Elyra and my subsequent hibernation, instinctively reached out. What I found was… amusing.
They were nothing.
Yet one among them caught my attention.
The human.
Not because of his strength—he had none. Not because of his skills—those were barely worth noting. It was sothing else, sothing I couldn’t define. A faint thread of connection. The strands of fate that touched my existence brushed against his, binding us in a way I hadn’t anticipated. His thoughts were loud, unguarded, and curious.
Why did he feel so familiar?
The others were noise. The angel burned with resolve but was burdened by doubt. The beastman was a ball of reckless energy, easy to predict. The dwarf’s spirit was sturdy, unyielding, but brittle in the face of change. And the elf…
The elf was broken.
A mind-bug clung to him, corrupting his thoughts with whispers of ambition and rage. I didn’t plant it, but I didn’t need to. Its crude influence was the perfect tool for what I needed. A simple nudge, a faint whisper magnifying the parasite’s control, and the elf’s fractured psyche beca a puppet for my will.
When I delved into his mind, it was like stepping into a decaying house. His hatred for the others was a fire waiting to be stoked. His desperation for validation, for his empire’s glory, was a ripe fruit ready to be plucked. I whispered into his soul, feeding his delusions, magnifying his doubts, twisting his mories until the idea of summoning beca his only purpose.
He would lead them to .
But it was the human who intrigued most. His dreams were an open door I couldn’t resist. I crept into his mind, shaping his thoughts, planting images of —my battles, my destruction, my dormant form. I wanted him to find , to see as inevitable.
And he did.
Their journey across the island was predictable. Every step they took, every trap they triggered, every decision they made—it all played into my hands. They believed they were hunting a beast. In truth, they were prey, walking willingly into my den.
The elf’s ritual was the final piece. His mind-bug ensured he would sacrifice everything—his summoned spirit, his life force, even his sanity—to complete it. I didn’t care for the ritual’s intent. I didn’t need to be bound or controlled. All I needed was the energy it would generate to finish what Elyra’s death had started.
And so, the cracks ford.
The cracks spidered outward, veins of molten energy pulsing along the surface of the cocoon like a living thing. Each pulse sent a ripple through the air, heating it until it felt like the atmosphere itself was boiling. The faint scent of ash, already omnipresent in the Scorching Badlands, deepened into sothing acrid and tallic, as though the very essence of the land was being scorched anew.
The first break ca with a sound that reverberated across the volcanic plain—a low, guttural crack that made the ground tremble. Pieces of the cocoon’s surface splintered and fell away, their glowing edges hissing as they hit the baked earth. The air shifted imdiately, growing heavier, denser. It wasn’t just the heat anymore; it was pressure, a suffocating force that bore down on everything in its radius.
The air itself seed to recoil as I pushed forward, my second claw ripping through the shell. Fragnts of the cocoon fell in glowing shards, lting into the ground with a sizzle. The temperature surged higher with every movent, the dry heat of the Badlands transforming into sothing suffocating, relentless. The champions below —small, fragile things—were bathed in the glow of my ergence.
I pushed further, and the surface of the cocoon cracked entirely, the structure collapsing in on itself. The hiss of molten energy escaping the shell filled the air, a sound that felt alive, breathing, like the earth was exhaling its last breath. A blinding pulse of molten light shot upward as my head erged, my molten eyes blinking against the brightness of the wasteland.
The world outside was sharper than I rembered. My vision, filtered through my molten gaze, saw everything. Every crack in the volcanic ground, every wisp of steam rising from fissures. The faint glow of Sylvia’s divine light, trembling as though it sensed the inevitability of my rise. The fear on their faces—the angel, the dwarf, the beastman, and the human—etched into their expressions like carvings on stone.
The sll hit next, a mix of sulfur and scorched rock layered with sothing else—adrenaline, sweat, fear. It was intoxicating. The air felt alive, charged with energy that had nothing to do with the Badlands. It ca from them, their bodies quaking, their breath hitching as they struggled to remain standing under the weight of my presence.
The ground trembled as I stretched, my form rising higher, massive, unstoppable. My obsidian skin glead, each molten vein throbbing with destruction energy that pulsed outward in waves. With every shift of my body, the earth beneath cracked and groaned, struggling to bear my weight.
The temperature rose again, the very air shimring with heatwaves. It was unbearable to them—I could see it in their strained expressions, the way their movents slowed, their breaths shallowed. Sylvia’s wings drooped slightly, the divine glow dimming against the sheer force of the heat. Thrain wiped his brow, the molten glow of his hamr flickering like a candle struggling to stay lit.
When I finally stood to my full height, I saw it. The realization dawning in their eyes.
This was not a beast.
This was sothing far beyond their comprehension.
I tilted my head, the motion slow, deliberate. The movent sent a ripple through the molten veins across my body, and the light from my eyes intensified, casting long shadows across the ground. My tail swayed behind , each twitch carving shallow trenches into the rock.
Their terror was palpable now, thicker than the molten air. The angel tried to speak, her voice trembling as she called out sothing I couldn’t hear over the hum of my own energy. The beastman bared his claws, but his stance wavered. The dwarf’s grip on his hamr tightened, but he didn’t move.
And then there was the human.
His fear was quieter, more restrained, but I could feel it. It pulsed faintly along the thread that connected us, brushing against my mind in fragnted bursts. Confusion. Despair. Fascination. He was trembling, yet he hadn’t moved back like the others. Why?
I let the silence stretch. I wanted to see how they would react. Would they run? Would they fight? Would they simply crumble under the weight of what stood before them?
The human…
He stood frozen, his wide eyes locked on .
Why does his presence resonate so strongly?
I didn’t have ti to dwell on it. The elf’s scream cut through the silence as I lowered my jaws around him. His body crunched between my teeth, his life extinguished before he could even comprehend his failure. His essence was bitter, hollow. He was a puppet to the end, offering nothing but the satisfaction of silencing his delusions.
When they attacked, I almost pitied them.
The angel and the dwarf activated their ultimate technique—their so-called "State." I could feel the surge of their power, their determination burning brighter than the molten veins coursing through my body. They struck with everything they had, their combined attacks managing to scratch my hide.
But it wasn’t enough.
I regenerated before their eyes, the scratches sealing themselves as though they had never existed. Their despair was intoxicating, their hope crumbling with every futile strike.
And the human watched.
He didn’t move, didn’t speak, but I could feel his mind racing, his thoughts brushing against mine in fragnted bursts.
When the beastman lunged, it was almost laughable. His claws, his strength, his fury—it all amounted to nothing. My tail ended his defiance in an instant, his body reduced to nothing more than a sar on the ground.
"He chose poorly," I said, my voice rumbling through the shattered landscape.
The angel scread at , her wings blazing with divine light as she demanded answers.
"Why?" she cried. "You didn’t need to kill him!"
I tilted my head, amused by her defiance. "Do you think prey escapes the hunter? He ran. That is the only answer you need."
The dwarf stepped forward, his hamr raised despite its cracks. "And what about us? What do you want, monster?"
My molten eyes locked onto him, the weight of my gaze forcing him to falter. "Answers," I said simply.
I turned to the human. His fear was palpable, his connection to pulsing faintly like a thread stretched taut. "You, human. Tell . What lies beyond this wasteland? The realms. Your ’Avatars.’ Their strength. Their purpose."
The angel’s light dimd, her voice trembling as she asked, "Why… why do you care?"
"Because I will burn this world to ash," I said, my voice as cold as it was final. "And I will know what stands between and the gods."
The silence was broken only by the trembling of the earth beneath us. Their despair was delicious.
And then the human spoke.
"Let them go," he said, his voice trembling but steady. "I’ll stay."
I turned my gaze to him, intrigued. "You would stay?"
"Yes," he said. "Just let them go."
The threads of fate connecting us burned brighter, pulling at sothing deep within . His resolve was weak, but his offer…
It amused .
"Very well," I said. "They may leave. But you will remain."
The angel protested, her broken wings trembling as she tried to reason with . The dwarf hesitated, his hamr trembling in his grip.
But the human silenced them.
"Go," he said, his voice breaking. "You can’t fight this. None of us can."
As they retreated, I turned my full attention to the human.
"What is your na?" I asked.
"Jas," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Jas," I repeated, tasting the na. "You will answer my questions. And in return, I will not kill you."
He nodded, his fear giving way to a strange acceptance.
For the first ti in ages, I felt… curious.
This human. This connection. This thread of fate.
Perhaps being a god-beast would not be so solitary after all.
Reviews
All reviews (0)