The “black ink dwellbeast” was the rarer and more dangerous of its species. A fledgling student’s last words, the saddened academia concluded. Whether he had survived or not, it was still groundbreaking. Yet they spoke no praise ever since what Vetusians called “The Day Our City Bled.”

The town square never lost its pride and joy status. People gazed at the stars, and lovestruck couples sat by the larger-than-life trees. Pet owners took their loyal companions for a walk, and children played around the grassy field. Louder and louder, many of all ages sang with lutes and pipes. Their beautiful city stood the test of time better than half the otherworld.

Several more now clapped around the beat. A youngster heard faint glugs from the fountain behind, then the water stopped. But the joyous night had everyone smiling for hours, caring little of anything else. This was the curse for the young until then. The last thing the student found out had occurred beneath the round basin.

“Don’t touch that, man!” exclaimed his friend, seeing him caress the pumps. “They haven’t cleaned that in years.”

It’d have been a bold lie if the former knew about the daily sanitation workers. Either way, he had never seen water so pitch dark and gelatin-like. He shrugged and continued clapping.

A mother sat nearby to accompany her four-year-old son. “Don’t wade around for too long, dear,” she turned, eyes relaxed. “Your dad will be back soon to see us.”

The child’s giggling jumps had churned the water white, but his attention turned to the soft and sticky basin. Toward the bottom, he scooped up a handful. “Mommy, look!” he called with a smile.

On the other side of the fountain, a boyfriend had become curious, too. Joking around his soulmate, he inched the black goo closer to her face. “Ugh!” she kept pushing him. “Quit it, that’s gross. Put it back!”

The music attracted two-thirds of the square, now with violins and jigs. More children splashed inside the fountain, dumbfounded by the discovery beneath. Despite clouds shading the moon, many took turns with the dance as if high noon. Then, the strings and flutes had established a medieval summer. After all, Earth was like the otherworld’s brother.

The populace praised those with the best footwork, who bowed to no end. A man sloppily cheered unlike them but smiled no less. Sighing back down, he held the same puzzling goo in his right. From all the sweat of loving their city, all had eyes and hands on the fountain.

What in the Gods is this? he examined closer. Alas, the curse of curiosity had infected even the old. But only his piece had subtly shaken. Seconds in, small spikes frantically grew. He gasped and dropped it on the fountain. “What the hell!?” he backed away, standing. Alas, his fear never subsided, hearing a blood-curdling sound to his left.

Spear-like tendrils jutted out of the head of the four-year-old. Alongside every orifice pierced, new ones numbered by the dozen. The mother saw but a red “fountain” out of her son, face first to the ground. Eyes wide in tears, another blood-curdling fright went as a scream.

The city folk gasped and came for her aid. But it was never enough even if they were mages. Within seconds, the mother’s head flew ten meters high onto a tree. Another tendril had done its job, slithering back fast. They screamed next. Yet by sheer curiosity and confusion, none had run. The curse was now deep in their veins.

More tendrils lashed out and impaled more heads from the mouth. Screaming more, their feet finally worked. But once again, it was never enough. The town square turned black, trapping all tighter than quicksand. Their legs hurt from the sharp teeth that formed beneath. Another scream went, but the crunches and gulps silenced all.

The dwellbeast stopped to devour the remaining flesh. After a few heads, it shrunk into its original form. Anyone left alive would’ve seen a toothy grin. Over nine meters upright, all would’ve seen the most hulking “satyr.” No such thing existed in the otherworld, and the hairless monster stayed true to its name.

Head like a sickly horse and crocodile teeth when shut, it had no nostrils. It didn’t save a Vetusian yellow-banded squirrel’s life from a hoof stomp. “Sniffing,” a few desserts from the trees didn’t hurt. Salt remained crucial much like Earth’s living. Yet with arms longer than legs, it grunted and knuckle-dragged.

It never had a chance to use its massive mole-like claws besides mating rights. Even now, forest giants were too powerful. Spikes along the spine meant it had sired two every year. However, the lifelong partner wasn’t on its mind. It couldn’t help salivating for more food.

Even with a hung belly, it sprinted toward the streets. A briefcase lay on the initial massacre. Paint the town red, only now a city in danger.

Devouring civilians in its way, the dwellbeast snacked on teams of pegasi: the main transportation. Flying away proved futile despite their blinding speeds. The carriages tumbled down, crushing many with eyes popped.

No matter how fast their lives had run, its tendrils were efficient. Blood and organs painted the buildings, and bones clanged on the roads. Windows had shattered, being an uninvited guest for residents. Three blocks in its way, reduced to powered red. All the storm drains gurgled.

The city’s heart housed its largest estate. Even its nobles gasped over the faraway screams. Regardless of wealth, they informed the whole brigade. Former archmage Augustus seethed before a few of them. “What in blazes is happening out there!?” his eyes narrowed. “Many of our siblings died because of your ignorance!”

A brigade mage bowed in sweat. “A thousand apologies, sir. But none of the runes in our city grounds picked up danger!” He swallowed his fear, panting. “W-What’s worse… is that we can’t even sense it with our magic.”

“What…?” his eyes squinted, turning from the outside view. Hearing his men sprint down, he sighed. “Whatever the case, we all go. Surround that thing as much as you can. Even the most ferocious animals can be caged.” He turned again, standing tall. “I’ll kill it.”

“But, sir. What about—”

“Just go!” he pointed to the stairs. “Haruto’s not here, neither is Tokino. Who knows where those lovebirds are.” He held his shoulder and smiled. “This old geezer ain’t too shabby for his age, young one.”

“Y-Yessir!” the mage saluted, back straight and beyond. He gathered more of his comrades. “You heard what he said! Evacuate civilians out of our perimeter, then do what we trained for against any elemental. Move out!”

“Yessir!” they all saluted louder.

The mages entered the now quiet city grounds. The dwellbeast gulped a baby carriage and stopped at a pegasus stable. Stomachs had turned, but it gave them time to cast a barrier via Runic Art: a versatile technique anyone could learn. Those without innate abilities shaped mana to contend with their stronger peers. A mega annum later, it became mandatory curricula.

The monster chomped a horse’s head, then exclaimed confusion. Runes had glistened above and formed a dome. It didn’t take long for it to realize, pushing but to no avail. It tried digging underground, but the arrays already did the job. Growling, it roared at its enemies and formed new arms from its back. The barrage lasted a minute, random to no end with louder rage.

As the mages stood their ground, they let one enter the monster’s prison. Augustus, taller than everyone, tied his blue cape to the waste. Even as an archmage, he always wore the official uniform of Vetus’ brigade. All were similar to Imperial German field grays, so he had a matching tank top.

The capes showed the city emblem: a hand holding a piece of soil with a sapling. He wore numerous service medals, usually reserved for the lesser ranks and top royalty. If scars from head to toe were pride, so were the awards. He had none on his back, so all had nothing to say.

Inside the barrier, Augustus stood surprised and chuckled. By the Gods. Now I see why none could detect this thing. Three times larger, too. What a time to be alive.

He recalled his curse as a youngster in class. Research had discovered black ink dwellbeasts lacked magic, unlike its cousins. Since Ingen Hammond’s untimely legacy, very few records detailed towns demolished within minutes. Cities had the “luxury” of days, but so did such research.

Augustus had mana swirling around him, ready to use his innate ability. Tendrils swung for his head. But a mere jab proved Tremor a natural counter to the dwellbeast’s liquefaction. More of its parts littered the floor, unable to fuse back. Said parts couldn’t even become spears, shaken in place. His turning kick flung the foe’s head ten meters away. Now, it was a game of tetherball at five magnitudes.

He pushed the monster’s head fully deep within and cracked his knuckles. It howled, feeling its gut would implode from the barrage. Staggering a third time, it was defenseless. The onslaught had damaged its solid state. He concentrated more, breaking each rib to dust. Prayers to end the fight fast were on his mind, coughing.

If not for the dome, Vetus would be off the map. Yet his comrades were mesmerized. Amazing! one smiled, eyes wide. Even at eighty-nine, he’s impeccable. The winds alone could destroy the barrier!

Though highly resilient, the dwellbeast still couldn’t do anything but yell. Intent on finishing it for good, Augustus stood at the edge. With an arm cocked back, his feet powdered the cobblestone. Mana swirled around his fist and legs.

One, two!

He speed-blitzed the monster to add momentum to his strike. Its head went soft in reflex, yet the lower jaw had twisted the other way. It staggered once more and fell on its back, breath fading.

Augustus raised his fist high, panting. “What’d I tell you, youngins…? I still got the power.” Eyes lowered, he fell to his side. Urgh! Damn it all! Why must the Gods curse me with this frail body?

The brigade released the dome and cast healing runes on his limbs. They grunted, supporting his shoulders back to the palace. Alas, the unfinished battle had gurgling noise from behind. They gasped, eyes wide. The dwellbeast became two arms, dwarfing four-story homes.

Augustus sweated bullets, shaking. “Protect the others!” he ran in front, hands raised. The monster moved its arms back and cupped its hands, unleashing a thunderclap. At 200 dB, the shockwave made dust out of windows. Roads had rippled high into the sky. Five city blocks, gone in a row.

Augustus cast a soundproof shield in time, but the others couldn’t, seeing the light. Thirty had their eardrums burst, organs mushed, and bones down to bits. Twelve had their upper half painting the ground in a red sludge.

Augustus held off the charging monster. “Retreat!” he turned to his comrades. “If I fail to subdue it, have every imperial mage at the ready!” His half-healed arms snapped upon a push, but he carried on.

Mage ranks were by authority rather than sheer might. However, many saw the upper echelons as the cream of the crop. Only a king or queen authorized all. Three special ranks also existed: research, aerial, and naval.

Augustus continued the battle with a double punch. But now it proved even more challenging. The dwellbeast, still in its arm form, had a thousand eyes blinking. It halted the attack with its own, and more windows fell victim to the winds. He pushed but to no avail, rolling far away.

With the tides turned, the dwellbeast thrashed him like a ragdoll. He was toned indeed, yet still a former shell of his youth. Every second, his aptitude waned, unable to see an uppercut. Rolling again atop a building, its hand dragged him down. His face greeted many a pavement.

The ground cracked beneath, and he grunted on his back. Limping toward the fight, he had no other choice: Zenith Corpus. Even middle Gods feared an innate ability’s most powerful state. Inhaling deep with closed eyes, his magic spiked. The mana around him had whirled bright, pulverizing rubble.

His hands crossed in an X, preparing his strongest move. Malevolent seadrakes in his prime flew away instead of gaining more permanent scars. A sure-kill attack, or so he believed. He heard a bellowing laugh, but nowhere. What? his eyes squinted. The ground tremored but not of his power. Now wide awake, he felt a sharp pain in his gut.

A tendril spike had thrust deep from the earth and returned fast. His entrails spilled through a gaping hole. He lost balance and sight, wobbling aimlessly. But he stopped his fall with a foot behind. Mana whirled around him again, grunting loudly with fists.

He flash-stepped before the dwellbeast’s thousand eyes. Kicking its chest, he pinned it below. “I’m not done yet, fool!

“Thunder God… Immortal Cross!”

A million bolts of tremors ran across the dwellbeast’s torso. It howled louder than ever, blood the same in color.