When he was younger, Domor’s grandmother used to tell him stories about the previous ages the worlds had been through. Stories she had heard from her father, and him from his own mother. Domor was just a little boy eager to be amazed back then, just like the other little boys and girls living in a peaceful village that had been erased from the map.

Legends of the prime age would fill him with wonder, stories from the age of brightness would cause him to have nightmares, and thinking of the age of heroes made him want to find a dragon nest and fight them with his mighty wooden sword.

He had grown out of it, eventually. Stories were just that after all, stories. Myths that couldn’t be verified and only supposed to arouse the imagination. Real life had its own dragons, like finding work and paying taxes, and they sometime seemed far more cunning than the mythical ones.

But on this particular night of the age of machines, Domor felt like he had been thrown in the worst of his grandmother’s stories combined.

He was on the ground, clutching his left arm that was covered in a mix of blood and dirt, back resting against a tree. He was only sure there was blood on his arm because it was his own, otherwise he wouldn’t have known any better.

The whole night was colored in red, accentuating the eeriness of the multiple bodies lying around him, some immobile, others screaming their guts out, all of them with members bent in unnatural ways. It was hard to believe, but Domor knew Enok had done it, though there currently were other things on his mind than the prowess of that demon in human skin.

“Mein!” he screamed with panic, trying to get himself together. But if she heard him, she didn’t show it. There was also pain in his voice, pain from his battered body, “fuck, Mein listen to me!”

It wasn’t the fact that his childhood friend was fighting a kirishan death tamer twice her size, effortlessly dodging the swings from his club that was scaring him.

Not even the fact that they were about to die a few minutes ago.

It was the fact that the brown of her eyes had disappeared, leaving them milky white. It was the fact that she was singing with a fascinated smile on her face while slicing away the flesh of a confused enemy who suddenly couldn’t touch her anymore.

The song was morbidly beautiful, sad and slow, the words were spoken in a tongue he didn’t recognize and that he knew she didn’t speak.

The Kirishan roared and his club hit the ground where the cat girl was standing a moment ago. The missed attack cost him new gashes to be opened on his body by quick slashes of Mein’s sword. He grunted with pain and unleashed a fury of blows, but it was as if he was deliberately missing her.

It wasn’t that she had suddenly gotten faster. She never was on the path of his weapon to begin with, moving before the enemy even had.

Said enemy was now retreating, fear in his eyes as the white-eyed demi-human walked toward him, her voice booming and her tail graciously undulating behind her.

“I need to wake her up,” Domor thought, “she will kill him and call the curse on us or maybe just lose her damn mind if this lasts too long.”

But how could he get to her? What if she didn’t recognize him and attacked?

Enok. Enok clearly was the one somehow responsible for this trance she was in, he would know how to bring her back.

Domor looked around, unable to find the young aurosei in his field of view. Was he gone? Or hurt? Last he had been able to take a look at him, a kirishan warrior was snea-

From behind the tree he was leaning on, an enemy fighter flew, projected by an invisible opponent. The warrior collided with the carriage containing the primer’s parts with a cracking noise and fell to the ground.

He got back up, gritting his teeth and ready to jump back into the fray, but a white flash immediately followed his trajectory and reached his supporting leg, causing him to fall back on the ground, trashing in pain. What looked like a dagger made of bone was piercing his knee on both sides.

Domor leaned to the side, and peered over his shoulder. What shocked him the most about the scene was the silence.

There were a couple trees, and beyond them was a clearing. There, the grass couldn’t be seen anymore, as the whole clearing was covered with thick mist that appeared almost black under the red light but Domor knew was blue. It was alive, somehow, twirling and changing shape. It showed deformed people in pain, people dying. It also showed people just standing, ghosts made of mist, witnesses to the life struggling in their midst.

Because in the middle of the nightmarish vortex, Enok was fighting against Gallamun the leader of the kirishans and one of his men, made visible by the glowing marks on his arms and the sparks flying around him.

He had unsheathed his short sword and was parrying their claws, punching and kicking at intervals, not even reacting when they wounded him.

There weren’t even that far, but no sound they made could be heard, as if consumed by the mist.

“No,” Domor said out loud, “fuck no, I didn’t sign up for this.”

On one side he had a demi-human in a sadistic trance slowly killing her enemy, and on the other side... Hell, he didn’t even know what that was.

He needed help. What could he do by himself? He was just... A regular man, clearly out of his depth.

“Kaja!” he screamed toward the blinding light over the over them, “please, help! Enok is in trouble and Mein is... Mein is not being herself!”

But once again his call was left unanswered. Like the real sun during the day, the small red sun that the mystic had become seemed indifferent to what was happening on earth.

Domor cussed again. It was all up to him.

***

Thanks to the song, Enok’s mind was clear again. It also made him able to ignore the pain of his wounds, though he was that was a good thing. His body could be falling in pieces without him noticing.

“I must wrap this up faster,” he though, “I have no idea how the others are doing.”

At least he knew Mein was fine. But something had triggered her ability, and it could mean Domor was in bad shape.

“Surrender to me... Prey,” growled the blue orc, whipping the blood off his claws, “the wolf demands your life... And it will obtain it.”

As he spoke, his underling leaped in an attempt to plunge the blades that were his nails in Enok’s chest, but just as he extended his arm, there was whistling sound and his hand was pierced by an arrow and spurting blood.

Before he could even react, a second one reached him below the mist, probably lodging itself in his calf. Enok’s fist reached his bony face before he could utter a sound and his limp body fell.

“Domor!” he thought, “that was one hell of a shot for a human.”

Enok didn’t spare him a look, however, not wanting to give his enemy any advantage.

He faced the orc, who was standing still, eyes opened wide, probably shocked by the abrupt change in the situation.

“What were you saying again?” asked Enok, now leisurely walking closer to him, “weren’t you talking about how the wolf gets what it wants?”

He stopped in his tracks and pointed his sword at the orc.

“Show me.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. Reality probably just dawning on him. None of his men were able to fight anymore, and he could hear the cries of those of those who were still conscious. He had gone from being the alpha of his glorious hunting pack, to being alone in front of a predator of a new kind.

To being a prey.

Fury ran across his face as he charged, the speed of his movement creating whirlpools in the mist. Enok parried his barrage of slashes but was set up to blocking a following knee attack aiming for his stomach with a single hand.

The shock knocked him off the ground and thew him off-balance. The orc didn’t miss the golden opportunity and, with a laugh of victory, launched his hand at the boy’s neck, sharp nails first.

Enok sliced his hand off.

A howl of pain filled the clearing as the blue orc clutched his spurting stump with his remaining hand, eyes wide with surprise, the most visible expression on his face. The mist’s movements, as if reacting to his pain, suddenly became erratic.

Enok landed, face neutral, and the piece of flesh did the same soon after with a wet sound.

“Arrogant speck of dust,” he said, “you are worse than a frog in a well.”

The orc stared at him, hissing, “You... You dare!”

Enok’s eye twitched and he raised a brow.

“I dare?” he said, moving closer to the wounded kirishan, “you are surprised I dared?”

The orc howled and charged again, spraying his blood around.

Enok effortlessly dodged two attacks before plunging his sword through his arm and then sliced up. Some muscle tissues and skin kept the member from completely falling off, even through the trashing. But before he could howl in pain once more, Enok grabbed him by the neck with his free hand.

His hands weren’t big enough to circle around, but pressing hard enough gave him a comfortable grip.

“I told you to run,” he said with the same neutral tone, starring in the confused eyes, “I gave you a chance, and what did you decide to do? Just like any mortal you tried to test your luck.”

He put his blade on the blue skin, just over his finger.

“Beg the Mother for forgiveness when you meet her.”

“No! Enok, don’t!”

It was like waking up from a dream.

Enok grunted and almost let his blade fall, as all the pain from the multiple wounds he had been able to ignore until now washed over him, in a single wave.

He blinked twice, realizing what was happening. The now dissipating mist had altered his mind, and while Mein’s song had broken that one spell, it had altered his mind in another way.

Not that he wouldn’t have wanted to kill the orc. The thing was that he would not have done it this way.

“Enok!” Domor screamed again, “Don’t kill him!”

He turned his head in the voice’s direction and saw the man standing at the clearing’s limit, face full of worry.

Enok nodded and sheathed his sword, which made the man’s shoulder drop in relied.

He pushed the orc to the ground, grabbed him by the leg and dragged him back to the fire.

“You have no idea how glad I am that you won. It’s Mein, I think her witch thing took over and-” Domor started, and then his eyes landed on the blue orc’s body and his hand went to his mouth, “oh gods.”

“I thought you didn’t worship them,” Enok said, a little annoyed, “also, aren’t you a warrior? Why are you acting like you never saw blood?”

“Like I...” the man started dumbfounded, “you think this is normal?!” he asked, waving his hand around, “this is a goddamn war zone!”

They were back to the camp, and for the most parts, the screams had stopped. Many of the kirishans were still where they had fallen, but some were already crawling or limping away. Weapons, mainly swords and daggers, were laying around, most of them not even tainted by blood.

Mein was standing in front of a crouching man, using her sword to support herself while she sang, eyes closed. The man was wounded and covered in his own blood, though the wounds didn’t seem deep enough to be life threatening. He was shaking and crying.

Enok shrugged, still dragging the orc, “Normal is often relative. And in war zone, there would be dead people.”

“What about her?” he said, pointing at the cat girl.

“What about it? She is enjoying rediscovering her gift, just leave her alone and she will wake up by herself. She is a seer, Domor, not a necromancer. No need to be so tense.”

As he spoke, Enok had reached the fire and released the orc’s leg in favor of a sword that had fell in the fire. Even with the colored light, the blade was visibly red hot.

He stood over the orc.

“Oi,” said Domor, what are you-”

“I’m making it so he won’t die,” Enok interrupted, “he’s an orc and a death tamer, so it’s still fine, but any longer and the bleeding will kill him.”

The ‘warrior’ glanced at the stumps and slowly nodded.

“You don’t have to be here,” Enok continued, “you said there is a high probability for another group to be close, right? Then we need to leave as fast as possible. Get the bull and the horse ready.”

“Ok,” he simply said, and he left.

Enok looked down to the orc who was surprisingly still conscious.

“You will wish you were sleeping for this,” he whispered, “so I guess that this is also me helping you.”

Using his free hand, he took the wolf helmet off his owner’s head and placed it under his foot.

“No!” the orc managed to blurt out.

Ignoring him, Enok stomped on it several times, enough that it wouldn’t be usable anymore.

The thing with death tamers, was that there was always the possibility for one of them to somehow come into the possession of the remains of something that was incredibly strong during its life, or gifted with a very dangerous ability.

The blue mist the wolf helmet was able to produce fell into the second category, and Enok, had almost died because of it.

“... And it was taking over his mind and body,” he whispered to himself, glancing at the mist coming from the debris, “a little longer on his head and it would have been hell for everyone living around here.”

After strong spasms shook his body, from the backlash caused by the destruction of his link with the beast’s soul, the orc’s body went limp.

Bonus Exp awarded for defeating multiple enemies.

Warning!

As a favored of Ultimecia you will lose Exp for sparring biological enemies.

One (1) level lost.

You lost two (2) ability points.

Enok cussed and applied the scorching how blade to the wound, just as Kaja’s sun disappeared from the sky and brought the night’s mantle back on them

***

It didn’t take them long to get ready, and they were back on the road as soon as Enok was ready, riding fast to put as much distance as possible between between them. Meine was exhilarated by her prowesses, and Enok could hear her talk to Domor from his galloping horse.

“It was amazing!” she said, her voice full of glee, “it was like I was dreaming, but I was awake at the same time, you see? I could see him, and see what he was about to do, and I knew exactly what I should do, and during all of that I felt like I could anything, and-”

“Mein,” said Domor’s voice, “I don’t want to be the party pooper, but you do realize what just happened, right? We were almost killed by the kirishans. The fucking man-eating kirishans. You tortured a grown man into a snorting mess. And now you’re acting as if we just left the fair?”

“I know, I know! I understand, trust me. But you do not understand what I’m trying to say, it was... It was...”

“... Amazing?”

“Yes!” she laughed, “and it happened thanks to you Dom. When I saw that monster trying to hurt you, I didn’t know what to do. But while I was panicking, it all came together. All I needed to to do was to sing, and the road appeared cleared in front of me.”

There was a silence, then Domor spoke again.

“... Are you really thanking me for almost dying in front of you?”

“Oh, come on now! You know what I mean!”

Well at least someone is happy, Kaja thought to Enok, taking his attention from the arguing friends. How come you are in such a bad mood though? Are you hurt worse than I could see?

It’s not that, he replied, I’ll be able to heal as soon as I get to rest for a bit. It’s just that I realized how vulnerable to mind altering abilities. I...

He hesitated.

Yes? She asked.

I froze for a moment. I almost left them to die.

She didn’t say a thing for a moment, thinking to herself.

You know, I think that you’re having a hard time coming to term with your mortality.

I came to term with that long ago.

Well, not really, no. Haven’t you noticed how you still speak, or think? I’m fine with you calling people mortals and all, but it’s weird when you do it as if you weren’t one yourself.

So it’s not enough to act like a mortal, I’m supposed to think like one too? Do you even know how one does that? Because I have no idea.

I am not telling you to take a wife a raise children, Enok. But you are angry because you came a little bit too close to dying helplessly, and that is scaring you. And knowing you are scared of anything angers you.

He didn’t have anything to reply to that on the moment, and focused his vision on where they were they were going. They weren’t using the orb for light since it could give away their position to potential enemies, and even with his improved vision, it wasn’t easy to see through the darkness.

You’re aware your pride is your worst trait Enok. I think that’s the first step to deal with all your problems.

That’s not going to fix anything, Kaja, he thought back.

Well, if it makes you feel better, you got a good reminder of the divinity of your soul tonight, didn’t you? Due to our superior affinity with the ambient ki, only a God could have been affected by the art of a beginner witch whose power isn’t even to affect people in the first place. You in particular, used to gather artists from all over the worlds for your own pleasure... Seems like you haven’t lost your flair for it, eh?

He chuckled.

Thanks, that does make me feel better. Though I’m not sure if that over sensibility is going to be a good thing in the long run.

He paused, then added, I also lost two ability points for leaving the kirishans alive.

What?! Ok, now you get to be moody all you want! Man, I was really looking forward to seeing you use that blueprint thingy!

As they were laughing, riders holding torches appeared into the distance coming in their direction. With Domor agreement, they kept riding in the same direction and soon got into talking distance with them.

“Halt!” Screamed one of the unknown riders that had gotten closer, “we are members of Mildbloom’s mercenary guild on an investigation mission. Who comes here?”

Enok saw Domor and Mein look at each others, before she screamed, “Arbam, is that you? It’s me, Mein!”

“Mein? What the hell are you doing here!” replied the rider, before saying to his comrades, “guys, relax! It’s Mein!”

“I suppose Domor is with her, uh? He has to be,” said someone, which was echoed by laughters as the two groups approached each other.

“I knew I was right to hate these guys,” Enok heard Domor say under his breath.

***

On the road to Mildbloom, next to the cold cinders of a hastily left camp, an orc woke up.

Shaking and feverish, his mind filled with confusion as to where he was and what was smelling so bad, he tried to stand up and to his surprise only pain answered when he tried to lift himself up and rolled in the dirt instead.

“No,” he said, his voice cracking.

Memories of the last hours came back to him in flashes. How he meet a group of clueless preys after the feast a merchant and his family had been to him and his men.

How he attacked them sure of his victory.

“No,” he cried.

How he had realized one of the prey was actually a predator that ranked higher than him in the food chain.

“No!” he screamed.

Even through the dark night, the little light the stars offered was enough for him to discover with horror the hideous stumps of charred flesh that had replaced his arms. He realized the atrocious smell that was assaulting his nose was the smell of his own burned flesh.

At that thought, for the first time since he had called himself a man, Gallamun leader of the Kirish tribe, cried and called for help.

“Did you just say no?” said a soft voice next to him.

He looked to to the side and saw a little girl, standing in blue mist. His mind went blank.

“Did you listen my daddy when he said the same word to you?” she asked, tilting her head.

“No, he didn’t sweetie,” said another voice, male this time.

It was the merchant, looking perfectly normal in his luxurious clothes. As if he wasn’t currently being digested.

“The mist,” Gallamun thought, “if there is mist, it means the helmet is still usable, so-”

More figures appeared. Some he recognized from years ago, all supposed to be dead. Standing, staring at him with accusing eyes.

“The helmet. I need to find it,” the orc thought, propping himself on his knees with a grunt.

“But you won’t hurt anyone anymore, Gallamun.” the ghosts said in unison, “this is the end of the line for you, Gallamun.”

“No,” he said trying to find the broken helmet, but the mist had covered everything, and was now reaching his waist.

“Yes,” a single, grave, distorted voice declared.

The orc looked in its direction, and what he saw in the middle of the standing people wasn’t a person’s figure. It was a wolf.

“You!” Gallamun almost screamed.

“Yes, me,” it answered, it’s blue eyes sparkling, “you have been using my power for many years, orc, and I have been biding my time. I did not think I would need to appear so soon, but this will have to do. It is time to pay your debts.”

As he said the words, the people started moving closer to Gallamun.

“Get away from me!” he screamed, “I want to live! I did everything you told me to!”

“Yes, you did your part as a pawn. Now you get to die as one.”

All the mist in the area was shook by a spasm, like a twitch, then it all converged on him, entering his mouth and nose, not even allowing him to breath.

The blue eyes didn’t leave his a single instant, and he could not look away, as if he was hypnotized.

“Do not worry about the one who humiliated you tonight. He will also pay the price for desecrating my remains.”

He felt the need to scream, but his mind collapsed before he even got to try.

It was all replaced by a bottomless hunger.