The sound of brute force hitting metal echo throughout the empty cracks of the canyon, shockwaves push the air repeatedly, and the groans of pain break the piercing silence of death.

A figure stands in front of what looks like an immense magenta flower. The stem is bigger than the largest of whales, as thick as an elephant, and as smooth as a Tevron’s leather back, with streaks of yellow pulsating through it. The 5 petals on its peak are open, holding a heptahedron frame of white crystal. Above ground, many leaves grow around the quasi-spherical base, beating like a heart at the centre of the yellow streaks. Around the base are many roots that coil above ground before heading into the dry dirt. This one flower is bigger than most known trees.

The figure hitting it is that of an elaborate suit of armour, a suit of armour so big, and so thick, that only the strongest and biggest of men would wear it. The golden carvings on the pure silver reflect light so beautifully, that each move of the gauche presence has surprising elegance to it. Alongside it is a polearm that stands at 4m tall, while the tip alone covers just a little under half of that. As beautifully crafted and graceful as it is, it should be unusable by all means, even if you ignore its ludicrous weight, it’s extremely unbalanced and cumbersome to even be called a weapon, and yet, it moves through the air like the figure of a majestic butterfly.

In a matter of seconds, multiple vines burst forth from the ground aiming to pierce the metallic figure, but swiftly does it dodge the blows, jumping into the air before promptly parrying another root that’s slamming it from above.

The moment the figure’s feet touch the floor, it launches at an incredible speed, spear first, into the protected base of the flower. Suddenly, the moment the tip of the weapon touches the first petal, the suit of armour comes to a halt. The shockwave raises dust to incredible heights…

An incredible amount of force was dispersed without leaving a mark.

It’s not that it had no effect, it’s just a situation of unstoppable force meets immovable object. Both still had incredible energy flowing through them before a vine pushes the armour ever so slightly to the left, enough for it to fly away with residual energy left from the thrust attack.

The battle had begun not even a full minute ago, and yet, with each second that passes, the armour gets attacked from 4 different sides in 4 different ways. As if each and every vine has its own individual thought and initiative. Not only that, but whoever’s wearing the armour feels drained of energy every second it stays close to this thing. After assessing the situation, the figure parries but a few more hits before launching into one final jab. A jab timed in between pulses and aimed at the very centre of one of the protecting leaves.

The clank of a giant footstep is heard loudly across the fields right before an even louder sound takes over. A loud egg crack-like sound is heard as leaves break down into dust instantly from the blow. Behind it is a pulsating blue glassy surface filled with potent energy.

A few heartbeats later, the armour is chased away by barrages of attacks, and even fewer heartbeats after that, new leaves have already grown to replace the last ones.

The figure lost the battle from every way you could look at it, but the mission was a success, so it swiftly stepped away before enduring any more damage.

The armour loudly steps back in haste as vines break through the ground where it once stood following its trail, but just as an extremely sharp spike projects out of the ground towards the heart of the armour, the air breaks.

The sound barrier was broken leaving ripples of strong wind behind slashing the vines that tried to follow with blades of condensed air. The sudden departure at mach 3 left a crater that revealed a network of unmoved vines, like veins of a body.

The armour flies away far too high to damage anything on its uncontrolled path, but a flow of blood is let out from the majestic silver; by the time the armour lost its momentum, there had been an entire litre of blood lost, if not more.

After a dozen seconds of soaring through the air, the metal meteor finally shows signs of slowing down, although not nearly fast enough to stop before reaching its destination.

It approaches a lone campsite on a hill of wilting yellow grass. The campsite had several large tents, when put together would form one large house, around a telescope and some equipment on the open in the middle.

Before it hits the campsite from above, the armour passes through a veil of light that slows it down considerably before being caught by a (relatively) smaller figure wrapping her arms around the armour to a full stop.

An old lady that’s seen her share of time, wearing humble garnements, quickly drags the armour into a large tent putting her next to a makeshift bed.

The old lady wears a frown of worry as she looks at the battered shape of the armour, with splatters of blood leaking from within.

She turns the decorated silver helmet before removing it, revealing the gentle face of a young woman in her early twenties (for your own reference) knocked unconscious. The unusually pale colour on her face was enough for the old lady to quickly reach to a shelf behind her and pull a couple of glass vials before pouring them into the unconscious girl’s mouth.

She was expecting this but it still doesn’t make looking at her injuries any easier. After half an hour, she finishes removing the incredibly huge armour piece by piece leaving just the slender body of the young girl that was inside. Without the armour, the size difference between the girl and the old lady is noticeable, as the girl is just over half of the old lady’s height. She puts her on the bed and carefully removes her (fashionable) top.

“I told you not to get too carried away," the old lady sighs as she strokes the girl’s hair with a look of worry.

She really tries not to worry about others much, especially with her age and attempt at leaving the world behind, but sometimes she can’t help but feel motherly towards the few that can’t grow up.

She wets a large piece of cotton with ethanol and starts dabbing it on cuts all over the girl’s torso… so many openings on this fragile body. She doesn’t wish to see the girl in harm, or fight for her life in that matter, but the girl’s very stubborn so she has no choice but to be there to support her. Luckily the armour stopped any shrapnel from going into her wounds so all she needs to do is sew her body together. The old lady brings a bottle of viscous liquid that she pours into every opening in the girl’s body before closing it with a hot needle. Each time she pierces her delicate skin, she fills the thread with her hope for a quick recovery.

She finishes by wiping the girl’s body with a wet towel cleaning her and looking at the vast amount of scars and wounds she had to heal over the years. Such a young girl, yet, such tenacity and history. A girl like her should live a peaceful life, without conflict or complications. Granted it was the girl’s dream to be a knight someday, although, these days, there’s no glory in that title anymore. But since it makes the girl happy, she’s okay with it and will be there for her every time she returns injured.

Not many hours later, the young girl wakes up unhinged by her lightheadedness and chest pain. She takes a moment to gather herself before putting on a warm smile and leaving her tent to look for the old lady.

She stumbles around the campsite as everything feels out of focus for her and somewhat distorted. Luckily she’s very good at walking blind, but it still takes an effort to push past the urge to stop and fall to the ground to reassure her stability.

The old lady’s probably mad at her, but it actually couldn’t be helped this time. You don’t expect an impossibly fast flower the size of a castle to become even faster. Even when she was on the lookout for attacks she couldn’t dodge it… if anything, she’s very impressed with herself for not getting the worst case scenario.

Stepping over soft dirt, she makes her way out of the small campsite and over to a cliff where there’s small patches of dying grass, and on top of it is a recliner chair.

“Sorry I caused you trouble again," with a soft voice, she looks at the ground apologetically as she stands next to the old lady.

“Well, it’s not like you weren’t gonna try if I weren’t here." she leaves a big sigh behind before turning and looking at the girl’s eyes, “you have to avoid flying your way if there’s the slightest hint of bleeding, if I were back at the castle you wouldn’t have survived the trip back."

Asire of Leyion, world class devil-may-care knight, extremely young, rivals the best in the empire when it comes to both power and technique, can seamlessly carry great weights, and is weak in body and frame with little to no endurance; reasons unknown.

“Hehe, well, it was either I risk blood loss or get impaled to death… I chose to trust in you instead."

The gentle smile on young Asire’s face was enough for the old lady to forgive her recklessness.

“Well, did you find what you were looking for?”

“I think so, I think Alastair should have noticed something, if he has, then I figured out why we can’t seem to break through."

She really hopes that this is the key they’ve been missing. She already lost to that giant thing 4 times. Her pride won’t let her walk away before killing this thing.

“Rest up tonight, no point in contacting him if you can’t fight for a few nights anyway." The old lady rests her head on the wooden frame and closes her eyes letting herself bathe in moonlight.

“I can push through, it’s already been too long."

“No," she says firmly to stop that thought process before it goes too far, “we don’t know what else it got up its sleeve, I can’t have you risk your life over a bet."

Asire tries to argue back but sucks it up. She knows the old lady’s right; the flowers already surprised them by growing protective petals after they attempted to cut one down.

She stands there in silence, trying to figure out what’s this weird feeling she wants to express to the old lady, but no words come out.

Half an hour of staring into the night sky and silence in the wind.

The old lady breaks the silence.

“Come here." She extends her arm towards Asire and pulls her head down to her chest once she gets close enough.

The young girl’s taken aback by the sudden warmth surrounding her but she does not object.

“You’ve done splendidly." the old lady kisses her on top of her head. “You’re so very welcome, don’t ever worry about it."

The knot in Asire’s heart disappears as she relaxes in the old lady’s arms.

She stays there for a while before standing up again.

“Good night Ten," she says before kissing the old lady on her forehead and going back to the campsite.

After waiting long enough for Asire to be asleep, the old lady drinks a vial full of a flaming liquid from her backpack. She feels it going down her throat before spreading over through her blood. A light glimmers in her eyes as she looks towards the small flower on the horizon.

She can see thin veins spreading across the land’s ground like a network of fungi, veins so small you’d mistake them for a strand of hair, draining the literal life out of ground.

Not just from living beings but the ground itself and everything on it. Even sentient life isn’t immune to it, but to conscious creatures, they get a sudden urge to leave the area, like the sense of impending doom, and it’s just around the corner.

The veins crawl ever so closer at an incredibly slow pace, but it’s a constant pace; nothing slows it down. No stone, no mountain, no river. It keeps asking for more life.

Even though it’s a clear threat, she can’t help but admire the beauty of its network and how life flows through it. To her, it looks more like an art piece than a monstrosity…

She has to stop it either way.