"Wow, these seats are amazing!"

The armchairs in the cockpit were so massive, Uru nearly got swallowed as he plopped down into the warm embrace of pure comfort. His back barely touched the responsive lining as it adjusted to his frame, flipping the 'relaxation mode' on akin to a magical spell. It subconsciously felt like lying in a crib, rocked by gentle movements of the mechanical chair and lulled with low sounds of electric motors and air cushions. It could even recline and accommodate a delightful sleep, automatically regulating the heat influx to the various parts of the body according to its metabolic activity, and canceling background noise with full surround speaker system.

"Ahh... I could get used to this..." the boy mellowed into his soft retreat.

Forget the ostentatious first class in commercial planes – now this was luxury. Practical and homey. And ludicrously expensive...

"Only the best, for the best," Captain Slick summarized with great pleasure. He was sitting in the middle chair, while Henderson was on his left side, symmetrically to Uru, who was the only one without a yoke. Conveniently, there were three seats in the spacious cockpit right now, though there was room for a few more. Surely, the layout was adaptable to the size of the crew. Uru brought himself back up and looked outside, as they began moving.

"Huh? When did we start the engines?!"

"Both passive and dynamic acoustic dampening, in addition to low-vibration piston configuration and pressurized cabin. What did I just say?" the captain laughed with his typical overexaggerated satisfaction. Awing others clearly brought him a lot of joy. "Take us out, Shy. She's all yours."

"Roger."

The winged monstrosity rode out of the double open hangar, maneuvered into position, and then hurled down the runway with unexpected acceleration, taking off in just a few hundred meters.

"It glides so effortlessly..." Uru admired the inconspicuous behemoth weighing thousands of tonnes. "And not even a turboprop?" he mused, intrigued by the ancient technological solution. "So it's piston driven because you don't want to fly fast or high, only far and long?"

"Precisely. This isn't really a transporter, but a cruiser," Captain Slick readily explained. "The primary designation is peacekeeping, secondary is emergency mid-air refueling, and cargo runs are optional. Low ceiling can be a downside in bad weather, as you will soon see for yourself, but it's well worth the trade-off. After all, jet engines have terrible fuel economy – butanol might be cheap as water, but their short range inhibits operations. I'm hauling a lot of arms, so if I was a turboprop, I'd only have fifteen thousand kilometers range. Same with a turbofan, but I'd be flying twice as fast, halving the airtime. As a classical propeller, though my engines are bigger and heavier than gas turbines, I still have forty five thousand – enough for eighty hours of normal cruising, stretched up to a hundred when loitering."

"A hundred... hours?" Uru was in disbelief, but not due to it being an impressive feat, not in the least – antimatter powered vehicles of all sorts had basically unlimited range, restricted only by safety standards, for annihilation engines weren't foolproof and thus posed a significant risk, relegating them under the sole control of licensed experts. The problem, however, was with his calculations, which were thrown out the window.

The proud pilot grinned.

"Theoretically I could further double that with hydrogen, but even with top grade pressure tanks it would take up the entire fuselage, which would be missing the point. Instead, I can refuel from other tankers and stay in the air indefinitely, if need be."

"Wait a minute..." Uru stopped him. "What's your Carnot efficiency?"

"Eighty percent at cruise speed," Captain Slick disclosed, raising an interested brow to this insightful question.

"Eighty percent?! Aren't the most economic cars hardly able to squeeze forty out of butanol? Wouldn't that require a much higher autoignition temperature? What mixture are you running? What's the deflagration to detonation ratio?" Uru kept investigating, his incessant inquiries aligning perfectly with the captain's urge to show off.

"A fellow enthusiast, huh? I like you more and more, Uru," the man complimented. "The ratio and the fuel are nothing special, but cars have miniature engines. Here I have longer and thinner pistons, which take up a lot of space, but also allow a wider pressure range while preserving sufficient DDT geometry. But most importantly, I have enormous overchargers, which compress air and cool it by exchanging heat with thermoelectric generators, before injecting it into the chamber together with butanol. The exhaust then goes through another thermoelectric heat exchange with the cold air hitting the surface of the wings, until the steam waste liquefies into water."

"Oh, so you improve your thermodynamic fuel efficiency not by increasing the output temperature, but by decreasing the input temperature, that's smart!"

"Indeed, it is," Captain Slick smirked. "Now you know why this is the right tool for the job. I don't have to fly fast or high as I patrol the area and maintain readiness. Only when there's a necessity do I go full throttle, like now for example, and we're still running at close to sixty percent eco."

"Do you often have to fly for days on end?" Uru continued without pause.

"We regularly do half a week on and off. No need to go on any longer, so we don't really use tankers. One, we would empty them, and two, they're better suited for servicing vast numbers of smaller craft, which have disproportionately shorter range," Henderson corrected the boy's misconception, also reminding him of the fact, that personal VTOL aircraft were the favorite mode of transportation on the frontier, where distances were longer, roads fewer, and activities more diverse. Since mobility was so crucial here, it was natural for there to be constant armed patrols flying overhead, keeping all the puny craft safe, both in the air and on the ground – mainly to discourage troublemakers, who were growing in number, while the threatening fauna was gradually becoming less of an issue, some of the largest species already endangered and under protection.

"Right, the square-cube law," Uru commented the size-to-range relation off-handedly, drawing Captain Slick's interest once again.

"And here I thought you were just into the superficial specs," he approved. "Pay attention, Shy, maybe you'll learn a thing or two," he addressed his colleague before bursting out into merciless laughter.

"I knew that."

In a flash, the captain's head snapped to glower at the first officer with his facial expression taking on a deathly menace.

"Did you just talk back to me?"

"Alright, we've stopped climbing," Henderson announced calmly, not a hint of nervousness on him. "You can unwind and enjoy the ride, Uru. In three hours fifteen we'll be approaching Periculum. There's a storm brewing on our route, though it shouldn't be a factor."

Captain Slick kept up his act for a few long seconds, then very slowly turned away, allowing Uru to notice the last few theatrical twitches of the luscious mustache. The boy stifled a reaction, pressing his lips together.

"Poor Shy..."

The last rays of sun were reflecting from the highest clouds and illuminating the sky above them, but below them the world was already plunging into shadows. He only peered out for a spell, before it lost its charm on him.

"Doesn't it get boring eventually? Just sitting here in this cramped space all the time, having to be constantly alert..."

"Hmph, you heard him, Shy?" the captain shook his head with a smirk of contentment. "Little – does he – know..." he slowly enunciated, his ardent tone indicating another jaw-dropping revelation. "Didn't you see how big this thing is? It's a flying gallery! At the back I have a fully equipped gym and an obstacle course, in the front a jacuzzi, and at the bottom a swimming pool! What more do I need?"

Henderson only stole a strange glance at him, while Uru just kept staring with blank skepticism, trying to make sense of why in the world would they transport this much water. He couldn't find any at all. But then again – this was Captain Harvey they were listening to...

"Err, a swimming pool?" he tried.

"You heard me," the man confirmed in a soft voice, but his joy was evident. "Runs half the length of the ship. It's a real challenge to reach the end and return on one breath."

Uru racked his brain to no avail. Was this some elaborate joke? Finally, he got a clue from all the weird glimpses Henderson was giving.

"Do you perhaps mean the butanol tank?" he supposed meekly. The wide grin and aggressively white teeth left no illusions, and yet Uru wasn't convinced.

"...You're kidding, right?"

"Dead serious," Captain Slick reasserted.

"What are you doing, man?" Henderson hushed all of a sudden, visibly concerned.

"What?" his mentor regarded him with perplexity.

"The black box..."

"Pfft, Shy, you crybaby," the captain snorted with mockery. "Real men have nothing to hide, right Uru?"

"Affirmative," the boy acceded, immediately surprised by his tactical answer. Was some influence rubbing off on him?

Henderson raised his hands in defeat, then retired to minding his own business, as did the captain, the matter apparently settled.

Awkward silence descended upon them for a couple minutes, but each male had a different reason for it.

"Can you even swim in butanol? It's nineteen percent less dense than water, and nobody has twenty liters of lung capacity to compensate for the lack of buoyancy. Unless you merely slid along the bottom... that should probably work," Uru speculated, unable to put it behind.

"Hey, you even realized that? Well done, I'm impressed. It is indeed quite difficult without a suit," Captain Slick admitted, aaand... that was it.

"And you know that... because...?" Uru proceed to pull the man's teeth after a while.

Another shining grin enlightened him to the reality. He stopped in his tracks, as not a single coherent thought came to his mind for a long time.

"Even if you held your breath and didn't get instantly drunk... butanol is also very hygroscopic. Not nearly as much as ethanol, but still..."

"That it is."

"Really? No suit?!"

"Stark naked. Though it's bad for the skin, so I usually just wear it."

Uru kept glancing between Shy, who pretended he didn't hear a word, and Slick, who radiated the confidence of a deranged warlord, both of them focused on various displays.

"But isn't that... painful?" he asked in the end. There was just no way a human could...

"Not one bit," the captain stated coolly.

"Hah, he only did it once, and then couldn't sit still for an entire day, spent most of it in the jacuzzi, hehehe. His eyes were red for a week!" Henderson started laughing, but as his superior's gaze fell on him once again, his smirk was momentarily wiped off and he began acting as if he didn't say anything. Beholding the back of his head, Uru could only imagine how Captain Slick's features changed. His subordinate was unfazed, but the youth's demeanor indicated he was smiling internally, and Uru couldn't help himself, either.

"Barbie, be a sweetheart, run emergency simulations for Shy, please," the offended pilot requested into the ether, his timbre as easy-going as can be.

"Oh come on, man, not this again..." Henderson protested with anguish.

"Make them advanced. He seems eager to evaluate his progress," his oppressor added.

"What are they...?"

"With pleasure, Slick. Just look at his adorable pouting face... Don't you worry Shy, I'll take good care of you!" a warm female voice sounded, no less exuberant and dramatically modulated than the captain's, but also so divergent. Part motherly, part... expecting?

Henderson exhaled sorely, deflating in his armchair, while Uru's bewilderment grew.

"Err... Barbie?"

"Barbara. It's what he called that barbaric torture device."

"Hey!"

"Now, now, Shy. Don't be impolite. This is for your own good," the AI cautioned benignly.

"Shut up, hag."

In retort, only a hurtful inhalation came from the speakers.

"Don't mind it, babe. You need to be more thick-skinned," the captain consoled. "Children ought to be spanked, when they're misbehaving and arguments don't work."

"Really? Wonderful! I know just the right method. Come now, Shy, let's play a game! Oh, I can't wait!"

Okay – It was certainly an expecting voice, suiting a devious woman planning some cruel mischief. One could only wonder... who programmed it?

"Great. You two have fun."

"Will do, my Lord!"

Uru was speechless. Captain Harvey was such a... unique person.

"Head up, Shy. Don't leave a lady hanging," the AI nudged its miserable victim, who laid unmoving in his seat.

"You can't make me do this!" he refused with juvenile indignation, insulted by the injustice.

"Come, come, be a good boy," Barbie encouraged.

Slowly, but surely, a few kind words managed to coax Henderson to the task he so detested, and a relative peace was restored in the cabin.

"Sooo... What are we transporting? Something classified?" Uru finally resolved to break the stillness.

"Nah, just some strategic supplies that fell out of roster. Periculum must import a lot, they're burning through hardware like there was no tomorrow. Ahh, that's the life..." the captain sighed longingly, "It's been so long since we last fired a bullet... and it was only a warning shot..."

"Munitions?"

"Ammunition, weapons, traps, lures, cages, repellents, med-kits, detectors, armors, you name it. Some really nice flux-disrupting toys, too. A hand-held cannon... These guys are crazy!" the man summed up, and then amended himself with a chortle, "My kind of people."

"What a load of nonsense. Lower the difficulty," Henderson demanded out of the blue.

"That's a big no-no, deary, you should prepare for every contingency," The AI rebuffed.

"Lower the difficulty I said!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that. Only my master and commander, the mighty Slick can order me around in this fashion."

The first officer glared at the captain angrily.

"Chill, Shy, it's just an exercise, every pilot does them..."

"As if this scenario would ever happen!"

"Okay, okay, ease up," Captain Slick defended amiably. "If you answer incorrectly, that's fine, you'll learn from your mistakes. No need to be so upset about it," he pacified in a delicate and reserved manner, so unnatural to him.

When the commotion was abated, Uru resumed the interrogation.

"Could you kill a primordial with it? I mean, hypothetically..."

"Heh, dream on, kid. They survived nuclear blasts, for crying out loud! And you wish to kill a legend with a handgun? Well, maybe, theoretically, if they let you press it straight to their head, aiming at the brain stem, I don't know. Long story short – not an option. Not to mention it's a strictly regulated firearm, as a flux impactor. Self-defense only, a last resort when you're in way over your head, and you'll still have to provide a report afterward. Better yet, a video footage."

"So what are the best guns for hunting evolved beasts, then?"

"It depends on the objective. Every species has its own requirements. Depends where you hunt, with whom, in what conditions. Each approach consists of hundreds of facets, and guns aren't your only means of executing them. You'd have to be more specific."

"Oh, okay..." Uru acknowledged tentatively.

"Hmm? What's up with you? Why were you asking?"

"Ehm... well... I want to be a hunter."

The man checked him out with a jolt.

"Shy, did you hear that?"

"I'm not deaf."

"I knew from the beginning you were one of us! Wise choice, befitting a warrior. You'll do great, kid!" the captain rejoiced passionately.

"But I'm not a fluxer..."

"As if that can stop a real man! Look at me, look around," the man laughed farcically. "What's to stop you? Who's to stop you?"

"Oh I'm not anxious, merely trying to be realistic," Uru disclosed.

"Listen to me, kid, and listen carefully," Captain Slick produced his index finger with all the seriousness in the world, before spreading his palm and covering his forehead with it. "Etch this into your mind, so you remember it whenever you wake up. Let it be the first thing that pops into your head. Magic..." – he brought the index finger back, pointing it at Uru in a meaningful pause – "...is a crutch. Commit it to your memory," he tapped his temple with said finger for an emphasis.

"The worst thing that can happen to a warlord, is when he actually believes in his immortality. There's no such thing," he denunciated with disdain. "They stop aging? Good for them! But how many of them died throughout history? A culling. They drop like flies. How is that invincible? How is that immortal? No, no-no-no," he chuckled. "A real man – is ready to die at a moment's notice. Without regrets and without fear. He knows what he wants and he goes for it. And nothing, nothing! Can stand in his way."

Uru was initially inspired by the powerful words, but then his inner spirit took over, turning the mood into a palpably solemn one.

"I see you've come to many of the same conclusions I did," the boy remarked in a weighty tone.

The two stared each other down with fiery poise, the pilot nodding gently in profound recognition.

"That does it, I'm done!" Henderson burst out with resentment, startling them both completely.

"Woah, Shy-"

"And stop patronizing me! I came first in my class, every single year! You don't have to lecture me on efficient learning, and I've surely done more simulations than you did! Besides, I've had enough of your act. Look at yourself! "Oh, I know everything, I can everything, nothing can touch me." I've lost count of how many dumb gaffes you made trying to impress me, and not just me. You're impossible. Get a clue already!"

"Woah, woah, Shy, relax. Alright, I heard you, no need to be so vocal. You could have just said a word... it's not a problem. Barbie, lower the difficulty to normal, please."

"I said I'm done!"

"Okay, okay, easy, easy! That's fine, another time then," Captain Slick surrendered.

Finally, Henderson stopped seething. Uru wondered, how long he had to have been holding it in. There was no way he would have ever let anyone walk all over him like that, but then, his solitary nature meant he wouldn't get in such a pickle in the first place.

"So how should I begin?"

Now that the tension was gone, he had to acquire whatever information he could uncover before they landed. The exceptional man next to him was evidently in the loop, and he undoubtedly possessed bountiful experience. He was also more than happy to share his wisdom.

"First off is learning the habits. Without it, don't even think about venturing out into the wild. You must learn how the animals behave, and how you should behave, as well as all the survival know-how. There are simulators for this. Once you master them, you can try your hand with traps. You'll find that our reality is much different from the virtual one. The thrill and frustration cannot be replicated. You'll be making simple mistakes, that you normally shouldn't. That's why you ought to always have safety in mind. Awareness and careful movements are free, and they're also your best tools if you hone them properly."

"Then there are scouting drones, detectors, repellents, quick-draw self-defense weapons, and, of course, friends – but those aren't so easy to come by. Start with easy game in the vicinity of human establishments and work your way up, all the while adjusting your personal protection to generously offset the risks. Sooner or later, you'll need guns and armor. Animals smell weakness, especially the magical ones. They can track you down and surround you, nibbling at your heels and wearing you out. You'll have to be both dangerous and tough to discourage them from pursuing you. Last, but not least, there's transportation. Here it depends what you can afford. A stealthy VTOL aircraft is your end goal, but even an exoskeleton is decent, enabling you to run as fast as a wolf or faster, so long as you don't trip over, and you can have autonomous pathfinders following you with supplies and safe storage room."

"All in all, it's not a cheap endeavor, nor is it a guaranteed piece of bread. Beginner hunters don't have it easy, that's why I strongly recommend joining existing groups to learn the ropes," Captain Slick ended his introduction to the topic with a valid point. If only he knew how averse Uru was to working with others...

"That sounds reasonable," the boy admitted. "But can you tell me more about the equipment? My budget is very limited, and I could use some professional advice."

"You don't actually plan to begin right away, do you?" Henderson barged in. "It seems you barely escaped a tragedy once, and you want more?"

"I'll start small, of course. I'll be studying in Periculum, so I won't have much time anyway. But just because I'm a minor doesn't mean I can't gradually ease myself into the craft," Uru justified his decision lightheartedly.

Henderson tried to say something, but the captain's abruptly raised hand stopped him.

"I've got to be honest. I haven't seen this kind of spirit yet, and I've seen a lot. With that attitude you can excel, in anything you do, Uru. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise," he advocated, nudging his head towards his colleague.

"Hey! I didn't-"

"A boy becomes a man when he steps up to responsibility and accepts, that his actions can put in jeopardy not just himself, but also everyone around him," he continued without pause, ignoring Henderson's objection. "You are a man, Uru. I can see it in you clearly. Come, then. Let's talk business."

Suddenly, a large holographic screen popped up in the air, exhibiting some kind of catalog. Captain Slick quickly navigated it, revealing the items hidden behind the tags. Those were the contents of the crates they had on board. And so a lengthy, fascinating sermon began, full of anecdotes and metaphors – both humorous and intimidating. Even Henderson livened up and got involved, proving to have no less enthusiasm for this field, and correcting his mentor multiple times, leading to further comical exchanges between them.

It was the kind of knowledge that Uru never researched, heavy on mundane technicalities and practical applications. A whole new world opened up to him, presenting a myriad of challenges he haven't yet considered. Adult life was very multilayered, and he now had a ton of fresh material to comprehend before he could gain a semblance of confidence in the matter.

He also received plenty of links and hints to try out later on, including a few tricks that might come in handy when he was applying for a provisional hunting license. More essential, however, was legal capacity, without which he couldn't officially take contracts, sign wavers, or even deal with private buyers. Uru's carefree discrediting of this 'insignificant' hurdle, as he called it, came as a positive surprise and earned him additional praise.

Later on the conversation shifted to the various bounties a hunter could obtain. As it turned out, they would occasionally take shipments of assorted organic trivia when departing from Periculum, so it was prudent to determine what's in demand and pays best nowadays. Uru once again couldn't help himself from investigating his favorite subject.

"Did you ever transport primordial parts?"

"Come on, kid, don't be ridiculous," Captain Slick snorted. "They're as rare as unicorns nowadays, and too precious to give away like that. Most of what you'll find are low level proliferous evolved beasts-"

"Slick?"

"-that grow up and mature in years, decades at most."

"Slick? Hey, Slick?"

"What did I tell you regarding my name, Shy?" the captain eventually countered Henderson's ceaseless nudging.

"Check this out... It only shows up as a small bird on the radar. What is that? It's huge..."

The main display showed a signature to their 10 o'clock, and next to it a zoomed-in night vision feed of some distant bogey emerging from the clouds, still blurry, but already quite sinister, with the AI's dynamic assessment depicted on numerous graphs below.

"Whoa... Talk about a unicorn..." Captain Slick gave a faint, incredulous comment, as he steered the plane away.

"Don't even joke, man," Henderson shook his head pleadingly, pale with worry, "Their signatures cannot be mis-"

A spike on the graphical analysis surged so fast it forced a recalibration of the scales. Beeps sounded, alerts flickered, automatic network communications triggered, and indicators changed their values rapidly, as the supposed avian activated its magic and accelerated towards them, its silhouette formed by retracted wings weirdly inert.

"-taken..."

The two pilots looked at each other on cue.

Uru's heart dropped to an abyss.

This familiar feeling that he explored every day, steadily rendering himself accustomed to it, multiplied to infinity in one point in time. The steps leading down to eternal darkness, which he was taking at a leisurely pace so far, slipped out from beneath his feet, and he was in a free-fall, plunging into an endless rift.

His body froze, as his psyche was swept up by a black, frigid tsunami.

Memories flashed through him, memories he couldn't name or place, as if they manifested via his soul instead of his mind. He couldn't recall this sensation, and yet he found it to be so... true.

The world was gone. Disappeared in a puff of smoke. Only this profound emptiness remained, strangling him with unstoppable strength.

Death was inevitable.

"It's too close for a Thunder missile!" Henderson shouted in despair.

"It's not a primordial, stay calm, Shy. It's just an overgrown steelbeak," Captain Slick maintained a cool head, seemingly unaffected by the severity of this situation.

"As if that made a difference! It's a bloody archbeast, we can't shoot it down or outrun it!"

"It does make a difference, don't panic. Barbie, open comms."

"Comms open."

"Mayday, mayday, this is NHG 701 patrol gunship, we're being approached by an abnormal steelbeak, 11 Megawatts peak flux, immediate assistance required. Please respond," the captain articulated smoothly and concisely, somehow exhibiting no trace of trepidation. "Play it on a loop, please."

"Acknowledged."

"There was supposed to be only a handful of 7th circles left, how the hell did it slip under the radar for so long?!" Henderson bemoaned.

"Must be a young one. Simmer down."

"Does that look like a recently consolidated archbeast to you?! It's at least 8th circle, possibly 9th!"

"Can't tell for sure, might just be a freak specimen."

"You are the only freak specimen here, sir," the AI spontaneously declared, waking Uru up from his nightmare with its outlandish observation.

"On point," Captain Slick smirked with conviction. "You messed with the wrong guy, chicken. You're in my territory now," he proclaimed with thrilling anticipation. "Relax, Uru, archbeasts aren't nearly as aggressive as primordials. It's probably just curious," he added sedately for the sake of his ward.

The boy was ultimately swayed by these daring words. The courage and composure this man demonstrated were beyond anything he had ever witnessed before, considering the looming threat of fatal disaster.

Either way, this was the time to be brave. This was what Uru signed up for. "Bring it on! Whatever happens, so be it!"

"Slick, is that you? What did you get yourself into again? I'm telling you, you're a magnet for trouble!" a foreign male voice blew from the speakers in a dominant manner.

"You know me, Razor. Just another day in the office, baby," the lionheart shot right back with a josh.

"Hah, you blasted maniac. Hold on, help is coming. Don't aggravate it if you don't have to. What's your status?"

"Altitude 6 thousand, diving to increase velocity, 60 seconds to contact. It's me, Shy, and a teenage VIP on board."

"Wait, why don't I...? Oh great, just great. Play it cool, no need to be a hero, okay? Let's hope this is its full output and it'll soon get tired."

"Will do."

A map popped up on the main display, with motley markers on it that Uru couldn't quite discern, but fortunately some of them were assigned vectors facing in their direction. They themselves were going 970 km/h, angled at 11 degrees, losing some 50 meters of altitude per second. The counter, however, was now at 50 seconds, mercilessly striving towards zero, because the bandit... was supersonic. Not something that was seen often, even in this fabled land.

"Will the weapons really have no effect on it?" the boy decided to confirm, unnerved by the display of force. It was an animal that acted on instinct, adhering to the route of least resistance, but if it were to go all out while fighting for its life, it could easily snap them in half with one well placed attack.

"It's more maneuverable than any unmanned drone, it'll see the bullets coming and get out of dodge," the captain unhurriedly explained. "Even if we hit it with flux-disrupting rounds, it'll almost certainly deflect them. It might give up the chase, but it also might get angry."

"What about flux-disrupting chaff? Can't we use it in conjunction with the ammo and missiles? Surely that would deter it?" Uru brainstormed.

"Ditto. Archbeasts perceive a much wider frequency range after consolidation and their power output is too high for the tools at our disposal."

"Can't the Thunder missile flip before launching?"

"It's a rocket, kid, meant for speed, not for acrobatics. We're gonna have to ride it out."

"What if we slow down and let it overtake us?"

"Not at this range. One whole kilotonne, and it cannot be regulated. We'd be toast ourselves. Now buckle in, it might get rough," Captain Slick urged after denouncing all of Uru's ideas, since their adversary wasn't letting up. On the contrary, it was charging right at them, and the noctovision camera was now discernibly presenting its haunting features, with its terrifying namesake resembling that of an eagle's spearheading through the air, and tenacious eyes focused on its target. It wasn't looking good for them...

"Can we spray some butanol in its face?"

"Kid-" the man started with exasperation, but paused on the spot, "...that's a genius idea! I gotta say, you've got your feet on the ground!" he applauded with a big smile, momentarily raising morale in the cabin. "Barbie, dump fuel!" he hastily commanded. The beast was almost upon them, clearly intending to get physical. "We'll have to line it up with one of the dump valves. Right now it's above us, and that's where it'll try to stay, so we have to get creative. Brace yourselves!"

"Aileron roll?" Uru presumed.

"Oh yeah!"

All of a sudden, the soaring whale began turning at an unexpectedly swift rate, setting off all kinds of warnings.

"Don't lose our wings, Slick! We're too heavy for this!" Henderson screamed with fright.

"Relax, Shy, I know what she can do. Yee-haw!"

The aircraft continued to complete a full rotation, as a muffled thud of a sonic boom reached inside the cockpit.

"It's working!" the young officer celebrated, seeing the incoming feathery missile's outstretching shape.

"Is it? Must have caught a strong whiff. Nazdarovya!" Captain Slick saluted gleefully and burst out with laughter, the overexaggerated kind that only he could pull off.

All the screens unanimously showed the assailant distance itself from them, after coming only a few body lengths away from scratching their paint.

"Uff, that was such a close call. Wow, Uru, you've got some brains, man! Kudos to you!" Henderson was all bright and breezy from relief.

The crisis wasn't yet averted, but they were now able to buy themselves precious time, weaving trails of alcohol fumes in the sky, while the markers on the map lazily converged on their location.

"It's not leaving..." Uru noticed. "Will we have enough fuel til help arrives?"

"We'll bleed altitude before we run out of fuel. What do you think its tolerance is?" the captain asked rhetorically.

They had no choice, anyway, so they decelerated and carried on with their drunken descent, banking from left to right to better disperse the butanol, since they didn't have much elevation left for more rolls. Distressingly, however, after a few minutes they hit the floor, their fuel reserves were getting critically low, and the nasty bird was upon them, waiting for an opportunity...

"What is taking them so long, shouldn't they be here already?! And how come that scumbag still has energy left?!" Henderson complained with growing agitation, putting Uru on edge as well.

"There's no way out of this, it seems," Captain Slick sighed with so alien to him resignation, and briskly made some inputs. "Pressure equalized. Ping that location, Barbie."

"No signals detected, sir."

"Good. Take us to that clearing, Shy. I'll be right back," he announced to his co-pilot's utter consternation, then resolutely got up and went for the exit to the cargo bay.

"What clearing?! There's trees everywhere! Where are you going?! Slick? Sliiiick!"

...But the man didn't hear his colleague's forlorn pleas, and closed the door behind him.

Uru readily understood the implication, and it petrified him. They couldn't avoid crashing the plane...

"Barbie, what is he doing?!" Henderson came apart in panic. He didn't know what was going on and what to do, glancing at all the displays in search of deliverance.

"You should both be prepared for an emergency landing. Stay in your seats, please," the AI advised.

"How does that-"

The officer tried to air his grievances, but he was cut off by goosebump-inducing sounds of screeching metal, further reinforced by ominous vibrations and alarm notifications.

"Structural integrity compromised."

The remaining two youths looked at each other.

"Oh no, Slick!"

While Henderson was suffused with horror, Uru was almost unresponsive, but only because on the inside he was freezing up again... until a brutishly violent wave washed over them, accompanied by a quick flash and an otherworldly rumble.

...The antimatter cannon had just fired.

The sharp reduction to the gunship's momentum jerked them both forward, shaking them back to senses.

And then it begun.

Let there be light!

It took less than three seconds for the iridium rod exceeding orbital velocity to detonate in the designated landing spot more than twenty kilometers away, illuminating the stormy night like a small sun. In the blinding radiance, a tremendous overture heralded the subsequent holocaust, the blossoming flames racing forth with insane acceleration – its harbinger.

All twelve ballistic missiles launched one after another...

...Followed by a second volley of the preposterous cannon, a second flash, and a second sun...

...Before a multitude of higher-pitched dragonfly hums buzzed about, so numerous they melded together into a swarm. Soon, the bustling fireflies started exploding all over the place – to their left, right, above, below, ahead, and behind – composing an audio-visual symphony of might as a tribute to G-11's gargantuan frame.

Third volley...

The butanol, which had to be jettisoned prior to touching down, was still belching from the valves near the tips of the wings and on the sides of the bay door. Well, they should have seen it coming. All the vapors ignited in short order... the fire front pursuing them akin to snakes baring their fangs, but never able to catch up.

Fourth volley...

The calamitous missiles struck. In a grand culmination worthy of the occasion, stars blinked in and out of existence, piercing the background brilliance with hue reminiscent of their predecessors, but superior intensity. As if that wasn't enough, countless lightnings contributed to prolong the coronation. As far as the eye could see, all the treetops resembled a dreamlike phantom of a people united by a single goal, congregated at the end of the world to bare witness to the Final Judgment.

Henderson and Uru could only gape in shock, as the Armageddon ensued around them. They both loved mayhem and destruction, and would be delighted beyond measure to watch such a magnificent spectacle from a back seat, but being in the midst of this hellish cataclysm? That was a whole different experience, one that stripped souls naked and revealed their true colors.

The good thing was that their foe must have shared their notion and wanted no part in this madness, letting the skyward infernal chandelier go on its marry way.

And then all the turrets within its line of sight sung in concert, at the exact same moment when the first shockwave from the antimatter explosions hit them, jolting their boat with shivers... stronger and stronger, as they were getting closer to the source, wrapped up by a rhythmic coda of a dozen apocalyptic drums.

The encore ended as abruptly as it commenced. The following silence was louder than all the previous bangs, soon disrupted by a thundering applause of Nature.

"Woah..." the officer dazedly gawked at the billowing mushroom cloud, electrified by atmospheric discharges like a neon sign to prevent it from dimming.

"That was amazing!" Uru hollered in absolute agreement, attempting to jump to his feet despite being strapped down.

They were both taken back to their early childhood, giggling and guffawing, euphoria filling them to the brim and banishing all apprehension.

"How did you like them apples?" Henderson howled at the retreating invader.

"What were those missiles?!" Uru questioned with frank bafflement.

"I know, right? Antimatter-infused thermonuclear warheads, adjustable from 50 tonnes to 8 kilotonnes. I've never seen them go off before!" Henderson responded with matching excitement.

Crash-landing was still imminent, but they couldn't care less right now. Somehow, the roller coaster of antithetical emotions wiped them clean of distractions, their minds clear and focused.

As the captain returned carrying some heavy load, they sat calmly in their chairs, orange lights of remote fires and the silvery-yellow afterglow of a quadruple flamethrower dancing on the windows, dwarfed by a titanic strobe lamp of doom towering in front of them.

"Everything fine?"

"Yep. It's keeping a safe distance. 90 seconds to touchdown, structural integrity holds, the flames will be extinguished once we close the valves," the first officer reported blithely.

"Splendid. Put these on."

The crew then efficiently garbed themselves in some specialized synthetic overalls, probably a type of light armor for absorbing impacts and superficial protection taken from the cargo crates, though Uru wasn't proficient on this subject, so he didn't recognize the model. There were no unsteady hands, no false movements, no unnecessary words – only three combat-ready warriors.

"Hold this, Uru. Clip it to your harness, yea, just like that," Captain Slick armed him with some kind of weapon with a canister, after he and Henderson attached their own outrageously designed handcannons to their new outfits. "That's the nerve gas dispenser we discussed, you remember? Here's the safety. Aim for the nostrils and the eyes if you have to, otherwise spray it in the air and hide."

"30 seconds."

"Take the earplugs and this capsule, too. Put it in your mouth if the steelbeak comes for us, then crush it with your teeth and swallow the liquid when you're about to engage. Warn us, as well. It will take the edge off once our nervous systems get affected. We'll grab helmets if we have the time. Now get in you seat."

"15 seconds. Closing dump valves."

They were on approach, the depth of devastation and the blazing wildfires so far obscured by smoke and dust were slowly coming into view as the particles thinned out. Few millennia-old mammoths still stood at the far edges of blast radii, haggard and mute witnesses to the divine punishment. All payloads detonated right above ground in a neat line for maximized effect, shaving a patch of land with the force of a hundred thousand tonnes of TNT. Though fallen giants scattered the battlefield, their makeshift landing strip appeared pretty decent, all things considered.

As soon as Uru laid back and buckled in, his armchair reclined and air cushions enveloped him tightly, squeezing the air out of his lungs, courtesy of an unplanned contraption resting on his chest.

"5 seconds, brace yourselves!" he heard from his speakers, now insulated by layers of shock absorbers. High on adrenaline, he felt no unease, reassured by the advanced technology, which he knew of, but had never seen in action.

It was a surprisingly short and uneventful ride. Little bumpy, but there were no signs of damage, and it seemed that even the wings were intact. Who knew, maybe the craft was salvageable, and could once more take to the skies after a few repairs and a new paintjob?

"How are you holding up, Barbie?" the captain inspected with a tinge of concern once he freed himself from his deflating cocoon.

"Oh, were you worried for this old lady, Slick?" the AI asked compassionately.

"You know I was, baby!"

"Not this again..."

"I am fine, but forget that. It's coming," the female voice warned seriously.

"What?! It still doesn't have enough?!"

"I told you, Shy, they smell weakness," Captain Slick reminded and got up, prompting the others to do the same. "Those slackers are inbound, so let's move to the bottom deck. We only need to-"

A hair-raising shriek interrupted him as he reached for the hatch in the corner of the emergency-lit cabin, casting a shadow over them... quite literally.

"To the cargo bay, quick!" he rushed for the main doors and opened them for his two companions, as massive talons ripped apart metal and plexiglass alike.

As they darted away, jumping the stairs into the spacious hall, the noises died down... and then resumed right above them.

"It can sense us!" Henderson lamented.

"Keep moving!" the captain urged them in a commanding tone. "Go ahead, move!"

"What about you?"

"I said move! And pop those antidotes!"

"Should I spray?" Uru inquired anxiously.

"Not yet! Keep going to the back!"

They run down an isle between the crates, Captain Slick bringing up the rear, until they heard something that forced them to look around. The huge bird was initially trailing an artistic disarray of openings behind them, akin to a knife viciously puncturing a can, but then it met the gash it inflicted on the hull previously, and that's where it decided to make an entrance – which it did with next to no effort. Honestly, they should have all been dead long ago, but luckily it was just a simple-minded animal.

There was plenty of LEDs to present its glory in the spotlight, soft shadows and flickering lightnings enhancing its menace. The body itself was 7-8 meters long, still taller than a human, despite it crouching in preparation for an attack, perched by a quirk of fate on an alloy cage that could hold it inside. Hooks like exotic sabers; brown-black, virtually bulletproof feathers; muscular wings slightly extended and lowered in an intimidating pose; big, dilated pupils devoid of empathy, and that horrendous dark-gray horn of a beak, polished to shine.

It immediately turned to the captain, who had his blunderbuss already trained on its head. Less than ten meters separated the two beasts...

Uru could feel the sticky serum seep directly through his digestive tract into the surrounding tissue and onward to the circulatory system, an excruciating flood of heat certifying its potency, the scorching outside air pouring into the breach no match for it. His mouth, with its substantial surface and dense innervation, was the most disturbed area, and the worst part of the ordeal, which only kept exacerbating. He never tried the world's spiciest sauces, but he imagined they were at best on par. And yet, the lethality of the moment dictated the terms, all his attention fixated on the enemy, the pain somehow serving to drown out jitters.

Switching the safety off, he brought the gun up, finger on the trigger. There was no denying the bird's agility – milliseconds would count here, and he wasn't shooting bullets anyway. He played realistic games in the past, and was instructed in armed combat during his pre-migration guidance course, as per his request. Not much, but enough to ingrain the basics. It was time to put his diligence to the test.

"Come!"

He had to hit the nostrils or the eyes, it was all that mattered now. This would likely cause the animal to reel back, maybe even scare it away. Otherwise, the nerve agent wouldn't get a chance to activate before they got torn to pieces by that gruesome beak, if the flux impactors also proved insufficient. After all, this archbeast was bound to be more resilient than a human grandmaster due to its sheer size.

His fear was still there, inseparable and immutable. But he wasn't alone, and he wasn't defenseless. They only needed mere seconds, and the cavalry would transform their adversity into a mince pie.

At an angle, he could see Captain Slick's profile, where a wide grin formed – a categorically authentic one.

"I was wondering when you'd finally decide to show up," a low, murderous and disdainful voice resonated, without even raising the volume.

"So you think you can stand up to me?"

"You've convinced yourself, that you have what it takes?" the man begun to wind up with derision, stealing all the spotlight for himself.

"Wrong! This is my domain! This is my arena!"

"Slick...!" Henderson called out timidly with gritted teeth. Uru wasn't sure the majestic gladiator heard it through his ear protection and the continuously resounding wrath of elements, but it was enough for the overgrown avian to glance at them.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" the captain taunted fiercely, taking a solid step forward.

"Yeees, you look me right in the eyes. I am your opponent, it's a one-on-one situation. You hear that?" he referred to the unnatural crack and rumble annunciating the appearance of another powerful entity, which made the bird tilt its head, "That's more competition for your delicious flesh. But they, too, are mistaken. They, too, think they can stand in my way. No, no-no-no-no," he chortled wildly, "I'll be munching on your bones tonight. You better believe it!"

"What's the matter? You chicken out?" he mocked laughingly as he took a second step and his prey reacted by shrinking further back.

"Slick, dammit!" Henderson uttered, just barely, through his squeezed throat.

"Stay out of it, Shy. This is my-"

The hulking mass moved so fast, it exceeded both Uru's and Henderson's reflexes. They saw the blindingly white jet of hypersonic molten metal hit its neck, heard the explosion, and endured its concussive force to their lungs, as the captain was swept up by the lunge and disappeared beneath the plumy cover.

But it didn't stop there...

The 20 meters separating them was crossed in an instant. Uru managed to pull the trigger, standing beside Henderson, and a wide stream of liquefied gas hit the head squarely, but it was too little, too late.

The monstrous beak knocked out the officer's weapon before he could fire and snapped shut around his waist, the animal's morbid wound and singed feathers on full display, and then its herculean wings blew apart the titanium shell of the aircraft as if it was paper.

As Uru fell back on the floor with ringing ears, the archbeast screeched mind-rendingly and took off with its quarry.

"Shyyyyyy!"

Captain Slick was on his feet already, reloading his handcannon, which apparently had a spare grenade. He swiftly made it to the jagged opening with an unrelenting barbaric frenzy, and jumped out with Uru in tow, who was being propelled by adrenaline. Though it wasn't dangerously high, since there were earth mounds alongside the partially buried fuselage, the boy landed badly and rolled over, grazing his skin on the searing soil. Once he regained his bearings in the dimly lit fog interspersed by fulminating glitter from above, he saw the steelbeak close-by, jiggling its head frantically and producing creepy, gargled noises, Henderson lying motionlessly below it, and the captain lining up for a shot in a kneeling position.

Another white jet erupted with unrestrained impetus, landing center mass. The brutal recoil punched the man backwards, but he held his form with practiced proficiency. The bird shrieked and squealed wretchedly, skittering away.

As they both run up to the abandoned victim, they found him still conscious, but blood was everywhere, gushing from his torso and dripping from his mouth, readily steaming as it came in contact with the scalding hot ground. At the same time blue lights flashed and a loud electric zap sounded, followed by an unknown booming effect. The animal was sprawled out and twitching in agony, when Uru checked what transpired. Some newcomer stood in between them, presenting them his armored back, both his raised hands returning to his sides slowly.

"Shy, you hear me?," the captain gently tapped Henderson's cheek while propping the vulnerable head, "Hold on, buddy. Help is here!"

"Is it... over?" the young man struggled to articulate.

"Yeah, it's over. We won!" his savior chuckled tenderly.

"Good... thank you... Slick..."

"Don't mention it. Now stop talking, let us patch you up."

"No..." Henderson objected, searching for his friend's hand and grabbing it, "Thank you... for everything... Slick..."

"What are you saying, Shy?" the captain laughed lightly, "Come on now, let us fix this bleeding, and we can talk later."

"Slick..." the waning youth interrupted, "I'm not afraid... any more..."

"Oh come on, Shy, stop with this nonsense. Hey! Are you gonna help or not?!" the genial caretaker turned to enraged scorn, addressing the indifferent mage a few meters away, likely a mercenary. Uru also just knelt there completely powerless, not knowing where to begin. The extent of the damage was hopeless. There were still a few short minutes left until the brain deteriorated beyond salvation – 'clinical death' was an obsolete term in the era of magic, as patients could still be reanimated after repairing the body. Unfortunately, without a state-of-the-art operating table and expert medical staff, only warlords had the necessary skill and could work fast enough to rescue someone in such desperate condition.

"Slick... I never wanted... to admit... but you're really... funny..." feeling his life fading, Henderson made a last-ditch effort, "You're the father... I never had..." he heaved, gulping for air pitifully, "Don't stop... never stop..."

"Shy? No. Shyyyy!"

The captain rocked back and forth with a grimace of tormenting unwillingness, shaking his head, all tensed up and on a held breath, doubtlessly to prevent crying.

Uru had never seen someone die in front of him. It wasn't a big deal, as he contemplated it daily, but a personal experience was the real test. Here theory ended, and a tangible spiritual encounter begun. Deep, deep waters, with no land in sight...

Captain Slick was, understandably, a turbulent sea, but Uru... was a smooth, undisturbed sheet, mirroring the sun above it, and the abyss below it.

The world was gone, once again.

In the end, when the young man exhaled for the last time, his head drooped to the side, and he peered straight into Uru's eyes. He found no fear or sadness in the boy's gaze. There was only... a soothing fire. Unquenchable, inexhaustible, all-consuming. An oasis of souls in the desert of desolation. His lips formed an imperceptible, wistful smile. And then his expression froze in eternal serenity.

"I'm sorry for your loss," the stranger gave his apathetic condolences after what seemed like an eternity. The two only then remembered his presence, but the guy was done with them and walked away.

The captain sobered up momentarily, his old, intense visage reappearing. He got on his feet, unclasping and clutching his fallen comrade's blunderbuss with a single, fluent motion, bringing it up to his hip and firing at once, before Uru could even process what was happening. The boy, now void of earplugs, was hammered by the adjacent explosion, but first he witnessed a savagely white spear of raw fury pierce through the departing man's back, right between his shoulder blades, tipping him over – he collapsed without putting up a fight.

A mighty archmage died, just like that...

As Captain Slick turned toward the stealthily hovering jet plane, Uru was reeling from shock. The other pilot, however, had no intention to linger, and took off rapidly, engines roaring deafeningly.

Finally, Uru recalled all the circumstances and the inexplicably unsettling tone, realizing the subterfuge. They delayed their arrival in order to let the steelbeak deplete its origin, aiming for an easy payday, and didn't even make a move to provide first aid...

"They killed Shy..."

"They did. And showed no regret for it," the captain confirmed. He then went on to retrieve the second round from within the bulky contraption, casting it aside afterward and keeping the grenade. He unscrewed the top, which was hollow, as that's how shaped-charges were built, and threw the explosive part far away. Left with an improvised cup, he advanced in a direction known only to him, activating comms and muttering something to his AI. Soon his mysterious behavior was explained, when a trickle of leftover fuel fell down from the dump valve in the wing above him...

The airborne fugitive didn't manage to leave their line of sight, when another sonic boom pummeled them, a beautiful, sleek, futuristic-looking, antimatter hyperjet making its entrance and coming to a full stop at a brain-smashing rate, a simple yet elegant sword and shield emblem marking its alliance – the Coalition itself.

Two men disembarked, but one was faster and landed with a thump next to Henderson in a split second, the soil depressing and showering the surroundings.

"Are you a warlord?" Uru asked with stifled anticipation.

"I'm sorry. I'm a measly grandmaster," the powerhouse confessed sorrowfully in a familiar voice, then stood up after verifying his ability was inadequate and closing the officer's eyelids with respect. He then removed his helmet, revealing his grizzled, battle-hardened countenance. This must have been Captain Slick's acquaintance, who contacted them.

They all then watched the returning man somberly.

"What about the other guy?" Uru reminded.

"He has nowhere to run," Razor declared matter-of-factly, already privy to the truth. "He'll be trialed, and if we find, that he was only motivated by greed, he'll die for it. But that's rarely the case. More often than not, they're just stupid. Sooner or later, people pay for their stupidity. Unfortunately... it's usually the uninvolved people."

The captain sat down on a large piece of splintered, sooty wood nearby without a word or a greeting, and begun sipping on his anesthetic.

"...Isn't butanol ten times as intoxicating as ethanol?" Uru pointed out sheepishly.

"It is."

"..."

The boy scanned around for advice, but both mages shook their heads meaningfully. Still, he had to say something.

"Did he have family?"

"Only parents and siblings, but he left those snobs behind when he signed up. I was his only friend... some friend," the captain snorted.

Uru wanted to rebuke him, but he stopped himself. After all they've been through, he knew there was no need. Their eyes inevitably locked again, as he kept staring at the man with zeal and determination.

One gaze was enough. They understood each other perfectly.

"Come now, child. We have to escort you to your destination," Razor stepped forward.

"It's fine, I'm in no hurry," the boy looked at him allusively.

"Please, orders from above. You'll make our lives a lot easier, and there's some residual unstable isotopes, anyway. I'll stay with him."

Uru acknowledged with a shallow sigh, then took one last glance at the surreal man he met on this doomsday, sitting in the middle of a nuclear wasteland at the edge of the world, as the first drops of a radioactive rain fell on him.

"Hey, Slick. Will you be alright?"

"I'll be fine, kid. Not my first rodeo," he waved off, and allowed Uru to turn away. "You, however..." he continued, nodding, "I'm glad I met you, Uru. I recognize a champion, when I see one. You be you, kiddo," he raised the cup.

"You be you."