On Black Wings I Rise, On Black Wings I Fall

Number of Combatants Remaining: Twenty

The four remaining warriors and their cruel, calculating master in the darkness stared onward with adamant expressions on their faces. The three unarmored convicts turned to their master, his eyes glowing a sickly demon green in the dead of night.

“Go” his voice spoke from his place in the undergrowth. “Pursue him, and bring him to his knees. I want him at my feet, or your skulls dripping with blood. There is no place for failure in my ranks. Is that understood?” the feline spoke with malice dripping from his voice at the last uttering.

The three warriors slowly nodded their heads in a hive-like compliance, slicing the vines that hung from the trees and strapping their weapons to their backs. With their goal in sight and reckless indifference for their own lives in flowing through their blood, the retrieval squad took to all-fours, sprinting into the forest to achieve their objective. The armor-wearing behemoth let out an inaudible growl of annoyance, turning back to watch as his colleagues darted off towards the prize that he desperately wanted to claim himself.

“Do not worry my pet.” The mastermind replied with his voice dripping with cunning as his mind began to piece together another plot. “You will get your chance soon enough.” He finished as his demon-green eyes slipped into the pitch-black jungle, the Juggernaut giving one final glance before following him in suit.

My legs moved without question, running on their own physical capacity while adrenaline flooded my veins with every second that passed, pumping ounce after ounce into my arteries, just to try and get away from my possible executioners. I leapt, slid, flipped and slashed my way through every inch of anything that dared throw itself at me. Boulders, fifty-foot tall trees, roots that I swear had been planted simply for the act of tripping people and even an unlucky hornet’s nest (not even to try and explain that one). The world was moving a thousand miles an hour, and the first thing I was worried about was what was about to pop out in front of me next.

My stayed on a constant swivel, scanning left, up, right, and directly in front of me, staying constantly vigilant to be prepared for the assailants that I was sure that were already in pursuit. All they needed to do was-

*Crack*

Speak of the devil. Three of them, one to my left, one to my right, and one on my six, from what my ears could tell me, were on all fours and glaring at me with stares of pure malice and malcontent. They were going to gut me like a fish, keeping up with my mad dash for safety and even passing me with the assist of sprinting on all their limbs. I kept my attempt to escape their clutches up, maneuvering my way onto branches and propelling myself forward with every chance I could get to shake them off my trail, or at least get a leg up in this forest chase of ours.

Before I could even say “Lost ‘em!”, I found myself with the ground suddenly disappearing from under me and my body hurtling through the air. One of those slick bastards had tripped my up with a wind hurdle, one that I couldn’t detect. Losing my sense of mobility, along with my weapon, which was now sliding across the forest floor, my body spun to its side as I tumbled across the dirt and moss, kicking up soil before colliding with a tree thirty feet from my dismount. My cuirass may have softened the impact, and kept my ribs from cracking and very possibly, but I would be heavily bruised from the blow. I staggered to my feet, dazed from the attack as I tried to regain my bearings before my assailants could rush me.

Up back on my feet, balance regained and reflexes primed to give a good punch to the face, my eyes shot to my spear, ten feet away with my pursuers closing in on it at a rapid pace of acceleration. Without another thought, my legs began to run on their own again, sprinting to reach my staff before my assailants could lay their steel across my skin. Within seconds, the troop of convicts had closed in on me, though I skillfully spun myself, wings expanded, to send them flying over my head. Back on my feet and armed once more, I prepared myself as my fellow opponents drew their weapons as well.

Silence made its presence before us; us wayward souls and fallen heroes, forced into condemnation by our own selfish actions. Our life had become our undoing, but I’ve got a score to settle before my bucket gets punted. I stared intently into the eyes of my pursuers, the blood-red stain still evident in their pupils. The only light provided was that of the harvest mood, eager, just as the crowds that watched us, to see the next drop of blood be spilled across the forest. The first, the feline wielding the dual-bladed spear, approached me, twirling his blade as he poised his body, ready to strike. It was an invitation; he was going to give me the first attack. Graciously, I began to nonchalantly walk up to my first opponent, gripping my weapon tightly in preparation for my assault. One foot away, I swung my blade, knocking his spear into the ground while sending my fist into his maw.

Expertly, he dodged the blow, spinning around me and knocking his wing into my side. Upon impact, my body fell short for wind, as if I had collided with a metal beam. His wings had been armored; specially plated for pure combat, to use as a weapon, and an extension of his body. Plucking his spear from the earth, he proceeded with a horizontal strike, which I barely managed to block with the flat end of my blade. To counter, I swung my staff upward, repelling his spear and landing a cut on his jaw. I scrambled back to my feet, the wound on my back beginning to take its toll.

Wiping the blood from his jaw, the spearman rushed towards me, going for a quick thrust, which I side-stepped to avoid, and following that up with another slash with the opposite blade. I ducked, thrusting my blade forward, having it parried by my opponent who sent his blade barreling towards my Carotid artery. If this attack hit, this fight was over. Fear about to swallow me, I sent my blade skyward, knocking his strike out of alignment as a shallow cut made its way across my face. Before my opponent could do anything else, I talked him to the ground, knocking his weapon out of his grip as I took hold of mine with a line of water.

I felt my hand wrap around the hilt of my weapon, only to have it fly out of my grasp with a double kick from my assailant. As I rolled back onto my feet, my opponent sprung backwards, taking hold of his spear before rushing me again. His blade swung at my arm, though stopped short when it came into contact with a wall of ice, one that I had barely managed to conjure. With another stream of water, my staff returned to my grasp, and wanting to end this fight as quickly as possible, I thrust my blade into the body of my attacker, watching with sadistic delight as his blood began to drain out on my body.

Throwing the corpse of my body, I stood to my feet, fur soaked in crimson liquid and breathing heavy with feral rage. The grip on my weapon tightened with my ferocity, and an ear-shattering roar exploded from my maw, my body trembling with an untold and unimaginable power coursing through my veins, mixing with the adrenaline and leaving me in absolute control.

The beast had been awakened.

I charged for the one with the short-sword; about the size of a Roman gladius, though an extra foot longer due to proportion. I sprung for my next victim, bladed staff in my right hand and the claws from my left hand unsheathed, both crying, screaming for the precious taste of the next drop of blood. My blade thrust itself downward, wanting to cleave the body it sought clean in two, though was stopped dead in its tracks when a certain short-sword decided to jam itself in the indention between the blades. The holder of the sword looked into my eyes with his burning pupils, carrying the same rage that I held against him before thrusting my staff away and slamming the flat of his blade into my skull, dazing me as I stumbled backwards.

I readied my staff again, only to find that my assailant had vanished from the fray without any warning or any notification on where he had gone. With a sudden ringing in my ears, I was brought to my knees with a sudden blow to my back, and knocked onto my rear end with what felt like an upward strike to the bottom of my jaw. Writhing in pain, I took to my paws and knees, my body groaning and creaking with pain as I struggled to try and get back onto my feet. I coughed up a few drops of blood, my breathing still heavy, though this time with incredible fatigue. I felt my weapon against my fingertips, taking a trembling hold of it before I was knocked onto my back once more, a miniscule stream of blood flowing from the side of my jaw.

My body squirmed and struggled, my limbs flinging themselves in every direction and my wings whirling up dirt, moss and wood as I my body stayed pinned to the forest floor. Black feathers and gusts of wind create a miniscule crater around me as the feline wielding a claymore begins to chuckle at my useless endeavor. His laughter seemed twisted, purely demonic even; another voice rang out with his, forcing my blood to run cold with unadulterated fear and anxiety as my eyes dilated with the horrors of what could emerge next coursing through every fiber of my consciousness.

Another low chuckling of the same hellish nature began to ring out in unison with the claymore-wielding convict, though from where the voice was coming from remained unknown. A light gust of wind began to swirl over the area above me, whirling into a miniature tornado as it wrapped around an unseen form. Within mere seconds, the tornado exploded forward to reveal the feline with the short-sword, standing above me as he continued his devilish chuckle. I barely managed to keep a hold on my weapon with fear and fatigue replacing my blood and oxygen. The chuckling suddenly stopped with the arrival of a scowl on the face of my oppressor. Without another second of warning, his free paw instantly snapped to my throat, clenching it with enough force to crack my vertebrae as he lifted me from underneath him, sapping away whatever oxygen and energy my body still had.

“Come on, whelp. Strike me down, like you did with the rest of my pack.” Spoke my assailant as his hold on my throat began to tighten, cutting my air levels mortally short. My eyes had already begun their slow roll into the back of my skull. “Go on! Take that blade of yours and slit my throat!” the feline began to bellow as his twisted voice echoed into the blood-lit night of the Harvest Moon. “Aren’t you going to spear me with that staff of yours? Just. Like. THIS?!”

A scream of agony replaced the fury-ridden exclamations of the man clutching my body as he dug his cold-surfaced blade into my body, ripping past my armor as it burst through the opposite end of my body, fresh crimson liquid dripping from the tip of the blade as my screams grew louder, draining more oxygen from my body as my fluids began to drip onto the forest floor.

“Come on, Blackwing!” the feline said as he twisted the blade in my body, tearing away at my muscle and internal flesh. “I’m waiting for you to finish me off! Finish me off! Kill me already!”

And with that final exclamation, his hand fell limp, only to rise to his neck as it clutched his Jugular, desperately trying to stop the blood from flooding out of his neck in absolute futility. His grip around my neck loosened almost immediately, dropping me back to the ground as I began to ferociously cough up saliva mixed with blood, draining the (amazingly) still-remaining energy in my system. The bleeding feline that I had fatally wounded stumbled backwards before falling to the ground, convulsing with blood loss before his the light in his eyes faded, leaving a still bleeding corpse in my wake.

My body trembled with my weakness. My vision began to blur and randomly blacken. Staggering to my feet, I took hold of the short-sword embedded in my abdomen, screaming as loud as my vocal cords would allow before tearing the sword from my ruined armor, granting me relief from the cold steel still dripping with blood. Looking up, I saw the final warrior, a smug smirk across his face as his grip tightened around his Claymore. I couldn’t fight this guy head on. I was far too weak, and any attempt would end with my ultimate execution.

Standing as adamant as my broken body would allow me, I held my left paw up in defense, taking in a breath of calm before staring at my opponent with pure anger, ready to finish this fight. With a cocky chuckle, the Claymore of my opponent hit the ground as the he began to go into a sprint, dragging his colossal blade behind him as the metal screeched against the dirt and wood. Three feet away, the feline’s blade rose above his head, arcing in a red-flushed light as it shone against the moon, acting as the executioner’s ax in this far cry from a long night of solace. The feline took one final step, swinging his blade down to my body, wanting to cleave my being clean in two. As the blade came down, my body flashed in a haze of crimson liquid as my right paw threw itself forward, clenching the throat of my attacker as my claws dug into his flesh, drenching my paw with blood as it spewed from the wounds I had created.

With the twitching of my newest victim’s leg coming to an abrupt end, my claws cleaved the esophagus of the deceased feline, slashing his flesh as his body fell to the ground, covered in the blood of his allies and even my own. With the absolute power of my enraged outburst fading, my vision began to blacken once more as I stumbled backwards, slumping at the trunk of a nearby tree. Fatigue was beginning to drown me, as keeping my eyelids from coming to a close became an increasingly difficult challenge.

My body decided to disregard my mental orders, as my eyes fell to a close as the paradise of unconsciousness washed over my weakened being.

I swear I heard "Fatality" echo through the airwaves as darkness washed over my body.

“Hey! Sleeping’ Beauty! Wakey wakey eggs n’ bakey!”

An unknown voice began to ring in my ears with a tone that, while entertaining, was incredibly annoying. I instinctively swatted at wherever the noise was coming from to try and force it to stop.

“Nice hustle there kitty kat. Maybe if you’d have moved faster, then your ass wouldn’t have been toasted!”

“Oh, shut it.” I replied rather begrudgingly.” The guy was invisible. Cut me some slack, why dont’cha?”

“Umm, hello? You’re a cat. Super hearing’ and all that jazz? ‘Sides, you swing me around like some sort of over-hyped piñata stick. You really need to work on your skill with a spear Mr. Cuddlesworth.”

“Says you!” I spoke a little louder, trying to pry my eyes open from the state they had fallen in under my fatigue. “Who are you to talk? And what do you mean by ‘you swing me around’?”

“Welp, for starters, I’m that giant glowy thingy. You know? Your spear? Yeah that thing. Second off, watching you fight is like watching a little girl shake a spider off a stick.”

Not wanting to put up with this pathetically annoying bolstering from the source of this voice, my eyes shot open with rage, only to shoot open even wider with shock at what... floated, before me.

“Hey! Look who finally decided to show up! Welcome back to the land of the living, Snow White.”

About two feet in front of me, and another foot up, a bright purple falcon flapped its seven foot (seven feet each) wings, their undersides flushed from all color, stained a pristine white. His chest was a deep violet, one that would see at the closing of twilight, while a lavender-shaded, diamond-shaped crest was imprinted on his chest.

“Hey, tons-of-fun, daylight’s burning.” the falcon replied with the same annoying tone in his voice. “I didn’t patch up that hole in your stomach for nothing, you know.”

“Wha, what are you?!” I replied incredulously. What? There’s a purple falcon, that is glowing, by the way, floating above your head, berating you for failing in an over-challenged fight. What’s your response going to be?

“Welp, my name’s sort of long, kinda forgot it a couple eons back. But from what I can remember, it goes a little something like this: The Remnant of Dusk, Monument to the Great Beyond and House of the Black Flight. Just call me Remnant though.” He replied with a smug smirk across his face. This guy was cocky, crude, and above all, a smart-ass. The universe decided to throw at me for another bout of shits-n-giggles.

“Alright, I’ve got a lot of questions, and I know that I don’t have time for all of them to be answered, so I’ll start with the simplest question: what are you?”

The falcon stopped for a moment. “The closest thing that can come to your comprehension? A weapon. The truth’s a bit more complicated, and by that I mean hugely complicated.”

“Please” I replied with my own smug grin. “I’ve seen things that would twist your mind in three-thousand different directions. Hit me with your best shot.”

“Alright then.” He replied, a look of ‘okay, okay. I got this.' On his face. “I was forged from the blood of the great Azure Before Night, the entity that was responsible for creating the very ground on which you stand. My creators took its life’s blood, the blood of the stars and imbued it with steel, giving it the properties of the Great Ether and The Beyond. Hence my name.” His cocky grin returning.

“Is that why I can’t properly swing you?” I replied with my own smart remark.

“Please, enchanted metal’s the lightest of materials used in forging weaponry. You couldn’t swing a stick without somehow slapping yourself in the face.”

This guy was really starting to annoy me. I had plenty of muscle! This guy was... okay, so I wasn’t the most muscular person in my sophomore class...

“Continue.” I grumpily replied while crossing my arms, again annoyed by the falcon above me.

“Hold on. Lemme think about this for a sec. My memory’s not what it used to be.” He replied, furrowing his brows. “If I remember correctly, I’ve seen King Chronous writhing in the pits of Tartarus. I’ve seen the evils of the people of R’Lyeh. I’ve been at the peak of the world, and no that’s not a mountain. The actual peak of the world overseeing the three deities: Shiva, Vishnu, and Brahma. Oh, and let’s not forget the Battle of the Downs. That was gruesome by all accounts.” He began rambling on, bringing up point after point of information that, while seemed completely incoherent to my original question, intrigued me beyond anything else that I had read. Fiction writers had nothing on this guy, whoever and whatever he was.

“Though I think by far the worst thing that I’ve ever come across was-” he stopped, blinking three times as flashes of light reflected in his pupils. “The worst thing.....humm.....what was it again? I....can’t...I can’t seem to remember.” He grew thoughtfully silent, grey eyes clouding over.

“Um... Remnant?” I spoke up, trying to continue this recollection of the amazing and quite startling history as it ran year after year in the speaker’s mind.

For a while he didn’t speak. But when he did, it was somber, dark and foreboding.

“Ravencroft. That’s...all I can remember...Ravencroft.”

There was something about the name that he mentioned. It reeked of death and ominous memories, plagues, and the screams of agony of a plethora of tortured souls.

He snapped up from his reverie, “Well, how’s that then hotshot? Anything worse than that?”

I chuckled at his assumption. He had no idea about what had happened back in the world of my origin. “Ever heard of the Trinity?” I smugly replied, knowing that he had no idea about the horrors of world-destroying weaponry.

“Mmm, no. What’s that? Some sort of spell or something?”

“No. The Trinity is something much, much more dangerous than any spell or conjuration that can and ever will exist. The Trinity was nothing less than an event that very well could’ve caused the Apocalypse. I’m lucky that the result of the groups involved didn’t inadvertently cause it.”

Remnant frowned. “Something worse than a spell? I doubt it. You ever had someone cast the Boglung spell on you? I mean seriously, I felt like one of those Hookah chain-smokers for a month. That was nasty.” He shuddered

“Try lying on a steel slab, slowly coming to an end as your body destroys itself from the inside out, turning your organs into an intangible liquid while your brain is fried to the point where your speech becomes incoherent babbling.” I spoke, obviously angered as I rose to my feet. The threshold of disaster that the Atomic Bomb held angered me and sickened me to my core. It made me hate the fact that I was still part human.

As I rose however, something stopped me. For a moment, I saw this look of forlorn sadness on his face. “Why would anyone do that?” He asked, awestruck by the twisted nature of the effects of radiation.

“It wasn’t even something that the designers of the weapon wanted. It was just another aspect in battle to be expected. Collateral damage.” I spoke with a somber tone, as I too was upset by the fact that so many people, and countless others, had to die by the effects of such a destructive and unforgiving side-effect.

“I have become death, the destroyer of worlds.” He spoke quietly, almost too softly for me to hear. But I heard it nonetheless. The shuddering quote of the scientist that had succeeded in creating the most feared object known to man.

“Wait a minute, how do you know that?” I asked, knowing that Remnant had no clear indications that he was in any way related to Humanity.

He paused for a moment. “What?” He asked innocently, almost defensively. “Just something that popped into my head when you mentioned that.”

I looked at him with a puzzled face, raising an eyebrow in question before calming myself to continue this conversation. “Alright, with all this backstory, you still haven’t answered my question. Just what are you?”

He rolled his eyes. “In short, a weapon. In long, a-” he cut himself off, eyes growing wide before furrowing again. “In long, I’m a...a ...okay that is odd.....I...don’t really know.” He offered, going from befuddled to downright confused.

“So you mean to tell me, that you” I replied, pointing one of my free digits at the glimmering avian. “Are this?” I replied, picking my spear back up from the floor. It was completely clean from the blood that had run down its edges the night before.

“From what I can recall...yeah.” He replied nonchalantly. “Odd, why am I bird anyway? Last I can remember I was a horse. Before that I was a dragon. Now that was fun, going down and scaring the villagers witless. You should try it sometime.” He continued, rambling on again about a history that made absolutely no sense.

“Alright, next question. How did you, this apparently super powerful being, get trapped in my weapon?”

He rolled his eyes. “Like I told you already, I was forged with the blood of the Great Azure, magically imbued in a weapon and then I-” He stopped again, this time anger on his face. “Dammit this is getting annoying. I can’t remember. Something about a doorway opening into the Absolute Beyond. Other than that, I don’t have the foggiest.” He replied, obviously agitated with how difficult remembering something that was younger than anything else that he had spoken of.

“Are... are there more of you?” I asked, curious about whether or not there was an entire species of these hyper-powerful magical entities that were eons older than quite possibly the universe itself.

“Yup, actually ran into a couple of friends a thousand or so years back in the Campaign of Higher Seraphim. That was brutal. I think his name was.....End of All Things that Oppose. We just called him Opposer. Oh, and there was She Who Walks the Line of the Dream. Her name was Walker. And last but not least, He Who is the Bane of the End and Scavenger of the Forlorn. Nasty little bugger. Oh, and Scavenger was his name.”

Incredible. This... spirit, for lack of a better word, was part of super species of intangible, magically adept beings that took the form of both mythical and non-mythical animals.

“Have you always taken the shape of this spear?” I asked, holding the black-bladed weapon up so the falcon could see.

“Not only that. I’ve been a Sword, Crossbow, Tonfa, Banner, Halberd, hell, I’ve even been a Cannon.” He replied with pride in his tone. Did he have mastery over these weapons, considering that he had taken their forms? A question for another time.

“How long have you been this spear?” I inquired, going back to the day I stepped into this hellhole. He was covered with a gigantic drape, obviously not been touched for many a year.

“Near as I can tell, a good dozen decades. Took the form after the battle of Hellpeak Dawn and kinda went with it, last thing I remember before going through the ‘Dormant Cycle’ I was in an armory belonging to king Mythal. Well that is to say, I WAS asleep till your candy-ass showed up.”

“Well, you’re the one that called me to you!” I exclaimed, annoyed at the fact that he wasn’t satisfied with an off-worlder that at least was competent in the world of combat.

“And was it my fault that I got stuck with a newbie?! I woke up a decade ago! What can you expect? I was bored out of my MIND.” He replied, exasperated with the amount of boredom that being dormant for who-knows-how-many decades brings with the peaceful realm of sleep.

“So, you weapons choose your masters?”

“Yup, pretty much. Unless the host is powerful enough to submit us to his will or whim.” He replied, again, nonchalant. There obviously weren’t that many people that were able to take control of a being that had seen the creation of existence, and would probably live to see its end.

“So, what happens when your master is... slain?” I asked, the memories of last night’s battle and my second experience with Death flooding back into my mind just like the stab wound that the pathetic short-sword had given me.

He made a sound like someone sucking through their teeth. “You might wanna pay attention here cupcakes. Well, when our master dies....since most of them make a pact with us, we’re faithful to them as they are faithful to us...when they die...we absorb their souls as life energy. So...yeah. Try not to do that anytime soon. You’d probably taste like anchovies and fish anyway.”

I was both offended and disgusted by his response, my face contorting in a look of pure shock with the revelation that these guys devoured the souls of their wielders!

“Isn’t there any way to avoid that?!” I exclaimed, shocked at yet another sobering matter in this stadium.

“Well, two ways really. One, you kill me and take all the life energy and power that I have. And lemme warn you, I am not going down without a fight. Two, sacrifice a decade of your life to perform the unbinding ritual.”

“Can’t you, I don’t know, just say NO?!”

“No can do cupcakes. Once the binding’s done, it’s done. Nothing short of divine intervention can help you there.” He said, almost as if it he was stuck in traffic. “Eh, what can you do?” His body language spoke as he used his wings to perform some kind of shrug.

This guy, and the rest of his species, was fucking insane! If I’m ever going to get the chance to experience TRUE Paradise, I’m going to have to beat this guy into Oblivion. I’m not losing my afterlife, no way!

“Oh hey! I almost forgot to tell you ‘bout the benefits!” He perked up.

“What benefits? You have a field day with my soul and I lose my personality. Where’s the fun in that?” I begrudgingly replied, agitated by the hand that the fickle fist of Fate had given me.

“I was talking about YOUR benefits, not MINE. Anyway, you might wanna pay attention and memorize what I’m about to tell you. First off, everything I’ve ever seen, done, and experienced, is passed onto you, the beholder. That means you get my combat experience. Hopefully with that you won’t suck so much. Although, I will have to teach it to you, as only my knowledge of the events will be present. Secondly, you won’t get fried whenever you see the true form of a god. You also get to pass through the wormholes and laylines unscathed, which few can do. Hint hint, they have massive amounts of magic and experience.” He whispered conspiratorially. Oh, and the fact that you get lovable old me as a companion for the rest of your days. How much better can it get? Oh, and one last thing, you can also eat souls to prolong your life, stealing their years and all that. Works great when you’re hurt too. Just patch yourself up by grabbing someone’s energies!” He chirped merrily.

He was actually enjoying the benefits that I was getting, or what HE called benefits. I had to devour people’s souls just to stay alive! I’m not a sick bastard like that! That freaking twisted!

Seeing the utter contempt on my face, he frowned. “Hey, don’t look at me like that! It’s either you or them in the end anyway. Better it be you huh?” He flew up right into my face and took a long whiff.

“Besides, you only have, what, eighty years on you? And that’s if you’re lucky. You already reek with the blood of the guys you killed. So Death might mistake you for them and take YOU instead.”

While I hated the concept of the fate that I could bring my victims with a mere angry glare, it made sense for my case. If the souls of these criminals were bound for Tartarus, then maybe I could provide mercy by absorbing their life force and healing my own.

With a belly full of anger and spite, I got up and stretched, trying my best to figure out the situation. My bones popped one after the other in satisfying unison as I let out a sigh of relief. That never did get old.

“Alright then. Now that we have that out of the way, whaddya think we should do?” Asked Remnant, preening his feathers of all things.

“Really?” I asked, he just shrugged and continued to pick at the white underside of his wing. He was an all-powerful supernatural being, yet he still had to pick at the loose areas in his feathers. How does that make sense?

“Well, I think we should probably seek some shelter and food.” I mused, my stomach sounding its agreement while my cheeks were flushed with a light-pink tint. Looking through the lush foliage, I saw the golden fingers of the sun stretch through the canopy, basking everything in its golden rays.

“Like I said, burning daylights there kiddo. Might just wanna find some shelter up in the trees for tonight.” Said Remnants, gesturing with his head to a nearby Pine Tree. With a sour look, clenching the spear in my teeth and racing up the bark, claws unsheathed and gripping the wood, which was surprisingly easy to climb now that my strength had returned.

Taking hold of a branch, I leap up onto the limb, landing paws first as the branch shook under my weight. Taking my spear from my maw, I swung the blade, severing a series of vines from another branch above me, catching them as they fell into my paw. Not wanting to have to hold that thing in my mouth again, I embedded my spear into the bark of the tree as I tied the vines around my body, creating a belt/sash combo that went over my cuirass, covering the hole that the short-sword had created.

“Hmm, snazzy.” Muttered Remnant who’d somehow managed to fly himself up to the canopy. He was now perched on a branch a few feet to my left, directly above me, his head tilted in the vicinity of quite the oddity.

“Wow, didn’t see that coming.” He muttered, his whole body turning away from me as he observed a spectacle only he could see.

“What is it?” I inquired, finishing up the knots tying the vines into place before plucking my spear from the bark of the tree and sheathing it in the vines.

“Now isn’t this interesting.” Crooned Remnant. “Hey! Cat! Get over here!” He shouted, drawing my attention away from the newly created sheath. My innate curiosity getting the better of me, grabbing the branch above me, I hauled myself up and hopped over to his branch, peering down through the leaves to see what he was talking about.

Gathered around a pile of gems, plants, and a few scattered pieces of meat, sat a pack of ten Diamond Dogs, each wearing a very peculiar set of armor. They wore steel gauntlets, each with a different paint scheme.

The one who seemed like the leader, a tall stone grey monster of a mutt who wore a steel breastplate with a grated helmet. Currently, he was ordering two of them to keep guard of the diamond pile as he and several other dogs went off to scavenge and hunt. His form was much more different from the rest of his pack, him being more akin to a Grey Wolf, while the rest of his battalion taking the forms of standard guard formation: side by side in front of the pile.

“You know, this’d be the perfect time to... procure some supplies.” Said Remnant, snickering like a comical villain.

“You mean steal?” I replied, still keeping an eye on the two guard dogs as the others raced off into the woods, the sun beginning to set, bringing the familiar first glance of night along with it.

“No, I’m asking you to bring them a housewarming present. Whaddya think genius?” He replied flatly before fading back into the amethyst that had been fit into my weapon. Rolling my eyes, I jumped from tree top to tree top, branch to branch until I was just over the campsite, overseeing two dogs guarding their stash, neither of which looking in my direction as I slid down the bark swirling around to the opposite side of the tree trunk.

Taking a quick peer over the side of the bark, I quickly doubled back out of fear that I would be discovered. Taking in a deep breath, I continued to survey the campsite, staying wary so that I wouldn’t be apprehended. The leader of the pack had his back turned to me, giving me the perfect chance to snatch an oddity or two. I began to inch closer to the horde, making sure that I stayed survailent about my surroundings.

What I didn’t see however, or rather, what I didn’t feel, were the first warning signs. A *thunk, thunk, thunk* silenced by the soft forest floor, began to ring out in the area utterly unnoticed, though I could still hear leaves rustling in the distance, though I disregarded it as just another rodent making its way across the area.. The slight bump I felt as I sneaked up to the horde to grab some meat wrapped in a bundle of vines and a canteen stitched together, created entirely out of a deer’s hide. The low rumbling in the forest continued, though I paid no heed to the occurrences.

Nor did I see the glint of metal reflected by the sunlight. Nor did I hear the heavy breathing.

*Thunk, thunk, thunk*

“Hey! Remnant. You hear that?” I asked, staying silent for fear that the Alpha out of the group might hear me. For his part he just stayed silent, deciding to be a troll and not listen to his supposed weakling of a master.. “Figures. Can’t talk when you’re stuck inside that stupid gemstone.” I murmured, once again annoyed by the inconveniences that this coliseum continually hurled at me.

*Thunk, Thunk, Thunk*

Finally having it up to my ears in the noise, I turned around, nostrils flaring in anger and initially un-surprised by the wall of metal standing before me.

Wait a minute.

I felt the pits of my stomach drop as I witnessed, there, standing before me in all his metallic clad glory, stood the Juggernaut. He stood a good eight feet tall, wielding a monstrous lance he had gotten from who-knows-where as it gleamed in the afternoon blaze of sunset. He stood with it pointing straight upwards, as if to cast it down onto my body and devour me like a shishkabob, holding it in a neutral stance with both hands clenching the grip. If one chanced upon him in a castle, they might mistake him for a piece of armor.

But it was in the forest. During a fight for survival. And he was very much alive.

Whew, that was a big one! Also, the dialogue of Remnant of Dusk has been provided by Mr. Ignorable, whose reviews are hilarious, by the way. But man, this story has come a long way in such a short time. 28 favorites and over four-hundred views in what? Two weeks? And for all that fans, I thank you. See you guys next chapter!