Beasts of Spirit - Book 1: Delcorgia

3

Ganden the Rat/The Battle at Mt. Crescence Arena

“Well well, look at that, Bould! The rat’s finally here.”

Cursing to himself under his breath, Ganden approached the pair of bandits standing against the arch. Leif was grinning at him, chuckling, whilst Bould stood straight with his arms crossed, expressionless.

“You know how this goes, Ganden. Last one up is on hunting duty,” Bould said.

“Like I need the fucking reminder,” Ganden said. “You assholes do it this time. I’m not going back down again; not today.” Ganden walked forward, stepping in between the men, but Leif shoved him back.

“Didn’t you hear the man, rat? You’ve got work to do. Go on and get busy.”

Ganden scowled at Leif and spat at him; a thick wad of saliva splashed against Leif’s cheek.

“Ohoho, you’ve done it now, boy,” Leif sniggered, wiping the spit from his face. He took a single step forward before a muscular arm appeared in front of him and barred him from moving any further.

“Don’t. Not worth it,” Bould said, his voice deep and agitated.

“Oh it’s worth it, alright. I’ve had just about enough of this fucking kid, and a good ass-kicking would probably do him some good.” Leif smiled at Ganden with two rows of crooked and yellowing teeth.

“Don’t push yourself, old-timer. You’ll dislocate a hip,” Ganden said, smirking at Leif as Bould grabbed his shoulder, restraining him again.

“Relax, man. He’ll get his. Fight’s about to start, and I don’t want to miss it because I had to deal with your squabbling,” Bould said. Leif shook his shoulder free from Bould’s grip.

“Remember your damn place, kid. Only reason you’re here is because the boss felt sorry for you. You aren’t one of us, and you never will be. Instead of pissing me off you should be kissing my ass every chance you get,” Leif said.

“You know what? You’re right. You ever need a sponge-bath or a change or someone to wipe your ass for you, I’m your guy,” Ganden said, raising his thumb at Leif. “Anything for my elders.”

Leif grimaced, and then his face relaxed as he chuckled.

“You’re right, Bould, I shouldn’t be bothering with the rat here. There’s a helluva fight about to go down, and this’ll be one to remember for sure. The kind you wouldn’t want to miss, no doubt.” Leif smiled at Ganden and walked through the arch towards the crater. Bould contemplated Ganden with one raised eyebrow, before following Leif through the arch. Ganden always thought Bould looked pretty sturdy for a man his age. Standing next to Leif though, he looked almost titanic.

Ganden clicked his tongue, scowling and hunching. He caught Rosso’s stare as he glared at him from the crater’s rim, and Rosso gave him a single, expectant nod.

“Yeah yeah, I’m fucking going,” Ganden said to himself, turning and beginning his journey back down the mountain, “As usual. Shit, really wanted to see this one too,” Ganden sighed.

“Don’t think you c’n go easy on me j’st ‘cause of what the old man did. That hit wasn’t shit. Barely felt a thing.” Vero taunted, bouncing and dancing around on his feet with his loose fists raised. Cassius stood opposite him with his hands behind his back, smirking at him.

“Even if I was planning to be lenient with you, I still wouldn’t like your chances.”

Vero took a deep breath and watched his opponent closely. He knew Cassius would not make the first move; he would have to find any sort of opening so that he could safely and effectively launch the first strike. Vero frowned as he examined Cassius’ stance. He was leaving himself wide open, but Vero had fallen prey to Cassius’ deceptive tactics before; he wouldn’t be made a fool to Cassius’ trickery this time. As the two stood opposite one another, the crowd watched on intently, exchanging excited murmurs.

Vero blitzed towards Cassius at breakneck speed, looking to force his opponent into a defensive position. His target withdrew his right arm from behind his back and raised it in front of his head and torso, guarding himself along the trajectory of the boy’s attack. Vero suddenly stopped in front of Cassius and dropped into a deep squat, before ducking behind his foe and into the blind spot on his right side. He planted one hand against the ground and launched his body upwards, aiming a quick and ferocious kick towards the side of Cassius’ head.

“Hey now, that wasn’t bad!” Cassius used his left arm to reach around his back and grabbed Vero’s ankle in mid thrust.

With his hand still on the ground, Vero shoved himself upwards and spun his body, propelling his other foot with enough force to deliver a brutal blow to the back of Cassius’ head. Cassius released his grip on Vero’s right foot in order to defend from the attack with the back of his arm. The heel of Vero's left foot collided against his opponent’s right arm, sending him stumbling back and allowing the boy to recover and distance himself. Cassius winced and rubbed his forearm.

The crowd hooted and cheered; Rosso continued watching on silently.

“Very good, very good! You’ve definitely improved Vero. This is much more impressive than last time!” Cassius said.

“What’d I say about going easy?” Vero shouted at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You had another hand you could’ve used to block that attack, and I would’ve been left hangin’ there with my ass in the wind. Are you startin’ to get senile, or are you under estimatin’ me again, you son of a bitch?”

Cassius laughed. “I’m surprised you had the presence of mind to notice! Very well, Vero, I assure you - it won’t happen again.” Cassius assumed a proper battle stance - one that Vero had never seen before. The crowd of bandits were now off their seats, howling with excitement. Rosso leaned forwards, he was once again sensing something different about his son, but it was more tangible now; a lurking presence hidden within Vero’s spirit that filled Rosso with apprehension, and a slight sense of recognition.

Vero lunged at Cassius once again. This time, Cassius did not offer the opportunity to launch a counterattack, catching Vero in mid-air with a swift uppercut that sent Vero tumbling backwards. Catching himself, Vero launched another assault before Cassius could prepare himself; he would not leave Cassius any time to begin an offence, forcing him to defend himself until Vero could find an opening. But as attack after attack continued to fail and Vero’s frustration grew, he knew that he would have to find another strategy if he wanted to land a blow on Cassius.

“Very - nnf - good Vero! It appears - hnn - you’ve gotten quicker,” Cassius said as he repelled endless blows.

Cassius could feel Vero’s attacks becoming faster and more powerful. The blows to his arms and legs would soon be doing real damage; he knew he would have to avoid the attacks altogether whilst searching for an opening to strike back. However, Vero had noticed that Cassius was no longer blocking his attacks and utilized the wide reach of his legs to negate the possibility of evasion. Vero delivered a flurry of kicks, intentionally aiming them towards Cassius’ midsection so they would be too high to jump over and too low to duck beneath. The punishment from these attacks was beginning to take its toll on Cassius, and in a single moment of hesitation, unsure of whether to block or dodge, a blow finally connected across the side of his face. The crowd roared, some chanting Vero’s name, whilst others jeered at Cassius mockingly.

‘Still not enough to knock’m down, tough bastard’, Vero thought to himself.

Cassius, still caught off guard and in shock from the blow, was taken upon by a feeling of unease when he noticed that Vero was foaming at the mouth and snarling; the look of focus and concentration he wore at the beginning of their bout had now become rabid and primal. As Vero began to charge at him again, Cassius dropped his shoulder and pivoted on his right foot, meeting Vero’s stampeding advance with an elbow into the stomach. Vero recoiled and staggered back a few steps, clutching at his gut.

“Are you alright?” Cassius asked, stepping in Vero’s direction.

Vero looked back at him, his face the picture of rage and bloodlust. His breathing turned ragged and frantic. A series of loud cracks rang out, overpowering and silencing the audience’s confused mutterings. His jaw began to shift and morph to peculiar and abnormal contortions, and an inky cloud spread from his pupils to his irises and the whites of the eyes until they were coated entirely in black.

“Cassius! Stop the fight! Now!” Rosso roared from above the crater.

Cassius turned to look up at Rosso. With near unfathomable speed and power, Vero raced towards Cassius on all fours, swiping at him with elongated and sharpened bones that were jutting out from his fingertips. Cassius guarded with his right arm and jumped back; shredded fabric from his jacket fell to the ground in tatters. Giving Cassius no heed, Vero continued his assault with a rapid and frenzied barrage of attacks, shredding at Cassius’ forearms as he struggled to distance himself. The boy was growling and snarling as foaming saliva dripped from large white fangs with blackened roots. Even though he was no longer held back, Cassius was unable to land a strike on the beast, forced to relegate his entire combat ability to defense. He knew that if things kept going as they were, it wouldn’t be long until his arms broke, or were mangled down to the bone. The thin air at the mountain’s peak and the lingering exhaustion from the earlier climb left Cassius with little stamina in reserve. His reactions were slowing and his legs were tiring, whilst Vero’s assault only grew perpetually in strength and speed. The crowd watched on, standing with their mouths hanging open and their eyes wide.

As the endless barrage of blows continued, the stress on Cassius’ arms finally became too much to bear. As the boy's hand rushed towards Cassius’ throat, he found he could not will his arm to lift itself. Vero’s hand wrapped around Cassius’ throat, squeezing tightly as he lifted his body from the ground. His newly grown claws were digging into Cassius’ throat, and in a few seconds, Cassius knew that Vero would rip it out; he could feel his claws tickling towards his jugular vein. He kicked at the boy, writhing and twisting his body with what little strength he had left, to no avail. The boy didn’t even react to the kicks, that - even in Cassius’ weakened state - still would’ve had enough strength to send the regular Vero sprawling to the ground.

There’s no choice, Alexander. I have to do it now.

Cassius reached his hand in his pocket and felt for the pebble-shaped object he kept with him.

Suddenly, the long claws that had dug themselves into his throat were forced outwards and Cassius fell to the ground on his back, coughing and clutching at his throat.

Rosso had grabbed Vero by the calf with one hand, ripping him from Cassius before he could dig his claws beneath the veins and arteries in his throat and hoisting him upwards. Cassius watched Vero writhing as he hung in mid-air, swiping at his father’s hands and wrists. Rosso pulled his arm behind his shoulder, as though preparing to throw a javelin, and slammed his son into the ground. The crash boomed down the mountainside, and a large cloud of dust rose from the hole made in the centre of the arena. Rosso, still gripping the beast around the ankle, hoisted him upwards again. The beast was dazed, reaching blindly for his attacker and mauling at the air.

Boom.

The crowd of bandits watched wordlessly as Vero was slammed into the ground by his father with enough force to pulverize any normal human being.

Boom.

Cracks rippled through the earth in the arena, dislodging some of the stone seats underneath the onlookers.

Boom.

Cassius removed his hand from his pocket and watched on, ignoring the pain in his throat.

Boom.

South from the foot of Mt. Crescence, a certain youth awoke from his nap.

Boom.

Finally, after being pummeled enough to turn anyone else into an unrecognizable mush of blood and viscera, Vero was rendered unconscious, and his face and body returned to normal. He dangled from his father’s hand, covered in mud and dirt. Rosso looked closer: to his amazement, and his dread, there was not so much as a cut or bruise on him. Not a single wound. Even the scars he had accrued in his boyhood were gone. He heard some of his men murmuring in the crowd.

He dropped Vero to the ground with a light thump, accompanied by a small cloud of dust.

“We’re going back,” Rosso said without expression.

The men remained silent and motionless. Rosso turned to face them, and the look in his eyes was all it took for them to regain their senses.

“We’re going back now. Get ready,” Rosso said. The men stood and shuffled their way out of the arena.

Rosso looked back towards Cassius.

“What do we do now?” Cassius said. Rosso looked down at the sleeping Vero, and said nothing. He picked up his son, slung him over his shoulder and walked away. Cassius stood, his legs shaking and his arms limp and aching. He began to follow, when he caught sight of a tiny blue rock on the ground where he had fallen. He rushed over to pick it up and shoved it in his pocket. His head darted back towards Rosso, expecting to see him watching with confusion and anger, but he was already gone. Cassius took a deep breath.

“Won’t be long, now. You better get them ready,” he said softly to the pebble. The pebble glowed dully for a moment, as if acknowledging his words. He shoved the pebble back in his pocket and limped out of the arena.

Ganden stepped into the middle of the camp and dumped the deer from his shoulder. He brought one hand to his face, wiping the sweat from his brow, and the other to his hip; he nodded to himself, looking down at the two felled animals he had hauled back. He turned and reached for the knife in his scabbard, groaning when he saw the trickled trails of animal’s blood coating his right sleeve. The sound of rustling bushes and faint murmuring came from ahead of him and he crouched down warily.

Better not be Blue Moon boys. Please don’t be Blue Moon boys.

The Blue Moons were a rival bandit group that Ganden had encountered on a few of his other hunts. They took pleasure in giving him a beating or a good scare whenever he came across them, but otherwise they stayed away from the Red Sons, and the Red Sons stayed away from them. When he brought it up with Rosso, he said “Retaliation would only lead to unnecessary bloodshed,” a benign, roundabout way of telling him he wasn’t worth avenging.

Ganden grew tense when he saw a colossal figure approaching the camp, and relaxed when he noticed the red tattoo over the giant man’s right eye. From behind him, the Red Sons began filtering into the camp.

“Back early? Great, then maybe one of you wouldn’t mind giving me a hand.”

The bandits trudged past him and straight to their tents. Even Leif passed him by without a word, his face sullen and downcast.

“Guys? What’s going on?”

Ganden turned to Rosso and saw Vero slung over his shoulder, unconscious. His concern was distinguished almost immediately when he heard the boy snoring loudly, and he couldn’t see any injuries or wounds on his body.

“Did something happen?” Ganden asked. Rosso stepped past him, not even looking in his direction. Ganden frowned.

“Hey old man, I’m talking to you!” Ganden said, stepping into Rosso’s path. “What the hell is going on?”

Some of the bandits turned their heads, their faces still devoid of emotion. Rosso looked down at him blankly. After a moment of unsettling silence, he dropped Vero to the ground.

“Pick him up and come with me.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you what you want to know, as long as you never ask me about it again,” Rosso said. Leif turned his head towards Ganden and the corner of his lip twitched in a scowl. Ganden clicked his tongue and hoisted Vero over his shoulder, grunting as the pain in his muscles flared. He followed Rosso into his tent and hurled the boy on his shoulder carelessly to the ground; Vero’s limp body crashed to the grassy surface beneath the tent, but his well-being was assured with a grating, nasally inhale. Rosso didn’t seem to notice or care.

“I can’t tell you much,” Rosso said.

“Huh? Why?”

“Just listen. I’m only ever going to tell you this once.”

Ganden rolled his eyes and shook his head; he straightened and cleared his throat, realising Rosso was looking back at him.

“How much do you know about essence?”

“I’ll fuggin’... kig yer ass…” Vero moaned, followed by another resonant snore.

Two ripples of essence had washed all across Delcorgia in a single day, alerting a select few familiar to the sensation. Their attention turned to the remote forests and valleys beyond the mountain.