Euphoria - Trek to Tarkana

1.

This world, millions of years old and unfathomable in its historical depths, has secrets buried so deep they will never be unearthed. The same could be said about its future. What will become of the stone and grass when contemporary society fades from memory is a mystery to the brightest among us. Hundreds of thousands of years will pass in a blink of an eye as the cosmos divine a brand new platform for life to thrive upon, and those who once walked the earth will marvel from the heavens at the unimaginable made ordinary. In that space, where what was and what could seemingly never be meet, is where you’ll find Euphoria.

2.

The sea along Euphoria’s southern shores was typically calmer in the evenings, but tonight, as the warm current shifted the tides, a smoldering, balmy air stirred up mischief on the waters. Ships docked at the newly renovated Port Troy rocked gingerly as the waves pushed and pulled with increasing fervor. Breezes that had whispered of spring’s approach only hours before now barked in a much more aggravated tone.

The chaotic winds sent wood, nails, and crustaceans whizzing through the air, crashing against the fort’s impenetrable stone walls, and pelting any fool caught at the mercy of the impending storm. Deckhands, yet untested by the ocean’s callous, unforgiving might, would soon be grateful they had not yet set sail. The groaning of the wood below deck was audible as the gales leaned on the main mast with the full weight of their gusts. The only objects unbothered by the squall were the hundreds of freshly minted iron cannons lining the fort’s battlements.

Had anyone taken their attention away from storm preparations and focused on the mouth of the bay, they would have noticed a small felucca drifting into the port, indifferent to the raucous surroundings. It docked safely, and once their transportation was secured, two hooded figures calmly strolled across the pier and quickly vanished into the alleyways of the town.

Inside the fort, a circus of activity was underway. Anxiety and angst ran rampant among the enlisted men as they dealt with a worst-case scenario. The entire company was committed to seeing a top-secret clearance-level payload out of the fort. Just yesterday, the commanding officers had warned against any kind of disruption to the proposed schedule.

Cadets cobbled together canopies for wagons—some pristine and brimming with experienced pride, others shoddily thrown together by newer recruits more used to chatting up local beauties in taverns than engaging in manual labor. Sergeants cautiously delegated responsibilities, sweat gracing their brows, the weight of their decisions in this pressure-filled moment at the forefront of their minds.

Tucked cozily in his nook of power atop the gaudy fortress was the supreme overlord of the new fort, Contra Constance. He sat comfortably in a plush chair, upholstered with expensive indigo cotton, his feet propped up on a mahogany desk, a lit cigar in hand as the sweet sounds of jazz wafted loftily in the air. The eclectic riffs of Sonny Albatross were beginning to crescendo when two grunts burst through the oak doors of Contra’s office, out of breath and deeply concerned.

“Sir! Excuse us for the interruption, but the men are asking for you immediately.”

“You can’t possibly expect me to leave before the end of this song,” Contra said lazily, ignoring the worried look on his men’s faces. “Do you have ears, cadets?”

“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t think I understand.”

“Does your moronic face come with two accessories used for hearing?”

“Umm, I believe so, sir.”

“Well then, surely you can appreciate these beautiful melodies. Surely, even you can understand one’s need to see the culmination of such an eloquent sonic tapestry.”

“Yes, sir, but…”

“If you somehow suspended your perpetual ineptitude and crafted something so profound, so visceral that it connects to the very thread of existence in which we live, would you feel it’s okay to leave in the middle of its presentation?”

“I guess not, sir, but the payload from Artemis…”

“What about the payload from Artemis, cadet? What could possibly be happening? It only just arrived.”

“Well, sir, the storm. It’s looking like a nasty one. A widowmaker, they’re calling it. There’s doubt among the men that the escort you hired will be able to leave with it this evening.”

“Yes, sir,” the other officer seconded. “The men are trying to construct means to move it in the rain, but we’re afraid this is a force of nature we can’t contend with.”

“Ha!” Contra’s abrasive laugh rang out through the room, echoing his indignation. “You idiots. Do you know who I have guarding this shipment? Of course you don’t because it’s not your business to know. But let me assure you—and all the rank and file under my command—that even if the gods themselves descended from the heavens to disrupt this mission, our escorts would make short work of them. You have my word on that.”

“So, in regard to the scheduled deployment…”

“As planned, cadets. Everything will continue as planned. Now, if I have satisfied your need to have the world explained to you as a child, please dismiss yourselves.”

“Yes, sir.”

The two men shamefully marched from the room, closing the door behind them. Contra, full of authoritarian gusto, gracefully rose from his leather throne to close the window behind him. As the decadent shutters clasped shut, a chuckle broke the hanging silence in the room. Skillfully drawing his sword and turning to face the intruder in one motion, Contra immediately relaxed once he saw their face.

“You know you shouldn’t talk to your subordinates like that. You might sow seeds of insurrection! That wouldn’t be good. I mean, I’m no general, but two months on the job doesn’t sound like long enough to justify keeping you on after a full-on coup.”

“Nexus! For the love of everything decent, why are you sneaking into my office?”

A tall, bronze-skinned man in a black leather cloak stood by the side of his desk. With white padded gloves ten sizes too big, the man casually slinked around the room as he continued to pester his counterpart with jabs. Long red hair bounced gleefully across the many metal buckles along the chest of his cloak.

“I mean, what an amazing office! How many battles does a guy have to win before he gets an office this nice? I’ve been the top Shaman for going on one hundred thousand years, and I gotta say, my digs have never been this swanky. You must have hundreds of victories under your belt. Thousands of bodies…”

“Yes, well, we all can’t be one of the most powerful entities in the cosmos.”

“One of? That hurts, Contra. Are you trying to wound me?”

Nexus plopped down in the chair, placed his feet up on the desk exactly where Contra’s had been minutes earlier, and lit up the neglected cigar with a small flame directly from his mouth.

“Hey, is this tiger shark leather? Whew. You are doing extremely well for yourself. How much are you paying me again? I think I’ve underbid my services.”

“The distinction of commanding Fort Troy is essential to the security of this region. Taking on this responsibility comes with fringe benefits.” Contra’s irritation was clearly boiling under his skin. “Now, why are you here? I was under the impression we would be meeting in the northeast bastion.”

“Not quite a fringe benefit if they’re overflowing, eh? Oh, come on, Contra. Would you really have me wait for you in some dreary old bastion in a storm like this? Is that how you were raised?” Nexus drawled as he blew smoke rings that began to interlock and spin at high speeds. “My man is taking care of all the logistics down below, so I felt it was my solemn duty to come and keep you company until he was done.”

“I see. Well, I must say I am thrilled to have such an esteemed guest grace our halls. Please, help yourself to refreshments; our galley is open to you and your colleague.” Contra opened the door to his office and motioned for Nexus to walk through it. “If you would.”

“Well, I know when I’ve worn out my welcome. See you around, slick.” With one hand, Nexus cartwheeled over the desk from his sitting position and defiantly strolled through the ornate doorway, stopping only to turn around with a deadpan expression.

“Oh, Con-man, if you ever raise your sword to me again, I will bathe you in the hellfire of the netherworld. Ok? Stay safe; there’s a storm outside.”

3.

On the first floor of the fort, a grizzly mountain of a man in battle-worn black armor sat on a protruding stone block, spinning what could only be described as a hilted black pillar. The material of the pillar seemed to encapsulate time and space itself, its milky darkness so deep it felt like one could fall into it and never stop falling.

His unkempt shoulder-length hair matched the chaotic aura emanating from his weapon. Scars ravaged every inch of his body that wasn’t covered in armor, and the soldiers avoided him like the plague.

“If you morons move any slower, the earth will shift this fort into the goddamn sea!” he barked at them from his post. The revulsion in his tone rained down on them like arrow volleys. “With purpose now!”

The frightened men couldn’t help but pick up their pace, scurrying to finish the preparations for the payload transport, occasionally daring to glance at the legendary figure barking curses and orders at them from his perch. This was a man they’d heard stories about since they were children. They told those same stories to their own brood. His name was etched into the heart of every citizen in Euphoria—the titan, the undefeated gladiator, Flamma.

Just as the men were finishing up their work, the stone wall behind the gladiator began to distort as reality gave way to Nexus’ otherworldly powers. He stepped through with the swagger of a man who knew exactly where he was going.

“Hey, buddy. How’s it shmanging? Working hard or hardly working?”

“Where have you been? This is boring to the point of indignity.”

“Oh, come on. Look at these guys; they adore you! It’s like their childhood living and breathing. You know, I’ve never told you this, but I wear these gloves because I was a huge fan of Mickey Mouse growing up.”

“What the hell is a Mickey Mouse?”

“Never mind, before your time. Looks like they’re wrapping up. What do you say we get the hell out of here?”

“Try and stop me.”

The two jumped down from the overlooking block, and as the dust settled, they saddled their respective horses and began to marshal the caravan towards the front gates. The newly christened Port Troy regiment eagerly began to unfurl the latticework of portcullis, locks, and wooden beams that fortified the gates. As the doors creaked open, the tempest raging outside announced with an arrogant bellow that it had matured into a threat to all living things that dared to brave it. Nexus, forever the orator, paused to lend some comforting words to his charges before they embarked on their journey.

“Alright, men, don’t you worry one hair on your poor enlisted heads. You are definitely going to make it to our destination alive and unharmed. No promises on the return trip because neither I nor my surly friend here will be there. Now, stay close, but not too close. Obviously, hygiene isn’t a priority at this outpost. It’s going to be a long road, and I like to believe I am a wonderful conversationalist, so if you have anything witty or funny to say, please trot on up to the front and give me a laugh, huh? Alright, let’s head out.”

Just as he finished, a sharp piece of timber shot through the gap in the gate and buried itself into the skull of one of the soldiers, killing him instantly.

“Holy shit, that was bad timing! Hahaha, okay, well, everybody will make it besides him. Dickhead should’ve been wearing a helmet. You humans and your frontal lobes.”

Nexus then began to loosen his cloak, allowing his flowing red hair to cascade down, revealing a large pentagram burned into his chest with a large purple crystal embedded in its center. He cupped both hands on either side and muttered something none of the soldiers around him could quite make out. The crystal erupted in a violet light show, sending rays of purple in every direction; the pentagram seemed to drink in the energy from the crystal until it glowed, fully immersed, with the same ominous hue. Shortly after, almost instantly, a portal similar to the one Nexus stepped out from earlier opened up, and the small head of a pink furry creature popped out. It crawled up Nexus’ arm and started licking his cheeks.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest little thing? Say, pal, could you do me a favor and make a barrier to cover this ensemble cast? I have serious doubts about their capacity to weather a storm of this magnitude. One guy was already punctured by a piece of wood.”

The furry entity looked startled for a second, then stretched its neck three times its normal length to get a good look at the crowd behind him.

“Nimble, aren’t you?” Nexus quipped.

Once a thorough assessment had been made, the creature opened its mouth, and a low hum started to rumble out. It got incrementally louder until deafening, drowning out the monsoon just beyond the gates of the fort. A magenta matter started to ooze from its gaping jowls. That matter stretched and expanded, contorting to the edges of the caravan, the forms of each individual member of the party and their accompanying equipment, until everything was encased. The creature looked at Nexus, who nodded in approval.

“Thank you, my good friend. Here you go, for your service.” Out of one of his cloak pockets, Nexus pulled out a chip of purple crystal and fed it to the beast, who happily accepted it before disappearing into the void it came out of. Flamma, on his armored steed, galloped up to Nexus with a perturbed look on his face.

“Move your ass, Nexus. I want to get to Yonpike by tomorrow.”

“Yes, let’s move out, men. Double time now, we must get Flamma to his destination. Bad luck to stand between a man and his whores.”

One cadet near the two men blurted out, “What exactly are we transporting?” Flamma was far from pleased at this line of questioning.

“If we were transporting all the gold in Euphoria, your puny ass wouldn’t be able to do anything with the information. Leave the knowing to men who can do something with the knowledge.”

Nexus recognized the man as one of the soldiers Contra had chewed out before his arrival.

“Just not your day, is it, champ? You do have the perfect face to yell at, I gotta say.”

The caravan proceeded out the gate and down the main street towards the outer city limits. Through the rich shopping districts, past the industrial textile plants, and the normally bustling trading square in the northern part of town. Port Troy was the starting point for sixty percent of the trade routes in Euphoria, as the eastern and western coasts found it easier to meet here than to traverse the rugged and dangerous terrain of the interior.

There were many opportunities here for the savvy businessman. Deals to be struck, bargains to be made, and contracts to be negotiated or broken if the terms were too cumbersome. Billions of credits changed hands on any given day. Gold, silver, fish, beef, wheat, steel, and any other means of tangible value were all within arm’s reach.

Wealth amassed quickly, and the port transformed into a trade-sponsored bacchanalia. New luxury dwellings sprang up almost daily. Theaters exhibiting new and exotic stage performances popped up in ever-shortening intervals. Restaurants and taverns were never short on patrons, and the marketplaces thrived on the regular shipments of fine fabrics, paintings, and artifacts from across the continent.

But just beyond the bustling metropolis, life was not so glamorous. The ever-increasing financial demand of city life made it impossible for anyone other than the uber-wealthy to enjoy the bounty nestled in Port Troy’s bosom. Working-class fishermen and craftsmen, builders and farmers were pushed farther and farther away from city services, making them easy prey for bandits and extortionists.

The police prioritized protecting the audacious accoutrement and the very few who could afford to live among it at the city center. So the crime that began to fester to the north went largely unchecked. As more and more citizens were pushed out, what began as small settlements ballooned into a massive network of poverty, three to four times the population of Port Troy proper. As the population increased, conditions deteriorated, leaving an unchartable forest of pain in its wake.

Thousands of shanty homes made up the ever-growing Silence Row. Failed traders, speculators, and investors. Thieves, con men, and the children they raised to take their place. People who were, or would soon be, silenced by the monolith of industry just a few miles to their south, never to be heard from or listened to by society ever again. Over time, regimented crime syndicates formed, and a highly sophisticated hierarchy of violence and greed soon reigned supreme.

This would normally be considered the party’s first hurdle. The storm, however, had forced all the occupants to board up their homes and pray the gods left them in one piece. The warped side panels and makeshift roofs cried of neglect. The rain mercifully masked the scent of human waste as they made their way through the ghetto. Nexus was chatting away with one man or another, entertaining the younger troops with his powers, but Flamma remained silent, his eyes fixed on the world he had left behind as a child.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost didn’t see the small child on the side of the road eyeing the passersby. The brown-haired, rag-covered child couldn’t be older than ten, but his steely eyes analyzed the marching legion with a general’s intellect. Noting their formation and direction, making accurate mental assessments of the strength of the force, all while avoiding the attention of any of the soldiers. Soon, his calculating gaze met Flamma’s. The shock of being spotted ignited his fight-or-flight reflex, and the boy took off down an alley.

“Stop!” Flamma screamed as he diverted his horse into an alleyway just off the main road. The small figure he was chasing quickly ducked into a smaller offset, forcing Flamma to leave his horse and the barrier. But he persisted, closing the ground between him and his target in a handful of strides. The boy was shifty, consistently evading capture at the last possible second by evaporating into another alley.

Using his decades of battle experience to his advantage, Flamma learned the rhythm of his target’s steps and waited for the perfect moment. Just before the child could duck into a drainage tunnel—a move sure to secure his escape—Flamma exploded like a bullet out of a gun, lunging with incredible speed and precision, tackling him to the ground. Irritated by the forced chase, Flamma roughly yanked the boy up by his neck and sat him down on a worn-out crate.

“Now, what the hell are you thinking, being outside at a time like this? You have a death wish, boy? Huh? Where are your parents?” he scolded over the roar of the storm.

“Aye, you’re some big man, aren’t you? Beating on children in the streets? Where are your parents? I take care of myself.”

“Yeah? Well, you’ll be taking care of a corpse pretty soon, you cheeky fuck. Get up, let me have a look at you.”

“Hey mister, you’re big, but don’t think I’m going to let you have your way with me without a fight. I’m a gladiator.” The kid pursed his lips in disgust at the request.

“A fucking gladiator, are you?” Flamma laughed as lightning struck overhead. The rain was pelting them both, but at least the shanties protected them from the brutal wind. “That’ll be the day. How old are you, boy? Seven? Eight? If you’re a gladiator, I’m king of the Dwarves.”

“Yeah, well, you sure got the beat-up ugly mug. You look like you’ve been trampled by horses. What is wrong with your face, exactly? I’m twelve, by the way! Just ’cause I’m short don’t mean nothin’.”

“Alright, enough. C’mon.” Flamma grabbed the boy and slung him over his shoulders against his will, the boy cursing, kicking, and screaming in protest the entire time. It took little to no time to find his horse and even less to catch up with the party. By the time he rode up to the front of the caravan to meet Nexus, the boy’s caterwauling had found its rhythm and didn’t look to be dying down anytime soon.

“This is kidnapping. You’ve literally napped a kid, haven’t you? They’ll hang you for this, you piece of shit...”

Flamma passed the boy off to one of the officers, giving him instructions not to let the boy out of his sight. Nexus was amused by the whole scene, cracking jokes while the child lamented his situation.

“Only you could find a sex slave in the middle of a storm, Flamma. I think they call that an addiction.”

“I knew it! I knew you were a pervert! You won’t be touching me, you gargoyle man!” The kid lambasted while being dragged away by his newly appointed guardian.

“The boy was outside, with nowhere to go. I would dishonor myself by leaving him in such conditions. To hell with you, eh. You wouldn’t know anything about honor. Life is just a big joke to the immortal.”

“Yeah, well, just don’t name him. Might have to use him for food later; don’t want you getting too attached, you big ole teddy bear.”

The annoyance was visible on Flamma’s face, but he did not retort. The message had hit home. Throughout his travels, he often found himself back in his hometown, and almost every time, he left with an additional member of his party. And just like the most recent addition, it was almost always a child. Flamma believed it was his duty to help protect these children from the cruel world that awaited them if they stayed in Silence Row. A future ripe with the pain of knowing their life was always in the hands of someone else. Even a life of crime meant working for one of the numerous bosses that ran the underground. These children would never own their lives, and Flamma resented that destiny with everything in him.

He, too, had his free will stripped from him at birth, sold to a lanista, and trained in the gladiatorial arts from the age he could wield a sword. It took him half a century to win his life back, and if he could save one child from a similar fate, he would lay down his own life to do so.

“So, Flamma, what are we eating tonight? Are you going to catch us something delicious?” Nexus perked up at the thought of dinner.

“I’m not going out in the rain again, plus you have all the power. You catch something.”

“Are you suggesting I harness the power of the Shaman—an ancient pact made between man and the ethereal world that has stood since the dawn of time—to feed your fat belly?”

“That’s what I said!”

“Not a bad idea, actually. WHO’S HUNGRY, GENTS!?”

Nexus quickly whipped up a banquet, and the men broke march to eat.

As they enjoyed their rations, Flamma called for the guardian he assigned to the child and had the young boy brought to him. He, Nexus, the child, and a couple of officers Nexus had taken a shine to sat around the fire and ate their fill. The boy, anxious in his new surroundings, partook but with obvious hesitation.

Nexus was the first to engage the boy, endearing himself with his quick wit and wide, disarming smile. He started by breathing fire and making a suit of armor out of stone while pretending to be a glorious mud knight of the Mudpuppian people. Once he had grabbed his audience’s attention, he called forth a flock of mini fluorescent dragons that danced in the sky, spewing sparkling projectiles into the night air.

For his finale, the Shaman lord asked for complete silence for concentration purposes. He cracked his glove-covered knuckles and stretched side to side. The soldiers gathered were wide-eyed with anticipation, most of them imbued with enough liquor to make any performance spectacular. Nexus took a deep breath and then addressed his audience.

“If you would, mates, take a gander at the sky.”

The crowd collectively gasped as they craned their necks up to see, to their amazement, a large circle as wide as Port Troy itself had formed in the middle of the storm clouds, revealing the beautiful night sky just beyond. Nexus waved his hand, and through their looking glass, the men were treated to a light show beyond their wildest imaginations. Shooting stars fired in rapid succession, constellations moved and twirled, changing their alignment to whatever Nexus felt was most dazzling. One of the men swore he had seen actual planetary bodies pulled into view for a split second.

The mini dragons flew in a circular pattern around the rim of the clouds, fusing into one another, becoming one enormous glittering dragon. When its formation was complete, the beast let out a thunderous roar and shot upwards through the eye of the opening, bursting at its apex into a fireworks display that lit up the entire sky.

At its conclusion, the men cheered and applauded endlessly, hoisting Nexus on their shoulders and chanting his name to the heavens. Once the adrenaline died down, everyone sat around fires and drank, basking in what they had just experienced, courtesy of one of the world’s titans.

“So, is the kid another one of your projects, Flamma? You going to rear the next champion of the coliseum?” Nexus hiccuped.

“I was merely getting the boy out of the storm. That is all.”

The boy, now with stars in his eyes, could be seen running around the encampment, chasing soldiers with a wooden ladle as if it were a sword.

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. Who doesn’t love a redemption story? But this hasn’t worked out so well for you in the past. I’m just saying maybe you should think about this.”

“Once the storm passes, I’ll let the boy go, and he can do what he pleases.”

“Well, maybe it’s for the best. He’s not going to have a lot to go back to anyway.”

“Yes, the life of a child in Silence Row is very hard. It is fit for no one.”

“No, not that. I mean, I doubt there will be a Silence Row by the time that storm passes.”

“What!? Explain yourself, Nexus!”

“Well, if there are enough people alive in Port Troy tomorrow to call it a town, I’ll make you a Shaman myself.”

4.

Back in the depths of the Port Troy fort, Contra Constance was enjoying another cigar, patting himself on the back for a job well done. Nexus had left him stewing in his own disdain for the man, so Contra decided to open the office window and let his angst blow away with the coming storm. After ruminating for an hour, the relief of being free of the enormous responsibility soon crept over his shoulders and down his spine. Relishing in the oaken, honey-roasted almond smell of his cigar, his pride began to thump a little louder. His ash-colored hair whipped across his face as the thick air barged its way into his regal office.

In hindsight, this was a good day. Sure, he’d be stuck in the fort for a day or two, but he’d accomplished everything he had been ordered to do, assuring that, for now at least, his ascension in rank would continue at its current astounding rate. He wouldn’t let that arrogant ponce Nexus ruin his glorious moment. This was just a step on his righteous path to irreverent power.

“They say when man makes a plan, God laughs.”

The cold voice pierced Contra’s soul like a hot blade. He was frozen; all the warmth and pride he’d felt one puff before vanished. Everything in his body screamed that he was in the presence of a monster. In that moment, he instinctively closed his eyes and said an unconscious prayer that he was imagining the heart-stopping fear that gripped him.

“You are the worst kind of man,” the voice insisted. “You believe you have earned this privileged life. That the men in this stone abomination are tools best used to serve your ends. In this, you’re profoundly mistaken. Look around you. Is it just that you should sit so high above those who built this city while the foundation withers to the point of incontinence? The rain washes away the unworthy and the entitled. You are mud, soon to be taken in by the tide.”

Contra opened his eyes slowly, and before him sat a pale, silver-haired figure in one of his plush Korn-haired chairs, smoking one of his cigars. The violent yellow eyes now trained on him were unyielding, firm in their purpose, showing no signs of sympathy or compromise. The intruder was obviously a military man, his body chiseled in a way that spoke to a highly sophisticated regimen. His jaw was squared, grizzled, and sprinkled with close-call scars up and down his cheeks. He was regaled head to toe in the light gray robes with neon yellow accents known to be donned by the Nimbus Unit—the premier fighting force for the Sonic nation.

Contra found himself balancing on a tightrope high above the Port Troy fort. The gale-force winds swiped at him from the sides, trying to send him to his doom. If he offended this man, his life was forfeit. But if he didn’t show some form of strength, he would find himself at the mercy of a man who clearly wished to do him harm. So he slowly adjusted himself in his seat, so that he was directly across from the Sonic soldier.

“You are?”

“Do not attempt to posture me, fool. I am judgment, sent down from the heavens.”

An old memory rose from the murky waters of Contra’s anxiety-fraught subconscious. He’d heard that phrase before, used by the leader of the Nimbus Unit, Titus. Contra’s voice trembled in an almost imperceptible manner, but to anyone who had spent time in battle, to a man who had seen countless men laid bare by the weight of their own mortality, the weakness was sniffed out in a nanosecond.

A clash of lightning boomed across the night sky, causing the lights in Contra’s office to go out. Now dim candlelight provided the only means of visibility in the plush office. The light flames played an ominous shade on the white clouds that now circled Titus’ arms.

“Power is a tool of service, as are all men. You believe that you are at the center, and that is an unforgivable error in judgment. But do not worry; I shall shift you presently.”

The windows battered back and forth as the howling winds and rains rampaged the office. The candles, a lingering hope for Port Troy, flickered submissively in the indoor monsoon. Then they were quickly snuffed out. And there, sitting in his lavish office, alone, behind his great oak doors, sat Contra Constance in his purple Korn-haired chair, with his head leaned back, and his mouth open with a pool of water flooding his agape orifice, dribbling down his cheek. The once-proud man’s eyes yearned for reprieve, for any of his men to come to his aid. As life drained from his face, the Sonic commander made his way out of the office and down the steps to the recruit-filled chambers below. The room smelled of honey as the butt of the last cigar burned out.

5.

The bloodbath that ensued raged through the entire castle. Titus, running wild through the corridors of Port Troy, left nothing but death in his wake. Stone halls turned into raging rapids. Staircases filled with tornadoes and merciless lightning strikes. Hail rained down on his victims like machine gun rounds, ripping them to shreds in an instant. He moved with such swift precision that there was no time for the men to warn their comrades of the rapture taking place above their heads. The thick stone walls, imported from the very best quarries in Euphoria, acted as insulation for their screams.

There would be no solace for a single man in the fort. As his metal-soled boots clanked off the stone floors, echoing down the hallways as a harbinger for the doom that followed the sound, Titus admired his luxurious surroundings with equal parts astonishment and disdain. How could a soldier be molded in this environment? How could a soldier be welded to his purpose, resolved to a life of steel and death, with a full stomach and a soft bed? This went against everything Titus was raised on, and its offensive presence fueled his onslaught.

Who were they to feast on the backs of the many poor that propped up this monstrosity? He was forced to live with the stench of his native slums lingering in his nose day after day. The way rotting flesh would smolder under the summer sun and sit on his chest all day like it belonged—a constant reminder that his work was never to serve himself, but the citizens of the Sonic nation that shared the same conditions he once endured. He had come here on a mission, but Titus couldn’t abide such a trivialization of military service. A spit in the face of every breath of fresh air he managed to intake.

As Titus closed in on the second floor, he could hear a thunderous banging reverberating down the walls, increasing in volume as he moved down the stairs and into the breezeway that led to the second floor.

“That’s far enough! Port Troy has given you everything you shall take this evening.”

The man that stood before him was clearly exceptional—something lacking in the men he had massacred so far. The man’s body hummed with brute strength, his gorilla-like arms capable of swinging the enormous hammer he wielded with violent proficiency.

But as the leader of the Nimbus Unit, the supreme fighting force of the Sonic nation, Titus looked down on this man from a great height. Titus strolled toward him, completely unmoved by the man’s pride.

“Your death will mean nothing. You served a man who was nothing, therefore you are nothing. Die, and be thrown into the fires of history, never to be spoken of again. Your name isn’t even worth knowing.”

Enraged, the man charged Titus in a full sprint. Titus countered by summoning a bolt of lightning from one of the clouds on his arm and shooting it at the soldier’s chest. Miraculously, the man was able to let the handle of his hammer slide down his grip almost instinctively, allowing the hammerhead to catch the bolt of lightning square, the force sending him deep inside the entrance to the second floor but avoiding a fatal blow.

As the smoke billowed out of the opening, Titus continued, the unhalted cadence of his foreboding steps drawing closer.

“You seem to think your honor dictates we fight. But pup, I have battled men far your senior. Strong as you may be, there are strong young saplings, destined to be great oaks that tower over the forest floor...and there is the sun that gives them life,” he finished his taunt, standing over the man he had just flung a sizeable distance.

Unabashed, the man called upon all of his considerable strength to sling his hammer from his fallen position. Though Titus dodged this easily, the hammerhead dug itself into the wall, giving the man a lever to pull himself up and out of the way of the next incoming bolt of lightning.

“Aren’t you resourceful,” Titus joked.

The man rolled along the wall, yanking his hammer free in one motion. The momentum he was picking up was considerable, but the fighter was no slouch. He planted his feet, shifted his body weight, and redirected his momentum back at the Sonic commander, heaving the hammer with all his might at the head of his enemy.

“YOU FOOL, YOUR ARROGANCE WILL BE YOUR END!” the man screamed with vindication, knowing the final blow was imminent.

Silence.

The sound of his victim’s head bursting under the weight of his blow was frighteningly absent.

The last thing he saw were the eyes of the Nimbus Unit commander inches from his own face. His weapon of choice was halted, between the hilt and the hammerhead, by the broad shoulders of his nemesis. The sparks from the lightning blade penetrating his chest danced off them both, casting their shadows on the wall in flashes. He couldn’t help but think the image was reminiscent of an ancient mural.

“Surely, next lifetime you will stay in your place. Child,” Titus mocked.

As the man took his final breaths, he fell to the ground, holding himself up with one arm. He refused to be made a joke of. If these were his final moments, he would hold on to some dignity. As blood and smoke leaked from the wound in his chest, he offered his last words to whoever would listen.

“My name,” he coughed, “is…”

Titus, who had picked up the man’s hammer and begun walking away, spun around and with one arm, swung and caved the man’s face in with it.

“The dead have no names.”

6.

On the first floor, sitting at an officer’s table playing cards and drinking the dead soldiers’ liquor were the accompanying members of the Nimbus Unit. All three had long, flowing silver hair and piercing yellow eyes. Though their attire differed slightly, it was clear they were part of the same organization, as they all wore the same gray robes with neon yellow accents as their commander. They laughed and joked, lied, and cheated each other while waiting for the arrival of their commander: Gannicus, Christoph, and Clarissa.

Gannicus was having his fifth cup of alcohol, his feet propped up on one of the dead infantrymen that littered the ground. He laughed as he conned his ally Christoph out of as much money as he could. On his back, he had an array of different weapons strapped together, ready to be drawn and wielded with surgical precision: swords of varying styles, knives, two axes, a mace, and a blade-tipped whip for good measure.

“Oh, come on Christoph, you have to know when to say when,” he joked as he drained the glass he had just recently filled.

Christoph, a man of frugal sensibilities, was far from pleased. This string of victories clearly defied any realistic statistical models.

“You’re cheating, Gannicus. I should kill you for acting so dishonorably. It is disgusting.”

“You heard that, Clarissa? You guys are going to have to find a new member. Christoph, man, you take things too seriously, signs of a bad childhood?” He regretted the drunken words

“I was born of smoke, just like you. Did you grow up with many friends, Gannicus?”

Gannicus clenched his fist reflexively, bursting the glass he was drinking out of. Though he didn’t retaliate it was clear the barb hit its target. Most of the Nimbus Unit experienced their own childhood traumas, and Gannicus was no different.

Nobody knows exactly when the cloud children were first born, but from its genesis, the children that seeped from their mother’s wombs as clouds of smoke and materialized into flesh and blood, were hated by the entire Sonic nation. Despite their elevated status in society, raising these children was empirically tied to death and pain. Their inability to control their powers, the constant threat of attack from nations wishing to see Sonic military might diminished, and attacks from kidnappers hoping to harness the power of the children for their own selfish ends.

All of these occurrences created large amounts of animosity between the children and those that reared them. Thus, the children themselves tended to grow up with a wide spectrum of personality defects. So Christoph’s dig was as close to “below the belt” as it can get between these bonded brothers.

Clarissa was laughing maniacally at the two men, full of more than a few drinks herself. Content to stay out of the testosterone fueled battle of wits, she waited for their commander to finish with the messy business upstairs. The trio had been charged to find out the location or route of the payload that was recently discharged from the fort. Sadly, their efforts had come up empty. Clarrisa had tortured her fair share of recruits, one of which now served as a footstool for Gannicus, only to learn that the only information the men left in the fort were trusted with, was which soldiers left with the payload.

Of course they had planned for this eventuality. But the hassle it would exact from the team was nonetheless unwelcome. So to blow off some steam the three set up a blood soaked table, raided the rations closet, and lucked up on a serendipitous deck of cards in the barracks. Then proceeded to kill some time mentally preparing for the arduous task their commander would assuredly assign to them.

One piece of information they were able to squeeze out of one of their victims was the identities of the sherpas for their target. They knew Titus would be interested in the names, but as a group, they were not thrilled to hear them. The Nimbus Unit was feared throughout Euphoria, recognized as a great equalizer when it came to hegemonic strength between nations. Few nations could put together a compilation of strength that could achieve the guardian’s ultimate goals: 1. Move the payload quickly 2. Fend off any attempts to disrupt the delivery; a team of Flamma and Nexus would top the shortlist.

“Anyway, who do you guys think the bossman is going to send into the mountain? “, Clarissa queried. “I’m sure it’ll be me.” She took a shot in protest of her own revelation.

Gannicus still not over Christoph’s retort allowed his eyes to linger on his fastidious crewmate while replying to the more delicate one.

“Yeah well, you peeled the skin off this poor lad’s hand, I think you can handle a light hike. Look at it as a penance for your heinous actions.”

“Hey look, Christoph would’ve melted everyone to goop and we wouldn’t have gotten anything useful. You’re so self-righteous. Just like everything else, a beautiful woman had to do all the work.”

“No, no. I have a concoction based in sulphuric acid that would’ve melted them sure, but it would’ve taken so long I’m sure a beautiful woman such as yourself could’ve extracted all sorts of useful information.” Christoph let the words drip off his tongue drowning in equal parts sarcasm and boredom.

He continued unabated, “All we know for sure is that those two are more than any of us can handle. I doubt Titus would separate the squad so foolishly. My personal hypothesis is that I’ll be sent back home to rally whoever is left, and the rest of you will give chase.”

A thunderous groan pierced the bubble of their conversation. The monstrous oak doors that led to the upper floors opened ominously, and the overpowering footsteps of their leader began to echo through the corpse-filled hall. As he descended the stone steps he chuckled to himself at the scene before him. From his bird’s eye view, Titus could see the countless bodies piled up across the room, and the rivers of blood connecting each pile creating a morbid map of death. Then off to his left, the witty banter and cheer from his team could be heard. Such a juxtaposition could only garner a smirk from their leader.

“Hey, bossman! Care for a drink? I poured you one, but I seem to have misplaced it in my gullet! Hahaha!” Gannicus squawked.

Titus marched over and took a seat. Wrapping an arm around his subordinate in greeting.

“Status report? What have you learned.”

Clarissa quickly began running down all of their findings since entering the fort.

“Sir! As you can see we have cleared the first floor completely. None of the grunts here had the intel we were looking for; however, we were able to identify who we would be tracking.”

“Continue.”

“Yes sir! Apparently, someone much higher up than Contra Constance was able to secure Flamma the undefeated gladiator and Nexus the Shaman Legatus as guardians of the freight we’re after.”

This news initially shocked Titus, but as he pondered it a calm acceptance soon wafted over him He composed himself, then poured himself a drink. No one spoke as he slowly sipped, and pondered. Pondered, and sipped. They knew all too well that Titus’ brilliance always shined in these moments. When the mission seemed bleakest and none of the available options were certain to assure success. If anyone could discern an efficient use of their moves it would be Titus.

“I see. Nexus. That is a quandary. However, it does pose inevitable realities that should allow us to seize the upper hand. Nexus will never maneuver through the Monk nation. That cuts out the mountains to our west. This payload comes from the Dwarf nation so that rules out the east. The only logical option would be north, however, this makes no sense, where would he be going?”

Titus nursed his drink a while longer, racking his brain for the possible endgame. This didn’t make any sense. The only power to the North was the black nation Aldebaran. Sure, they could be going to the Northwest to Shiva’s Marsh but that would be an unconscionable action. Such a seditious maneuver would throw the entire continent into upheaval. Could Nexus truly be giving such a powerful artifact over to the Dark Tribunal?

This was bad. Murdering all of the inhabitants of the Fort would surely cause the world to stand up and take notice, and they were prepared to face that kind of scrutiny if they could locate and secure the payload. Fort Troy also served as a branch of the World Bank and had a vast network of tunnels and vaults filled to the brim with the world’s treasures. A fool like Contra Constance could be handed this post because the threat of swift retribution from Euphoria’s most powerful people was a natural deterrent.

They couldn’t afford to chase down Nexus and Flamma halfway across the continent while also being beset on all sides by those seeking revenge for the attempt on the Fort. Titus couldn’t help but feel like he had been set up from the beginning, this was definitely not a coincidence.

First the selection of the only two men who could get that payload where it needed to be with the Nimbus Unit in pursuit. Then the swift removal of the payload from the fort before the unit could move on it. The Nimbus Unit has pursued targets for generations, their retrieval skills are unparalleled, and yet they were not only too late but much too late. Finally, this. Their enemy planned for the Nimbus Unit to be the ones to come after them and planned a route that would make it almost impossible for them to give chase.

What was going on here? How had they been bested so handedly?

Titus poured himself another drink, and just as the mind-numbing fluid reached his preferred level, a world-shattering revelation shook Titus to the core. He dropped the glass of wine and before it hit the ground Titus was in motion.

“Run! Back to the ship immediately!”

All of the members moved in unison, using one hundred percent of their mental capacity, screaming at their muscles to move faster. They didn’t know why and they didn’t need to. If their leader ordered a retreat, the explanation was irrelevant.

This level of resolute dedication would serve as their saving grace. As they burst forth from the fort doors, they hurled themselves from the doorway into the seas with a single leap. After crashing into the water and resurfacing, the team started to swim towards their moored vessel, still naive to why they had bolted in such haste.

Suddenly, a low rumble vibrated across the area snapping everyone to attention. Following the sound, a consistent trembling began to echo from the depths of the fort. The force rippled out from the stone structure and skipped across the adjacent sea, pushing the Sonic forces closer to their ship. The team floated helplessly, stunned at the scene transpiring before them. Port Troy’s main fort waved side to side violently as if blown by the tremendous storm. A muffled screech could be faintly heard even from their positions hundreds of meters away.

There was a beat, a pause so imperceptible none of them could prepare themselves for the following instance. The muffled screech let out one last wail, this one so loud it felt like it came from right in front of them. And then, the entire fort detonated from the inside. The tectonic rupture gurgled up from the limitless depths of the fort and spewed molten death with volcanic force. Shooting stone, steel, and wood into the sky. Followed closely by a towering stream of fire, that made short work of whatever remained of the Port Troy fort. The inferno raged for a full minute before fully dissipating, leaving behind a massive cavern where the Nimbus Unit had just been playing cards.

“I don’t know, could’ve cut that one a little closer, aye Captain!” Gannicus joked as he swatted incoming debris. “Guess someone was angry we drank all the wine, but truthfully it wasn’t all that great. I mean we could’ve left a new bottle in the cupboard if they were going to make this big ole fuss eh?”

“The wine wasn’t very good, was it?” Christoph seconded.

“I mean I’m not being ungrateful, I’m just saying you build a monstrosity that takes up a quarter of the city. Got the nice stone, ornate moldings, cherry oak doors, and the like. Least you could do is stock the fucker with some proper sauce, amirite?”

Clarissa and Titus both had their eyes fixed on the newly furnished crater before them. As they bobbed in the water thankful for their own lives, the two senior members notice something strange about the smoldering void. Initially, they believed the reverb and screeching were caused by whatever led to the explosion. But that deduction was clearly made in error because as Gannicus and Christoph balked at the taste of their stolen wine, the vibrations and the screeches only grew louder.

“You know, once in Uba I won a million on a roll and they brought out this amazing Dwarfan wine. They kicked me right out, but they let me keep the bottle!” Gannicus laughed his burly laugh much to the chagrin of their captain.

“Silence! Focus. We’re not finished here.” Titus commanded.

“Well I mean anything after blowing the whole building up seems like overkill. They don’t like us, I think we get it.”

As Gannicus bemoaned their situation, two parallel walls of the chasm began to cave in. Not due to a lack of structural integrity, but because of the massive ruby red claws pawing their way up the sides. The sounds of hundreds of pounds of cascading rocks finally got Gannicus’ attention.

“See now, this is why men become farmers right? I mean really, how much more can a man take?”

All four members began swimming back towards the shore hoping to avert whatever was coming out of the hole. The storm that would’ve surely sent any competent swimmer to their doom was easily navigated by the veteran unit. After climbing up the dock, they tried to quickly race around the edge of the abyss and make their way north to follow Nexus and the treasures he guarded, but it wasn’t to be. The two monstrous claws, each comparable to the fort itself had just breached the surface one of which landed right in their path cutting off their exit.

“Well, we’re in this one, huh?” Gannicus reluctantly admitted. Calmly selecting the large double-headed battle-ax strapped to his back and bringing it into battle position.

“Christoph, how long would it take you to formulate something that could take down this beast?” Titus queried.

“Sir. Even if you gave me days I wouldn’t be able to produce a pathogen that could kill a creature this large immediately. By my estimation, that reptile is approximately the size of half the fort. Clearly, a manifestation brought to this world by your old friend.”

“Of fucking course Nexus summoned this thing!” Gannicus screamed as the claws dug into debris laden streets, the monster below trying to gain some form of leverage.

“Seems as though we have no choice. Even if we were able to escape, it would be dishonorable to leave the rest of the city to such a fate. Clarissa you and Christoph act as support. Look for weaknesses.” Titus called out his orders while sizing up the enormous enemy before them.

The two split in parallel directions and set up on a path behind their other unit members forming a rhombus. A screech let out by the creature as it willed itself out of the hole it created could be heard as far away as Silence Row. The deafening sound shook the ground under their feet with rigor.

Finally, the head began to pierce the veil. A puff of smoke from its nostrils announced its presence sending loose chunks of concrete and rebar sprawling in all directions. Next were the teeth. Home-sized alabaster obelisks aligned in a malicious pattern primed to rip into any conceivable obstacle. Smoke leaked from any opening in its smile, warning of the depths of this beast’s arsenal, and a reminder that none of its most dangerous weapons had yet to be seen. Its jaws seemed to go for days, the tense muscles throbbing under the apparent strain of the climb.

Gannicus was not going to stand around and let his enemy get into its preferred fighting position. Battle-ax in hand, he rushed the scaly demon before him at full speed.

Before, Titus had been inside the fort and therefore only able to use a portion of his powers. Born with the ability to manipulate the weather conditions around him this was actually a preferable strategic position for his men to be in. To create a storm of this size would take a full day, but with it made available to him naturally all he had to do was take advantage. Churning negatively charged electrons from all of the storm clouds in the area would take a while but Gannicus would be more than enough to keep the lizard busy.

As the glaring red eyes of the beast began to creep over the lip of the hole, the first thing the left eye was able to see was Gannicus leaping into the air. Followed by Gannicus unleashing massive amounts of electricity into his weapon before sinking it deep within the dragon’s iris. The creature thrashed around in pain, sending Gannicus twirling into the air. Simultaneously their foe opened its massive jaws and let out a sonic boom of a wail, the vocal torrent caught Gannicus dead center, the force was enough to send him at least four hundred meters into the distance with his ax still plunged into the eyes of the creature.

As Gannicus was crashing through trees and buildings, Clarissa was busy charging up the right arm of the fiery fiend. Parkouring her way across protruding horns and the mountainous landscape of their enemy’s body. Her agile moves allowed her to quickly make her way to the gushing aperture. After tugging the ax loose, she then flipped safely down to the ground.

Christoph was in the rear forming an airborne mixture of healing medicine to send to his fallen comrade. Though Gannicus wasn’t fatally injured the trip had taken a toll. His off arm was broken along with a healthy dosage of scrapes and cuts. He limped back towards the battle and inhaled the mixture that met him halfway there. The rejuvenating effects of the airborne narcotics were well received, but he wouldn’t be able to properly heal his arm until after the battle. Conversely, Titus would need much more time to prepare his attack so Gannicus, newly salved and ready, charged back into battle with only fifty percent functionality in his fractured appendage.

Upon landing from her descent of the winged demon, Clarissa’s first move was to get some momentum, and heave the newly procured ax into one of the claws of the draconian monster. The scales were thick as tank armor, but Clarissa’s blow was able to dig deep into the flesh; showcasing her own reservoir of strength. Using her ample flexibility she was able to use her forward momentum to pull the ax loose as she flipped, and landed between the next claw. Their foe, still reeling from the initial attack, had yet to process the following onslaught as all of this took forty-five seconds.

The amount of wreckage and debris was beginning to become an impairment to movement, but Gannicus was almost back to the center of the action. He could see Clarissa hacking away at the beast, making deep cuts as she swung wildly, but she wouldn’t be able to do definitive damage with her skillset alone. Closing in, Gannicus called out, alerting Clarissa of his presence. His muscles were already primed from the sprint over, but Gannicus activated all the spring his calves could give him and burst into the air.

Clarissa, accounting for Gannicus’ trajectory, spun his ax with a flick of her wrist. A clap of lightning lit up the sky as Gannicus caught the weapon with his one functioning arm, and charged it full of electricity. Hurtling toward Earth he was able to get his bearings, line up his attack, and yell out as he struck.

“VULCAN HAMMER!!”

On impact the attack ignited a stream of lightning that tore through the path of cuts Clarissa had already carved beforehand. The resulting cataclysm severed three of the five claws on the beast’s arm.

This got the creature’s attention. Since it had heaved most of its massive body out of the hole, it had no choice but to lean all of its weight on its one intact claw. This was not lost on Titus, as he was nearing completion on the now coalescent nucleus rotating in the heavens above them. The menacing clouds cackled and rippled with malice intent. But the reptilian mind of their foe had one objective, and it wasn’t going to lose focus because of a few thunderclouds.

While adjusting to the sudden loss in footing, the draconic figure snapped, and mauled at its attackers, trying to defend itself in its vulnerable position. The rest of the unit retreated to a safe position to plan their next move, but Titus had already made his plans. His grand attack was ready. But he knew more preparation was required.

A rainbow spectrum glared off the crimson scales arrayed across the flesh of their enemy, reflecting the cackling skies above. Titus knew there was no hope of piercing those scales with his lightning, the scales would only disperse his attack, thus doing an insignificant amount of damage. But if he was able to get to the soft, tender parts of the beast his attack would tear it to shreds.

“Gannicus! Clarissa, “ Titus ordered. “Open the jowls of that beast!”

The command alone synchronized every member to their jobs and how they would be executed. Christoph immediately produced two syringes that he plunged into his two teammates. The adrenaline in the syringes coursed through their veins sending them into an altered state of readiness. Coupled with their already superior physical make up, the two Sonic’s were well prepared for the next stage of their assault.

By now, the creature had slithered most of its body out of the hole. Enough so that it’s now mangled claw was no longer a life threatening hindrance. With its weight above ground it now had the ability to focus one hundred percent of its intimidating might at its attackers. Its remaining eye swiveled left to right surveying the field before him, but there was no enemy in sight.

The shere girth of the town sized lizard gave it few inherent weaknesses, but without both of its eyes it had a wide deficit of peripheral vision. The two senior Sonics had sprinted around the sides, leaped the gap in the chasm with ease, and landed on the back of the fire breathing titan. The second weakness was its inability to perceive such insignificant weight as they climbed its back and onto its neck. The swirling winds and rain masked their ascent as they crept towards the smoldering mouth.

“Clarissa make sure you hold the son of a bitch!” Gannicus yelled over the sounds of the restless skies.

“I’ll hold it as tight as you hold that little pecker of yours!” Clarissa retorted, her high pitched laugh cutting through the pandemonium around them.

“Wow, I knew you were always checking me out but I don’t think I can be involved with a blind woman! I don’t think I’m ready for that kind of responsibility!”

They jostled back and forth for intellectual superiority before finally making their way to the apex. The crown of the creature allowed them to see the full scope of the damage that had been done. At least half the town of Port Troy had been decimated. Colossal buildings that once stood as a beacon for commerce and trade now laid under tons of concrete and steel. Homes, and restaurants of various financial means were all equalized by the destruction. Reduced to rubble and smothered in ash for good measure. If everything else went silent, you would surely hear the screams of agony echoing from those lost to the turmoil.

Now that its full frame was above ground, each swing of the creature’s tail caused generational damage. At this point as guardians of the public welfare, this was no longer about just escaping with their lives. The Nimbus Unit would have to prevent any more damage from being done to the city if they were going to grab any sense of pride from a victory here. But, the first priority would be to walk away from this bout fully whole.

With Gannicus and Clarissa positioned at the precipice of what felt like their collective universe, they both took a moment to catch their breath. They would need to get this behemoth to open its skyscraper sized jaws if they were going to execute the plan they envisioned, but how they would accomplish this feat was beyond either of them. Luckily their teammate down below was already preparing for such an eventuality.

Christoph was just off center from the snout of their nemesis, staring down the barrel of the flaming orifice; it was now his objective to swing ajar. The rain was pouring down in sheets, flooding the field in thick mud; compounded with the seemingly infinite amount of crumbling concrete slabs, jagged pieces of wood, and broken glass. So moving swiftly was proving to be increasingly difficult. But Christoph had to play his role with precision if they were going to end this before any more people got hurt. He had just finished crafting a violent irritant, and by allowing the compound to catch a ride on the rapidly moving air currents the dragon’s ragged breathing soon inhaled Christoph’s Trojan horse.

“Hey,” Christoph cautioned, “this is your chance! Be ready!”

Gannicus and Clarissa weren’t prepared for the immediate response from the creature. First its body began to tremor slightly, then its entire body convulsed savagely before its monstrous jowls began to gape open. Plums of noxious smoke billowed forth, and then, just like the eruption minutes earlier there was a pause before the monster seized so powerfully smoke fully engulfed the remaining half of the township.

The two Sonics descended right into the volcano’s mouth landing perfectly between its first and second row of teeth. Above them, two razor sharp porcelain mountains hung on opposite sides of its mouth. This would be their point of attack. Because of their size the two fangs created an inherent overbite allowing them the perfect point of leverage for their plan.

Flexing their powerful calves and quads, the two burst upwards creating an almost sonic boom like effect, the impact of which dislocated the bottom jaw of the beast. By locking on to the two large fangs as they shot out of the depths of the creature’s chops they were able to use their momentum to swing the entire head of the dragon back towards the crater it crawled out of.

Titus wasted no time taking advantage of the opening his subordinates afforded him. He had withheld all lightning from being released by any of the surrounding clouds as he had slowly condensed the storm to the size of a pinhead. The amount of energy in the blast was incalculable. Straining against the resistance of constraining this amount of power, Titus finally released the death blow.

“Now, die! Return to the darkness from which you emerged! RAGNAROK!”

The dragon stared into the skies as a small circle formed overhead parting the menacing storm clouds. At first it looked as if the sun had come down personally to end the maelstrom of violence, but that notion would soon be dispelled. What passed as sunlight would soon be confirmed as massive amounts of lightning suspended in time. At Titus’ command his hold on the surplus power was broken, and the small circle expanded rapidly to almost thirty times its original size. The downspout of rain immediately ceased, as blazing light engulfed what was left of Port Troy town.

As night turned to day, their reptilian foe stood mesmerized at the divine sight before it. This did not last. The power of all of that electricity met at a single point, before tearing through the sky and straight down the dragon’s throat. It was dead before it heard the thunderclap. The sound was so loud Nexus and the caravan tens of miles away heard it as if they themselves were fighting the fire breathing demon from beyond the Void.

Millions of volts of lightning evaporated every functioning cell in the behemoth’s body. Once the alpha of almost any plane of existence, the dragon’s body quickly submitted to the immense attack. Muscles melted, bones cracked, and hellfire raged through every available synapse. Their adversary, now a smoldering mass of well-done protein, allowed its lifeless carcass to succumb to gravity. Gannicus, still fuming at the thought of having to fight a dragon in the first place, rounded the crevice and stood before the beast, sneering. He placed his boot on the snout of his foe and with one strong push, initiated the cascading sequence that would lead to the dragon plummeting back into the cavern from whence it came.

“Bitch.”