Routine Machine (Last)

The agitated old nimm barreled towards the forest, spurred on by the fear of his daughter and the resent for the impudent brat who seduced her. 'I fed you, healed you, and spent my time with you...and you repay that by stealing my daughter!?!?' He mentally roared, his indignation showing on his weathered face.

He had said the young man was like him, once. Back in the day, Nimral fancied himself a ladykiller in his youth. He was fairly good looking among the nimms, and he wooed many girls over with his strength and personality. A lot of girls took pity on his childlike behavior and gave him a chance, although a lot of them got fed up with his antics rather quickly. He was daring, audacious, and a charming lad who was the apple of many's eye...yet he had never had someone be attracted to him just for merely existing for a couple days!

Madly raging around through shame, a wounded ego, and a thirst for vengeance, he soon saw the target of his malice standing in an empty plain. Of course, the plain wasn't really empty...Chiyo was still there after all. But the old man could see nothing other than Alban, his muscles already winding up for a takedown.

A swing, and a miss. It might've hit Alban if he tried to beat him literally anywhere other than out in the wilds. The wilderness was the place Alban could call a home, and what homeowner would be caught unawares in their own domain? Well, a lot actually, but it was pretty hard to sneak up on a hunter in their natural environment.

'Swish, swish!' Nimral's fists pierced the air at a sound akin to a whistling jackhammer. His punches rapidly approached and passed Alban, the hunter flexibly whirling about the terrain in an instinctual defense. It wasn't until Alban escaped the old nimm that he realized who his assailant was.

The wild aura was driving his body into an overdrive, quickly becoming aware of a threatening and malicious opponent. Alban's eyes narrowed into a pointed glare, one so sharp that it could easily fell one of the trees behind him. He knew that the old man would be mad the second he was made aware that he missed his morning training with him, but he didn't think he would be this pissed off. His senses were pushed to their maximum capacity, trying to figure out a way to last long enough to be able to explain himself.

The old man was impetuous, dashing towards Alban at full speed from the get go. In an effort to confuse the young man and not let him get used to the tempo of his movements, he lead his charge with a punch but quickly retracted his fists and kicked out with his left leg instead. The feint didn't work, however. The young hunter's eyes picked up on every single twitch of the muscles of his attacker, noticing the minute twitches that gave away the weathered nimm's next maneuver.

Alban hopped up over the fierce kick, dodging it entirely and setting up a counterattack. He pushed off Nimral's legs, propelling him into the air once again, where he then flipped right over his opponent's head. He replied to the old man's kick with one of his own, his rightmost leg striking towards Nimral's temple.

The frenzied yet peculiarly refined boot landed, though not where he intended. The old man blocked his leg with his hard arms, the forearm of which directly intercepted the lower limb's drive. A loud smack was heard by all the monsters watching the fight, all their gazes directed at the two no matter how much intellect they held.

Alban's leg felt like it was burning, but he had no time for that. A broken leg could be repaired eventually, his vitality increased a lot actually. Already feeling his muscles entrap his bones and the cells in his body rushing to repair them, he dropped down and backed off. The old man didn't follow, his stare fixed on his hulking and still outstretched arm. The old man brought the limb in question and held it directly under his eyes. His glare fixed on Alban once again.

"That stung a little. Were you out here observing bees, boy?" A low growl that vaguely resembled a sentence slipped out of Nimral's mouth, his voice being heard for the first time today. Alban didn't let his guard down at all, his instincts and wild aura were communicating to him that his adversary was getting more and more dangerous.

And so he didn't answer. The silence sat between the two for a good minute, the brief altercation lapsing into a stare down. Nimral glowered at Alban, but the youth did not reply in kind. Those eyes showed no expression other than vigilance...it was almost as if...

'...they are locked on a powerful prey. He can't possibly be considering me prey, right? I'm so far out of his league that it's laughable.' Yet those eyes did not change. There were no fluctuations in their scrutiny, there was no hesitation that could be seen at all. Nimral, knowing he was much stronger than Alban was...couldn't help but feel a chill along his spine. That tattoo on the youth's neck...it looked as if it was glowing a bit. Rubbing his eyes before getting back into position, Nimral quickly restored his stance and set upon Alban once more.

—-

Back in Nimrod, Nimra was searching for Alban just as she had sent her dad to do. Blissfully unaware of her crush's predicament, she went around and asked her fellow villagers if they had seen the youth at all.

All her inquires turned out to be completely fruitless, however. No one had seen him even enter through the gate, though none of the nimms were really all that worried. After seeing Alban torch a cyclops to death, they pretty much thought that nothing in the area could really harm him.

Nimra didn't let their ignorance get her hopes down for finding him, however. She searched high and low, even looking at small crevices in the ground to see if Alban slept in them. The savage didn't seem very concerned about having to sleep on the ground outside, so it might've not been too outlandish to find him snoozing inside a deep enough imprint. The cyclops's footsteps were still left in the vicinity the festival happened in, after all. Nimra kinda found it poetic and very up Alban's alley to sleep in one of the footprints after sending one into a newly scarred existence.

Instead of finding Alban as she hoped, she chanced upon Lark instead. Lark's hands were buried deep into his shabby pockets, his thin tail toying with his harp that laid on the ground right by his side. Lark was grumbling under his breath, clearly frustrated at something. Before Nimra could even ask, his melodic voice interrupted her.

"You're looking for Alban, right? He's right by the front of the forest, you should head there quickly."

"What? Why?"

"Your dad's there-" Lark didn't even get to finish. The young girl hurriedly ran towards Nimrod's only official entrance, moving at a speed that Lark had never seen her move before. He resumed his words, not wanting to let that rude interruption deter him.

"...and if you don't get there soon, my friend is gonna kill him dead. It's not the time for the brightest and darkest star to be so brutal...not yet. Hurry up, I'd go myself but I'm still way too tired. Ah...I should go take a nap."