The Reckoning Hunt

The night air clung thick to the forest, metallic leaves humming as the wind coursed through the vast canopy of steel and root. Above, the sky was an jet sea dotted with shattered constellations, remnants of distant wars. Kal and Art perched atop the thick bough of a biomech tree, its silver bark pulsating with life. Below them, a clearing stretched out in cold moonlight, where the Brigorises lurked.

Beasts of ruin and savagery, their tusks gleamed with the sharp luster of death. Ten of them, hulking abominations of flesh interwoven with gleaming exo-metal, their grunts a symphony of primal hunger. They moved with the dreadful patience of hunters who had nothing to fear.

Art's voice was a whisper against the wind. "How many do you see?"

Silence.

He turned. The branch beside him was empty.

A sigh pressed from his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You absolute fool."

The Unchained Fury

Below, Kal was already sprinting, a blur of fury and reckless determination. His boots carved into the damp earth, each stride fueled by something deeper than mere training. The fire in his veins had ignited long before this mission—this was an eruption months in the making.

This is it. This is what I've trained for.

Flashes of memory splintered his vision. His mother's face, frozen in horror. His father's body, broken, unmoving. And then—Siniferre. Those elusive eyes hung over his father's blood-cloaked body.

A growl erupted from his throat. His prana surged, wrapping around his form in electric tendrils.

The Brigorises noticed.

One let loose a mechanical roar, charging, molten breath curling from its tusked maw.

The Dance of Death

Kal leapt, twisting midair, his right palm bursting with violet energy. He exhaled sharply.

"Distant Tusk!"

A lance of pure force erupted from his palm, spiraling through the air before slamming into the lead Brigoris. The beast barely had time to shriek before it was thrown backward, its massive frame crashing into the metallic undergrowth.

Nine left.

Kal hit the ground in a roll, springing up just as another Brigoris lunged. He dodged left, using his prana to amplify his speed. A metallic tusk grazed his shoulder, sparks flying. He twisted, grabbing the beast's snout, and redirected its momentum, sending it careening into a nearby trunk with a sickening crunch.

Eight.

A third Brigorised charged from behind, but Kal spun on his heel, raising his arm. He focused his prana into his fingertips, heat distorting the air around them. With a flick, a pulse of energy detonated outward. The creature stumbled, confused, as Kal slid beneath its legs, slamming both fists into its underside. A sonic wave of compressed energy burst forth, rupturing the Brigoris from the inside out.

Seven.

The Blood-Stained Count

A pair of them pounced together. Kal barely had time to react. He launched himself into a backward flip, skimming the surface of a nearby pond. The moment his boots met the water, his prana hardened beneath him, forming a bridge of sheer will. He launched forward, a living projectile, spinning through the air before landing behind the two beasts.

With a single pivot, he drove both hands into their spines, sending explosive currents of prana through their cores. The creatures seized, metallic ribs cracking apart before they collapsed into lifeless heaps.

Five.

From the tree above, Art reclined, watching with arms folded. A small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Not bad, kid. Not bad."

Kal exhaled sharply, pivoting just as another Brigoris thundered toward him. He extended his palm, catching the beast's tusk in a bone-jarring clash. His muscles screamed in protest, but his grip held firm.

"You're strong," Kal muttered through gritted teeth. "But I'm warped."

A sharp knee to the Brigoris' skull sent it stumbling. Kal seized his moment. He clasped his hands together and swung downward like a war hammer. The impact shattered the beast's plated back, sending it crumpling into the dirt.

Four.

Another Brigoris was already lunging. Kal ducked beneath its swipe, rolling sideways. His fingers brushed against the earth. He closed his eyes for half a second. Feel it. The pulse of the planet. The whisper of the wind. The movement of his enemies.

Ardour Location activated.

Kal's eyes snapped open, and he saw—no, felt—the battlefield in perfect clarity.

Without hesitation, he lunged at the incoming Brigoris, spinning midair as his fist connected with its ribcage. The impact sent shockwaves through its body, shattering bone and metal alike.

Three.

The last two flanked him, circling like vultures. He exhaled, grounding himself. The prana in his body thrummed like a storm, surging to its peak. He shifted into stance.

One of the beasts lunged first. Kal let it come. At the last possible second, he sidestepped, grabbed the creature's tusk, and tore it free in a single motion. With a battle cry, he spun and drove the jagged weapon through its skull.

Two.

The final Brigoris roared, charging with full force. Kal, bloodied and breathing heavily, smirked. "Been waiting for you."

He twisted his wrist, prana condensing into a spear of raw energy. With one final thrust, he drove it through the charging beast's heart.

One.

Silence.

The Final Kill—Or So He Thought

Kal stumbled backward, chest heaving. He wiped blood and sweat from his brow, eyes burning with the high of battle. Then—he grinned.

"HA! GLITCHIN!" He leapt into the air, triumphant. "That's how you do it! That's—"

A shadow fell over him.

His breath hitched.

Art sat up in the tree, lips pursed. "Ah," he murmured. "There it is."

Kal turned slowly. The ground trembled beneath his feet.

Emerging from the darkness was something beyond nightmare—three times the size of the others, its plated hide thicker than warships, its tusks serrated like jagged coal.

It didn't growl. It didn't roar.

It simply looked at him. And stepped forward.

Kal swallowed.

Art chuckled. "Well, this should be fun."

Glossary

Warped - pissed

Glitchin - hell yeah