The Minor Apocalypse Beast

The soft glow of the computer screen cast shifting patterns across Kaito's bedroom wall, illuminating the mess of textbooks and discarded manga. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, while in the corner, the monitor played random videos on autoplay, a digital stream of consciousness that Durandal absorbed with unwavering focus. Her small, luminous form floated beside the screen, her head tilted, processing the strange, chaotic tapestry of modern human culture, for better or worse.

The school day had ended, and with it, a text from Yumi had arrived: an executive of the A Association was coming to Japan tomorrow. Kaito's mind immediately leaped to the escalating crisis in Nasu. Could it be related to the Killing Stone, to the unseen miasma sickening hundreds? The timing felt too precise to be mere coincidence.

Aside from the looming supernatural threats, his afternoon had been unexpectedly mundane. Maria had practically dragged him to a clothing store, insisting he needed more than his single set of similarly looking outfits. He'd gone along with it, mostly because arguing with Maria was a losing battle, and partly because he knew she was right.

His training, at least, was progressing with remarkable speed. He'd managed to consistently defeat financially motivated Roland and feeling better Roland. He was now regularly challenging uncursed Roland nightly as his next goal, pushing his limits against the form of his shadowy mentor.

But now, it seemed his next goal might be something entirely different. A minor apocalypse beast. A true monster. It was something he would be facing for the very first time, a stark departure from his focused training against human opponents.

Kaito drifted into an early slumber, a familiar transition from the mundane reality of his bedroom to the strange, ethereal landscape he now knew by heart. Durandal's original, voluptuous form floated before him, her eyes wide and unblinking, seemingly dazed. She was likely distracted, Kaito realized, still watching the entertainment outside.

As Kaito approached, she snapped back into focus. "Why did you go to sleep so early?" she chided, a playful pout on her lips. "I was getting to a good part." Her expression then shifted, becoming more direct. "So, do you want to fight the Minor Apocalypse Beast?"

"Yeah," Kaito affirmed.

With a graceful sweep of her hand, Durandal manifested a large, leather-bound book that shimmered into existence and hovered in the air before him. Kaito reached out, his fingers closing around the cool, aged cover. "What is this?" he asked, before flipping it open.

"It's the collective record of all the monsters or opponents I have seen, fought, or slain," Durandal explained, her voice echoing with ancient knowledge. "A compendium of my glorious conquests, if you will."

Kaito's eyes scanned the pages. There were fantasy monsters he was familiar with: lesser slimes, goblins, treants, and many others he didn't recognize, sketched with an almost impossible detail, some alongside complex magical sigils and tactical notes. As he flipped through the book, his eyes caught on a truly unique and disturbing image: a humanoid figure fused to a horse, their form entirely skinless, revealing glistening muscle and bone, and one of its hands was unnervingly shaped like a scythe.

Durandal leaned over, her colossal head nearly brushing his. "Oh, a Nuckelavee," she mused, a hint of disdain in her tone. "It's a nuisance of a monster that keeps showing up in battlefields and annoys others with its presence. I've slain a few, but it just keeps coming back to stand around, unnerving soldiers."

Kaito, intrigued by the grim drawing, flipped through a few more pages, wondering what other horrors Durandal's long life had chronicled.

Kaito continued to flip through the massive, leather-bound book, pages rustling softly in the ethereal space. As he did, Durandal's form floated closer, her eyes fixed on the turning pages.

"Ah, this one," Durandal remarked, her voice a chime in his mind as Kaito's fingers paused on a new entry. "This is a minor apocalypse beast."

Kaito looked at the page. The creature depicted was called the Skjólvettr. It looked like a majestic, yet terrifying elk, but with antlers that dwarfed anything found in nature, stretching upwards like gnarled, icy branches.

"It's related to an unknown major apocalypse beast of winter and ice," Durandal explained. "Myths describe its progenitor as Ymir's Frost-Heart, a titan-like creature with colossal, jagged antlers, standing on two feet with vast swathes of white fur. Its very existence heralds' endless winter and the end of all warmth in the world."

Kaito quickly took note of the Skjólvettr. He flipped to the next page, and his brow furrowed in surprise. The drawing showed an ordinary-looking rabbit. Then, on the facing page, a grotesque, winged creature with sharp claws and teeth—the Jabberwocky?

Durandal sighed. "Yes, both are minor apocalypse beasts," she confirmed, a rare hint of frustration in her tone. 'But I've never defeated these two. Only seen them."

Kaito read their names aloud: "The Vorpal Rabbit, and the Jabberwocky." A thought struck him. "Isn't Jabberwocky from Alice in Wonderland?"

Durandal tilted her head. "What is an Alice in Wonderland?"

"Never mind," Kaito muttered, shaking his head. He knew trying to explain modern fiction to an ancient entity was usually a lost cause.

"They are both spawn of a major apocalypse beast," Durandal continued, unaffected by Kaito's interjection. "The Smiling Chaos, some indescribable monster with the power over sanity and madness."

Kaito continued to turn the pages of the vast tome, his fingers brushing over depictions as Durandal's voice chimed in, providing commentary.

"Here's another one, oh, that's just Cerberus," she commented, her tone dismissive. "He's kind of famous. Every hero would challenge him once in their lifetime."

He flipped to another page. "That's the Elder Chimera," Durandal mused, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. "Despite how intimidating it looks, it's rather friendly and can talk too."

Next was a sleek, reptilian creature. "A Venom Dragon," Durandal explained. "Not really a minor apocalypse beast but similar in power. It spawns from Nidhogg's poison."

Another flip. A grotesque, skeletal serpentine creature writhed on the page. "A Corpse Sea Serpent. It's a descendant of Leviathan, though quite weak. But fighting it in water will make it challenging for you, Kaito."

Durandal then pointed to a picture of a gaunt, black bird with a skeletal frame, perched on a barren branch. It was named the Hollow Watcher. "How about this one, Kaito?" she offered. "It's weak and can't even fly well."

Kaito agreed with the suggestion. Facing a 'weak' monster felt like a sensible next step before tackling something as daunting as a Skjólvettr or Jabberwocky.

As Kaito nodded, the dream-like scenery around him began to shift and solidify, replaced by a bleak, desolate landscape. A ruined stone tower jutted from the earth, surrounded by a skeletal forest of dead trees. Perched atop the crumbling spire, unmistakable even from a distance, was the Hollow Watcher. Its black feathers seemed to absorb the light, and its skeletal frame looked impossibly fragile against the grim sky. As Kaito watched, it let out a death curdling cry, a sound that promised despair and echoed eerily through the barren silence.