Aldrich sat on a rough wooden trunk by the lake's edge. His silver hair caught the sunlight, his bare torso still wet from his earlier dip. Hours had slipped by, uncounted, as he stared into the water's glassy surface. Its stillness calmed him.
A shadow fell across the water, drawing his attention. He turned to find Karlak standing beside him, the sylvarith's muscular arms crossed over his chest, his usual scowl carved on his face.
A scoff escaped Aldrich's lips. Does he stalk him now? For a moment, they remained in silence, side by side, the lake's mirror reflecting their images. One was a warrior of the wild, and the other, a stranger in this land.
Karlak's mouth finally moved, two words tumbling out. "Come. Hunt."
Aldrich's head whipped to his side, a surprised smile breaking through. "Would you look at that?" he chuckled, marveling at the Sylvarith's clumsy grasp of Manora. "Even the chunk can learn." He jested.
Karlak's icy stare remained, his eyes like frozen steel.
"Okay, okay," Aldrich relented, rising with a stretch. He could help but wonder if this was a trap, a ploy to lure him beyond the settlement's safety and end his life?
"Is Aldana coming along?" he asked.
"No," Karlak replied, his voice a blunt blade.
Aldrich's eyes narrowed, suspicion coiling tight. "Does she know about this?"
Karlak nodded, yet Aldrich knew better than to drop his guard. Trust was a luxury he couldn't afford.
"What are we hunting?" he asked, walking beside him.
"Kan la su," Karlak grunted.
"Can you describe it?" Aldrich asked, but he caught a blank stare. "What does it look like?" he rephrased.
"Flesh. Soft. Horns. Four legs," Karlak struggled, his brow furrowing as he wrestled with the words. Aldrich bit back a laugh at the hulking warrior's earnest fumbling.
"Well, that doesn't help much," He quipped, rolling his shoulders. "Guess I'll find out when we catch one."
Barefoot and shirtless, his leather pants still clinging wetly, he followed Karlak toward the gate.
At the gate, a cluster of Sylvariths awaited, each astride a Kuna mount. Horse-like beasts with twin tails and four eyes. It reminded him of the horses in Akagi. He had never seen one in person though since very few still existed. They teetered on extinction, preserved only as pets for Highland elites.
Aldrich surveyed the group. He could only recognize the sylvarith he had met with Karlak the first time they met. He still had his cold gaze.
"Oi, Aldrich!" Alan's voice rang out, the Highlander perched behind a female Sylvarith, his arms wrapped around her waist with a grin. "Been looking for you. Where'd you go?"
"To clean up," Aldrich called back.
"Aldana came by," Alan added, his tone bright. "Said we're hunting Kardons."
"Kardons?" Aldrich raised an eyebrow. He checked his watch and found their information. They were herbivores and were worth forty points. Probably only that much because they were fast and difficult to catch.
Karlak mounted the last Kuna, extending a muscled arm toward Aldrich. Glancing at Alan, then the pretty Sylvarith he had his arms wrapped around, Aldrich sighed and grasped the offered hand, leaping onto the beast.
"Hold. Tight," Karlak rumbled, kicking the mount into motion.
"I hate this," Aldrich muttered, his arms reluctantly circling Karlak's waist as the Kuna surged forward. Beside him, Alan exaggerated a mock grimace, barely stifling his laughter. Aldrich made sure to flip him a middle finger.
The forest path buzzed with life as eleven Kuna mounts carried their riders through the verdant sprawl, the golden morning light filtering through a canopy alive with birdsongs and the incessant chirp of unseen insects.
Aldrich had relaxed his grip, his arms no longer clinging to Karlak's waist. Beside them, Alan's Kuna, ridden alongside Ula, kept pace, the rest of the hunting party trailing in a loose formation.
Aldrich turned to Alan, whose attention was ceased by a fluttering moth dancing past him.
"I'm curious," he began, his voice cutting through the natural chorus. "What else can the white core do, beyond keeping you warm and curing the gray disease?"
Alan's fingers drifted to the small white gem embedded in his bare chest, the skin suit no longer covering him.
"We get it when we turn one, others maybe a little older. It all depends on the reformers' directives. You have to be strong enough for the surgery," he mused, his tone reflective.
"I've lived with it almost my whole life. It keeps my body at an optimum condition. I have never even caught a simple cold. As for the skin suit, it's a shield somewhat. Obviously nothing like a combatant core's armor, but it does help too. Like you know, keep me warm and all, protect me from little cuts, that sort of thing."
Aldrich nodded. He knew all of this. Even in the resource-scarce Eastend, tales of the white core were common knowledge, even if the white core itself was beyond their reach. His question was a feint, a stepping stone to deeper waters. His eyes blinked slowly, a calculated pause. "What about the combatant cores?"
Alan leaned back, propping his arms behind him, palms resting on the Kuna's broad rump.
"The red core's the weakest of the bunch, but I would not underestimate its capabilities. I have seen a red core combatant break a jaguar's neck even without his armor. Even the lowest asynchronization, say 10%, doubles your physical stats. Strength, speed, you name it." His gaze lifted to the blue sky, a dreamer lost in thought.
"Asynchronization?" Aldrich latched onto the term. He recognized it. It was from the holographic screen, the reading tied to his Black Core.
"Yeah, asynchronization," Alan confirmed, sitting up with a roll of his wrist. "It's how well your body adapts to the core after the surgery. The Reformers have a tool they use to check it. Take a 20% user for example, they'll draw way less power from the core than someone at 60%. Clear?"
"Clear," Aldrich replied, masking the frown threatening to surface. One percent. It was pitifully low. "Can asynchronization grow?"
Alan chuckled softly as he stretched his limbs. "Only if. Actually, it's more likely to drop if you upgrade to a higher combatant core."
Aldrich exhaled gently, a short sigh. He turned to Alan again, now ready to ask his most important question. "Is there such a thing as a black core?" he asked.
"Uh?" Alan didn't even glance his way, now engrossed in cleaning his fingernails. "What are you talking about? There is no such core."
Alan, for all his knowledge, was a dead end. The Black Core remained a shadow.