The sun was shining bright overhead, the forests were silent. The wind blew across the everlasting gales of field winds of the small clearing of indigo grass and whistled at the barrel of the man's weapon.
It hung now in the man's iron grip.
Scout leader Skorhal was sent here to scout the falling star that landed in their nearby territory that borders the Emberthorn clan, by their Head Hunter, Torjin.
He thought it would be nothing. He had seen one time another star fall years back. He was sent to investigate that as well and found that the star was merely a big rock. He thought the same would happen when he scouted west. He was wrong.
He didn't understand what he had gotten himself into, neither what was before him.
A half-naked woman that claims to have killed people he was acquaintanced with once, and one troubling scent among them of one of the clan alpha-head's sons of Emberthorn. If she killed him, then she is dangerous. But...
Skorhal looked to the resolute statue of a man of flame-blasted metal, limbs almost like the lizards of the north, a soulless head stalked. But he knew it looked at him. At all of them.
Was he a godling? Or Titanborne?
Skorhal didn't know. His ears rang dully at the power it made, and when it spoke in its booming voice—even in his deafened state—Skorhal listened.
"Stop, or you will die."
All froze before him. He looked to the woman and claimed,
"Look and see. That woman, she is mine."
Skorhal looked to the woman curiously, seeing the surprise in her face.
Was he claiming her as a mate?
If he is, then to Skorhal, this man before him was. Which meant that he must be a demi-god.
If that's the case, then he needed to prove that he wasn't a threat. Not any longer at least, if he wanted to survive. If he wasn't—well, he was not going to find out through trial and error.
Skorhal approached slowly and stopped, bringing down his hood and licking the scar at his bottom lip.
"I am Scout Leader, Skorhal." He lowered his sword. "Who are you?" he asked.
There was a moment of silence before the man spoke.
"I am... Avian." He boomed with the same volume.
Skorhal's ears twitched at the sound, but his expression stayed the same.
He noted the strange way he said his name.
"I see, Avian-har. What is your business here, and why have you come claimed her as yours?" Skorhal asked.
A pause.
Then he spoke again, quieter this time.
"I have things I must do with her," he stated boldly.
Skorhal looked back, confused, hoping what he was thinking was not what was true.
"I see, Avian-har. Then your business is?" Skorhal asked again.
He simply tilted his head before answering.
"With the woman. And I need to go in that direction." He pointed north. "Where do you live? Take me to it. I want to speak with your leader."
The woman finally spoke to him,
"No, they... they are Emberthorn. They killed my clan."
Skorhal's green eyes widened at the accusation.
"Woman, how dare you assume we hail from those animals-te! Not anymore!"
"Do I see trouble?" the man asked.
Skorhal grit his teeth.
"No. We hail from the Forest Lords Omega. This is their territory," he snapped at her.
The woman seemed to relax, but the angry look did not leave her golden eyes, looking into his eyes doubtfully.
Skorhal continued,
"It would be a pleasure to escort you to the town, Avian-har. I was sent to bring information, so a meeting with Head Hunter Torjin-har would be... wonderful."
The man—no, Avian-har—paused again. A longer silence this time, before slowly nodding.
"Then we go."
———————————————————
The pale bark trees stood like silent titanic watchers, coiling and bending over the hardened soil. Weeping thin green leaves that joined the barren fields of dead leaves. No grass in sight, but there were mushrooms, bugs, and worms.
Bo's heavy boots rumbled, breaking the stillness. Each gliding stride took him further. His legs ached slightly, his breathing was deep, calm, efficient.
LIRA made sure of that.
Bo's head drifted upwards to the trees—blurry figures darting back and forth through the branches ahead of him. Heaterin and the other capes beast people, he'd call them for now—dashed from tree to tree.
He pulled up his speed display at a thought, and it read a steady: 28km/h.
Slower than he was a year ago, and he'd be much slower without the suit or LIRA. He was starting to yearn for his old self that would consider this a day off at the academy.
Trees, branches, and exposed roots swept past him as he moved intuitively around them. He looked up, and they were further now.
His legs were starting to tire.
He wondered if they had simply decided to leave him, whether he should turn on thermals to track them.
[Bo, stop.]
LIRA suddenly commanded.
He stumbled forward, hopped, and dug his heels into the ground, surfing the layer of dead leaves piled on the floor. He looked forward and saw more trees—albeit smaller than he was used to.
[Stop now.]
LIRA toned urgently now.
Bo reached for a spindly sapling ahead of him and gripped at its stem. The tree bent as he slid past it.
His heart dropped when he realized that his path ended—his body falling forward into a cliffside. A straight drop, 30–40 meters, before he'd meet a rugged slope.
The tree stem went taut behind him in his grip as he teetered over the edge, roots unearthed and snapping one by one. Reflexively, he pulled himself back, the sapling ripping from the ground.
It fell—down, down the drop as if in slow motion, careening into protruding sticks before slamming into the dirt.
Bo stepped back from the ledge, panting as the chill of death made his blood run cold.
"Damn it, why didn't you warn me there was a cliff?" he gasped in his helmet.
[I didn't. We were not equipped with sonar sensors. I told you to stop because the xenos did.]
LIRA replied defensively.
[If you had instead implemented a combat slide, that would have had less distance traveled. Remember, I see what you see—except twice that.]
Bo's eyes narrowed, "and you didn't see that how then?"
[Two time nothing is still nothing, pilot. Let's be cautious from now on.]
Bo shook his head and looked up at the caped figures still perched up in the tree, then to Heaterin, hopping from trunk to trunk in zigzags down to him. She landed on all fours before quickly recovering, walking towards him.
"Are you okay?" she asked, glancing at the cliff.
"Yeah, I am fine," he answered.
She pointed back to the cliffside that, on a second calmer look, showed that it stretched into a large circle.
"We... [processing] —jump," she said matter-of-factly.
Bo blinked, confused for a moment.
"We, what do we do?"
"We jump. We jump and slide." She clarified.
Bo's head snapped up to the tree at a loud shrieking tear in the air. One of the cloaked men was whistling at the hole, his hands cupped around his mouth.
They looked at Rinocco, then longer at him—nodding before leaping into the air, hands out and feet braced down. Bo leaned out the ledge to see them grow smaller and smaller before hitting the dirt and gliding through it, surfing down like he did with more practiced ease.
They disappeared into a darker depth.
"Have you done this too?" Bo asked nervously.
Heaterin shook her head. Despite that, she was already backed up from the cliff before she leapt out—surprisingly fast and graceful.
Bo's eyes widened. He reached out to her instinctively, trying to pull her back from danger.
She roared in the air, screamed as she fell, disappearing over the edge.
Bo was left speechless, all alone. Last. He grinned to himself, taking a long sigh.
[It is likely this may be a trap.]
LIRA reasoned.
Bo turned back and moved away.
"Maybe."
[There could be debris in the rubble that could impale you.]
Bo got low on his knee, his hands placed shoulder-width apart. He looked out ahead of him.
"Unlikely."
[Let's look for a safer way down. In fact, let's go back to camp and strategize and discuss about the data we've collected.]
LIRA flickered in as her avatar, standing in his way.
Bo breathed slowly, licking his lips behind his mask.
"LIRA, start the countdown."
She shook her head in defeat, flickering away, replaced with the number 5 in his vision.
[You're going to break your legs.]
LIRA groaned.
"Probably," Bo replied, too determined to stop now.
The countdown began like gears shifting into place.
4...
3...
2...
1...
Muscles tensed, breath held, as he surged from the ground into a full sprint in half a second.
He pushed forward, devouring the distance between him and the very edge.
Four paces out, and he drove one foot down—heaving himself up. He carried himself into the air. He leapt far. The air embraced him, the golden light—a halo around him.
He felt lift. He was flying for a moment—but only for a moment. Gravity took hold and pulled. Now the air rushed past him. His blood rose to his head.
The ground rushed up to meet him.
Uncertain feet punched through the coarse dirt, breaking his fall. His heart felt like it fell onto his bladder.
The jolt slammed through Bo's legs, knees buckling to let the earth devour some of the impact.
His boots plowed through loose soil, leaves whipping past as his momentum tilted forward into a chaotic, controlled descent.
A dust cloud made by Heaterin took his vision.
He tried to change direction as he skidded, tripped, bounced once onto his feet, slammed his shoulder against a jut of stone, spun in a spray of brown dust, and dropped to one knee before regaining his footing.
He was now surfing the cliffside. He looked back to see the trail of dust he created, then back as he slipped into the shade.
The slope became more gentle, and he slowed down.
When he had time to look around him, he realized one thing:
The land was hollow.
For a moment, everything stilled as he surfed deeper in.
Just dirt on his visor. A ringing in his ears. And LIRA's voice, perfectly flat:
[Congratulations. Nothing's broken. But I'm logging this under "Pilot demonstrates suicidal bravado #36."]
Bo exhaled hard, blinking until the HUD refocused. Wiping his visor.
"Still very alive."
[And still very reckless.]
The slope behind him rose like the belly of some long-dead beast, leaves, twigs, and rocks tumbling after him. He could hear voices farther down—shouts, laughter, that shriek-like whistle echoing between the cliffside.
He slid deeper still before settling at the base of the base of the cliff. Bo looked around at the rocky cavern, he looked ahead and above to see the rocky roof, the 2 holes he could see were just as big as the cliff he jumped into—except jumping into those meant a free fall of hundreds of metters.
The gigantic pillars of smooth rock held the ceiling up. You would need allot of sturdy pillars to hold them up, Bo thought, and there were many. They blocked his veiw to the rest of the place.
Below were giant palm tree dwafed by the pillars, amongst them were the wooden houses propped up on beams.
"Is this some kind of big ol' cave they've made a home out of? This place is huge." Bo said in amazement in his helmet.
[It seems very likely.]
LIRA confirmed.
When Bo drew closer to level ground, sterring past trees that were almost 20 times his size and as thick as he was tall he spotted humanoids.
Even from a distance he can almost spot tails on them, Heaterin didn't have that, nor the recon squad.
These were probably the natives, Bo thought. He'd need to be cautious of them because if they were anymore stronger than Heaterin, he was in trouble.
"Okay LIRA here's what I'm thinking. What if I pretend to be strong and powerful." Bo suggested.
[That could possibly work, especially if we haven't identified they're threat level. However if they are any stronger than your xeno, they may pose a threat albeit minor in this suit.]
LIRAR responded.
"If they are then it's even more reason to look like I'm more trouble fighting." Bo nodded to himself.
[And be a hissing kitten in a den of lions.]
LIRA retorted, before she continued.
[These xenos are primitive I suggest you keep your posture strong. Stick with your xeno, follow its lead and if threatened, establish dominance.]
Bo's boots slowed nad scrapped on level bround to a halt. The 17 bodies looked at him mumuring, watching curiously, so did he.
The local men wore tight fitting leather shorts and sleeaveless vests, with fish scale-like bracers and sandal grieves. Their hair cut short. Their olive skin tattooed in spots of blue.
The women wore the same except being layered in a delicate baggy white skirt and wrobe. Their hair styled in short braids.
All shorter than Bo thankfully towering over them at 6'5. He was a head above them all.
Bo stood motionless looking around at the crowd for Heaterin and he immediately spoted her.
Infront of the scout leader and backing away just as weary of them as they were of Bo.
She looked up at Bo and said, "They think... [processing] The want to take me... [processing] pleas."
Bo spoke in his helmet, "LIRA..."
[Wait a moment Bo. I'm using the audio samples in the crowd to catch up with the linguistic complexity.]
Bo nodded to Heaterin, she looked like she relaxed a little while Bo was gritting in his helmet, "Linguistic faster, damn it or we'll have to look like Heaterin's lap-dog."
There was a thunderous roar ahead that drew the crowd and Bo's attention. A figure Leaping into the open air with unnatural height as if shot from a planetary pulse cannnon. Their cape fluttered fiercely behind them.
The crowd spread apart as if they would get hit, however LIRA already calculated, then displayed the landing mark and impact radius. It was going to land right infront of Bo.
The being hit the ground like a meteor, dirt kicked up and some hit the armour. Slowly rising slowly was a man, more muscular, taller, feircer than Bo. Blue eyes stared stared at Bo's blank helmet, then to Heaterin.
He frowned deeply like he found something he didn't like. Bo reached out his arm defensively infront of her and stared the man down.
The man finally spoke in a deep gravely voice.
"Jshew Gravich nerra vashta. Nujaska ren jorun—vorran nerra. Shirrak nerra. Vorrak nerra. Gravich karn jshew. Vashdren jikir?"
Bo was speechless, because he couldn't say anything in response. He couldn't rely on LIRA's translation any since it seems like she had given up. Bo had to do something now.
He nodded.
And the literal beast of a man smiled.