Kalon

  Chapter Eighty-Seven: Shulka

  Galactic Quadrant: Darna Quadrant

  Ruling Government: Talum Merchant Federation

  Solar System: D-447

  Planet: Ora

  Location: The planet's surface

  The calm in me makes way for the storm as the pair of Carvers approach, the sea of eyes in the distance has not disappeared… all of them are Carvers or extremely hungry. Shriekers and Lurkers normally would make themselves scarce. The thin ice forming around me cracks as I shift my weight. Fingers numbly palming my blades which Fennec returned. My eyes wish to droop, the steady draft of Netheric Maka is the only thing that holds my bones upright now, that and the ember of pride that still remains.

  “Come, taste my blade’s song, Shulka,” I say, trying to muster more strength. I remember when I told Luna the word’s meaning one night before sleep found us, back in the abandoned city. Bonded to the Darkness.

  A low growl tells me it understands my taunt. Its eyes dart behind me toward Luna, its pupils dilating as its mouth seeps fluid in anticipation. Anger flares with pride as it discards me in its gaze. My feet move as swiftly as they can, which is not as fast as I would like. Frustration nips at me with the chill in the air. My hand swings with good form but not enough speed or power. The Carver steps from its path with ease, trying to slide by me to its next meal. They really don’t care about me at all, it is like before. Anger splashes against the walls that the calm has spent a lifetime building. My blade spins in my palm stabbing the back of the creature’s thigh.

  “Presumptuous…” I seethe, stabbing it twice more, forcing it to bare its fangs and turn back to me. The other moves to try and get Luna, but the first seems irritated at it, growling for it to leave its prey alone. Again ignoring me. The ember of pride finds fuel in its lack of respect, the flame growing brighter as two more stabs open its throat, the third strike slams against the chest, and the metal of my blade grinds against the tough shell around its Netheric heart. Anger flares again as my eyes meet its.

  It snaps its jaws and slaps me to the side of the ice cave’s wall, knocking the air from me. My teeth grind as I rise. Cold, and bitter, it did not even try to kill me. It just swatted me from its path. The other presses me against the wall, looking at me curiously, sniffing close to me before losing interest and trying to pass by the other Carver once more.

  The first whose wounds have already closed, growls deeply at the other. My jaw flexes, the indignation of it all, after everything I have been through. I stab again and again until one spears me in the ribs with its Netherium-tipped claws, not even bothering to look at me. There is a surge as my blood ignites from it… warmth, pure and beautiful warmth springs life into me as I take a deep breath, pulling the claw deeper into my belly, drinking from it all the energy it can offer. Pulses of Netheric Maka wind through my body as steam starts to rise. The Shulka pulls its claws from me, bringing them to its eyes, a confused expression finding its smooth grey face as its eyes finally turn toward me. A grin grips me as the other Shulka does the same, taking a single shuffling step back as it finally sizes me up, taking notice at last.

  “Come, find absolution,” I say as the ice upon my body melts, the steam rising higher as my eyes begin to see Maka in the air now, the craving for more Netherium high in my mind.

  Both growl as they swipe at me, I do not try to avoid all the strikes, for they build the strength in me with each cut. My flesh healing back as soon as it opens. My blade slams into the first in seven spots, my refreshed body moving more than four times faster than a few minutes ago. Their movements feel somehow sluggish now as they hiss at me, trying to grab and pull me. My blade grinds upon their metal-infused bones as I cut the tendons and muscles away, lopping off arms as I go, leaving them wide-eyed and sputtering from throats that try to heal, but their black tongues block the hole, flopping uselessly on their necks.

  Taking their large arms I slice the fingers from them, sinking the claws from them into me until they become dust, a wild look forming in my glowing eyes. I can fight them. I am not weak like I was before. The armless Carvers scatter back, but I am upon them, following after. My strength surges as I move, kicking one squarely in the back, my eyes widen as I feel the ribs bend from the force. Stronger indeed.

  The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Their howls pierce the air as I chase them from the mouth of the cave into the night, I see the furnaces of crimson light stacking against the night with my enhanced vision, hundreds of them within a hundred paces. There are no Shriekers or Lurkers in sight.

  The Carvers whose arms I claimed begin to grow new ones unnaturally from the stubs of their arms as they stumble toward the group of hundreds. The bones jut out, they look weaker, less metallic than their normal ones. My eyes widen as the other Carvers that have gathered descend upon them in a ferocious storm, ripping chunks off of them with their sharp Netherium tipped teeth.

  I feel my legs backing up to the mouth of the cave again as all of their eyes turn towards me now, the pulsing of Netheric Maka around me drawing their gazes. It is in this moment that I feel the terror I saw Arrum give the first Carver we fought. Built from seeing into eyes that wish to devour me. My pride’s fire rises, pressing back the fear. As they canter towards me, feral growls fill the winds whipping gusts, I carve at the ice walls, trying to collapse it to make the entry even more narrow. One shriek pierces the night louder than the others, then another, until there are ten, maybe twenty shrieking. Black blood spilling against the white snow and ice. Hands clawing their own throats out… I have seen this before. My blood, the ones they ate, they must have had my blood on them. Twisted laughter hits the air, it takes a moment to realize it is my own.

  Taking my blades, I cut into my own flesh, making it wet with my blood. I had forgotten. Though it is strange, it did not take long for my blood to be effective, is it because of the boundaries? Focus. The living are the ones with the luxury of time to muse over such things. If I wish to stay among them… I need to stay sharp on the task before me.

  The ones that do not claw at themselves come swiftly, I barely manage to narrow the mouth of the cave before they slam into it. Netherium teeth sink into my body as claws splay into me. Cutting and scraping every part of me before it drains the Netherium dry, leaving only sealed flesh. My mind spins and my vision grows brighter, but I do not lose sight of my objective. Each hand that reaches receives the poisoned blade. I feel something rising with all the Netherium that tears into me. Faster and faster, I feel my body breaking it down. As though it has become better at it. The thing that rises becomes tension as I ebb with Netheric Maka, so much that I barely feel the stabs now. I am heat, and blade, that is all.

  The others rip the previous ones from the whole as they begin to spew the black blood, their skin bubbling and boiling. My bones ache like they are pumping new blood as fast as I use it. Rewetting my blade, my blood crystalizes all around, sprayed in wild arcs.

  “More… I need more.” I say.

  Biting back as one bites me, its blood tastes of death, but the gritty Netherium inside it tells me to drink more before it pulls from me. The blood from my lip burns its flesh into boils. The others grab and pull it into the chaotic pile of desperately scrapping hands, hoping to eat me and Luna. I can hold the line… I feel… my head spins as nausea kicks me in the stomach. Black sludge sloshing from my mouth. I can’t stop here. I can’t. I will die. She will die. Fight… survive.

  My hands begin to move faster, more feral as my eyes glow brighter. The steam rages off my body as I climb through the bodies and pull my next prey. Biting its claws in my mouth, breaking my teeth as I do, blood spilling from my lips. My broken and jagged teeth are now weapons laced with my gift for them. Like a wild animal, I rip and tear flesh as my mind fades from thought and into instinct alone.

  I lose count of how many I bite into, how many times my ears have regrown, my fingers slid back into joint or my arm straightened after breaking. Each time though, my body feels harder… stronger. Until the tension inside me reaches critical, threatening to explode. I do not fight it… I press and press until… the boundary ruptures.

  Time dilates as my pupils do, and waves of Netheric Maka condense on my frame, vibrating until I feel it sink into my muscles, deep into the fibers, into the tendons. Even my skin vibrates with it, feeling like Netheric Maka imbues itself into it.

  I swipe at the air reflexively but find nothing within reach. Through the hazy confusion, I realize nothing is attacking me anymore. In fact, they have retreated, leaving the masses of corpses that boil and steam still. Are they running from me? My eyes scan around.

  There is something strange moving in the distance, like only one of the suns is rising, its orange hue for some reason blue like the truest Etherium. It is only now that my confused mind realizes it is not a sun. What is then? It moves rapidly edging forward in bursts, so fast I don't see it clearly. I hear hisses and scampering feet around me, my eyes barely staying open now. Sleep whispers to me, now that the tension has gone. I am sure that I broke another boundary. The sick feeling in me from before is more dulled this time, yet I am so weary.

  All the red lights are fleeing from the enormous blue Etheric glow that approaches me still, its pace has slowed considerably. The glow pulls inward until it is in the shape of a man, now hugging his frame. His control of Etheric Maka dwarfs Luna’s to such a degree that my eyes blink again and again.

  His pace is measured, he barely disturbs the snow as he walks between the bodies. Looking at him, he wears strange attire, not the kind that someone would wear on the surface. No furs, just a simple robe and strange shoes that lace up his legs in a weave. A large wide-brimmed hat rests on his brow, his eyes slowly rise to meet mine, a strange glint in them.

  “Sleep.” He says, his tone is even and calm.

  A pulse of energy rolls from his words and slams my knees to the ground, the will to sleep becoming a roar in my head yet I do not allow it to pull me. I try to rise to my feet, the man tilts his head a little at me with a strange look.

  “Sleep.”

  Respec on Death has somehow managed to make it to #1 on Rising Stars. Thank you everyone who followed, favorited, rated / reviewed! It means a lot to me, you're all amazing people!

  Respec on Death. Thank you again!