Months had grown into years, and the life of Rusk and Pax had deviated beyond either of their expectations. Oh, the misery of life—how quaint and trying—the ceaseless momentum of here and there, the ebb, the blood, the flow.

  Somewhere, beyond the Rip Gate of Himadri, a group of rangers marked with insignia of Bayren Emperar met with Rangers bearing the mark of the ORPA Sapphire Branch; a specialized branch mainly involved with submerged and marine Translates. Though their focus had always lain in the depths of the Crepusculata, which was infamous for its aggressive megafauna and heavy Diodecian presence. Their order was one of the more diverse among the Color Branches of the ORPA, with members from a myriad of backgrounds.

  The leading ranger of the ORPA Sapphire was a tall Diodecian with a weird, porous head resembling an oblong sponge. Lacking eyes, mouth, ears, or features, it was a mystery how he had such a deep, buttery-soft voice.

  “Alas, we meet! Oh, pompous pawns of Bayren!” the sponge-headed Diodecian announced with a grandiose stretch of his overly muscular arms. “Our jurisdictions finally cross here and now! How romantic!~”

  His fellow ORPA Sapphire rangers all kind of looked away, embarrassed.

  The rangers bearing Bayren’s marks looked at each other, confused, as rain crashed down on them. Among them, a young man with an annoyed glare of purple poison moved forward. He asked coldly, “Are you Vice-Captain Harold Geodaia?”

  The sponge-headed Diodecian lowered his arms and extended one of his massive hands forward. “Positively, my little friend!” Harold said. “And who might you be?”

  The ranger took a deep breath, easing his expression as he shook his hand. “ámon Pax,” he said, tone rising. “Head of security for the incredibly resplendent Lord and Savior Bayren Emperar.” His rising voice collapsed back into a cold monotone whisper against the surrounding storm. “Did you review our plan for the joint kill-op?”

  “Positively I have! But I must say—you must be very confident in the skills of your rangers. We’re dealing with Diodecian pirates, after all.”

  Pax blankly stared into what he assumed was a face. “Overwatch is all that will be required of you.”

  Harold lowered his head, nearing Pax’s wet face. “Your performance will reflect on Lord Bayren,” he said in a low, menacing tone.

  “I know,” Pax said, staring deep into the lightless pores of his spongy visage.

  Harold pulled back, his voice growing bright once more. “Positive thinking! Just my style!” He gave Pax a thumbs-up. “I’ll be watching closely! I hope you’re not shy!~”

  Pax struggled to match his energy as he turned away, regrouping with his unit.

  With the growth and development of Himadri, the number of Stargliders importing and exporting goods into the region had increased over the last decade. With the rise of goods came a rise in piracy. Diodecian pirates encroached into the region, plundering vessels and unleashing chaos onto the exhausted few who dared to venture into those already deadly waters. This debauchery and crime grew sporadically, with the sinking of a glider ultimately leading to this joint venture between the private ranger corps under Bayren and the ORPA Sapphire.

  Their target in this instance was a relatively infamous Diodecian named Fitz Hyphinn—a sea snake-headed Diodecian and an old-guard under the Diodecian King Sethrem Sphyn. Fitz and his crew had been tracked to the abandoned Translate-side port of the Tryfen Rip Translate.

  Inside one of the abandoned warehouses; food, drugs, and booze spiraled from hand to hand, from fang to tooth as pirates indulged in their plunder. Large, beastly creatures sporting the heads of sharks, fish, and more lurked and loitered within the hollowed remains left behind by the once-hopeful colonists of the moon Tryfen. Rusted support beams groaned overhead, stripped lights flickered weakly, and the metal floors rang beneath heavy steps and dragging tails. Now there was only cold metal, the air thick with salt and rot, and the cackling laughter and discordant music of the Diodecians echoing through the liminal end of Port’s bones.

  In the gray beyond, on the rusted docks of the high-rise port, Diodecians carefully scoured the rainy horizon, rain slicking across corroded railings and trickling down into the violent gray. Waves slapped against the metal far below, sending hollow echoes up the skeletal structure. And to their unknowing dismay, dark shadows already moved in the waters beneath the docks, slipping between pillars and vanishing with each swell.

  A dogfish-headed Diodecian yawned as he took a swig from a silver canister, his beady eyes squinting at the lack of drink left inside. He tipped it annoyed, before turning to face a lamprey-headed Diodecian.

  “Milton! I’m going back fer a drink? You want somethin?” the dogfish-headed Diodecian shouted over the roar of the waves, rain hammering against his shoulders as the wind tore the words from his mouth.

  “WHAT?” Milton—the lamprey Diodecian—called back. “I CAN’T HEAR YA!”

  The dogfish-headed Diodecian growled and stomped closer, “I said—do you want somethin to dri—”

  Milton squinted, his alien eyes narrowing as the words cut off. His fellow Diodecian was just standing there, head limping forward, shoulders slack, rain running down his snout in thin streams.

  “Joshua?” Milton called, leaning closer. “Are y—”

  KKKRSH!

  Before words could escape his jawless, spiral mouth, a black chitinous tendril tore into him from below. The long, scaly limb skewered him from ass to gills in a single, gross motion. There was no time to react or flinch—only the sharp jerk of his body as the force punched through his neck. The tendril writhed as it withdrew, slick and dark. It vanished back underneath the dock. Milton fell face-first, blood leaking through the grated metal floor in thin streams, dripping into the ocean’s murk. The Dogfish Diodecian also fell forward, with a loud thud. A slender stood over his body, their face hidden by the black visors of their ranger uniform.

  Nearby other Diodecians were also on patrol, but amidst the fog and disturbing Kyyr of the Crepusculata there was little they could see, or do. Shapes vanished at the edge of vision, sounds were swallowed by rain and distance, and calls went unanswered. One by one, their numbers were thinned, quietly and without warning, until only a single large warehouse remained—the one housing their Starglider and the rest of their crew.

  None the wiser, the Diodecians inside sang old sea shanties as they drank themselves stupid. But not Fitz, who drank passively as he monitored the locations of those outside on his crystalcomm. On its small display, tags marked each of his crew members. He lapped his forked tongue as he watched the dots on his screen sit still.

  No motion.

  No life.

  He stood up in a calm panic, slit eyes sweeping the room as he examined every entrance—known and possible. Snake eyes dragged themselves along the walls and doorways. His crew was drunk beyond saving. The only ones sane enough to understand their situation were the unfortunate victims they’d taken. He hissed, scales shuddering as he felt the ominous drag of death closing in. Hissing again, he pushed past the crowd and made his way toward the Starglider.

  “Captain, where are ya goin? There’s plenty of booze and bitches to enjoy!” one of the Diodecians shouted after their Captain.

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Fitz glanced back, keeping stride. “Just steppin’ away t’ relieve myself…” he hissed, tongue lapping against the air as he hastily boarded the glider.

  This was a cruise-model Starglider, much smaller than the Dreadnought-class Stargliders of the ORPA, but large and powerful enough to survive the Curved Sea. Aboard were stolen goods and people they planned to sell on the slave market—and four crew members currently testing out their merchandise.

  Fitz Hyphinn, like many other Diodecians, had deep ties to the Abyss, granting him a higher affinity for soul Kyyr. His Kyyr ability, Sonata Marina, let him manipulate waves of Abyssal Kyyr through water. This muted and hard-to-detect Kyyr allowed him to attack with something as innocuous as a puddle of water. Not only that, he had once been a member of the Hunting King Clan, allowing him to place Kyyr runes—spreading his Kyyr influence and letting him sense souls through these runes.

  He rushed up to the long bridge of the glider, sat at the controls, and opened the skylights. He saw his delirious crew displayed on the side camera monitor, but didn’t hesitate as he activated the auxiliary mechanoids to help him man the glider.

  The glider’s crystal engines began whirring, their low hum catching the attention of the confused crew.

  “Oi, is the bloody ship movin?” a crab-headed Diodecian called out.

  “By Orness, ya might be right!” another shouted, getting up shakily as he spilled a bottle over himself. “The fuck’s the Cap’n doin?”

  The glider rose with a loud crash as its tip tore into the metal walls of the warehouse. Around the crew, panic spread as some of the women took the opportunity to scramble away, while the Diodecian pirates watched in angry confusion as the Starglider began to rip through the back wall.

  A figure watched from the window.

  Human—inhuman, with tendrils twisting in the rain, ámon Pax spoke through his comms. “Fitz is attempting to escape. Update the Sapphire Branch. Over.”

  The slender ranger near the main entrance below nodded curtly. “Understood.”

  Pax’s armor twisted as black, chitinous scales erupted across his body, crawling over his hands and legs, reshaping them into claws and talons as his human form deformed into a beast.

  “Sierra, be primed to save the hostages. I’m moving in as planned,” Pax said through his comms.

  A female ranger's voice chirped with acknowledgement through the comms.

  With that, he burst through the window—glass exploding outward in a storm of shards that snapped the attention of the drunken, confused Diodecians. Shouts barely had time to form. Black tendrils plunged into flesh as chitinous scales, charged with Kyyr, shot from Pax’s body, punching through muscle and bone alike. Bodies were yanked off their feet, dragged screaming into the dark, as the ranger cloaked in shadow tore through them like paper, rain and blood spraying across the warehouse floor.

  Other rangers surged in from all sides, gunfire flashing in sharp bursts as Diodecians were cut down where they stood. Kyyr flared through the chaos as rangers moved with practiced precision, shields rising, bindings snapping into place as terrified hostages were pulled clear and shielded from the slaughter.

  It was almost instantaneous. The half-fish beasts were torn apart and slaughtered in moments, their revelry ending in a blur of gunfire, shadow, and choking silence with little consequence to the rangers.

  KRRRRAAANG…

  The Starglider tore through the warehouse wall, bursting out into the stormy outside. Rain crashed down through the open skylights, soaking Fitz and the mechanoids as wind howled through the bridge.

  Fitz didn’t bother to look back. His serpentine visage twisted into a vile smile as the glider pulled free from the port, rain battering against him as he left his crew's remains behind.

  “Fucking rangers…” Fitz hissed to himself as he turned to the drenched mechanoids. “Set a course fer Demmeklass!” he roared over the howling wind.

  Thud…

  His horned brows shot up as he turned toward the subtle noise.

  Thud…

  “It can’t be…” he hissed, thoughts spiraling. I knew there was a chance they’d be gainin’ on me—but here!? He glanced at the display that showed the glider’s speed. We’re traveling at over 130 km/h how?!

  Thud!

  Fitz pulsed Kyyr into the water, pressing his hands against the slick walls as Hunting Runes began to spread beneath his palms, faintly glowing through the condensation.

  But he had little time to prepare as a clawed hand grabbed onto the skylight’s rim. Fitz didn’t hesitate. He yanked out his gun, flooding it with Kyyr as he took aim. I’m gonna blow this bastard's head clean off!

  A black figure emerged.

  BANG! BANG!

  BANG! BANG!

  BANG! BANG!

  He filled the black figure with bullets, the weapon bucking violently in his grip as round after round tore into it. Black chitinous scales shattered and peeled away, bursting into fragments that were ripped loose by the fierce winds and hurled screaming into the storm beyond. Pieces clanged against the hull; others vanished into the rain, leaving the figure riddled and torn. Fitz smirked, but his faint sense of victory was fleeting as the black figure slipped inside anyway. Collapsing through the skylight with unnatural grace. A mass of black scales and amorphous Kyyr writhed in the air, twitching and coiling as if alive. Scales began to crawl back over the strange energy, knitting themselves together, hardening, reshaping—until the amorphous mass reformed into a bulb of scorpion-like tails wrapped around a core.

  “By the Curved seas—what the fuck is that!?” Fitz hissed as he hastily reloaded.

  Pax unfurled from the deck, black tendrils erupting from him and thrashing violently as he rushed Fitz. Fitz grimaced and stumbled back, narrowly dodging the weaving strikes as they tore through metal—panels buckling, supports shearing apart, fragments exploding into shrapnel. Wind howled through the ruptured glider as water crashed in around them, rain and spray mixing with sparks and torn plating while the two collided in the chaos.

  Fitz hissed as he pulsed Kyyr through his body. The pooling water rushing past them stiffened, swelling before releasing in surging waves that crashed into Pax’s legs. His chitinous armor splintered under the impact as he leapt back, stabbing his tendrils into the wall—

  Only for a rune to ignite.

  A condensed swell of moisture detonated outward, waves rupturing from the wall in a violent burst that shattered his tendril mid-anchor.

  “HAHA—pathetic human!” Fitz roared against the wind as he finished reloading his gun.

  Pax’s face remained hidden behind his visor as he tumbled across the deck, Kyyr waves crashing into him. Water tore at his uniform, fabric shredding as chitinous scales blossomed in violent response. The surge dragged him backward, hauling him across the bridge before slamming his body hard into a sealed doorway with a metallic crack.

  Fitz repositioned quickly, scales bristling as he placed Kyyr runes in new positions along the slick walls. He raised his weapon and fired into the dark, thrashing mass that was Pax.

  BANG! BANG!

  BANG! BANG!

  BANG! BANG!

  The shots rang out against the howling wind as tendrils writhed, Kyyr surging from the darkness at the back of the bridge. Lights flickered wildly as the tendrils lashed, striking metal and sending vibrations through the glider.

  Fitz began to reload again, pulsing more Kyyr as heavier waves of water smashed into Pax, battering him against the metal doors.

  BANG! BANG!

  BANG! BANG!

  BANG! BANG!

  Another volley of rounds pierced the formless black mass, tearing through churning tendrils and collapsing the shape in on itself, leaving it slumped in an eerie stillness. Still tense, Fitz slowly opened his jaws, unfolding his incredibly noxious fangs, venom already coating their length. After a final reload, he advanced toward the unmoving lump of black mass, neck extending forward, fangs dripping as he closed the distance.

  Movement—

  Fitz unloaded another volley of shots!

  The bullets rang out against the wind once more, and black scales shot out in response, stabbing into Fitz. He roared in pain as the shards dug into his own scales. Recoiling from the shots, Fitz staggered back, his Kyyr flaring again as more waves crashed into Pax. But as he stepped back, a scaled Kyyr tendril snapped around his foot. His own rending waves betrayed him—water slick beneath his boots—as the serpent-man slipped, his back slamming hard against the cold, wet floor. His Kyyr stuttered. From the shadows, a black, pinecone-like mass of chitin surged upward and smashed into Fitz, its bladed tips rending his chest.

  “AAAAAGH!” Fitz cried, Kyyr rising as waves crashed wildly all around, ripping into the chitinous shelling. In a blind, animalistic move, Fitz lunged into the black mass, driving his venomous fangs deep into tender flesh. You're a dead man, you sorry sack o’ flesh!

  The lights flickered. For a brief, horrifying moment, his slit eyes adjusted. He found his jaws clamped tight around the decapitated head of one of his dead crew members. Fitz recoiled, choking back a hiss as he fought to pull away. Black tendrils had already coiled around his neck, tightening as water slammed violently into them, crushing his body back into the cold, flooded deck.

  But it was too late for the Diodecian Pirate.

  The black tendrils had severed his head from his body, his final conscious moments forever marred by the face of the last beings he had ever betrayed.

  Clean-up was rather simple from there on. Pax had bullet wounds and broken bones, yet he dragged himself through the ship like a pained ghoul, slaughtering the surviving pirates he encountered. The hostages were saved; the vessel was claimed by the ORPA Sapphire, and Pax returned to Himadri as if nothing had happened.

  Bayren treated his wounds, regressing the damage, and with a ritual salute and few words, ámon Pax returned to his duties as head of security. His thoughts and feelings dulled by a warbling echo in his mind, he patiently readied himself for the advent of his mysterious aid—one that had slowly guided him forward toward his desired love, the one he knew deserved only him.

  Steel Dragon.

  -L. Osric