ALL NOVEL Book 1 – Lesson 16: “Timing is key to any good first impression.”
“Aaauuggghhhh!”
Ganbaatar of the Slatewalkers swung his spear in a wide arc, catching two Grassbreakers as they leaped at him. They flew for several meters, slamming into a third as it rose from the ground. The butt of his spear shot back, catching a fourth as it tried to ambush him with his back turned. Gan turned and pushed, driving the metal-tipped spear butt deep into the creature’s throat, forcing it to the ground with a surprised squawk! Before it could sink back into the stone, Gan pulled out his hunting knife and drove it into the bird’s eye, giving it a good twist for good measure. The Grassbreaker shuttered and went still, joining the small pile of two dozen of its kin nearby.
Gan pulled out the knife, its temporary sheath making a wet sucking sound, then stood, drawing deep, gasping breaths. A fine sheen of sweat and blood covered his body, and the arm holding his spear shook, causing the ever-deteriorating weapon to rattle. He couldn’t keep this up. The Beast Lord Kusanagi knew this, too, judging by the wide smile on its large, avian face. Then again, this was all just entertainment for the Beast Lord. Ever since the massive bird beast had shown up, Gan knew they hadn’t stood a chance from the start.
After all, it was peak-stage [Shackle-Breaking], only a small step from the [Earthly Transcendence] greater realm.
The number of human [Shackle-Breaking] cultivators in the Radiant Sea could be counted on one hand. As for those who had broken their mortal shackles and stepped into the path of [Earthly Transcendence], Gan had never heard of any. The Akh’lut likely had a few, but they were the Apex of the prairies, the beasts and protectors who stood at the very top. He’d never heard of a Grassbreaker reaching such a level before. But then, anyone with eyes could see Kusanagi wasn’t just a Grassbreaker Penguin.
Its size was the most obvious difference; where normal Grassbreaker was roughly dog-sized, Kusanagi towered over its kin at nearly 12 meters, standing. Even the Grand Elks that pulled the wagons of the Wandering Cities didn’t get that large. Where the other Grassbreakers were short and stalky, Kusanagi stood straight, with a long body and a neck that seemed flexible and longer than it appeared at first glance. Its beak was long and sharp as a spear and black as night compared to its kin’s short, blunter beaks meant for cracking bones. The distinct color patterns of the Grassbreakers were present on its feathers, but they were silky smooth and had a metallic quality.
Gan was certain his spear would bounce off that shiny coat as surely as any armor. That was if he even made it through the sea of lesser penguins surrounding them. Fat chance of that…
But then, he’d known what he was in for when he’d stayed with Yutu. Despite his name, Ganbaatar had never thought of himself as a hero. He didn’t have the mind to be a Grassreader or herbalist like Zolzaya. Nor did he have the talent for arrays that Yutu did (despite what the other man thought of himself). Out of their little group of three, all he’d ever been skilled at was hitting things. So it nearly crushed him when he turned out not to have the necessary Earth-affinity to become a Guardian.
Not that Gan had ever let it show.
How could he? He was Ganbaatar, their cheerful, happy “leader.” Sure, he butted heads with Yutu since they were young, and maybe his ear was pulled more than a few times by Zaya’s mother for getting them into some hare-brained scheme. But if he broke down, who would drag Yutu out of the house when he got in one of his ‘moods’? Who would stop Zaya from poisoning some foolish young master from the city who thought he could woo the ‘pretty village girl’ with fancy words or items?
No, he had to be strong; for the village and his friends.
So he’d taken to the path of the Trapper. He might not have the talent for the arrays, but with a decent enough Wood and Metal-affinity, he could make physical traps. Gan would never be outstanding, but he could provide for his family and the village, and that’s what mattered. He had imagined a future where he gathered the courage to ask Zaya to marry her. Where he’d raised a family and supported Yutu as the man blossomed into the greatest Array Master the Slatewalkers had ever produced.
He imagined inheriting the house cart passed down for generations, watching the Slatewalkers grow and thrive under Zaya’s leadership and Yutu’s talent. And finally, when he was too old to set traps any longer, of sitting on the porch, watching all the grandchildren and great-grandchildren as his twilight years slowly ticked by.
It was a good life. It should have been a good life. But life was rarely a respecter of ‘should haves’.
Gan had been running beside Yutu when the other man realized the same thing the rest of them had. He could see the thoughts play out in Yutu’s eyes; the desperate drive for survival, the moment of thought, then dark realization followed by the loss of hope, only to be replaced by a grim determination. He knew exactly what Yutu had been thinking… after all, he’d gone through the same thought process.
This wasn’t a race to survive; this was a game. They were never actually going to escape; they were just being played with for the Beast Lord’s sick amusement.
When Yutu had stopped, he’d feared the man had broken, that he’d given up hope and was just going to let the beasts take him. Part of Gan didn’t want to turn around and see that; if he saw his friend broken like that, it might very well have broken him as well. It was Zaya’s screams that caused him to turn and look, and what he saw stopped him in his tracks.
Yutu’s eyes weren’t those of a broken man. They weren’t the crazed eyes of someone drowning in despair. They weren’t even the timid and mousy eyes Gan expected of the man. What Gan saw were the eyes of a man who’d chosen to stop running, not out of fear or despair, but something deeper and stronger. Yutu had spotted running, not because he’d given up, but because he didn’t want the last thing he did in life to be the same thing he’d always done.
As he watched, Gan felt a pang in his heart, like the plucking of a string, and the cold pit in his gut suddenly erupted into fire. Fine! They were doing this then! If even Yutu could stand and fight, then who was he to keep running?
That brought them to the present.
Gan infused his spear with was little Spirit energy he had left, willing the cracking wood to seal and the dull spearhead to sharpen. It wasn’t enough, though. He deflected another leaping penguin, only to feel the sealed wood reopen with a crack. The blow pushed him back several feet, spotting just short of where Yutu had worked feverishly on the array below them. Gan called to him, his eyes never leaving the horde surrounding them.
“Hows it looking Yutu? Please tell me you’re almost ready because we’re running out of time.”
Yutu didn’t bother to look up but responded in a voice Gan had long ago translated to ‘I’m working, stop talking to me.’
“Almost there! Just hold them off for a little while longer!”
And because fate seemed intent on mocking them today, those words were emphasized by another penguin leaping from the ground in front of Gan. He thrust the spear forward to catch it like the ones before, but was surprised when this new penguin twisted out of the way. A gleaming flipper smashed into the haft of his spear, splintering it before traveling on and slamming into his chest.
Crack!
Gak!
With the cracking of wood and ribs, Gan was sent rolling for several meters. When he stopped, he rose to his knees, coughing out a mouth full of blood. Gan stood to his feet, swaying slightly as the sky spun. He turned to his opponent, drawing his hunting knife with a shaking hand. To his surprise, no other attacks came, either from the one who’d broken his spear or any other. The Grassbreaker in question, an abnormal twice the size of the others with the same metallic sheen as Kusanagi, stood where it had landed. It looked down at Gan with what he could only call a sneer.
The Spirit energy in the area vibrated as Kusanagi ‘spoke’ in that odd way, indicative of sapient Spirit beasts. While the ‘voice’ of the Spirit beast was more intentions and concepts than any real ‘words,’ Gan found he could still understand it perfectly. And while there was no ‘sound’ to hear, Gan got the distinct impression of a smooth, rich voice that dripped with barely concealed disdain. Like the sleazy salesmen that would always try to approach him when he visited the Cities, thinking of him as some naïve village boy who didn’t understand the value of goods.
“Be proud, human! You put on a good enough show for us that my son has asked to be the one to end you personally. You should feel honored, truly!”
The Beast Lord threw his beak into the air and gave off a loud, honking laugh that was mindlessly echoed by the surrounding hoard.
“Do try not to die too fast. Your little friend still needs some time to finish his surprise. I am so very curious about what he’ll show us. The last human was… boring. Though, being fair, it’s hard to concentrate on your array with something gnawing on your leg.”
The Beast Lord gave another laugh and waved in Gan’s direction.
The Beast Lord’s ‘son’ gave a cruel smile and sank into the ground. Gan took up a defensive stance. He might not have had the Earth-affinity that would have let him map out the ground below him mentally, but that didn’t mean he was defenseless. Gan had spent years sneaking into the Guardian’s training areas, sometimes even joining them when Yutu’s father allowed. He learned his spearmanship there and picked up a minor trick used to teach new Guardians how to use their [Earth Sight] better.
He closed his eyes and tried to feel the flow of Spirit energy around him. A slight ripple tugged at his mind’s eye, and he moved, barely dodging the small metallic flipper that had erupted from the earth below him. It seemed Junior took after his father. The flipper sank back into the earth, only to appear again a split second later. Once more, Gan dodged by a hair’s breadth, using the slight flux of Spirit energy as the penguin surfaced to predict how it would strike. It was a technique that needed conscious, continuous mental effort, making it unsuited for Guardian duty, but it was a great training method and one Gan was glad he’d picked up.
For a third time, Gan dodged, and a fourth, and a fifth. Each strike was coming faster and more recklessly, with less precision. The beast was sloppy, untrained, and impatient. Likely, it had never truly struggled, relying on its inborn gifts to dominate its surroundings. If he could just—
Another pulse of Spirit energy. Gan dodged, just like before, but unlike before, no flipper came. His eyes snapped to the Beast Lord, an icy chill running down his spine as the wide grin warped its beak. Gan’s eyes widened as he realized what had happened a second too late. In the next instance, a metallic flipper erupted from beneath him. A desperate dodge saved him from being split in two but cost him his leg, neatly severed below the knee.
Gan rolled out of the way, leaving a bloody trail as the Beast Lord and his hoard broke into another round of laughter. The laugh extended to Kusanagi’s words as he spoke.
“That, human, is why you don’t rely on petty… tricks to mock your betters. At least have the dignity to die well instead of running like a coward. Son, end this game. Maybe the death of his friend will encourage the little mouse to finish his project. They we can catch up to the rest of our prey.”
Junior rose from the ground, the bird beast’s face pulled into a frown. If Gan didn’t think it was impossible, he’d have sworn the creatures tsked at him. Yet, it obeyed its father and charged at Gan, sliding on its large, marble-covered belly, mouth full of sharp teeth opened wide.
Gan sealed his leg wound with a bit of Spirit energy and stared at the charging penguin. Fine, if he was going down, he was at least taking this bastard with him. Let Kusanagi feel what it was like to lose someone for once.
When the beast was too close to correct its course, Gan pulled something from behind his back: his spear’s broken halt. It was lucky he’d rolled over it during that last tumble. With a wicked grin, Gan thrust the broken spear toward the Spirit beast as it leaped at him, aiming for the back of its toothy maw.
Only for the creature to dissolve into a puddle of mud mid-flight. Gan’s eyes went wide as Yutu cried out.
“Watch out!”
Gan’s eyes snapped to the side just in time to see the real Junior fly into the air toward him.
All Gan had time to think was
{Well, Fu—}
Before a massive weight slammed into him…
… Gan peaked open an eye he’d involuntarily closed, expecting to see the afterlife.
Instead, Gan found himself in the same clearing, still surrounded by countless Grassbreaker Penguins and several dozen meters away from a furious-looking Junior.
The clearing had gone eerily silent, and Gan couldn’t even hear Yutu working on his array. He turned to look in the other man’s direction, only to find him staring at Gan, wide-eyed and mouth agape.
The Beast Lord’s [Spirit Voice] broke the silence, carrying a sense of both bored apathy and mild annoyance.
“Oh… I see you survived.”
Gan, confused, only realized Kusanagi wasn’t speaking to him when he turned around.
Standing behind him, his collar still in its mouth, stood the bristling, growling form… of a young Akh’lut pup…
The Beast Lord scoffed, looking down his beak at the pup as he spoke.
“No worry. Once we’ve dealt with the humans, it’ll be your turn next. This time I won’t leave the matter to su—”
It was at that moment, the gargantuan, glowing beetle creature erupted from the surrounding grass, slamming into Beast Lord Kusanagi.
For those curious, Grassbreaker Penguins are based off of Rockhoppers.
Where Kusanagi is more Emperor Penguin shaped.
