Chapter 89 – Gorm and 76

  Fluffy Burnt Out

  The storm had swallowed the forest whole.

  Snow hammered the cliffs like a drumbeat, its rhythm endless and heavy.

  Inside her cave, Fluffy sat cross-legged beside a guttering flame. The barrier crystal she’d planted at the mouth shimmered weakly, its blue light fading in and out with each gust of wind.

  She tore a chunk of roasted W.M.B. meat with her teeth, chewing slowly, unenthused. “No carrots left,” she muttered, licking frost from her glove. “And now I’m eating wolf steak.”

  Her twin short-swords lay across her lap, edges dulled and spotted with tiny nicks. She ran a whetstone along one, the scrape cutting through the howling wind. “Ugh. I want a real fight. Not snow puppies and trolls.”

  The firelight caught in her tired eyes—blue fading toward violet from strain and mana burn. Outside, the storm roared, carrying shards of ice that hissed against the cave mouth.

  Fluffy glanced toward the crimson glow long vanished beyond the blizzard—the flare that had signaled someone’s elimination days ago. “Hope it’s not him,” she whispered, ears twitching.

  She drew her blanket tighter, sighing. “Bet he’s brooding again. He always is.”

  The laugh that followed was thin, swallowed by the storm. Her breath fogged before her face as she slumped against the wall, the barrier’s hum steady as a heartbeat.

  The wildlands were vast, yet tonight felt too small, the silence between gusts pressing close like the breath of a predator.

  The Snow Storm

  At the reclaimed outpost miles away, the storm struck with equal ferocity. Snow piled against the shutters, sealing the building in pale walls of ice. The old generator throbbed beneath the floor, its corrupted crystal bleeding faint warmth through the ducts.

  Seven adjusted the mana regulator, coaxing out a few more degrees of heat. The air smelled faintly of ozone and rust.

  Kael stirred from his cot, ribs still bound, eyes blinking against the dim orange light. He flexed one ear experimentally and grunted. “Better,” he said, voice rough, “but not good enough to fight.”

  The windows rattled violently as a gust slammed into them. “We’re stuck,” Seven confirmed, glancing at the flickering readouts on the console. “Visibility’s zero. No hunting, no scouting. Just holding out until it passes.”

  Kael managed a humorless chuckle. “Guess that means we get to sit here and think about how miserable we are.”

  Seven’s expression didn’t change. “Something like that.”

  He moved to the map pinned across the table, the paper rippling in the draft. “When the storm breaks, we move. Try to find other initiates—share supplies, share points. Maybe even hit one of the ruins together.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  Kael’s ears drooped. “And if they, you know, try to attack us for our points?”

  Seven paused, tracing the faded line that marked the northern boundary—Aku territory. His finger lingered there. “Then we will have to defend ourselves. I highly doubt Fluffy will try to attack me.”

  Outside, the blizzard screamed against the outpost walls, snow and ice battering wood like claws. The sound was deafening, a constant roar that buried thought.

  For a long moment neither of them spoke. The only noises were the wind, the low pulse of the generator, and the faint crackle of frost creeping along the window edges.

  Seven exhaled, the breath ghosting in front of him. “Storms end,” he said finally. “They always do.”

  He didn’t sound convinced.

  Hours passed, though the light never changed. Aetheris’ long nights blurred time until dawn and dusk became guesses. When the storm finally began to thin, the sky emerged in bruised colors—violet and iron, the clouds shredded to reveal a swollen, silver moon rising through the haze.

  Kael slept lightly, his breathing steady. Seven sat beside the heater, polishing the rifle’s receiver with methodical care. The weapon gleamed dull whitish-silver in the lamplight, its runes flickering faintly like tired eyes.

  He caught his reflection in the steel—pale, drawn, older than he remembered. The mark on his neck glowed faintly beneath the collar of his coat, a pulse in time with the generator’s heartbeat.

  “Four days,” he murmured to himself. “And it feels like a month.”

  He stood and looked out the window. The storm was gone, but the silence it left behind was worse. No wind. No birds. Just the steady creak of snow settling under its own weight.

  Far to the north, past the jagged ridge line, faint movement stirred—a shadow far too large to be human, moving steadily toward the horizon where the barrier shimmered faintly in the distance.

  The Encounter

  The blizzard howled like a living thing, tearing through the Wildlands with claws of ice. Trees bent under its fury, branches snapping, snow twisting into silver whirlwinds that devoured all sense of distance.

  Far from the initiates’ trial grounds—deep within Aku territory—a lone giant pressed onward.

  Gorm trudged through drifts that would swallow lesser creatures whole. Each step cracked frozen earth beneath his boots, each exhale rolled through the storm like thunder. His cloak snapped behind him, half-frozen from the waist down, and his dull-gold eyes cut through the white haze with predator focus.

  Dirty-blond hair clung to his face, frozen into coarse strands. His tail swept lazily behind him, leaving trenches in the snow.

  Then the wind shifted.

  A scent rode it—thin, sharp, unmistakably... human.

  Gorm stopped, nostrils flaring, ears twitching once. “…A human?” he muttered, the words rumbling from his chest like distant thunder.

  He turned toward the gale, scanning the ridgeline. There—half-hidden in the swirling white—stood a smaller figure. Cloaked, unmoving. Frail by comparison, yet upright against the storm.

  The Titan’s hand closed around the haft of his axe. “Human,” he warned, voice carrying over the wind, “you walk too far from your walls.”

  The stranger said nothing. The hood shifted just enough to reveal a faint blue glow on his throat—a number: 76.

  “…That’s new,” Gorm rumbled. “Not guild. Not the city. Something else.”

  He advanced, snow parting around his weight. “You’ve been following me?”

  Still the human didn’t retreat. The wind caught his cloak, revealing a weapon cradled in his arms—long-barreled, brass-and-rune steel, humming softly with mana.

  “This is Aku land,” Gorm continued, golden eyes narrowing. “Humans don’t belong here without permission. Drop your weapon. Explain yourself.”

  His tail flicked once, slow and deliberate. “Or I’ll take both—the weapon, and the arm that holds it.”

  He reached into a pouch, glass clinking faintly together. Several vials glittered inside—blue, green, red. His gloved fingers selected one, the green liquid swirling like venom.

  "I’ve been crafting something rather exquisite," he said with a casual air, as if contemplating a masterpiece. "It’s not exactly poison—more like a catalyst. Imagine a lens that magnifies what's already lurking within. Just picture it: a Titan, saturating himself in moonlight... and my little offering." A wicked smile crept across his face. "I can’t wait to witness the transformation."

  Gorm’s ears flattened, though his amusement didn’t fade. “Poison against me?” he mused. “You’re not the first to try. You won’t be the first to regret it.”

  76 slid the vial into the launcher with a practiced click. “Regrets for people who stop experimenting.”

  The storm eased just enough for the moon to break through the clouds. Silver light spilled across the clearing, reflecting off Gorm’s armor until he seemed carved from the same frozen metal as the land itself.

  Mana rippled through his veins, his breath fogging gold in the cold. The air itself thickened with pressure. His golden eyes flared brighter, pupils narrowing to slits as the full moon’s pull brushed the edge of his control.

  76’s pulse quickened. The number at his neck glowed brighter in answer, as if the storm itself recognized another kind of madness.

  “You want to test me at my worst,” Gorm said, his voice low and resonant, filled with a menacing thrill. He drove the axe head-first into the snow, then spread his arms wide, challenging the air around him. “Then hunt me, human. Let the chase begin. But know this…” A predatory grin curled on his lips, teeth flashing like shards of ice. “…if you fail, I won’t simply end your life. I’ll keep you—not as prey—” he leaned in, eyes gleaming with feral intensity, “—but as a specimen.”

  76’s smirk didn’t waver. He raised the launcher, the runes along its barrel igniting sickly green. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

  The wind howled again, swirling snow around them in violent spirals. The moon burned brighter overhead.

  Two predators—one born of nature’s fury, the other of human obsession—stood poised in the storm’s heart.

  Then 76 pulled the trigger.