As Flomu sat, propped up against a tree, clutching his head in intense pain, he realized his decision hadn’t been the best he’d made.

After Flomu had witnessed the Vermana go down in flames, he thought the only thing he could do was to get as far away from the battlefield as he could. The city, or what was left of the city, held no reason to keep Flomu. The outpost had been nearly decimated, though he was surprised how long the Seekers held out for. He had believed they were cowering bastards, huddling in fear of the Empire, clutching in their foul hands the birthright to the Emperor. They, however, proved Flomu wrong with their readiness to fight for their land and families.

Capable or not, however, the Seekers had most certainly lost the battle. What were once buildings were now crumbled husks, the stone still bubbling and simmering from the acidic mucus produced by the dragonmares. The ground forces had touched down and were now in the progress of rounding up the Seekers that had survived to be brought to the Imperial capital, once a replacement ship arrived to take them back, that was.

The Vermana lay a few miles off in the distance, still burning from the battle; a massive inferno lying upon the barren wasteland that was the Yelico Valley, happily defying the torrential rainstorm attempting to put it out. Flomu could only imagine the sight within the Vermana as it was going down: crewmen in utter panic, soldiers reaffirming their loyalty to the Empire by reciting the Imperial Oath one last time, and the captain struggling with the controls to no avail. There was no doubt that the Empire would try to salvage what was left. They certainly weren’t eager to give up such a large carrier. No, the Empire would most certainly bring the Vermana back to the Imperial capital to be repaired.

The cold stone applied to Flomu’s back was a sudden surprise. A hand on his shoulder, Flomu remained absolutely still as a mouth approached his ear. “You will follow me,” the voice had whispered. Flomu was shoved forward onto his hands and knees, aggravating his cracked ribs. Struggling to his feet, Flomu caught a glimpse of his captor. The clothing marked him as a Seeker; a brightly colored garment on his body and a cap of stone atop his head. He had looked dirty and disheveled, assumingly from the battle, and he bled from numerous cuts upon his face. Flomu read distrust and anger from his face, yet also some form of respect.

The walk had been torturous for Flomu. Gun shots and explosions were emanating from nearby. But that was within the city walls; Flomu and his captor walked outside the huge wooden confinements, circling the city and the battle within. Within a half hour, they had arrived at their destination. Flomu’s captor pointed his gun forward, in a gesturing way. It had taken Flomu a second to notice what he was looking at. An Ancient hover bike sat there, ready for a willing pilot.

“But… why?” Flomu stammered.

“I do not like you. You burned my village. You killed my friends. But you are not like the others. You saved my wife and child within that hut. They were one of the beings in the corner. You drew your damned monsters away from them, giving them time to escape. You saved my family. For that, I am supplying you with this vehicle to take you far away from here.”

Flomu stared at the Seeker’s weapon, an Ancient laser gun, fashioned from the same black and white stone used by the Ancients in all of their relics and structures. This was a ruse; as soon as Flomu had gotten a few yards ahead, the Seeker would shoot him in the back for a grim sense of satisfaction.

The Seeker had apparently noticed Flomu’s distrust. “You need not fear me,” he said. “If you were another, I would have killed you where you stood minutes ago. But you are not like the others. Your eyes tell a different story from theirs. They see only loyalty to the Empire. The do not question orders, no matter how inhumane it is; to them, this is their life. You, however, are different. Your eyes tell me that you care not for this bloodshed. You question your orders in your mind; you want an escape from this life.”

“I do not!” Flomu had cried. “My loyalty to the Empire is unwavering! I enjoy what I do because what I do is right!”

The Seeker grasped Flomu by his collar and picked him up off the floor with one arm. His ribs screamed in pain.

“You should be thanking me for what I say!” screamed the Seeker. “How could you be proud to be a part of such a corrupt and evil nation?”

Flomu had opened his mouth to speak, but before he procured words a hand slapped him across the face. He tasted metal.

“The answer is that you are not proud. If you truly were, you would not have questioned orders and saved the women and children in that hut.”

Flomu could not answer. The man had brought up an interesting point: Why had Flomu saved the people in that hut. They were the enemy, and they were ordered to kill everyone there. Was it easy for him to abandon orders because he technically was not a soldier, and was not particularly ordered to kill? Or was it something more? Doubt lingered, bringing with it the first foul stench of rebellion…

A bullet whizzed by Flomu’s face, and he heard a juicy thwack as it struck the Seeker in the chest. Flomu fell to the floor and watched the Seeker, blood dripping from his wound, toss him the Ancient laser. “Go,” he gasped. His eyes closed for an eternity of sleep.

The next few minutes were utter chaos. The Seeker’s killers, a group of Imperial soldiers, spotted Flomu, recognized his face, and started firing. The orders to kill him must have come before the Vermana went down! Flomu ran, ignoring his ribs, and jumped behind a nearby boulder. That was when the wooden wall surrounding the stronghold collapsed, either intentionally or unintentionally, crushing the soldiers. Laser in hand, Flomu jumped aboard the hover bike. He had been worried at first; he had no idea how to start the damn thing. But, after a few moments of thought, he was able to locate the ignition, a conspicuously place pedal.

Once the hover bike was activated, it had lifted into the air half a meter, suspended by the irregularly shaped float engine. It took Flomu another moment to figure out how to move; a shift in weight in any direction would cause the bike to move in that direction. It was simple enough. The question was whether or not it had enough speed to outrun anyone who was intent on stopping him.

Flomu gave little chance to allow that question to be answered; he had begun moving as soon as he was able to. His target location was the Forest of Mutation. Similar to the much older Forest of Taboo, the vast area of vegetation was home to a myriad of creatures, usually mutated monsters. However, where the Forest of Taboo had vanished since the Great Fall, when most of the planet had died, the Forest of Mutation still thrived. It was still unknown as to why this particular area of the planet thrived with vegetation. However, the forest would now serve as Flomu’s hideout, at least until he found a new location to call home.

The idea would seem absurd to most. Specifics of what lie inside were immeasurably unknown, as the vast amount of mutated monsters that called the forest home were more than enough to keep normal folk from venturing within. All that was known was that a great river snaked through most of the forest, the forest was 600 miles in diameter, ending abruptly and giving way to barren wasteland, and also that some uncivilized tribes inhabited the area, living side-by-side with the mutated monsters. Every scientist, cartographer, and surveyor sent in to gather intel on the area never returned, so Flomu was going in blind.

The possibility of survival, however, had been more enticing than certain death if he were to return to the Empire. Therefore, Flomu pushed forward and traveled out of the Yelico Valley, pausing briefly only to survey the carnage that were the remains of the Vermana, and commenced his trip to the Forest of Mutation.

---

“…And so the Vermana, suffering extensive damage to both its hull and float engine, fell to the ground. The fall further damaged the ship, though we believe it may be possible to repair it if it were to be taken back to the capital.”

The Emperor, in his floating throne, listened to his messenger’s words. He shifted uncomfortably; he absolutely abhorred his crown of red velvet and his tight clothing. Such was the possession of power, however. He responded, his hand messaging his forehead, “And you say that the Vermana was attacked by a dragon?”

“Yes, sir, with the drone riding it.”

“Abadd?”

“No, sir, the girl.”

The Emperor unveiled a handkerchief and wiped away the sweat that had beaded upon his face.

“Were there survivors?” he asked.

“After an extensive search of the ship, inside and out, the conclusion has been made that most of the crew died in the attack.”

“Most? There are survivors?”

“We are missing a body. It is believed that it belongs to Flomu Narikara. Captain Evren can tell you more about that matter.”

The messenger touched his head to the floor as a sign of reverence, got to his feet, and exited from the room.

Evren replaced him. Without her armor, she looked like nothing more than a small woman, but her face told a different story. The fury that showed on her face enticed a feeling of dread even from the Emperor. Evren did not wait long to recount the battle, pausing only to show her great reverence for the Emperor by performing a bow and kneeling to the floor, an act that she performed better than any other in the Imperial Army. In fact, despite being a woman, Evren performed most of her duties flawlessly compared to her male counterparts. She did her job well, which is why the Emperor had given her the astounding honor of being the first female captain of any squad.

Soldiers disagreed. They all disagreed. Having a woman as a leader caused an uproar from even those she did not command. Such was the result of change, that foul action which, when invoked, forces all into an unjustified panic whether the result of the alteration is beneficial or malicious. The men refused to take orders from her. They thoroughly believed she had no place in the Imperial Army as a soldier, let alone a commanding officer. Arms were to be soon taken up in all out rebellion. Sentiment against Evren, however, decreased as the movements leaders were all reassigned to the most desolate regions of the land by Evren herself; the Desert of Kamka, the mountainous Dragon Rise, and the icy tundra of the Imperial north, Dumskam. After this massive forced exodus, many gained respect for the woman and accepted her as a leader.

This was not to say all accepted the fact that there was a person of the opposite sex that held a position higher than theirs. All discontent, however, was eventually obliterated atop the mountain of Achroma. It was here that the dragonmare squad began their training. It was also here that Evren began to handpick her comrades from a group of 25 men, selected to be a possible member of the dragonmare squad due to their service to the Empire. Evren called each man up one by one, reading their profile aloud and having a public meeting with them, their nervous sweat nearly freezing in the cold air produced by the high altitude.

One of these men, a foot soldier named Koga Maklahag, was one of the men that still held great resentment towards being led by Evren. As Evren turned her back to retrieve his file, Koga rushed at her, his knife glinting in the setting sun. Official records said that, in his frenzy, the poor man misplaced his foot and tripped, tumbling a few hundred feet down the face of Achroma. Everyone, however, knew what had really happened. When Koga was within few feet’s distance of Evren, she spun around with her pistol and shot the man squarely in the forehead. Tossing him down the mountain was merely insuring that a convenient lie could be mustered up. After that unofficial incidence, everyone followed whatever order she gave, either out of respect, fear, or a mixture of the two.

And here Evren was now, recounting the battle that had just cost the Empire its largest assault carrier. Her hair, held in its tight bun, bobbed up and down as she spoke from her knees.

“At approximately 22 hours and 40 minutes, my dragonmare unit and the rest of the Imperial air force made its attack on the Seeker encampment in the Yelico Valley. All was going according to plan. My unit arrived at the tower in the center of the encampment about 3 minutes later. However, right before we incapacitated the target to make transportation easier, it attacked.”

“The dragon,” the Emperor whispered.

“Yes.”

“Captain Evren, what color was it.”

“It was sky blue,” she answered nervously.

The Emperor quietly listened, and then suddenly arched his back. A scream arose from his mouth, a scream of fear and anger. He ended it by pounding his fist into his floating throne’s armrest, making it teeter to one side. This dragon, this blue dragon, the Dragon of Destruction, the beast that had plagued the empire, had returned!

“This dragon must be eliminated,” he said in the most controlled voice he could muster. “The drone must be retrieved. Do you understand?”

Evren smirked. “Would you think I would give up trying to complete my objective?”

“Of course not. But you must not fail again.”

“Trust me, I would die before I failed to complete my objective.”

“I am sure you would. Now, on to the reason you did not arrive to aid the Vermana…”

Evren’s eyes suddenly flashed.

“Flomu…”

“Who?”

“Flomu Narikara. A technician aboard the Vermana. I know him well.”

“Why did he impede your ability to come to the Vermana’s aid?”

“He was not aboard the Vermana. He traded places with a bhout pilot. And the penalty for leaving your post during battle is death.”

“And you just allowed the Vermana to burn?”

“He was a liability to the outcome of the battle. He actually attempted to save some Seekers from their fate. Little does he know that Imperial soldiers raided the offending hut half an hour after the Vermana went down and killed them regardless of his previous actions.”

“I see. Did you kill him?”

Evren lowered her gaze. “He escaped. We pursued, but when we saw how dire the Vermana situation was, we abandoned the chase.”

“Does this mean that Flomu fled and is still alive?”

Evren touched her head to the floor. “I apologize, sir, but that is correct.”

“I assume you will continue your objective of retrieving the girl?”

Evren smiled. “I vie to make it suffer. The dragon will writhe in pain, as well!”

“Very well. It seems than I will have to use other methods to tie up our little loose end. The Empire has never liked unfinished matters, and this Flomu character is no exception.”

---

The trip had taken two days and one night. Arriving on the second night under the two moons that hovered in the sky, Flomu had realized just how moronic his idea of living in the forest for a while was. It was a formidable sight to watch barren wasteland composed of nothing but rock and sand turn into a lush and thriving forest without warning; the line that separated the colossal trees from dirt and rock could have been drawn with a ruler.

Realizing there was no turning back, Flomu revved up his hover bike and moved through the vegetation barrier into the lush greenery, illuminated by moonlight.

Flomu looked to his left.

Green.

Flomu looked to his right.

Green.

Flomu looked down.

Green

Flomu looked up.

The moonlight shone through a hole in what seemed like an endless veil of… green!

Insects buzzed and chirped, but Flomu had heard no mutated beast. It made him uneasy. The forest should have been teeming with them. It gave him the feeling that they were there, but they did not want to be heard; that they were stalking him. Flomu sped the bike up, rocketing through the forest in a nervous frenzy. And as he moved farther and farther away from the forest barrier, the moonlight reached less and less.

It had gotten darker.

Perhaps that was why he failed to see the boulder imbedded in the soil which caused his bike to suddenly flip, throwing him free and crashing itself into a solid tree with a deafening impact.

Picking himself off the ground for the third time since his adventure began, and clutching his ribs, Flomu got to his feet, stunned but no more injured from before.

Though its float engine was intact, the hover bike could no longer be ridden. The seat had been utterly destroyed, and the mechanism that controlled the float engine had been irrevocably damaged. The Seeker’s laser was safely stowed in Flomu’s holster. His rations and fresh water, however, had been on the bike. Flomu began to move towards the tree.

The tree moved, too.

In reality, it was not the tree itself but a beast living within. An insect-like arm jolted out, and in the moonlight, Flomu could just make out its inspection of the remains of the hover bike.

Flomu sprinted in the opposite direction. He had no idea where he was going, but he needed to make as much distance between him and that monster as he could. A sudden flutter above his head; a pair of khoumushka. As they flew forward, their wings flapping and acidic drool dripping from their fang lined mouths, Flomu had realized just how exposed he was to the ravages of the forest. In a desert, where the ground was flat and there was no vegetation, one could see danger at a distance. In the forest, where the trees obstructed his view, Flomu had no idea where anything was. And at night, no less! He could have been surrounded for all he knew.

“Wait ‘till dawn,” Flomu muttered to himself. “I’ll sleep in a good hiding place. I’ll be protected, and in the morning I’ll see the danger.

Flomu proceeded a few more meters before he saw a boulder with the ground underneath partially hollowed out. He climbed in and blocked the entrance with some fallen branches. It was with great difficulty that his eyes finally closed in the enveloping darkness.

Morning came quicker than Flomu expected it to. The light shining through the branches in front of Flomu’s hideout was enough to awaken him. Shoving the branches aside, Flomu climbed out from the small space under the boulder.

The forest was greener if possible. But Flomu still could not see or hear any monster of any kind.

The bird had landed right next to him.

Of course, Flomu thought little of it. Birds were not high on his danger list. Though, if he gave the little being a better inspection, he would have noticed that this bird was not feathered. Instead, it had the bony outer armor so common to pure-type monsters. Perhaps this discovery would have averted the attack that followed.

But Flomu cared not for the small organism, and instead searched for larger creatures. In fact, it was only when the “bird” rapidly tapped his foot on the ground that it attracted Flomu’s attention.

It was staring right at him. It wasn’t a normal curious look. No, this look filled Flomu with dread, though he did not know quite why.

THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD

The creature continued to stomp its foot on the ground while keeping an iron stair aimed at Flomu.

THUDTHUDTHUDTHUDTHUD

The tempo suddenly increased, until its foot was a blur, and a continuous noise was emitted.

It was only now that Flomu realized this was a signal.

All too late, unfortunately.

It crashed through trees and other flora and finally came to a screeching halt roughly where the bird was. Now, it fluttered away, having given Flomu’s position away.

Flomu did not have much time to look, but the adrenaline that had been released into his blood was enough to create the effect of slowed time, slowed enough so that the image of that beast was forever imprinted upon his memory.

It moved on three legs, two in the front and one in the back, each leg ending in a diamond shaped shield of the rocky black-veined substance which was present on all Ancient Age monsters and structures. It had what seemed to be a soft center and had no visual organs to speak of. That was why the bird was tapping; it was using sound to tell the monster where Flomu was.

The beast, standing a meter tall, galloped roughly towards where Flomu stood. Flomu started running, but he assumed he made too much of a racket because he heard the beast close behind.

This was not good. He was running randomly through a monster infested forest. He did not dare to slow and aim at the monster with the laser.

The monster! It was a pure-type monster instead of the usual mutated monster. A creature from the Ancient Age! But why? Were there ruins nearby?

Flomu felt his foot catch on a stone and he yelled out in surprise as he fell to the ground. He rolled over onto his back and watched as the creature bounded forth and suddenly stopped. Flomu had stopped making noise and so the beast had no idea where he was. The monster simply stood where he was, barely moving, waiting for the instant that Flomu snapped a twig or kicked some gravel.

He slowly began to crab walk backwards, carefully placing his hands and feet.

It was a futile effort. The monster still sensed Flomu’s presence.

It bounded forth, its sharp bony legs ready to impale Flomu.

Flomu rolled to the side, and as he did so he felt the skin on his arm rip as the beast narrowly missed running its front appendages through his chest. The pain was so horrible that Flomu assumed his arm had been taken clean off. So horrible that his mind ceased to function; he now lay there staring right at the monster that had just attempted to end his life. Flomu watched as the monster made its move.

It ran away from Flomu.

Could some chance mutated beast have made noise causing the pure-type monster to believe Flomu had fled? Not likely. And as the beast ran until the trees obscured its body and Flomu’s senses returned to him, he now had the fear of the beast replaced by intense pain. He looked at his arm.

His red uniform had been shredded at the sleeve, revealing Flomu’s injury. A shard of that monster’s shield, the length of Flomu’s hand, was sticking out of his arm, entering his bicep about half an inch. Blood, however, was not visible around the wound. Flomu grasped the shard and pulled.

It would not budge.

He pulled again.

And again.

Soon, the pain of tugging this fragment of bony exoskeleton became too much to bare and Flomu gave up. As Flomu watched his wound, the shard created what seemed to be dark veins, visible even under his skin, which spread to the surrounding tissue, anchoring it.

The burst of pain to his head was as unexpected as it was painful. Doubling over, Flomu disposed of the contents of his stomach. After he finished and wiped the foul concoction from his lips, Flomu discovered at his dismay that the pain in his head had only increased. In addition, he could no longer keep his balance. The world spun around him as if he had stepped off of a ship that had been caught in a hurricane. He fell back and sat against a tree, his head banging the bark, in a vein attempt to force it out of his mind.

And so he continued to sit until now, as he replayed the events that led to this outcome. But he continued to mutter the mantra, “It hadn’t killed me.”

“It did not need to.”

The voice came from behind him. Flomu stood up shakily, still fighting for balance. All color seemed to be erased from the world, and he saw leaves falling up towards the trees. He was too confused to decide whether or not these were hallucinations.

This is why he stared for a few seconds at the man who had just spoken. He was a frail old thing, with traditional garb, a small turban, blue tribal face paint forming three dots and an arrow on the left side of his face, a long white beard reaching his waist, and more wrinkles than Flomu could count. He supported himself, hunched over, with a wooden cane, taller than he was. His face was tranquil, the hint of a smile tugging on his lips.

Flomu grasped for the laser attached to his back holster, which he seemed to have trouble holding due to his inability to partake in complex motor functions. When he finally grasped it, however, he brought it up and aimed it shakily at the old man.

“Who the hell are you,” he growled.

“You can call me your savior.”

“Don’t give me that crap. You’re an uncivilized tribesman, aren’t you? Dirty cannibal…”

The old man smiled. “Ah, is that what they teach you these days? I’ve heard that we’re stupid, we smell, and that we are uncivilized, but cannibalism is a new one.”

The old man seemed to grow larger and larger until he suddenly exploded in a shower of gore. What was left was nothing but a smoldering dot where he had once stood. Flomu shook his head, and the old man reappeared, whole and standing once more.

“I see the tresant got you,” he said. “The venom is attacking your brain right now. You’ll be dead within an hour if you are not treated.”

“You’ll treat me? So I’m safe to eat? You uncivilized bastards eat other people! You’re dangerous psychopaths!”

“Which one of us is pointing a gun at a defenseless old man?”

Flomu growled as he held the trigger. A green orb appeared at the muzzle of the gun as energy was drawn from the surrounding area, until the orb was the size of a melon. He was about to release when he saw the old man look right past him. And, even with the venom of the thing in his veins, he could still make out the subtle nod of the man’s head. Flomu quickly turned around.

He had just enough time to see the cudgel screaming towards his head and the angry face of the man who held it.