During the darkest night this world has seen, where the stars and the moon fear to make a presence, a single lightning transforms it into the brightest of days.
Everyone stops what they are doing; those who are running turn to witness what is emerging from the impact. Those who are fighting put aside their differences at the malevolent apparition of two yellow eyes that stand above the clouds, watching them as God watched his son being cast to hell.
The owner of the eyes is unseen, but his voice makes it clear he is something diabolical. His grave tone rumbles all the way to the horizon, vibrating in the bones of those who hear it. There is no distortion or echo to soften it; every syllable arrives with absolute clarity, impossible to misinterpret.
“Welcome be everyone,” the eyes move, contrasting the cheerfulness of the words with a look of rage and rancor. “Today, you all will have the honor to be the first ones to participate in my festival. I haven’t done it in centuries, mostly because you all stopped liking it, but now that your thoughts and opinions don’t hold any weight to us, might as well return to it.”
In front of the eyes, just below the clouds, electricity begins to manifest, unleashing lightning in a myriad of colors that flash and intertwine. In the end, all the energy and color settle into a pure white, with each flash bathing the voice’s crimson hands in its soft glow.
The fingers close onto the electricity, molding and turning it into massive drumsticks that glow with golden patterns of clouds.
“I dedicate this festival to the only one who enjoyed my music with her heart,” the voice says as it hits the drumsticks together, generating a powerful spark that blinds and deafens everyone for a couple of seconds.
Women, men, kids, and elders, all are equally affected, but none suffer significant damage. As their senses return, they see a constant flow of electricity connecting the two sticks, which are much lower now. The light reveals a set of four white drums, the size of mountains, that are below them.
“Let’s get toasted!” The voice screams as drumsticks pound relentlessly against the drums, each strike generating a divine rhythm and titanic bolts of lightning. The rhythm surges through the air, and with each beat, more lightning rips through the sky, devastating and illuminating everything beyond the horizon. The void of the night is consumed by the thunderous music and the blinding light of the storm, turning the festival into the last day the audience will ever witness. The owner of the voice dances while keeping the melody amidst the chaos with tears; a bitter fuel for memories lost.
The night leaves its false day, returning to its void after eight relentless minutes of music. “It was fun, right? Hopefully, you all get to tell those who are no longer among us about it, I am sure they will regret having a boring death, unlike you all who enjoyed my music until your last moments.”
The voice speaks to the empty night. What once was a crowded space filled with people, some terrified, others running for their lives, and still more trying to save those who couldn’t save themselves, has become just as this night: nothing.
“Well, better keep going, I cannot do anything to those that are not listening to my—” The voice stops, noticing the cries of a small girl. “Well, just like my sister likes to say, no witnesses.”
The voice extends its arm, palm hovering just above the girl’s cries, and from it a bolt of lightning strikes the ground for several seconds, intensifying as it reveals the figure of its creator. With four large horns, emerging from his forehead and behind his ears, extending upwards and sidewards. His fangs curve from his mouth sideways, while his crimson body appears to have been crafted by his own hands, showing muscles and parts of his skin molded into spikes.
Even after the lightning fades, the cries continue. Frustrated, the crimson figure turns himself into electricity, shrinking from his towering form above the clouds to that of a tree. His steps are as silent as the night he created, as he approaches the lone sound that it holds.
With tears in her eyes, the girl notices the yellow eyes drawing closer, and with the greatest pain someone can suffer, it screams, “Where is my mommy!?”
The eyes stop, listening to her words.
“She was hugging me just now! She told me to close my eyes and that everything was going to be fine! She told me she loves me and wanted to see the flowers bloom with me tomorrow. But she is gone!” The girl cries as she approaches the eyes. “Have you seen my mommy? Is dark and I cannot find her. I call her name, but she cannot hear me.” The girl stomps with the leg of the crimson figure, hugging it because it feels warm. “She said she loved me, but why did she leave? I don’t want to miss her.” She looks up, meeting her watering eyes with the yellow eyes. “Have you seen her?”
The owner of the yellow eyes bends his body and gently brushes the girl’s hair. “I lost my mommy too; I will never find her. But you will, I know you will. Here, let me help you met her.” With delicacy, the scarlet hand hugs the girl’s head.
A sickening crunch breaks the silence of the night. No lightning manifests, only a fallen body.
In the depths of a forest of trees that touch the clouds, where there are no birds to sing, only the silent melody of the trees to fill the air. Scattered throughout the forest lie numerous stone statues of vast creatures, ranging from a delicate koi fish to a majestic eagle. Though each statue is unique in form, they all share the same imposing size of a mighty gorilla. Despite their stone composition, they express tranquility, frozen in time at their most peaceful moment.
Nature continues to decorate these immortal beings until a cloudless, silent lightning strikes the ground among the group of statues. What emerges from it is neither devouring fire, but a human, with the power to know it all.
The face of this human is that of a boy, his skin the color of dawn’s first light, and hair shining like moonlight as it brightens the darkest nights. This human is Darta, who has been five years under the teachings of Raijin, the Incarnation of Lightning and Thunder. Now nineteen years old he opens his emerald eyes to the world, contemplating the rest of the immortal statues that rest in front of him.
Darta looks at his hands, front, and back. The curious boy looks closely at his clothes, a red skirt, open in the front, draped over cloth pants of the same color. Bandages wrap his abdomen, and seven white spheres inscribed with symbols float around his waist. “At least Master Raijin teleported me with all my stuff this time,” the silver-haired boy mutters, stretching.
“Serve the Incarnation of Lightning and Thunder they said,” Darta stretches again, as far as his body allows him. “It would be fuuuuun, they said.” He suddenly let go, releasing a satisfactory breath, “You will get to learn a lot of cool stuff. You will become powerful, indestructible, almighty! Do something beneficial for all the village… They sure have high expectations for Master Raijin. If only they knew all he does is sleep, tell me to organize or find his stuff, and send me to complete pointless tasks such as putting Raichin in her room; they would not praise him that much. But well, is not like I can quit now… can I?”
The young apprentice’s soul begins to synchronize with the energy radiating from the forest. A sense of purity and tranquility floods Darta’s mind, washing away everything else until these are the only emotions left in his mortal body. The combination of pure air and silence allows Darta to hear the gigantic trees whispering their divine melody.
“In the end, is not that bad. I am glad Master Raijin sent me here. I wanted to visit the Forest of the Beginning since I read about it in one of Thoht’s books.”
Darta closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and simply enjoys the moment. It may mean nothing to others, but to him, it is a sensation only he can experience in its full splendor. He has the ability to feel the energy within every living being. Now, in this forest, it is as if he is surrounded by countless bonfires. The greater the energy, the more intensely he perceives it. Like soft flames dancing around him, embracing him without burning. When he opens his eyes, he sees it flowing like a river of fire, moving with a serene yet unstoppable rhythm. Each current of energy carries its own unique and sensation, though, in this forest everything converges into a warm, uniform glow that binds the towering trees through their vast network of branches and roots.
But then he notices a different flow of energy, subtle, yet more vibrant than the one coursing through the trees. Curious, Darta opens his eyes, noticing that the source of this new energy is one of the many statues, the only one that is producing it, in its case of a white-blueish color, the stone statue of a loyal dog. Fascinated by the peculiar event, Darta walks over and places his hand gently on the animal’s head.
“This place is nothing as the book describes it. This forest feels mystical… Alive.” After what feels like hours of peaceful relaxation, his spirit merges with the tranquility surrounding him.
“I should complete the task Master Raijin gave me. I don’t know how he does it, but he always knows when I do something he does not want.” He mutters, releasing the statue’s head. “I promise I will come back once I finish with that tomato-red Master of—”
In the blink of an eye, a single lightning strike impacts and interrupts Darta, leaving him stunned. “Yeah…He does not like nicknames either.” He says, shaking away the shock.
The subordinate of lightning walks deep into the Forest of the Beginning, absentmindedly playing with the white spheres that levitate around him, each floating at the rhythm of his movements.
“Why did Master Raijin send me here again?” He asks, his fading as he searches for an answer among the towering branches. “Oh yeah,” Darta’s voice grows deeper, and places his fingers on his forehead, simulating a pair of horns, doing his best impression of his master. “Go to the Forest of the Beginning and find one of my drumsticks that fell in it.” He lowers his arms and glances up at the sky, waiting for another lightning strike. As quickly as his smile appeared, it faded into an expression of mild disappointment. “He should be the Incarnation of Distractions and Laziness.”
After a while, Darta’s wandering thoughts lead him straight to his target, the enormous drumstick of his master, nearly as tall as the sky-reaching trees, stuck upright in the ground—hard to miss even if not looking for it. The Incarnation’s instrument is intricately decorated with pieces of gold that form cloudy patterns along its length, and its handle wrapped in bandages. Around the base, where it is embedded, there are several holes scattered across the ground.
Darta looks up and down at the golden drumstick, then sights. “Well, that was easy… So easy that he could have done it himself!”
Instantly, a bolt of lightning begins to form in the sky, streaking down toward Darta. But this time, the young boy dodges it at the last second. With great joy, he screams at the sky, “Ha! Missed me!” Maintaining his smile, Darta looks back at the drumstick, up and down. “I know Master Raijin can shrink all his stuff but, how would I even move this?”
The boy just stares at the drumstick, as he walks around it, trying to not step on any of the other holes. “Apparently, this is not the first time this has happened…” He tries to hold his tongue, aware of Raijin’s methods for preventing him from cursing at him. “I wonder… What can a multiple millennia-old being, capable of destroying an entire island and moving at lightning speed, be doing right now that he cannot go pick up his own stuff.”
Darta hears the electricity crackling in the sky. “Which I am sure is something productive! All while he sends me to explore this wonderful forest, where I am all alone…” His tone fades along with the lightning in the sky. “If Jutra and Kior were here, this would have been a fun adventure.”
The silence covers the forest once more, as Darta remembers the days spent playing with his brothers.
A noise breaks the silence, making him jump in place and spin around, “What was that!” He knows, according to the book in Raijin’s library, that there’s no life in the Forest of the Beginning, aside from the plants. Darta’s heart begins to race as the white orbs begin to rotate faster around him, mirroring his rising anxiety.
Theories of what could have produced the sound invade Darta’s mind, each more horrific than the previous one.
While the orbs rotate erratically around his body, a small, winged frog leaps out of a bush, landing silently as the orbs slow down.
Darta watches as the little frog hops in his direction, using its wings to gain more distance with each leap.
“You little…” Darta mutter as the orbs begin to slowly rotate back to his waist. “You almost gave me a heart attack.” The frog lands on top of one of the white orbs.
“Oh, you like them?” He smiles. “You sure have a good eye, my little green friend. These are the Kaminaras, Master Raijin’s artifacts. The Incarnation of Lightning and Thunder use them to mold anything he wants, but he mostly turns them into drums for his music.”
“Ribbit.” The frog ribbits softly, looking up at Darta with wide eyes.
“Oh. Why do I have them?” Darta continues, scratching his head. “Well, after trying to steal them more times than I care to admit, apparently Master Raijin grew tired of it and said that if I was going to use them in the future, I needed to get used to them. I’m still learning, but I can control them well enough to shape them into simple forms.”
The frog hops off the Kaminara, gliding away with a small flap of its wings.
“Hey, don’t leave me here alone! Sorry if I was boring you.” Darta prepares to chase after the frog but pauses, turning to witness the massive drumstick behind him. “Unlike my green friend, you are not going anywhere. Stay put, I will be back.” With a smile from ear to ear, the apprentice of lightning dashes off in pursuit of the frog.
To Darta’s surprise, the frog uses its wings and powerful legs to outpace him, turning the chase into a real challenge. “This is much more fun than Master Raijin’s training,” He laughs in joy, as he tries to catch the little frog.
After several failed attempts, the winged frog leaps into a hole in the ground.
“You think hiding will save you?” Darta calls after it. “My ability allows me to sense energy over half a mile away, especially that of living things.” He kneels down, looking into the hole. “It is just a matter of time before I….”
He freezes. “I… I cannot sense you…” He backs away slowly. “That is… impossible. The only way I cannot sense you is that if you never—”
Suddenly, a louder sound echoes behind him. Every sense on high alert, Darta spins around and launches the Kaminaras at high speed towards the source of the sound. They crash into the tree just beside a deer, whose antlers are intertwined like a crown. The deer remains still, calmly munching on a bundle of leaves, completely unbothered by the attack.
Eyes wide open, Darta looks from the deer to the Kaminaras lodged in the tree, then back to the deer. The deer meets his gaze, its expression a mix of boredom and mild disappointment, as if to mock Darta’s failed throw, despite him being still.
“Do not dare look at me like that,” Darta huffs at least I don’t eat and sleep all day… not all days…” Darta recalls the Kaminaras to him, trying to steady his breathing. “Now that I think about it… where did you come from? Thoht’s books are never wrong, he is the Incarnation of Knowledge and Imagination, after all.”
Motivated by curiosity, Darta moves slowly the deer, keeping eye contact, eager to understand the creature. The moment stirs memories of one of his favorite books, a tale about an explorer guided by the spirit guardian of a forest to a hidden village of iron, in hopes that the explorer would help protect the forest. The story has always fascinated him, and now, standing before this regal creature, Darta can’t help but wonder if there’s more to this encounter.
But before he can get any closer, the deer darts away with surprising speed, lunch unfinished.
“Wait, King of the Forest!” Darta shouts as he gives chase. “I am not going to hurt you! I just want to know more about you.”
Constantly sensing the deer’s energy, Darta chases for several minutes until the landscape around him begins to change. The once-vibrant trees with their thick, healthy branches start to thin out. Leaves, once vibrant with life, appear to be burned, dark, and crinkled. The air shifts from crisp and fresh to something heavier, oppressive to the nose. Darta slows down as the contrast between the two areas becomes clear. Ahead, the trees are dim and twisted, their bark a sickly that darkens to black at the roots, stretching unnaturally over the shadowed floor, as if the life had been drained from everything here.
The energy of the forest, once flowing and radiant, feel muted here. Darta’s ability to sense the energy within living beings goes numb as if the very air were swallowing the presence of anything alive. He steps to the edge of this twisted place with his senses recoiling from it.
“Wait King of the Forest,” Darta calls, uncomfortable. “I don’t like this place. It feels… wrong.” As he hesitates, he feels a familiar energy suddenly appears behind him. He turns to witness once more the statue of the dog.
“Another statue? Did I miss it when I got here?” He places his hand on the head of the statue, “No, it is you again. This energy is unique to you. But how did you get here? Are you trying to tell me something?”
The sharp snap of a branch breaking echoes from the dead zone. It’s the deer.
“King of the Forest come back. Let us return to the good side of the forest.” Darta steps forward, but two dark branches crack and fall from the deteriorated tree right in front of him, scaring them both.
The deer bolts deeper into the twisted landscape.
“King of the Forest wait! I just want to help you.” Darta shouts, chasing after him once again. Without looking back, the deer leads Darta farther into the dead zone, leaving the statue of the dog behind.
After a minute of pursuit, the deer stops in front of the remains of a colossal tree, even larger than the already titanic ones in the healthy part of the forest.
“Alright, my king,” Darta tries to catch his breath. “Let us start over. I am Darta, future Incarnation of Lightning and Thunder, and I just want for both of us to return to the Forest of the Beginning. Sounds good?”
The deer slowly turns to face him, locking eyes with the energetic boy. Darta feels a strange connection forming, and with a hopeful smile, he cautiously steps toward the animal.
In the blink of an eye, a shadow lunges at the deer, its grotesque and unnatural form grabbing the King of Forest. Darta’s heart races as he watches the deer scream, struggling against its captor’s grasp. The being’s left arm, twisted and deformed, forces the deer onto its jaw, prolonging its suffering.
When the deer cannot go deeper, the being bites down, and a gruesome splatter of blood erupts from it. The deer’s antlers crash to the ground, while those of the creature raise tall, abominations of nature aiming at the sky. Nothing in nature should be this monstrous, yet the deer’s screams do not cease. Impossible to know whether these sounds are to call for a brave hero or sweet death.
The scent of iron and death’s thickness envelops Darta as the being tries to swallow the deer whole, creating a nightmare sound of crunching bones and tearing flesh, that drowns out the cries.
Once the deer is released from its misery, the being lets out a scream that can only be describe as hundreds of chains whipping the bones of the innocent. With it, the very smell of hell that burns his lungs and innocence, begins to overlap with the one of pure blood and unnecessary death.
Darta, whose brain is still struggling to process everything that his eyes witnessed, remains frozen in place as countless emotions invade his body. He could not sense the being approaching, causing his mind to believe it is not real. Even now, his ability is unable to sense the being’s energy, despite standing before it, tattooing its scent, sounds, and figure on Darta’s very soul.
The stench of blood and decay hits Darta like an ox, followed by the oppressing energy the being no longer bothers to hide. It emanates from the endless abyss that is its body, one that not only stares back but threatens to swallow him whole. Every primordial instinct scream at him to run. Yet heart urges him the opposite, to help the deer, that somehow, there is still salvation for him.
Darta’s mind is staggered, his breath quickening as his heart pumps adrenaline to his legs. He doesn’t know what to do or what to think.
Abruptly, the being’s hellish howl ceases, and the tyrannizing energy vanishes once more. Without moving its body, its head snaps unnaturally around to face Darta, the neck breaking with a sickening crack like ice shattering. The sound brings Darta back to reality. Their eyes lock, the emerald pair with a wave of fear unlike any he has ever experienced—greater even than when he met with Kane, the Incarnation of Death and Life, and Ah Puch, the Incarnation of Souls and Decay—and the obsidians attach to a hanging head, black as nothing itself.
Slowly, the being starts to move, its body rotating to match the twisted direction of its dislocated head. Darta’s body, despite recognizing the imminent threat, refuses to move. He watches, paralyzed, as the being steps on the deer’s antlers, the heart-sickening sound echoing through the dead forest. Followed by the sound of its neck snapping back in place, vertebra by vertebra.
Darta’s mind, body, and soul align in a single action: escape. As fast as his body allows him, Darta turns around and begins to run away from the being that does not hesitate to chase him.
The infernal screams grow louder with every step, the ground shaking under the creature’s relentless pursuit. Yet no energy emanates from it, nothing to suggest it’s even alive. Darta runs until reaching the living part of the forest but doesn’t stop running, with the monstrosity still closing in, its footsteps thundering ever closer.
Darta’s mind concentrates on every action, every step carefully measured to avoid any obstacles. His eyes scan for the most optimal route of escape, focusing on narrow paths where the trees intertwine, hoping to avoid whatever is catching up behind him.
Desperation claws at him, his actions grow more erratic as he feels what killed the deer creeping in.
In a split second, he senses a distinctive energy under the raised roots of a tree ahead. With no other options and the acid breath of the being brushing his neck, Darta channels his remaining strength, generating small volts of lightning around his body, and dives beneath the tree at high speed. He crashes into the ground, stopping as he slams the stone statue of an eagle.
Before he can recover, the tree above him shudders violently from a powerful impact, followed by another hell scream, this one different, filled with what appears to be suffering. The tree quivers with the force, but then everything falls uncannily silent.
The usual sound of wind dancing the leaves, and the soft whispers of the trees are gone. It’s as though the forest is paying its respects to the fallen king or in fear of its new ruler.
Darta remains motionless: heart pounding, breath agitated, body paralyzed. He can’t sense the being anymore, the thing that now claims the title of King of the Forest.
This cannot be happening. The apprentice of thunder repeats in his mind. This cannot be happening. The book said that there is no form of life here. But the deer, the trees, that… What happened here? Did Thoht make a mistake? No, impossible.
His mind shifts, trying to grab hold of something, anything to make sense of it all. Does Master Raijin know about all of this? No. If Thoht did not know, my Master would not even have imagined… And if he did… A spark of rage cuts through his fear. If he sent me here knowing this, I will personally make sure he gets what he deserves. I don’t care if he is an Incarnation or my Master, sending me here to die…
The obvious answers find a way through his rage. My Master, of course. He can save me from this situation. Once that… even the word monster does not describe that thing. But that will not matter, once my Master deals with it, I will call Thoht. We will explore this forest, uncover its mysteries, and…
Flashes of the traumatic scene fill his thoughts. “Give The King of the Forest a proper burial.” He whispers, as softly as his agitated body allows.
Time passes, Darta’s body remains immobile, the only sound he perceives is the steady thrum of his heart. The only way I cannot sense something is if it ceases to exist. Even the dead leave behind small amounts of energy. Could I be dreaming? No… I have never had this type of dream. I feel… useless, worthless. If I had focused, I may have been able to detect that thing before it attacked the deer. This has to be a dream. I cannot be this pitiful. His thoughts spiral. Yes, that must be. It would explain why I could not move. Not a dream, a nightmare. The worst nightmare of my life, possibly of all humanity.
Darta’s muscles begin to relax, his breathing growing steadily. If this was a dream, if I look carefully, I should not have any blood on me, right?
With hesitation, fearing the truth, he touches his face, then his chest then checks on his legs and back. There are no traces of blood. Relieved, Darta allows his body to fully relax.
“If it was a dream… what else wasn’t real?” He murmurs, though tension still lingers in his body as he doubts whether to leave the safety of the tree roots or remain hidden. He turns and sees the statue of the majestic eagle that had stopped him earlier.
“I should call Master Raijin… I cannot complete the mission like this.” He says to the statue. “I am sure you would do the same if your master was an Incarnation.”
Each step he takes to exit the roots increases his heart rate. At just one step away from exiting, he takes a deep breath, looks forward, and shouts while exiting, “Master Raijin! Teleport me back to the temple! I will complete the mission another day, I do not feel capable of finishing the—”
Before he can finish talking, a single drop of a mysterious substance lands on his shoulder. Every fiver in his body is ready to run, as he looks at where the drop hit. It’s dark red and dense; blood. From above, an overwhelming energy begins to press down on him, and an uncomfortable feeling runs through his body. This energy, unmatched even by Ah Puch, freezes him in place.
Slowly, Darta looks up, hoping, praying to Amera, for this energy to be only by his imagination. But his worst fears are confirmed. His mind screams for his body to run, to move for his life, but he is unable to move as his eyes lock onto the being that dethroned the King of the Forest.
Darta doesn’t blink. His entire body is trapped in the gaze of the creature.
Without a sound, the being bites into its destroyed and mutated hand, tearing it from its arm and spitting it down to the ground. The severed hand, which is larger than Darta, lands with a violent smash. The impact releases the young boy from his trance and once again, he begins to run.
Darta senses how the being, high in the trees, is getting close to him. Even as the being energy disappears, Darta doesn’t stop running, with his mind free of all thought except the pure instinct of wanting to live.
He loses track of time and direction until exiting the Forest of the Beginning, arriving at the edge of a massive cliff. Below, a river winds through the gorge, its depth so great that even the tallest trees cannot touch the canyon’s edge.
Taking a deep breath of the fresh air, Darta tries to gather his thoughts, but they guide him to his doubts. Am I supposed to be a future Incarnation? I can’t even think about… In silence, Darta contemplates the sky, his eyes on a distant past. “Why did Raijin choose me? Me? An ordinary boy among great warriors. Kior, who can stop time. Jutra, who, like his father, is untouchable. Even my father would have been a better choice for his experience. But no, the great Incarnation of Lightning and Thunder, choose me. A boy that can… sense things.”
In the distance, the hellish scream begins to echo once more, piercing the wind.
“All of them could have saved the King of the Forest, but I ran away. What kind of Incarnation will I become if I keep running from my problems? A pathetic one.” The ground began to tremble, each quake more intense than the last. “And yet, I bet my people will still believe in me, just like they believe in Master Raijin.”
Darta feels a surge of malicious energy enter the range of his ability. His hand instinctively moves to one of the Kaminaras floating around his waist and in a blink his eyes land at the bottom of the cliff. “Speaking of doubt, I don’t think that thing can fly.” A grin spreads across his face, with his heart steady at last.
The apprentice of thunder turns to face the forest and adopts a fighting stance. With his body angled sideways, one arm above his head and the other extended in front, he aims towards the trees as the Kaminaras revolve faster around his body.
He braces himself for the attack of his hunter, but the tremors, the screams, and even the energy of the being vanish as if they never existed in this reality. Darta doesn’t fall for the same trick twice. He knows that being is getting closer, ready to strike, just as he is ready to defend.
With each passing second, Darta’s heartbeat quickens, fuel not with fear, but with anger. His focus sharpens as the Kaminaras spin in rhythm with his pulse.
One second before the attack, just as the being’s handless arm emerges from the cover of the forest, the scream of hundreds of chains and the trembles return. The being charges at him, aiming to replicate with its new prey what it did to the deer.
Darta stands his ground, waiting for the being to get closer. In a swift motion, he lowers his arm, molding the Kaminaras into a large barrier that stops the being from reaching him. The barrier traps the shoulders and hips of the being by molding around them. The impact and constant struggle push both Darta and the barrier close to the cliff’s edge. His body shakes, muscles burning like fire, but he grits his teeth and raises his arms, with the Kaminaras following his movements. The being tries to bite and hit its way out, but Darta holds firm, with every inch of his body straining.
“Fall to the abyss you came from!” Darta screams as he lifts the barrier over the cliff, molding it back into orbs and letting the being fall.
Darta nearly tumbles with it but manages to twist mid-air, using the Kaminaras to steady himself as he lands his back on the ground. He hugs his heart over his skin, while the being’s screams and energy fade into the distance.
“That felt… satisfying.” He says in between his breaths. “Take your time, heart. We will make a funeral for the real King of the Forest once you…”
His words get numb, his mouth trembling as the sound of falling rocks and a heavy, gravelly breath reaches his ears. Darta forces himself to his feet, already preparing for the next attack.
The being claws and bites its way over the cliff, returning to the top and without wasting a second launching once more at Darta.
The young boy tries to form another barrier, but the being anticipates it, leaping high into the air and positioning itself between Darta and the sun.
Unable to see, nor sense the being’s energy, Darta quickly raises the barrier above his head, in hopes it holds once more.
With a force stronger than striking lightning and fury as wild as a tsunami, the being crashes into the barrier followed by the ground, shattering both in a single blow. Darta is caught in disbelief just long enough for the creature to swipe at him with its claws. His reflexes save him from being cleaved in two, but a sharp vertical slash over his abdomen and pain burst through his body.
Darta jumps back, trying to mold the Kaminaras once more. The attack has torn the bandages from his waist. As they fall, a small tattoo is revealed on his lower back; a series of geometric shapes forming what looks like a person with wings raising one arm.
The being presses its advantage, unleashing a relentless barrage of slashes and strikes. Darta struggles to keep pace, molding the Kaminaras as fast as he can to block each attack while desperately maintaining his distance, circulating the cliff. The force of being pushes him to his limits, but the creature’s leg catches in a crack in the ground, caused by its own landing.
Seeing his chance, Darta hesitates for only a moment, thinking quickly. He analyses his surroundings, remembering Jutra’s lessons from their days running between the maze of trees. Jutra’s voice echoes in Darta’s mind, as he notices more cracks extending to the cliff’s edge. A smile forms on his lips as he prepares a plan to rid the world of this creature once and for all.
Taking advantage of the being’s missing hand, Darta runs around it, knowing it can’t grab or harm him that easily.
The being’s arm swings after him in a desperate attempt to grab him. Darta doesn’t bother to dodge any of them, as he is away from its reach.
But his confidence vanishes as quickly as the creature’s grotesque new hand grows from the stump, snatching him before he can react.
The being, which prefers to catch its prey than to free itself, hoists him up to eye level.
Darta struggles with all his might to break free, but the more he fights, the tighter the creature’s grip becomes, squeezing the air from his lungs.
While the being’s claws begin to grow on its new hand, Darta locks eyes with the being, trying in vain to suppress his fear.
The creature opens its mouth, releasing the same hellish odor that plunges Darta into a pit of fear deeper than the abyss itself. The smell chokes him from what little air he can grasp. Clinging to strength he has left, Darta takes a deep breath of the hellish breath of the being and yells with all his last strengths, “Red Cow Old Tomato Incarnation of Shi—”
Coming from the clear sky, a raging bold of lightning strikes both hunter and prey for several seconds before stopping. The being twitches, but Darta—already used to Raijin’s punishments—glares up, unbothered.
“Is that all you have stupid cow!? My farts are more powerful than—”
A second bolt crashes down, with greater intensity and lasting longer than the previous one. The electricity forces the being’s muscles to spasm violently, forcing it to release Darta, who recovers quickly.
“For once, I am grateful for Master Raijin’s punishments.” He says while his mouth shakes, arriving at the border of the cliff.
The sound of cracking stone catches his attention, and he turns to see the being trying to free itself from the ground.
Not seeing Darta as a hopeless creature anymore, the being severs its own leg and begins limping towards its worthy prey.
Seeing a clear weakness, Darta begins throwing the Kaminaras at the being, hindering its advance while taunting it. “And to think,” he says, retrieving the Kaminaras to throw them again, “I feared you. You just are so bizarre; it is hard to look at. I bet your mother mistook you for a rock and kicked you, that is why you are so…” He combines four Kaminaras into one large orb, the symbols on them forming the word thunder, and sends the massive orb flying toward the beings’ face. “Ugly!”
The impact blasts one of the being’s teeth loose, sending it flying. Enraged, the being adapts.
Unable to advance by foot, the being uses its powerful arms and remaining leg to launch itself into the air, once again positioning itself between the sun and Darta’s eyes.
Darta smiles as he watches the shadow of the being grow larger on the ground. When it’s twice as big as it was when the creature jumped, Darta sends four Kaminaras at the cliff’s base and leaps behind the shadow, barely avoiding the attack.
Before the being can turn and continue its hunt, the combined impact of the Kaminaras below and the being’s landing above causes the cliff to tremble and collapse, trapping both the being and Darta in a freefall.
The being scrambles desperately, clawing at anything it can grab, its signature scream tearing through the air. Darta, on the contrary, is calm, measuring the time with his heart beats. He calls back the Kaminaras, sending them crashing into every rock and root the creature tries to grasp as they return to him.
As they both fall, the roles shift, and the once-mighty hunter becomes the prey. For a fleeting moment, something changes in the being’s wild eyes, a distant memory stirring in the chaos, immortalizing everything about Darta in his mind once more.
With the Kaminaras on his side, Darta launches five at the being, aiming for its limbs. He keeps two Kaminaras with him, holding onto them to slow his own descent.
Once the being finally disappears from view, the sound of its body destroying the ground far below reaches his ears, Darta exhales a long breath. “Thanks, everyone.” He says before his upper body starts to tremble. “I am… heavier than I thought.” Without recalling the Kaminaras that had pushed the being, Darta uses the last of his strength to fly near the edge of the shattered cliff. Grabbing onto any sticking root or rock, he begins to climb. Once back on solid ground, Darta collapses, lying on his back, with his eyes closing in exhaustion.
“This is surely… A day I will never forget.” Darta murmurs to himself as he recalls the Kaminaras to his side. “But that will not bring back the true King of the Forest.” His voice drops as his mind circles back to the loss.
The Kaminaras arrive and arrange themselves around his Darta’s waist as he exhales and his muscles finally relaxing. “Let me catch my breath, then, before I forget, I will make a funeral to the King of the Forest. It’s the least I can do.”