Gira watched the crimson monster muster a weak smile. It hunched down until its jaws had reached his ears; its voice was a coarse murmur.

  “There’s resounding violence beyond these walls,” it said, the sound of the crashing impact of the Fulgurjaw against the building blending with the broken rhythm of gunfire. “Let me come out and play. All we need is blood. Any lucid blood—filthy, fresh, animal, or even of our kin. We must gorge ourselves on scarlet sweets.”

  “Wait,” Gira moved his head away. “What’s with all this ‘we’ talk? What are you?” he asked. “Also, no stupid cryptic answers, please!” he demanded.

  “We are a Coarseblood. We need living ichor to manifest per the unsightly rules of our creation. Unless we wish to ignite ablaze in the fires of calamity.” It answered vaguely.

  “You almost gave me a good answer. Almost, but the second half was super unnecessary, you red moron!” Gira said, clearly annoyed. “Jeez—now I have like a million questions…”

  The Coarseblood expression changed, and its smile dropped a little. “Sorry, it’s just there’s a lot of rules and—”

  “I don’t need to know them right now.” Gira cut in. “I can’t believe I'm not safe from exposition. Not even from myself.” He said in a defeated tone. “Plus, why would I need your help right now? They seem to be doing fine out there. I think.”

  “Hmmmm, how are we so sure?” It asked while leaning in closer. “What of the nice girl? What if she died?”

  “Oh, glad you asked that. But before I answer, can you explain to me what it means to die?” Gira asked, causing the crimson monster to reel away, its jaw ajar.

  “Oh—Our understanding of concepts seems oddly selective.”

  “Yeah and?” Gira retorted, staring blankly at the Coarseblood.

  The two continued to banter in the restroom, unaware that to their left just beyond a single thin wall was Siegwick preparing himself to head out. The unit in the systems room had spotted something in the security cameras of the north tower’s garage.

  Activating his comms, he spoke sternly, “The Anomaly has breached the perimeter. It’s presently hiding within the garage of the northeast tower. The Pelamüs within has been infected. Await my command. You are not to approach!”

  Lucas sat in the corner of the room, his face buried in his hands as Lena comforted him.

  “Russo kids, stay out of this one.” Siegwick commanded firmly.

  “But…that’s my friend,” Lucas mumbled, his puffy red eyes staring at the monitor that displayed Shredder writhing violently before a wild swing from its changing body smashed the camera, cutting the feed.

  “Lena, make sure your brother stays in line. We’re dealing with an intelligent contagion. Purge orders are absolute,” Siegwick ordered in an icy tone.

  “Y-yes sir,” she replied weakly, holding her brother close.

  “Saul, keep me updated on the Anomalies’ status,” Siegwick barked at the other ranger in the room.

  “Yes sir!” Saul sharply answered.

  Siegwick made his way outside, discarding an empty Kyyr booster ampule by Denver as he exited the building. His muscles rippled with an unnatural intensity as he stepped out under the crimson-shattered sky.

  To his right, he could see Serfet, Radomir, Ribbon, Carmela, Will, and Zoya trying their best to close in on the Fulgurjaw, its body erupting with violent bursts of azure lightning. The display was fierce and unpredictable as the Fulgurjaw slammed its massive frame around, its draconic lightning defying nature as it surged through the ground below, blowing up and turning bits of gravel into deadly projectiles.

  Damn lizard! Siegwick thought to himself before turning his attention to the north tower. Its form was hazy, shrouded in the smoke from the burning Rak’da’s corpses. The fumes were sinister, thick, and vile, bathed in the eerie red light. His eyes narrowed with a frown.

  There.

  Emerging from within the dilapidated tower, Siegwick caught sight of the Anomaly as it took form. Its translucent, pale skin glistened under the crimson light, slick with dark red blood. Twisted tendrils writhed around its body, methodically cleaning the grotesque form as its foggy, overgrown white eyes watched the squads below with eerie stillness.

  Siegwick wasted no time. He charged his Kyyr Ability: Impact Boreas, encasing his arms in jagged icy armor as sharp blades of frost extended outward. With a forceful grip, he tore the frozen blades free, warping the icy shards into a single icy claymore. Without hesitation, Siegwick advanced toward the tower, his cold resolve incarnate through his icy Kyyr.

  Meanwhile, inside the station, Gira was still chatting with the thing in the mirror, asking it a series of stupid questions.

  “If you’re really me then…” Gira began, “What’s my favorite food?”

  “We don’t know,” it replied.

  “What’s my favorite animal?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “My name?”

  “Gira.”

  “My birthday?”

  “We do not know.” It answered flatly.

  Gira put a hand on his chin, thinking. “My favorite color?”

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  “We don’t know.”

  Damn! He’s good. Gira thought to himself.

  Even though it lacked the organs to really emote, the Coarseblood exuded an air of pity as it watched Gira fumble through his interrogation. “You know, shouldn’t we at least know the answer to some of the questions we’re asking?”

  Gira’s eyes widened as the realization hit him, a slight blush creeping onto his face. “Ah,” he said as he looked at the Coarseblood. “You’re so right—hmm.” He thought for a second, “Then how about I ask you questions?”

  “That’s what we were doing before,” it answered flatly.

  “Oh—right… Then what about a name?” Gira asked with a smile.

  “I’m you, so my name would be Gira too,” it said, raising its hand to point at Gira.

  “Yeah, but that’ll get super confusing for me!” Gira answered, mimicking the pointing.

  “We actually don't know how often we'll even be able to chat so—”

  “Can I give you a nickname or something anyway?” Gira pleaded.

  “We mean, sure. Just give us something cool.”

  “R E D,” Gira said, waving his hand whimsically as if he were drawing a rainbow.

  “No, that’s just lazy.”

  “Uhhh. How about B L O O D M A N?”

  “NO! That one’s just lame.”

  “Ugh, do you have suggestions?”

  “How about S A V A G R I O S?” it replied, mimicking Gira’s little hand wave of whimsy.

  “Ehh, but that sounds just as dumb as Bloodman?”

  The shattered cracks on its face seemed to react to his comment. Almost as if it were frowning at Gira. “It’s not as lame as Bloodman?! What are you on about?!” it asked with a growl, baring its fangs at Gira.

  “Oh wow, okay, sheesh. Sore spot—fine, I’ll call you ‘Savagrios’,” Gira surrendered. “But what about the other hands I saw? You’re clearly the red hand I pulled out. What about the other ones?”

  “That’s just more of us.” Savagrios answered bluntly.

  “Hmm, okay, are they all just as chatty?” Gira asked.

  “Who knows. But we're glad we were the first pick. Not a fan of the seven-fingered creep, though.” Savagrios replied.

  “Oh yeah, where’s that ‘me’?” Gira asked.

  “We do not know.”

  “Oh—well, guess he’ll pop out sooner or later.” Gira paused. “Oh, right. How do I use you?”

  “Consume blood; the rest should come to you like instinct.” Savagrios answered.

  “Awww, where do I even get blood? How much should I even drink?”

  “Enough to become as big as me.” Savagrios said while pointing at himself.

  “WHAT?!” Gira exclaimed in shock. “I can’t fit all that in my stomach?!”

  “Don’t worry, us Coarsebloods have an extradimensional slot in our stomachs exclusively designed to hold our construct catalyst.” Savagrios explained, waving his claw around casually, as if it were completely normal.

  “Ummm, okay, I’ll act like that makes sense. So, how much blood can I hold?” Gira asked, pointing at his stomach.

  “Who knows. But we should warn, it needs to be blood from things with Kyyr. So they have to be pretty sentient,” Savagrios explained.

  “Can I get some examp—” Gira started, but his question was cut off as the wall down the hallway collapsed under the weight of Fulgurjaw, who fell backward into the station.

  “That thing works!” Savagrios shouted in the back of Gira’s mind, his hunger spiking as he watched the beast flail around. “I can use some of our own blood, but there’s a limit for us.”

  “Alright…” Gira mumbled as glops of saliva began to pour from his mouth. “Ugh, why am I so hungry?”

  Savagrios sneered, “We're pretty desperate, so we're making you feel a hint of my voracity. Good luck—try not to eat any of our kin.” he mischievously whispered as his presence faded.

  “Wha-What?! A forced event!” Gira exclaimed loudly, gaining the rancor of the Fulgurjaw. “Uh oh.”

  The next 15 seconds were all experienced in slow motion as the Fulgurjaw lunged at Gira, who leapt backward into the cramped one-room bathroom. The dreary little hallway exploded as the Fulgurjaw’s draconic Kyyr blasted forward, its jaws erupting as they clamped at the bathroom entrance, sending Gira flying through the wall of the bathroom. His little body crashed through the surprisingly thin walls, his limbs colliding with all sorts of sharp pokey bits as he went flying over both Lucas and Lena, who were reeling in shock from the explosion as they watched Gira soar across the room.

  Gira mid-flight didn’t feel any immediate pain and even managed to smile at the two as he thumped against the fancy crystal table in the middle of the room. Shrapnel scattered in all directions as the Rak’da tore through more of the building.

  Outside, the rangers scrambled to strike the monster as its front half flailed around inside the station.

  Gira’s brain finally loaded what had happened and flailed in pain. “AHHHH, that hurt so much!” he shouted, clutching the side of his body that had slammed into the table.

  “Gira?!” Lucas shouted in shock.

  “Oh, so the bathroom was behind that wall.” Gira remarked as he stood up, his eyes flashing crimson and blue. The hunger twisting his guts as he saw the people in the room. “Ugh. We’ll catch up later, Lucas. I’m currently on a sidequest.”

  “What?!” Both siblings shouted as Gira seemed to recover, pushing past the two and running back in the direction of the thundering Rak’da.

  Man, I’ve got like zero agency over my life... Gira thought, holding his stomach as he rushed past the rubble.

  The Fulgurjaw had retreated back outside, where Serfet sliced its arm clean off—only for the tendrils to immediately reattach back on as it exploded in a burst of blue lightning.

  How the heck do I even approach that? Gira wondered before the instinct to devour seemed to overtake his senses as he found himself running in, Kyyr naturally flowing to his legs as he picked up speed.

  The Fulgurjaw had now become more aggressive in response to its arm being blown off as it charged its body with rumbling Kyyr. It burst forward with blinding speed, its tail violently whipping Ribbon, sending her barreling into the nearby fence. Her armor shattering from the impact; lucky for her, the fence had absorbed some of the force, leaving her barely alive.

  “Ribbon!” Zoya shouted, rushing over to pull her away from the ire of the Fulgurjaw.

  “ZOYA!” Will yelled as he tried to intercept the Fulgurjaw’s thundering tail strike. The Fulgurjaw seemed to almost smile—because, as it had anticipated, someone would attempt to save the poor girl. The Rak’da lowered its hips, adjusting the strike to veer straight into Will. With a clap of thunder, the tail struck Will, who barely managed to defend as he felt his body reel in agony as he was sent flying towards the station. His body cracking the wall before sliding down onto the gravel.

  Zoya recoiled, the realization of her mistake hitting too late—she was still within the Fulgurjaw’s range.

  The monster steadied its body as its tail swung back, shifting its weight so it readied to strike again, but—from seemingly nowhere—a crimson flash dug at its ankle. The cut was deep, causing the massive beast to trip under the weight of its own body.

  The rangers were in shock as the massive Rak’da collapsed temporarily, incapacitated. Following the trail of blood, a figure stood. Bathed in the crimson glow of the shattered sky, their eyes widened in fear—it was Gira?

  Using his own blood, his body had changed. The lower half of his face had transformed. Like a vile mask, he now wore the jaws of Savagrios. His eyes rolled back in ecstasy as he swallowed the flesh he’d just bitten off. The twisted jaw curled into a grotesque smile as his long, spiky tongue flopped out, dripping with saliva.

  Will looked at the figure, his face twisting in disgust. “What the fuck…?”

  The Fulgurjaw moved flesh around its body, mending its wound as it stood once more, now focused on Gira. The two locked eyes, the bleeding light of the shattered sky intensifying Gira’s excitement. The bliss of consumption filled his body as the freshly consumed blood twisted his fingers into crimson claws.

  Filled with animalistic rage, the Fulgurjaw charged towards Gira with the force of a raging storm. The ground trembled beneath its weight as a surge of draconic lightning crackled through the air, propelling its immense power into a thunderous strike.