Mythos Prelude

  Episode Jackie

  Chapter 2 — Loid

  by Caide Fullerton

  A terrible screech rang out as stone and metal alike were torn to shreds. The wasteland was dotted with many piles of ancient debris and rusted scrap, giving the very air a foul, irony taste. As the battle raged on, the wails and howls of pipes and sheet metal rose to the sky as more and more of their kin were crushed or torn asunder.

  The composer of this cacophony was none other than the great claws of a towering monster—a Jubokko. Humanoid in shape, this particular individual was a giant for its kind, nearly triple the height of the Humans it was hunting. Its skin was completely covered by a thick layer of red bark, and long, sickly-green leaves hung from its joints and the tips of its fingers. Its face was featureless, its hands far too large and its jagged claws far too long.

  When the creature stood still and assumed the right pose, it would closely resemble the willow trees that dotted the landscape, with their bloodred bark, their bulbous, droplet-shaped cysts, and their long, draping leaves. The Jubokko were frail, hence why they disguised themselves as trees and ambushed their prey in large packs.

  “Frail” was the last word Loid would pick to describe the monstrosity in their path, so it made sense that it had been freely wandering the winding paths of the wasteland alone, abandoning the traditions of its kind.

  Crouching behind a block of stone that had fallen over the edge of the path, Loid peered over his cover to watch as two figures dashed around the feet of the hulking treeman, chipping away at its tough bark armor. One was an old man dressed in a grey tunic, torn to reveal the leather padding beneath; his graying hair belied his agility and his skill with a sword. The other was a young woman with long, angular hair, its shade a reddish-purple that stood out from her grey surroundings; her bright red eyes seemed to gleam as she faced the monster with grit teeth and a determined sneer.

  The lumbering giant swung its great body in circles, lashing out at the two with its oversized claws. With each missed attack it would tear gashes into the muddy path or into one of the piles of debris that lined either side of the road, and the two Humans would dash behind it along either side, slashing their blades at its bark only to break off small chips of mulch.

  As his companions faced the monster head-on, Loid alone hid out of sight. He was a pale, lanky man with short black hair, a pair of crooked makeshift glasses resting on his face.

  He was not hiding out of cowardice, but out of necessity. Clutched in his left arm was a baby—his baby, merely six months old. Jackie looked out at the world with bright red eyes just like their mother’s, almost eerily calm despite the chaos surrounding them.

  In his right hand, Loid tightly gripped a spear, just in case he needed to use it. If all went well, it would never come to that; he would keep Jackie safely out of sight while Jacqueline and Alistair dealt with whatever threat they faced.

  Neither of them had ever once called him weak, nor ridiculed him for being useless, nor anything of the sort. This was how it had always been.

  When they sparred, he only ever beat his sister once or twice; they were both flukes. She would always encourage him to keep working and improving, but the results never changed; the simple fact of the matter was that she was stronger, faster, and more talented than him.

  His father, too, was always kind and encouraging. He would say that Loid had promise, would tell him to focus on his strengths, would warn him not to compare himself to others.

  To a point, those words were true—it wasn’t as if Loid was so weak he couldn’t handle himself. Even so, how could he help but to compare his skill to others’?

  The only person who had ever done Loid the kindness of berating him for his weakness was Roy. During their final confrontation, he’d easily caught Loid off-guard and overwhelmed him. If it weren’t for Jacqueline’s cunning, he might’ve died thanks to his own weakness—all four of them might’ve died.

  He could still clearly recall every last word Roy had said that night, could still feel every blow he’d inflicted. He could remember exactly how he felt—the pain as he was beaten down, his self-pity for being so weak, the guilt for placing Jacqueline and Jackie in danger, the suffocating rage he felt at Roy’s every word and action.

  Despite how painful they were, he held those memories close. It was the one and only moment in his life where someone else had pointed out his weakness. It was only by reliving that pain and anger that he could drive himself to become better—to become stronger.

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  Since that day, he’d began to dedicate every spare moment to improving himself, to strengthening both his mind and body. He needed to be stronger, faster, smarter, more durable, more perceptive—enough that he could stand side-by-side with them.

  And yet… he tightened his grip on his spear. Even after all these months, he was still here, watching from the sidelines. That the others never called him weak, that much had not changed—in fact, he was sure that they’d both caught on to his solitary training already.

  It simply wasn’t enough. Without insulting him, without telling him he needed to work harder, they determined silently that he was still the weakest among them, and they left him at the sidelines while they faced danger head-on.

  Up ahead, the Jubokko leapt into the air, raising both fists above its head as it careened towards the old man, Alistair. He shot forward, dashing beneath its towering shadow and leaving it to crash into the ground behind him. Its fists dug a crater into the mud beneath them, and Alistair and Jacqueline both struck at its crouched form from either side, peppering the backs of its knees with a flurry of quick blows, sending wood chips flying in either direction.

  The creature emitted not a screech, but a sound like creaking wood as it twisted around and swung the back of its hand at them; Jacqueline leapt away as Alistair ducked beneath it, running past the beast and peppering its body with more slashes.

  It wasn’t as if Loid wanted to be in danger—at times, it was comforting to know he would always be given the easy job. But, at the same time, that fact filled him with a guilt that felt as though it was hollowing out his heart and mind. It would be dangerous, yes, but even so, he wanted to do something for the people he loved—to share just a little more of the burden of life with them.

  And yet, what was he to do? He fully understood why he was in this position. He was simply inadequate to serve as a substitute for either of them. To argue against that, to insist on taking their place regardless, would be nothing but foolish—illogical. Would he be able to live with himself if his selfish request resulted in someone getting hurt, or worse?

  He knew the answer to this question, and so he never spoke up. Instead, he simply dwelt on the matter for nights on end, searching for a solution that might not even exist. The others were stronger, faster, smarter than he was, and he knew he could never catch up, much less surpass them.

  If all those things were off the table, what did Loid have to offer?

  What power did Loid possibly possess?

  What could Loid do that nobody else could?

  Loid slowly slid his feet apart, flipping his spear around in his hand and rearing his arm back. He watched carefully as the battle progressed, tracking the Jubokko’s great leaps and lunges with subtle twists of his wrist.

  Perhaps he had been approaching things the wrong way all along. Even if he could not surpass them in any metric, even if there was nothing he alone could do, did that truly matter? He was the one who was here, now.

  Regardless of how weak he was or wasn’t, surely Loid could do “something”. It didn’t matter what that “something” was, nor did it matter that he could only provide support from the sidelines—all that mattered was that he did it.

  Loid: “...Sorry if this spooks you a bit.” He spoke to the child held against him in a hushed whisper.

  And then, he let steel fly.

  Raising its colossal hands over its head for another attack, The Jubokko stood tall amid the battlefield. Its opponents scattered to avoid the destructive crash of its fists, but they never fell. A javelin cut through the air with a sharp whistle, its metal shaft embedding itself deeply into the Jubokko’s exposed neck.

  Its huge body rocked by the sudden impact, the Jubokko let out a chorus of creaks in place of a wail. Its great hands reached clumsily behind itself, clawing at the javelin, but its efforts only thrust the weapon deeper into its flesh. Enraged, it swept an arm out in front of it, but its movements now were sluggish and imbalanced, causing it to teeter.

  The others were quick to take advantage of the beast’s sudden weakness. Jacqueline charged it from the front, weaving between its halfhearted swings to jab at its legs, striking its knuckles each time it attacked. With its attention focused on her, Alistair slipped behind it, waiting for it to bend its body down as it slammed its fists into the mud.

  The old man leapt onto the beast, kicking off a bark protrusion on its leg and then off its back to rapidly surmount its height. Reaching its neck, he took the end of Loid’s javelin in both hands, tossing his sword aside, and began to violently wrench it back and forth, tearing its wound open further.

  Releasing another chorus of creaks, the Jubokko threw its body backwards violently, sending Alistair tumbling into the mud. The momentum of its own movement caused the beast to stumble, spinning and teetering until finally it collapsed backwards onto the ground. As it did, the heavy thud of its body crashing down was accompanied by a sinewy snap—as it fell, the ground forced Loid’s javelin upwards until it emerged from the front of the creature’s throat.

  Viscous, sap-like blood spurt out from the newly-opened wound. The Jubokko writhed wildly as its wooden body groaned, thrashing its limbs in desperation until, finally, it lost the strength to continue moving and fell still.

  Jacqueline cautiously approached its body, tapping its arm a few times with her sword to confirm it truly was dead. Then she hurried over to Alistair, offering him a hand to rise from the mud.

  Loid looked on from the sidelines, and he smiled, letting out a relieved, satisfied sigh.