Chapter 5

  Donny was suddenly standing on a beautiful beach, bright blue, crystal-clear water glimmered in the heat of the midday sun, fish and other aquatic life dashing about in the water. The call of birds and rustle of trees in the low breeze sang in his ears and the calm, silent ocean stretched as far as the eye could see. The world seemed to freeze like that, and Donny stood there, dazed, and confused, not understanding what was going on.

  “It is beautiful, is it not? I used to come here as a child. I would throw rocks into the water, doing my best to cause chaos. I would revel in the ripples and waves I would cause, the disturbances that affected the lives of the creatures within the water. I had so much power here, so much…impact.” A voice as soothing as a long sip of water after a long day’s work in the summer heat spoke, and Donny listened.

  “I had no control over my life. Not that anything was wrong, mind you, rather the opposite. There was no chaos, no change. All I’d ever known was peace. I had parents so powerful and influential that none could so much as speak about harming me without repercussions. My parents endorsed my every idea. Though they disciplined me with swift justice when I erred. I was given the most proper of educations and held access to a nation’s supplies. I should have been happy. Grateful that I had no struggle or worry, no fear of a meteor suddenly dropping from the sky and obliterating everything. There weren’t even bad kids in the neighborhood to influence me to smoke or drink.”

  The voice of Cashmere and silk was now but a leaf falling onto lush grass as Donny felt the presence of a person walking up to stand beside him as the sun began to drop on the horizon. A bright glow of crimson cast rose petals across the clouds as the man spoke on.

  “Then one day I found this spot. I would like to come here. And I would wreak havoc. And I would scream. And I would laugh at the disturbance of the frantic fish, insects and birds scrambling about. How some would charge me in a suicidal bid to protect the herd. Some would just be feinting; others would circle and wait for their kin. And every time I would turn and leave, feeling vindicated that I had so much influence on the aquatic life.”

  The man sat down beside Donny, sleaved hand picking up a rock and throwing it into the shallows, fish swimming away in a panic as ripples spread across the otherwise calm ocean. A long moment passing as the two sat, content to be in silence. Donny closed his eyes and listened, hearing the absolute honesty in the cool breeze that was the voice that seemed to speak to his very soul.

  “One day, when I was really losing myself to my own inner turmoil, I stomped my way here. I remember I was so very angry; I’d stolen gold from my father and planted it on a court official. They’d been severely beaten and lashed when the law received my anonymous tip, then disbarred and their family stripped of their homes and assets. I mocked them, bragged of my misdeeds to a gathered crowd within the city.” The man sighed wistfully as if dredging up memories he had not visited in a very long time.

  “And you know what happened?” the man asked rhetorically. “My parents made me go live with the man’s family, toiling away in the dirt of their paltry fields. Sleeping on bales of hay in their barn, cuddling with the livestock to stay warm. I earned their respect, their gratitude, and their support. Everything I had done was simply glazed over like frosted glass on a cold winter’s evening.” Another rock was thrown into water.

  “When I was finally allowed back into the palace following my community service, I came here again. Though this time I stayed. I watched as the ripples faded into the calm silence of still water. And you know what I saw?” Donny finally turned his head to look at the person talking to him.

  The man wore a fine tailored suit of the most exquisite quality. I blue-black pinstriped three-piece suit with silver cuff links and brightly polished high-top pointed dress shoes. The silver tint of runes glowed silver throughout the man’s clearly expensive outfit, emitting a powerful aura that would probably make any normal five-year-old child feint from the pressure.

  A wide-rimmed fedora that shone so brightly in the setting sun that Donny couldn’t tell if it was made of leather or metal sat above pointed ears. An emerald-green feather perfectly accented the silken silver hat band of the bespoke piece. The man’s face was strikingly handsome, with an angular face and perfectly proportioned features. The man sported a thin moustache of dark mahogany with a soul patch to match sitting proud beneath the lower lip and framed by a masculine and powerful jaw tinted by an obviously cultured five-o-clock shadow.

  “Where are my friends?” Donny asked, eyes staring unblinkingly into the man’s bright green irises.

  The man gave Donny a curious look, left eyebrow raising in challenge at Donny’s defiance. Ignoring the question the exquisitely dressed man turned to once again look out over the turquoise sea. After a long moment he continued with his tale, dismissing the boy’s refusal to play along.

  “I watched as the fish and birds and crabs and insects returned to their previous chores of foraging and searching for optimal nesting grounds. I watched as the creatures I’d previously dismissed as low and unintelligent once again returned to commence with an otherwise redundant and cyclical existence. And on that day, I learned that I was the same. That just as watched these brainless and unknowing creatures would weather the chaos and disorder that I wrought with my immature tantrums, my own observers looked on as I came to seek the measly tendrils of power I could usurp with my pitiful existence.” As the man stood tall once again, Donny could see the ripple of muscle and lithe athleticism of the man’s powerful frame strain against the perfectly tailored cover of the fabric that composed the well-made suit. Not a single grain of sand or scuff of dirt assaulted what had to be so much more than your average three-piece Hugo Boss suit.

  “Life will continue forever on, and unless we hold in our hands the power of the moon to shift the tides of life and deny our enemies the safety of the water of life, we are no more than a pebble. No more than stones skipped and forever lost beneath the surface as the ripples of our actions wane and fade to nothingness. And I learned that one must either embrace the swell of the tide that sculpts the shore and accept that we are but grains of sand on the beach or become the very water that fills the sea and gives life to creatures within.” Then he turned to face Donny, pulling a pocket-watch attached to a long silver chain from the pocket of his blazer before closing it with a crisp snap of metal as he seemed to pierce Donny’s very soul with his gaze.

  “Where. Are. My. Friends?” Donny said again, fists clenched in defiance with shoulders squared as he articulated each word with clear hostility.

  The man sighed, shoulders slumping as he gave up on waxing poetic with this clearly unconvinced young scion.

  “We have thirteen years. Survive through this period and you will see for yourself what has become of your friends. Until then, all you need to know is that your grandfather said to let you know that no harm will befall your peers, as long as he still lives.” Turning to face the length of the embankment, back exposed to the young boy who continued to glare venom at the older man, “Come now, our venue should be here right about… now.”

  A green haze abruptly wrapped the duo in its emerald fog as a jagged tear seemed to split the air directly in front of the duo. Donny watched as a pearlescent portal of shimmering energy formed right there in front of him. “Let’s go, we have not time to waste.” And with that statement, the figure of the man stepped into the rift and disappeared from Donny’s sight.

  “Geez, do you have to be so dramatic?” Donny grumbled to himself as he followed the man, feeling a trickle of energy like the prickle of so many insects crawling across the skin, he shuddered as he stepped through the portal.

  “Donny!” Milo shouted as suddenly appeared on a dirt path, people surrounding him, mouths agape and whispers spread as he looked on in surprise. There were sleek, modern buildings of all shapes and colors lining a muddy, sparsely graveled road that stood in stark contrast to the metallic sheen of the architecture of the weirdly futuristic yet frontier-esque aesthetics that comprised the village Milo now stood in. The young boy thought quickly, mind racing as he tried to make sense of what was going on.

  “I’ve never heard of such a place, this is either an amusement park of some galactic enterprise for the rich and noble, or a rest stop for travelers”, Milo thought to himself, but from the identically uniformed personal positioned on porches and along rooftops, the lad was inclined to believe it was the former.

  “The question is, who’s running the show? Top-notch suits and manicured nails, these aren’t Provosco’s people, that stingy creep wouldn’t waste the money on such niceties for lowly concierge. “Leaves me two options, Que-Florence or….” Milo’s train of though was cut off as a stunning woman in a tight-fitting black dress that stopped just above her knees; with not a speck of makeup but still surpassing the women who, if not for the presence of this ridiculously beautiful woman could steal the breath from any onlooker.

  She had long, dark hair, with hazel eyes that shone with golden highlights. A voluptuous bosom and thick, perfectly curved hips. An athletic build with shoulders that were both strikingly defiant yet delicately feminine and long, powerful legs ending at feet that walked on 8-inch stiletto heels with a graceful stride.

  “Leritaila!” Milo hissed under his breath as he met the woman’s gaze, a smirk forming on the lady’s cherry blossom lips.

  “OH, my dear boy, there you are! What’d mum tell you about running off and scaring her like that?” The seductress said as she wrapped the boy in a tight hug as if she were a worried mother who’d just found her lost child.

  “What the hell is this woman talking about?” Milo thought to himself as he was lifted and squeezed in a surprisingly suffocating embrace.

  “You’re lucky I old that old man way too many favors, and that I was threatened with my family’s extinction if you were to die, or I would skin you down to the bone. You better be worth your fucking salt after causing such a scene in my most exclusive attraction you little shit, do you understand me?” Milo’s skin grew increasingly icy as the women whispered in the eight-year-old’s ear. His hand froze where it’d been about to grip onto the mound of flesh where his chin rested in the overly pretty woman’s embrace, slowly falling back down to his side.

  “And you ever try that again, you perverted little animal, I’ll skin you alive without letting you lose even a single drop of blood. Then, I’ll prevent your body from healing for the duration you’re in my care. And to clarify, I have thirteen years to teach you how to be the most ruthless, prodigious merchant a lecherous monster like you could ever hope to be, capiche?” The clearly psychotic demon of a women said as she pulled back, gripping Milo’s shoulders in outstretched arms as she said out loud:

  “Oh come, darling, let’s get you showered and fed and in clean clothes, what’d I tell you about getting into the actor’s wardrobes? People will think you’re not well dressed as you are!” She said through a smile of gritted teeth and twitching eyes, clearly struggling to maintain her composure in front of so many people.

  Milo gulped, beyond grateful he hadn’t followed through with his lewd motion. Cursing his father for inheriting to him his egregious proclivities as he took the hand of the terrifying yet stunning woman and let her lead him through the crowd of people who now wore looks of pity and schadenfreude as they once again turned their attentions to the entertainment around them.

  “M-m-miss… Where are my friends?” Milo asked when he had finally summoned the courage to speak.

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  Instead of answering she dragged him into an alleyway, then through the back door of a fake brick building, into a massive studio that doubled as a high-end boutique. Clothes of exotic fabrics and materials hung from racks made of crystal and live mannequins posed in various outfits. Jewelry that was so fine and pristine he felt like a single ring cost more than his family’s entire manor; he was definitely not on Kreig anymore.

  Milo GoldHand was the heir successor of the richest and most influential merchant enterprise on Kreig and had once been in the big three of the merchant guilds back in the peak of the family’s era. As his ancestors had tied their cart to the legs of Donny’s family, they declined together throughout the years, his grandfather (many times removed) had always valued loyalty over any sum of gold, jewels, credits, or spirit crystals, and this code of honor had persisted throughout the generations.

  As he was spun into large, extremely comfortable chair that seemed to be made out of kandel pup fur with how soft it was, Milo stared at the woman who’d taken him as she herself sat on an identical chair that was before a massive meteorite desk.

  “Where. Are. My. Friends.?” Milo asked, his face scrunched in what he hoped was an intimidating look as he annunciated each word clearly and with as much resolve as he could manage in his confused state.

  “Kid, if you’re going to shit yourself you better not do it on my seven-million credit Velkin Contour original two of five.” The Woman’s words were harsh, but now that he looked, he saw a warm fondness towards him in her dark purple eyes, a playful smirk playing at the edges of her lips. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to tell your mother the next time I see her.”

  Milo’s eyes went wide, the pain of far too many swats from his lecherous proclivities haunting the skin of his ass as his face turned pale. “P-p-please, I’m only worried for my friends, I mean no offense milady.” He stammered out as he folded in half, bowing deeply to the woman as he simultaneously slid back into the crack of the large, cloud soft cushion. Sputtering, he pulled himself up and back to the edge of the chair, face red and huffing from the embarrassment of it all.

  “Hmmm, you’re definitely a GoldHand, loyal to the marrow of your bones. Fine, I’ll tell you this.” The woman stood up and walked around to stand directly in front of Milo, legs spread and hands on her hips. “If you’re not able to sell a furball to a cat in the next thirteen years, you can forget about ever seeing your friends again. You won’t be worthy to rejoin your Kabal if you can’t at least do this after I’m done with you, you’ll need to be at least the second-best merchant in the sector to stand side by side with your friends.”, her hard look did not soften at the fear and anger in Milo’s eyes as she stared down at him.

  “You don’t know anything, lady!” He yelled, his anger building as he balled his little fists in resentment.

  “Oh? Don’t I though? I know that the FireBrand brat has a bloodline not seen since his ancestor tore through galaxy after galaxy with his pure Sunfire constitution, destroying clans and sects alike in his revenge for the death of his first wife. The boy is predicted to be the second coming of the Celestial Elementalist if he does not die too soon. I also know that your little friend Lyle was born with the Farseers Eyes and will be able to shoot down a star from five galaxies away if he reaches maturity. And do I even need to mention little Don-don?” Every word the woman spoke pierced Milos’s innermost fears, as a cold sweat formed on the boy’s brow.

  Leaning down she spoke in a low, melodic tone “And what can you bring to the table with your average aptitude for cultivation, and your meager affinity for martial techniques? Can you even learn your family’s Midas’ Golden body technique? Your family hasn’t been able to afford to nurture an inheritor of that invincible technique in millennia.”

  Milo stared at the woman, tears almost forming in his eyes before he grit his teeth. Rubbing tears away with the back of his hand he hopped down from the to stand in front of the woman, glaring back at her he retorted “You don’t know anything, I don’t care what I gotta do, I will become the greatest merchant in the entire world, I don’t give a f-crap about whether you think you’re the number one merchant! I will surpass you! And I will make enough money to afford the treasures necessary to form the Golden body. I’ll even create a technique that makes my skin harder than Diamond, just you wait, lady!” Milo felt the resolve grow in his chest as he spoke each word, unable to keep his voice from rising towards the end of his speech.

  The woman looked at him with interest for a long moment before smiling and turning to leave.

  “Good, come, we must take advantage of every second if we’re going to make your foolish little dream become reality.” Suddenly she stopped, Milo almost running into her as she turned to cock an eyebrow at him. “Oh, and when I said you’ll need to be at least the second best, I wasn’t saying I was number one.”

  Taken aback by the statement, Milo looked at her quizzically, “Then who did you mean?”

  “Hmph, your father, of course.” She said mysteriously as she turned to walk away, a finger beckoning for him to follow.

  Charles FireBrand, or as his friends called him, Chucky, looked at the baren rock and silt around him. Soot fell like snow as he stood there, the heat of his surroundings beating against his will as he calmly controlled his breathing. This wasn’t his first time on a volcano, he’d grown up playing with his siblings on his father’s personal volcano, Mt. FireBrand, after all. This was, however, his first time being on such an overwhelmingly massive volcano. That said, he began to shake with fear at the sight of massive crater of boiling magma not a hundred steps from where he stood.

  “Are you still afraid?” a Gravelly voice spoke from behind him, and he turned to see a massive being of molten rock and silt standing as tall as an elder Bristle-tree, molten lava dripping from cracks that ran along the being’s body, like so many veins of fiery blood, to sizzle on the volcanic stone beneath them.

  “Who are you-no, where are my friends?” Chucky said stubbornly, his own inner fire stirring within him as he used his constitution to rebuff the ever-present heat surrounding him.

  “Ho, Ho, Ho, you’ve got the spark of flame within you, don’t you boy?” The magma golem said, giving a chuckle that sounded like stones grating together, with what appeared to be delightful at the boy’s temper.

  “The question is can you face your fear? Your fear of your own power, of the strength that you were born to wield?”

  Chucky couldn’t help but think back to that day. He was three and was playing tag near the mouth of his father’s volcano with his twin sister, he had been running to his dad’s gazebo at the edge of the crater, the safe spot was his father’s cultivation mat. But he’d looked back when his sister had yelled “I’m going to catch you!” he’d tripped and fell into the volcano, only remembering the feeling of sheer terror he’d felt before coming to in his father’s arms, his father smiling brightly at him as he rocked him in his arms, saying something to his mother who had tears in her eyes but was for some reason smiling.

  “I almost died, ok? I may have resistance to heat but if I’d have fallen into the magma before my father caught me, I- you… I can’t do this, I can’t be here. Where. Are. My. Friends?”

  “Hmph, you want to know?” The massive, molten golem said as it strode towards the edge of the crater, a cloud of ash billowing in the background as a sinking feeling welled within Chucky.

  “If you truly want to know the answer to that, you will conquer your fear” And with that, the creature of molten rock dropped into the volcano.

  …

  Lyle blinked his dry, sleepy eyes as he stretched and yawned, sitting up and rubbing his eyes as he recalled the strange dream, he’d… had. Lyle looked around at the open expanse of plains around him. There was nothing but lush grass beyond the random bed that was sitting in the middle of the unending fields. Nothing but targets that grew continuously smaller the further out they were.

  The event’s of before suddenly rushed Into Lyle’s mind, his group of friends being pulled into Uncle Kosher’s inner world, the massive blue aquatic bird diving towards them through the air. He snapped his head around, searching. “Where are my friends?” he wondered to himself has he snapped back to reality. Gazing in wonder as he took in the scenery Lyle finally connected the dots and understood that he was in a place he had never been.

  “What the f-” Lyle began, his eyes focusing on the closest target, over fifteen hundred yards away that was the size of a house. He couldn’t help but wish he had his rifle, a Legion 7 SiegeBreaker firing a nine hundred forty grain .65 JMG round. Within the large red bullseye was a hole about ten feet in diameter, and beyond that were targets that gradually grew smaller with similarly decreasing-sized holes perfectly aligned with each other, stretching far past his range of vision. Lyle licked his lips at the challenge before him.

  Though she tried not to show it, is mother had always been disappointed that he hadn’t been born with her power and grace, and this disappointment in him only grew when he had shunned the bow for the rifle. See, there was no skill with the rifle, it was a weapon to be used by mortal simpletons who had no actual skill in the art of ranged combat. Rifles were for those who didn’t have the strength to draw the string of the massive bows his entire family had used for generations upon generations.

  Lyle’s mother, Lyla Farsight, was High elf royalty who’d left her clan to marry his father, Brailin Shadeson, a Sunlight elf. Sunlight elves were a vassal race to the high elves, destined to forever be servants for their superior cousins. High elves were born with immense strength, stamina, agility and grace. They were naturally talented fighters in general, but their preferred weapon had always been the bow.

  Sunlight elves were a naturally weak and frail race but controlled very powerful illusion magic and excellent at espionage and trapping enemies. While many races had no strict regulations on interracial marriage, the high elves were one of the few who strictly mated within their own race. For millions of years there had not been a single exception, as elves were a race that imprinted. When an elf met the one destined for them, they imprinted, forever forging an unbreakable bond with their mate. And high elves had always imprinted with other high elves, it had just always been. Until the day Lyla imprinted on Brailin during a ball at her father’s palace.

  Lyle hadn’t inherited the immense physical strength and agility of his mother’s clan. He was slightly stronger and faster than most kids his age but paled in comparison to the abilities of his pure bred cousins. He did, however, inherit his father’s affinity for illusion magic, and had been the first Farsight to be born with the Farseers eyes, the mystical ocular technique exclusive to the Farsight bloodline and what had earned them their name. The Farseers eye at its peak would supposedly allow Lyle to see across the stars, and track targets from planets away.

  Due to these facts, by only seven years old he’d become a quite talented sharpshooter. He could use his FarSeer’s eye, combined with his power to bend and manipulate light to ‘attach’ his sight to projectiles; he was a deadly combination of control and accuracy. The only problem was, he tended to get nervous when shooting under pressure.

  “Has your grandfather ever told you the story of the archer who hit the smallest target on this range? The only marksmen to ever wrap an arrow around an entire planet?” a soft, purring voice made Lyle jump, heart beating in his chest as he turned to see a cat perched atop the rounded post of the bed’s headboard. It had a white underbelly with tan and gray striped brindle patterns covering it’s head, back and tail, with some white on it’s muzzle.

  Ignoring the cat, Lyle continued to search for the person who had just spoken. “Hello?” He tried, beginning to think his friends were pulling some sort of prank on him. “Come on, guys, this isn’t funny. You know how nervous I get.” Lyle shouted out, his palms becoming sweaty under the pressure of silence.

  THWACK! Something smacked the back of Lyle’s head, sending him tumbling off the bed as he smashed face-first into the grass, as well as the subsequent dirt beneath. Sputtering and spitting out granules of earth, Lyle jumped to his feet. As he patted the dirt off his chest, knees, and palms he glared while spinning around frantically.

  “Very funny, guys! Come on, I’m not playing around” he said as panic began to rise in his chest.

  “Is this the respect of the inheritor of the FarSeer’s eye, to so blatantly ignore the spirit of your ancestors most sacred shooting range?” came that same voice as Lyle finally turned to face the cat who still sat perfectly still on the post, eyes seeming to contain sentience and wisdom far beyond what a mere housecat should be capable of.

  “I believe I asked you a question. Have you heard the story or not?” That was when Lyle realized it was the cat speaking!

  “Uhhh…I’m sorry I’ve never-ahem. Well, I’ve heard the story, it’s just, how are you… sorry, my name is Lyle” this cat looked like any normal house cat, maybe even a bit smaller. It gave off no fluctuations of power and seemed otherwise normal. But these facts just enhanced the feeling that Lyle had that this cat could wipe him out of existence with less than a thought if he offended it anymore.

  “Yes, I know your name, and it’s good you know the story. At the time I was still in the early stages of forming my physical avatar as a world spirit, but I remember clearly the day that young Elf shot the arrow that wrapped the world. He was only thirteen years old.” The cat suddenly disappeared and reappeared behind Lyle, licking its paw as it continued while seeming to not actually care about the topic in a way only a cat could pull off.

  “You’re going to have to figure out a way to surpass him, because I have a lot more to teach you than just sniping, and I do not have the time we need to accomplish everything that old fogey wants me to accomplish, capiche?” after speaking, the cat waved a paw, and the ground shuddered as a large wall slowly rose up from the ground. The wall was covered in all sorts of weapons, from short bows to repeating crossbows to ancient marksman rifles of all makes and models from every race and galactic quarter that had developed firearms within the system.

  Walking up to the wall, Lyle couldn’t help but salivate at the plethora of weapons that started with a simple crude short bow and ended with… “Is that?”

  “Your SiegeBreaker? No. That’s my SiegeBreaker now, and you won’t be getting it back until you can hit that target consistently” As the small cat pointed a paw at the rifle that Lyle was pretty sure was his locked within a crystalline box, a massive obstacle course of wood and stone rose from the ground, with a small, fist-sized target at the far end of the boxed-in shooting range that moved unpredictably at odd intervals “with every other weapon on this wall. Until then you can forget about even touching my rifle.”

  And with that the cat disappeared. Lyle spun around, searching everywhere, but the cat had vanished completely. “You can’t do this to me!” He shouted, “Where are my friends, I want to see my friends!”