《Majestic Fiend》


 Chapter 1: Resurrection

    Prologue:


    In the princedom city of Yasha''Lafiq, the powers that rule have waned under a hundred years of strained peace. As the commoners littering the streets see only what''s in front of their eyes, they can not know the dangers that lurk just over the horizon, just beyond their stone walls, threatening to sweep their city in a storm of ash and dust.


    In the shadow of a planetary disaster, a dour plot is struck.


    The enemies of the first princess Iriazel had secretly accumulated in the High Azure Fortress earlier today, and were now rummaging through its walls and corridors in search of her. They were members of various factions within the princedom, recruited either under the cover or openly by the current second prince, Yanamusad. Their mission is to help remove the first princess from the First Throne and usher a new age for Yasha''Lafiq.


    ***


    The white moon was gazing upon the gray and blue city of Yasha''Lafiq, sending its sparkling rays for the benefit of those roaming the streets at this hour. The clocks were hitting almost midnight and it has been dark for at least an hour, as the days here go. Most lamp lights have already been put out and the many inhabitants were fast asleep in the chilly desert night.


    "In the blink of an eye he had already escaped, so I couldn''t see his appearance," explained the tall, dark woman as the law enforcers nodded casually. She went on:


    "But I am almost sure that it was a gremlin."


    Immediately, the faces of those law enforcers started to show traces of worry, not because they were afraid of gremlins, but because they wouldn''t want to chance upon offending the gremlin society of assassins, the Cultelari. They would much rather turn a blind eye on this small transgression and silently sweep it under the rug.


    "Don''t give me that!" interjected the woman, guessing their motives for worry.


    "We wouldn''t dare," excused the head enforcer. This woman was a brewess of vraja potions and tea of some relatively good renown, and had built an influential clientele over the years, including his own men at times. That was the only reason the head enforcer went to such lengths to help her.


    "Not all hope is lost," she added. "My nanza-cat went to chase after this thief. When she catches him, even if the Cultelari seek to find trouble, they would naturally go after her. Besides, would they afford to cause problems to us, over a single gremlin?"


    "Of course not, gremlin lives are cheap, the well-being of a human is worth a hundred gremlin lives!" said a red-faced enforcer with ardour.


    "We''ll keep this in mind," assured the head enforcer as he gathered his men to leave. "Then if the Cultelari come to us, we might have to return and take your nanza-cat. Is that alright?"


    The woman sat deep in thought, but eventually nodded.


    "Then have a good night lady Tisila. Please take care."


    The broad shouldered men all turned on their heels and marched away, their hands resting lazily upon their suppression tonfas.


    Not long after, the house already descended into quietness, as if nothing had happened. The night breeze rushed through the window, refreshing the woman''s mood.


    Part 1: Unfolding of the true path


    Chapter 1: Resurrection


    It is the golden color of dusk and dawn, her fur, and streaked like a tiger with inky black. Her light crimson eyes stare moody into oblivion and sometimes, she would sigh as if pondering. It seems like she did that too often lately.


    Suddenly, there was a commotion on the street.


    "Found you!" the feline Ssyba hissed, then lunged off her hiding spot into the main road.


    She bounced against the buildings into the darker corners of the city. Even though she could feel her prey through the night''s cold, a strange chilly wind poured sand in sheets and drapes and dispersed all scents into a haze, as if the universe was dishing out a last insult before its final punchline.


    Not far ahead, the gremlin that she hunted looked like a dark humanoid rat, his long tail lashing through the air as he ran howling. He assumed with utmost certainty that if he stumbled he would be torn to pieces; his brothers would search the neighbourhood for days. Fortunately, that nanza-cat was chasing him straight into his trap.


    Ssyba was now close enough to scratch the back of the gremlin''s shirt. He lashed with his whip tail across her face and Ssyba cursed, then she surged forward in a burst of force, unsheathing her claws and ripping off a patch of fabric at his belt, where the stolen things were held. Desperately, the gremlin twisted loose and cracked a vial of liquid contents off a stone corner just to slow her down, jumped to the side and slid down the silken roof of a stationary baldachin. Ssyba hissed in anger. The mind-pain of whatever poison he threw in her face staggered her momentarily, but she fought against it.


    Another individual called out across the expanse of the night from the shadowy corner of an alleyway, waving a stick high above his head. Her nocturnal nanza-cat eyes could have seen him clearly even in this darkness, if not for the noxious substance clogging her senses. What was he doing with that stick? Her fury boiled up seeing him coming at her, but her eyes fogged. She had been dominated, her master shamed, and so she was not entirely paying attention to notice that the stick was actually a club-weapon with an iron tip.


    Bang!


    The blow was swift, to the head, cracking painfully right above her left brow, and Ssyba saw raindrops like stars.


    ***


    In a different part of the city, high up in the Azure Fortress.


    The stone wall rippled like the surface of a pond, and a young-looking woman emerged in a sneaking manner like a smoke silhouette through silk.


    Third prince Medzanalfif was sitting in serenity upon a cushioned chair and pondered upon the scrolls in front of him, then he shifted his attention to the emerging shadow figure.


    "Come in," he ushered the young lady in and offered her his seat, which she took with a strange urgency.


    "I have been found by brother," the lady said through pained gasps. "I have not taken precautions and I have had my treasury raided and emptied... They are finally¡­ they are after..."


    Medzanalfif finally raised his eyes off the document and paid full attention to the beautiful, royal woman. He studied her for a second then crouched in front of her, taking her palm in his and kissing her hand. She quickly brushed the gesture off and dragged her chair to the study table, where many grimoires, tomes and scrolls waited in a dusty, disordered manner.


    "After you?" calmly asked Medzanalfif.


    "Yes, however I am nothing but a speck of dirt before the powers at work," the lady answered with hostile tiredness in her voice. "I can be discarded, but I won''t let them have me."


    "Naturally," agreed Medzanalfif.


    First princess Iriazel had been living for close to one hundred fifty years. She wasn''t afraid to die and had in fact pondered upon leaving the world of the living for some time, but not until she had seen Medzanalfif on the First Throne. And so when she passed through the walls into this secret meeting room with such animated trepidation, it gave Medzanalfif pause to reconsider their situation.


    The woman was tall and bent through years of study and letter craft, so much so that she somewhat resembled a willow tree. She possessed, Medzanalfif thought with a pang of sad affection, the air of a true arcane princess of lore, active with forward passion, childlike in her sense of wonder and an old library crone in matters of knowledge. Such women were rare, they made stuff of legends.


    Finding her breath, the princess said:


    "Brother is close to completing the breakthrough in his latest vraja potion and he shall resurrect the ancient king with it. He has, in fact, already found the alchemical capstone!"


    Medzanalfif gathered his brow in a frown, because although an established scholar of ancient beliefs and had made himself familiar with the most popular theories of metaphysics and the metaknowledge of the divine, he had yet to learn of a method to resurrect dead humans. Even so he refrained from making ignorant remarks. Coincidentally, this somewhat obscure field of study was prince''s Yanamusad speciality and obsession. He was the second prince of Yasha''Lafiq, a true grandmaster in vraja potion lore, a colossal combat maniac admired by many.


    "And what have you learned that made you flee?" asked Medzanalfif.


    "I have discovered that I am the capstone to a grade eight unbound vraja potion," said Iriazel.


    Medzanalfif unwillingly let out a gasp.


    "More specifically my blood and my soul."


    There wasn''t dread in Iriazel''s eyes, observed Medzanalfif, but she started to tremble uncontrollably. The knowledge must have frightened her so much that she, though unafraid to die, fled in horror.


    However, Medzanalfif observed more than terror in her expression. As hasty and breathless as Iriazel was, more than simple fear for her life animated her. It was like a torch light of hope amidst a forest of despair. She searched the dusty crumbling pages with a voracious need for knowledge, not for preservation. Grade eight vraja potions were celestial in power, with the capacity to rearrange nations.


    "Does brother Yanamusad not know something vital?" asked Medzanalfif. There existed no stupid questions, in his opinion.


    "I am not sure," replied Iriazel through gasps and empty swallowing. Sweat had started to puddle on her forehead. "He is too shameless, is he not?" Iriazel raised her fist and cracked the table.


    "Of course he is," said Medzanalfif with the calmness of a desert oasis. "He has no intention of letting me get to the First Throne, and he openly wants you removed. The information that he wants to attempt such an unknown ritual is only yet another element to the equation that is Yanamusad."


    Iriazel shook her head with depth and anxiety, saying:


    "I would have aided him as I aided you, if only he sought Truth and not Power!"


    "I know, Iriazel!"


    "Oh, Med, brother Yanamusad was never one such as you. He is too lustful for gains and loves wealth and dominating too much. It troubles me that he is so willing to destroy a hundred years of peace, for what?"


    Medzanalfif did not offer his answer, but they both knew the reason. If there was ever a clear reward for the most powerful, it was winning the First Throne and its secrets. Under Iriazel''s over a hundred years of life, although Yasha''Lafiq experienced many battles for the First Throne, she kept advancing her position with overwhelming power and support from even some of the other princes. Her cemented foundations led to a change in the lafiqi ruling class policies, and the battles for the First Throne had eventually ceased. The result was a hundred years of peace, quite unprecedented in the history of the princedom.


    "Does it really not trouble you?" Iriazel finally asked.


    Medzanalfif was a sensible man. He had the habit of collecting himself together when all seemed too complicated, and making accurate observations.


    "What troubles me is why does Yanamusad want to resurrect an ancient king if what he truly wants is the fat of the world? Wouldn''t the king, once resurrected, remove him from the First Throne? The First Throne is, after all, the right of kings not princes."


    Iriazel did not reply.


    "Does he really know something that we don''t?" asked Medzanalfif while pondering within himself.


    "Ours is a cursed and hopeless nation," said Iriazel shrugging uncharacteristically.


    Medzanalfif realized that she tried to convince her own self, due to fear. He reflected upon, then said:


    "This resurrected king will be a storm upon us all, I am sure Yanamusad knows at least that. Naturally, he would think of him as being an usurper. I doubt even Yanamusad expects gratitude and servitude from a resurrected king. Truth be told, nobody knows what this entity would do once he walks the Jord again. Before long we might find all our heads ornamenting the Western gate, a grim reminder of the previous dynasty."


    Iriazel hesitated further, stalled by Medzanalfif. As much as she despised the current form of government, with princes killing each other over the Throne as if the rulership of Yasha''Lafiq was merely the object of a game, the thought of an actual dark ruler hell bent on conquest or death horrified her. She tried to convince herself once again:


    "The scriptures speak of this early antiquity king named Na''calial in great reverence, as one of the few who had successfully made the Break. He is titled the Watchful Iron Setting Sun and is reputed to have made our Alyriam the way it is today, and¡­!"


    But these same historical facts which verily clouded Iriazel''s mind with poorly aimed pride and overzealousness, filled Medzanalfif with sudden dread.


    "I don''t think so!" and Medzanalfif drew his hands across his face. "Alyriam is a desert. Alyriam is covered by the sands and ashes of destructive erosion. Alyriam is dead!"


    Medzanalfif''s dreaded wit made Iriazel fix him with a pained look, because he had spoken the truth: Alyriam was dead. At this, where Iriazel held high knowledge and a near innocent idealism in worship, Medzanalfif acted as a bulwark for her laxity.


    She was simply conflicted and stunned about the rapidly surging changes. In perhaps all of Yasha''Lafiq, there was nobody truly moved by a greater demand. Men and women watched for themselves only, wanted power and riches for themselves even if all else is damned. The circumstances of their world simply demanded such self-deceit and aye, even treachery. For one to eat today, another must starve tomorrow and that fact filled every single citizen with an ingrained anxiety and ego. But the heavens were fair. In exchange for ultimate suffering, ultimate happiness could be achieved. Ultimate hunger would lead to infinite plenitude. All death to life. The whole or reality was bound by infinitely wide and small and deep chains of godly unknowable nature.


    It was a world where the power of one could rival the power of nations. In such a world, strength alone was the sole ruler and the cycle of princes was proof of that. Nothing was a guarantee, except for ultimate power.


    Iriazel had held such majestic power in her own hands and knew what it meant. She wasn''t even modest about it. Thus she knew:


    If Yanamusad''s main purpose was to conquer the Break at the end of the world, with the help of Na''calial, it would come at a mortal price. That was the only likely outcome.


    Perhaps this is why she now leaned exhausted on the chair, all texts and grimoires forgotten. Perhaps she had envisioned in her mind''s eye the full dimension of such events. Sorcerous rituals, foreign vraja equations, their brother at the center of it all, his ruthless ambition threatening their peaceful lives. Would he kill Iriazel to secure the throne? Without a shred of a doubt. Would he risk the safety of the people of Yasha''Lafiq for his own scheme? Most likely.


    Both of them fell silent, considering the same motives and concerning themselves with the same questions.


    With a loud roar, shouts mere paces on the other side of the wall startled them suddenly. How long has it been?


    Iriazel had used a grade five shadow ghost vraja potion earlier and so managed to seep through the stones, but these men had no such ample resources. Although the second prince was clearly aiding them towards a successful assassination, providing them with vraja potions and help, they naturally wouldn''t own such quality potions as princess Iriazel, herself being the first princess.


    "Lady Iriazel," the rugged voices of men could be heard amid the clang of metal. "Turn yourself over, and stop resisting!"


    "Princess-whore, today you will die in the name of the rightful first prince, a one stronger and fairer than you!"


    "Your selfishness to keep the throne will bring about devastation and death! Come out and I promise you shall be painlessly executed!"If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Now, the conclusion was clear in both Medzanalfif and Iriazel''s mind, that she would die.


    "Med, you can''t be seen here!"


    But even in the face of butchery, Medzanalfif was calm with contemplative ponder. He leisurely revealed a grade five shadow ghost vraja potion from his loose sleeves, and another vraja potion.


    "Is that¡­?"


    "Incorporeal deity vraja potion. It''s a grade seven unbound potion."


    Iriazel''s posture went limp like a reed on the banks of Na-jid. Her coffee eyes finally gleamed like mirrors and Medzanalfif realized she had forcefully made peace with herself and the God-river. The fact that Medzanalfif had such a potion on himself only meant that he had calculated this final outcome.


    "The sun sets golden ''neath Alyriam; The night is fine like fur of nanza; There is nothing left."


    Iriazel recited from an old poem. Observing her confusion and capitulation, Medzanalfif sighed deeply and said:


    "Iriazel, we could slaughter these insects and retake Yasha''Lafiq by force, if that''s what you want. With my incorporeal deity improving upon my soul-pointed night star and my dark intent void gaze, combined with your arsenal of fire vraja potions, we could flatten this place in a huge area of effect, disregarding them all entirely."


    Such potion names could only make Iriazel sigh upon hearing. They were all grade five and six vraja potions, extremely precious and rare. Leaving all the other potions in his possession aside and the grade seven incorporeal deity vraja potion, their sheer accumulated power could make even the simplest person a lord above lords, with the potential to challenge the position of a prince. Iriazel acknowledged Medzanalfif''s wealth and power and was quite open about admitting that without his support, she couldn''t have maintained her First Throne for long. This power was painstakingly accumulated by him over many decades, due to the fact that Medzanalfif never spent his resources to fight for the Throne. At most, he backed Iriazel up from the shadows.


    Thus, even among the top five princes Medzanalfif was recognized to be a sole powerhouse and a genius, with enough wealth to keep his continuously advancing position.


    But Iriazel pushed her emotions away.


    "I see what comes after, and you were right. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Void eternal, infinitely big and infinitely small. An endless pool."


    Iriazel laughed lightly and Medzanalfif stopped in his tracks. They had talked at length about the afterlife, and while Iriazel insisted on a blissful heaven, Medzanalfif said that the heaven is infinite, which means it''s empty.


    "I am relieved that at least the hells do not await me."


    As she said this, her hand went beneath the folds of her robe, grabbing a soul of elemental flame vraja potion. It was a grade six vraja potion and would create a fire storm of ample proportions, which could then be controlled.


    Many voices surged on the other side of the wall, oblivious to the inferno about to be unleashed.


    "Hurry up and surrender!"


    "Move already, the general is here and will crack these walls open!"


    The two princes could already hear scratching on the walls, as the soldiers searched for a hidden way or a weaker spot to pound on. Iriazel hissed in frustration under her breath. She revealed a strange object.


    "Med, this object is a timeless relic from the extinct dryads. It is boundless with power."


    "The dryads?"


    "Rulers of the Alyriam desert buckle before the desert claimed it," she explained with an exasperated wave of her hand. "In any case, do not let our brother have it."


    A strange and eerie aroma penetrated the hidden room.


    "They have discovered us with a vraja potion!" said Medzanalfif. He had already imbibed the shadow ghost potion, but was reluctant to also use the incorporeal deity. Such a priceless unbound potion would absolutely need to be used at his wit''s end, and right now Medzanalfif had many options to get out of this particular predicament. His heart was calm as water and his expression betrayed no particular emotion.


    "Stand back men!" yelled a voice from outside.


    "It''s the general!"


    Having finally found the hidden location in the wall, the men outside began beating on it, when suddenly a loud bang fairly made the fortress tremble. The general was a well known strength master, his ability and readiness to destroy buildings was known quite well within the royal circle, having him earn the title of the Siege. He used a smart combination of several strength vraja potions and a few very strong defense potions to achieve such tremendous power. It was not strange at all in this world. With enough potion potency and mana quality, a mere human could demolish an entire castle.


    Iriazel grabbed the relic and thrusted it into Med''s chest. It was in the shape of two opposing azure moons, and small frail legs could be seen grasping so that it looked like an odd scarab or insect.


    Bang! Another hit cracked the sturdy wall.


    Iriazel couldn''t escape. But even if she did right now, the rest of her short life would be spent in hiding and on the run from her brother, a burden and liability to Medzanalfif. She took the soul of elemental flames vraja potion in her left hand and stopped Medzanalfif from touching the grimoires and scrolls, with a gentle gesture.


    "They would burn like the hells I was so afraid of, and I with them," she pondered, and smiled at the irony.


    Medzanalfif nodded in understanding, knowing also that the best she could do given the grim circumstances, was to destroy all the knowledge they had accumulated and sacrifice herself to stop their traitorous brother in his tracks, and also allow himself, Medzanalfif, to escape. Medzanalfif could only watch blankly once he turned into a shadow ghost. At the same time, all feelings of touch escaped him and he could slip through anything with the ease of swimming through clear waters.


    Iriazel opened the soul of elemental flames vial and imbibed the contents.


    Bang! The wall finally exploded inward by the force of an explosive punch. It resounded like a sledgehammer cracking a brick. The hole the punch created wasn''t quite wide enough for a man to walk through yet, but many already shoved each other aside to take a look inside and catch Iriazel somehow, thus earning merits. The Siege general responsible for this destruction was a large man with tanned skin and hairy body, and the odd luster on his body could only mean some form of metal skin vraja potion was in effect, to complement this enhanced strength. His eyes were large and full of vigor, but his straight mouth, frowned thick eyebrows and solemn composure suggested a fair and honourable individual.


    "Princess..." he gasped as soon as the wall broke. The huge, infernal flames of the flame soul potion rushed outwards and nearly melted the Siege''s metal skin. Fortunately, one of his fellow warriors tugged him away.


    Iriazel was utterly engulfed by a magical vraja firestorm by the time the entire wall came crashing down. The flames, as long as she remained alive and had mana to spare, would be controlled by her thought like another limb. A soldier under the general''s command imbibed a water bubble shield vraja potion and blundered inside, but quickly his shield turned to steam and his robes caught flame. The potency of Iriazel''s soul flame potion exceeded his water shield potion by too much, as well as she infused much more high quality faded ash mana into it, which surpassed his dead average clear spring mana. The man flailed his way outside, unwillingly spreading the killing inferno. Due to the steam and chaos, his colleagues thrust him backwards. He sobbed and yelled in agony until he died shortly after. A hooked spear went through and pierced Iriazel to drag her out, but it was too late. She died sometime during the struggle purely, one could say, because she had no fire resistance reaction on herself.


    ***


    In front of Ssyba the star-droplets formed a crystalline waterfall with pure sparkling water, out of which a rainbow projected like a cathedral arch. Ssyba saw herself plunging down that waterfall into a tranquil lake in the middle of a pine forest clearing.


    All around her, as far as she could discern, there was a perfect alpine scenery, with snow capped mountains, blue skies and white clouds gently skirting them. Evergreen trees and all sorts of plants and mountain flowers bloomed all around her and in the water, Ssyba caught the faint tremble of silver fish. The water was clear and gleaming like starlight, reflecting the sky above and it''s rows and rows of galactic filaments, aurora borealis and nebulae. This place looked as perfect as any masterful painting. It was heaven.


    Ssyba''s gaze moved upstream through the waterfall and saw that it appeared from nowhere, as if a hole in the very sky poured precious water into the world below. Ssyba looked far back, beyond phosphorescent streams and curtains of incandescent birthing clouds firing from within, until she saw a dense bright star. She felt her consciousness drained by that immense and monstrous gravity well.


    "Am I in heaven?" gasped Ssyba.


    An elephantine voice coagulated Ssyba''s consciousness into a dream-like piece of awareness, and knowledge was imparted onto her by that godly will.


    A myriad aeons ago, the heavenly and earthly beings of every universe existed freely, until the heaven lords took their power for themselves in order to rule Jord. Most earthly deities and powers managed to cling onto the threads of hope and became the stars, shining with the light of heavens, and those powers and domains between heaven and earth became unstars, existences of divinity who could both influence the earth and draw power from heaven. They moved across the night sky and astrologers discerned the fate of Jord through calculating their trajectories. In a way, unstars were conduits of divine influence.


    Many unstars were discovered and conquered by dark lords and dark powers, but a small number escaped untouched. Those could still influence the passing of time and the shifting of power structures on Jord.


    "Who are you?" kept Ssyba asking, and the voice answered by imparting knowledge.


    From that, she could only infer that she died.


    But even if she was dead, as a beast she could have no afterlife, there was no immortal soul to carry over her consciousness into the heavens.


    As if beckoned by an unseen godly will, her body floated up piece by piece, and started undergoing rapid transformations, morphing and removing features until it became the primordial elemental self, merging with the rest of this heavenly domain.


    "What is happening to me?" she tried to call, but only the natural sounds of the waters, the pine tree forest and the animals came out. At this moment, even the idea of her own self nearly collapsed. The thought of an afterlife couldn''t even pass through her small mind. She was a nanza-cat, merely an animal with no immortal soul to pass on to the afterlife. Her whole existence resided on Jord.


    So where was she?


    The voice brought Ssyba back into shape. She could feel herself, her limbs and body, once again.


    Ssyba suddenly saw herself in front two flaming eyes, keen upon her naked form, and infinite cloud hands probing at the petals of her skin, fur, flesh and bone, her extremities and bodily functions. The pain that she felt in that moment was enough to kill her if she was alive. A blinding sun was burning its molecular fire behind, like a brain. Ssyba tried to shrug herself awake from this anguish, to no result. She felt truly alone and in agony, drained of thought and force as each caress peeled her form like a rotten fruit. A hand with infinite claws ran through her flesh like a comb through hair.


    "By the goddess Marduni!" she meowed pathetically. "This is a nightmare!"


    A tremendous, mausoleic laughter followed by trembles in the very land itself, heavy with monumental echoes, like a chasm between realities opening and speaking before the aeons.


    Past her fur, claw and limb, past raw primordial slime, past even the eyeless unconscious origins of life and the ashen ends of time, Ssyba saw a red star falling.


    She stretched her inexistent arm towards this star.


    "Who are you?"


    One humongous, reptilian blink, the length of entire solar systems. It was the Most High Creator, the maker of heaven and earth. Before its infinity, nothing was too great or too small. Even the highest mountain amounted to less than the blink of an eye, and yet the tiniest insect could equal that mountain.


    "I have no soul, there can be no afterlife for me!" said Ssyba, repeating doctrine for she could think of little else. "To be here right now, is to defy heavens!"


    Body, mind and soul. Only humans possessed all three. They were anchored to the heavens through their souls, while everything else dragged themselves through the mud of reality. Only humans, being the highest in order throughout all creation, could equal the gods.


    The Most High pondered in draconian yet bemused thought. To him, Ssyba was less than what a speck of sand would be to a human king. Less than that by far, yet at the same time she somehow comprehended him, by his will. Although a speck of sand was insignificant, if a speck of sand would enter someone''s eye, even that human king would notice it.


    Perhaps a human king would construct a large castle, employ many servants to sweep the floors and attendants to wash him, all that effort just to keep the sand out.


    Ssyba suddenly felt a shock and a wave through her body, like falling from a high place.


    The Most High waved his great claw through what appeared to be a galactic spring, and a million million million voices screamed at once in agony


    All those souls were his to command. He willed their ache and their release.


    In the next moment he waved his claw through the waters of creation as would a child through a mountain rivulet. And suddenly, he caught something, felt something like a pebble or a small struggling fish in the depths of his palm. As he took the silvery thread out of it, he tied it onto Ssyba''s invisible space.


    ssyba''s existence flashed brightly and her eyes flooded with fire. Constellations swirled around her in a vortex, taking her body molecule by molecule. In a mysterious and divine process, under the care of the Most High, Ssyba was remade.


    All matter and non-matter expanded and condensed, replacing the inner void inside Ssyba with a vast gate, like an invisible void in form of her body, boundless in scope, encompassing all creation seen and unseen. A spiritual gleaming thread suddenly lashed forward from her invisible body to the heavenly land around her. And as matter condensed one last time, it poured back into her form around the invisible body, but this time she was unique and priceless.


    She had been gifted a soul and was anchored to heaven.


    For the Most High, Ssyba was like a talking speck of dust. Insignificant but so very cute and interesting.


    ***


    Darkness.


    Only thus can our plane of existence, our reality, be described compared to the quasaric, bright realm of heaven.


    Ssyba snapped her eyes open and her cat eyes thinned against the morning sunlight. With a paw running over her face, she tried to clear her mind and find sense in what has been happening to her. She had paws, kinda like cats do, full with retractable claws and all. And fur, soft and striped with black and flecked and spotted like a tabby cat, all over her body. Her mind suddenly unclenched as she expertly jumped on her hind paws. Her tail gave her incredible, inhuman balance, something that a human obviously couldn''t even comprehend. It felt like having a third limb.


    She was a nanza-cat of course, a species of intelligent feline creatures native to the desert belt buckle, and although cunning and blended well within human society, nanza-cats had no soul.


    Ssyba sat down in the dust and rested her head in her paws. Her latest prey, a punkish gremlin, had escaped with her master''s goods and she got a bloody and not so superficial wound above her brow. Only after several minutes did she dare open her eyes and look up again, as if the slightest sight and movement would shatter her fragile sense of reality. It felt like she had no hold over her own body and mind.


    "Poor tabby," said a voice from somewhere ahead.


    She must have looked awfully battered, so it attracted a group of curious onlookers. She heard the sound of coins dropping in the sand, and her cat ears twitched. But it wasn''t really over. Every rock, every footstep, every grain of sand, every gust of hot desert wind stood out loud and clear. She was hypersensitive to the entire reality. Even the sunlight, dropping down on her fur in a shower of photons, was distinct and real.


    "I have a soul," she whispered and the excoriating pains of the immaterial goaded her up and moving.


    "Did you get into a fight?" inquired someone.


    "Hmph, leave her, she''s only a common nanza, there are many like her dying in the streets." quickly answered another voice.


    "Maybe she was being punished by her masters."


    But Ssyba ignored them all. Bearded, sun tanned, draped in cloth and turbans and robes, ears filled with rings and jewelry, red lips, eyes caked in black makeup, black hairless skin. All flooded her senses. Awareness dawned upon her. She was Ssyba, the nanza-cat, living in the princedom city of Yasha''Lafiq, within the Alyriam desert.


    But also, she seemed to be more than just Ssyba the nanza. As if a different dimension rested inside of her.


    As if she truly had obtained a soul.


    "By the God-river, I have a soul!"


    "Did you say something, cat?" asked some relatively richly dressed dwarf, who slowly approached while shielding his small eyes. Normally, the dwarves loved in the mountainous lands surrounding the Alyriam desert buckle, but some would travel or would be brought from abroad to serve in the desert cities. Humans were the peak of creation, having body, mind and soul, and they could obtain power directly from vraja potions and use those powers to dominate. However, not all humans are made equal. Some starve, some are rich, disparity is simply the way of life. Where wealthy and powerful humans such as the princes had other human servants and human armies and experts serving under them, less fortunate humans only owned non-human beasts. Ssyba, for example, was owned by a brewess and a tea maker, and thus dwarf was obviously owned by someone much richer.


    Ssyba''s eyes glinted with intent.


    Seeing this dwarf carrying a bag of vraja ingredients nicely tied to his belt, Ssyba was compelled to act. Nothing else goaded her but the sheer and selfish impulse to be the author of her own destiny and be her own master, never to serve again.


    "I need some water," she managed to meow, and that enticed the dwarf to look at her in a softer light, and to carelessly approach her position.


    Non humans were cheap and expendable, but dwarves had a simple and affectionate demeanor as a creature, and would usually be tender towards others. They made for good servants and caretakers.


    Ssyba''s pupils shrunk when the dwarf got close enough. She quickly cut the contents of his ingredients belt with her sharp nanza claws. The dwarf did not even react properly to such an attack, when Ssyba snatched the contents mid-air and made a run for it, kicking the dust from under her.


    "I''m sorry, but I need to see if I have a soul," she decided on the spot, pushing herself away from the street level.


    "Hey, stop that thieving nanza!" yelled the dwarf following after her with his stubby legs but by that time, she was long gone.


    She was not concerned though. If she truly had a soul and her being could respond to the power of vraja potions, what would her worth be then? Certainly above that of common humans. A human, even a poor one, was always of certain value. But a nanza with a soul was unique on earth and under heaven. Surely such existence would demand the attention of higher powers.


    "What do I need to do to confirm?" Ssyba asked herself while running


    Overwhelmed by a descending mountain of anxiety and anticipation, she rolled on all fours and stalked away in cat leaps, bounding from wall to wall and rooftop to rooftop to the top of a building. A new energy streaming from the outer heavenly world channeled through her as a pure and foreboding breeze, as though she kept on living on borrowed time. She began to consider the many possibilities and consequences of this experience.


    Drifts of winds and light caressed Ssyba''s fur. She closed her eyes and considered, even for just a moment, the absurdity of last night. If she truly possessed a soul, as impossible and it sounded, then there was only one sure way to prove its existence...


    She closed her eyes and laid down with the dwarf''s ingredients in her paw.


    The next time she opened her eyes, it was getting well into the night. Her nanza instinct must have taken over, sleeping for the rest of the day and turning her active come dusk. The astrological arm of the galaxy was clearly visible in the bright black sky, streaming as seen through her cat eyes like a fiber of cloudy fire. By the brilliant star light she could see that her fur was thick with dried blood and dirt.


    Ssyba looked again at the ingredients that she snatched earlier from that unfortunate dwarf. She recognized some of them: honeyed saint''s tongue leaves, alongside some more common herbs, spices and dried animal parts. Saint''s tongue were golden and meaty and if one were to taste them raw, they would taste like watered honey. Ssyba''s master once explained, almost every base ingredient for healing vraja potions has a sweet taste, so that confirmed it to Ssyba.


    A cold and insane thought made its roots into her mind, and her look filled with a fiery determination. She could get rich, or she could become famous, or strong and powerful in her own right, or she could even adopt the thieving path and ascend as a Drifting Swindler or a Gentle Golden Thief, and finally be recognized to work alongside her brother. These were all such lofty goals that she could barely contain her excitement, like a youth who met a sweetheart and already envisioned marriage and offspring and growing old together.


    But, this all depended on her being responding to the vraja potions. Right now, the only thing Ssyba could do was drink a potion and observe the effects. If she had a soul, she would gain benefits and power from it. If she remained a soulless beast, she would die.

 Chapter 2: The power to change ones destiny

    Chapter 2: The power to change one''s destiny


    The moon was shining like a brilliant white eye on a field of stars. The settling city dust allowed the moon rays to create a ghostly mist. Up on a rooftop heated by the passing day''s sun, the nanza-cat named Ssyba was contemplating in silence:


    Brewing vraja potions, imbibing vraja potions in the adequate quantity, empowering the individual with the vraja potion''s effects using the mana within every soul, which is inherently given by existing on Jord.


    Brew, drink, use.


    These three aspects encompassed the main tenets of human domination, and with peerless courage, curiosity and will to power, humanity had risen to the peak of creation. Each was a deep field of study with advancements being discovered, lost and rediscovered constantly.


    In nature, there was nothing special about humans: take a horse for example, an animal many times stronger, more enduring and physically superior to even the most gifted human. Or a nanza-cat, who is generally considered to be the fastest land animal on Jord. Aye, and it is said that mythical beasts such as dragons possessed a much deeper intelligence, memory and a denser sense of wisdom accumulated over the centuries of their long lives. Yet humans had souls, and that made them unique among all things. They were the grandest, most majestic and at the same time cruelest creatures on Jord. It could be argued that the entire potential of creation resided inside the soul of each individual human, each soul containing a fragment of the great Yada (all that exists) and the heavenly realms beyond the firmament. Where the body was an anchor attached to the material world, of the same material the world was made of, the soul was an anchor to the divine realm.


    But why is that the case?


    Any one object was something with body, but no mind or soul. They where inanimate and possessed no further qualities outside of their given form and function.


    Every animal and beast, be it a mythical angel-yak or a lowly insect, was something with both body and mind, able to be self sufficient and make sense of the world around them, but no souls to tie them to the heavens. They would make use of the reality and form thoughts and live, but living beasts would simply exist and die within the limited confines of the material plane.


    Thus, humans stood upon the peak of creation and were the dominating life form on Jord. All the beasts and animals of the world could only live freely through numbers, fierceness and cunning. A bull might be stronger than a human, but a human could simply drink a strength vraja potion and gain the strength of three bulls.


    ***


    Ssyba had been thinking for a long time tonight. Her animal metabolism made it that for her, being awake late into the night was nothing. The nightly fragrance and disappearing city noises shook the nanza-cat back into her senses.


    Considering these worldly facts and filled with newly found determination and ambition, Ssyba hopped off the rooftop, landing easily in the unlit dusk of the street below. With skill and good planning, she could grab the reins of her destiny and break through her petty animal condition. Many things flashed through her still simple mind at that time. Could she drink a strength potion and wrestle in the gladiator pits for money? Such power would be above everything anyone could imagine, like a regular dog capable of biting through steel. Considering her options further, Ssyba thought about acquiring a steady supply of dexterity potions, maybe a speed potion and try her luck stealing bigger fish than mere purses and jewelry, and go on the Splendid Thievery path. Or she could somehow grab the attention of one of the princes and become a bodyguard.


    "This is such silliness!" she laughed under her paw.


    These were of course all options available to any human with enough potential and resources, but for an animal, the path was simply too narrow if not utterly obstructed. Could a dog become king? She knew that she couldn''t reveal the fact that she had a soul, for it would be an abomination under the heavens. Even if some wise men, mages or pundits took her seriously for study, where and how would she acquire materials for brewing? She had no wealth, no worth, and nobody would be foolish enough to invest in an impossibility. It was like giving a dog the Princedom of Yasha''Lafiq in the hopes that it would be smarter and stronger than the princes themselves.


    "So what do I do now, hmm?" Ssyba scratched her ear.


    She managed to collect her wits. After yesterday''s nap and mad escape, a thin path started to form in her mind, like a tunnel through the morning Na-jid mist. She had the golden honey leaves on her person, and she could perhaps get the means of brewing them with her master''s utensils. One step at a time, with patience, she would find a way to make use of her new and unique existence. But how would she do it without arousing suspicion?


    "No need to go that far with my thoughts, yet," said Ssyba. First the only needed to get home and get her master to lower her guard and enter the potion''s kitchen, where the usually had no access.


    With that in mind, she carried on.


    Ssyba walked on hind legs as naturally as she walked on all fours, like any nanza-cat, but she preferred to walk on two legs now. It somehow made her feel more elegant and humanly. That wasn''t weird though. Like a poor man dressing himself in rich clothes to make a good impression, even at the cost of tonight''s dinner, many nanza-cats would force themselves to stride on two legs and pretend to be important. Some nanza would even cover their already beautiful and rich natural fur with robes.


    The thought angered Ssyba and she landed back on all fours, stalking quietly like an oversized predatory cat. She picked her way through the geography of peripheral city streets and ways, some brimming with people even in this late hour of the night and some devoid of even a spirit, dragged herself through a small port by a branching canal of the great God-river Na-jid, and finally found a villa leaning by one of the district walls. In line with the street it had low tables and mats arranged after a trend, like you would see at the fashionable coffee and tea-clubs in the central plaza, and silken pole roofs to keep shade during the day.


    The moon was sparkling like a spring, turning the world silver. At the far end of the street, a pack of stray elemental dogs moved from spot to spot like spectral hounds, so Ssyba rushed to get inside before they could sense her. The elemental dogs of Yasha''Lafiq, many abandoned for their rowdy nature by the passing caravans, were notorious among the nanza, gremlins and other smaller creatures of the world, yet the government of the First did nothing to capture them. These elemental dogs were the centuries old, domesticated versions of the wild elemental hounds and spirit wolves roaming the far outskirts. Each of them appeared like a foggy ghost of fire, wind, ice or greenery and would unleash destruction if provoked.


    Ssyba opened the heavy door and stood a moment in the vast entrance chamber. She let the heavy smell of smoke, sweet infusion and incense fill through her nostrils. Four paper lanterns dangled above, emitting a soft yellow witness-light that was easy on the eyes.


    "Who is there?" called out a drumming wife''s voice.


    Ssyba hissed in indignation and dropped on a pillow right near the low table in the center, where sweet desert delights were waiting to be devoured on a silver platter. They were of various flavors, from rose water to lemon and mint, rolled through powdered sugar or coconut flakes or crushed peanuts.


    "Come out!" yelled the woman once again as she hurried to reveal herself.


    "It''s just me," said Ssyba.


    "Oh God-river, you''re back?"


    As the voice got louder, a dark frame gowned in a comfortable night dress appeared from another room to the right, separated by hanging silken fabric.


    "What has happened to you?"


    "Nothing much," said Ssyba and she stuffed her mouth with sweets.


    The woman wobbled sleepily towards the cat and poked her shoulder with a bamboo stick, prompting her to look up. She was very tall, even for a human, desert-handsome in her mid-age, always dressed in such a rich approach that Ssyba had never seen her don the same robe twice. The woman''s dark eyes widened at the sight of black-dry blood and they only got wider as she inspected Ssyba, stepping back as if to regard her from a more general perspective. The brow wound above was already beginning to bulge nastily.


    "This isn''t nothing," the woman said shaking her head with the air of a disappointed mother. She was so utterly sure that the Cultelari, of whom the men of order were so afraid, caught Ssyba and killed her. Yet there she was, alive and well. Was Tisila happy about it? About as happy as someone would be if a fox attacked his flock of chicken but failed to snatch one.


    "I should get you at least to clean and dress that wound, as well as your fur."


    "I''m fine, lady Tisila. Please do not bother yourself."


    "Come! I won''t keep such filth in my house."


    Ssyba hissed as Tisila nudged her on her feet with the bamboo stick.


    This was an act, however. More often than not, Ssyba was respectful and obedient to her master. Things have since changed , and she found herself filled with a deep arrogance. How would she be subservient to humans ever again?


    Reluctantly she followed to the other room where. She had to tread carefully from now on so as not to raise suspicions.


    Tisila the brewess was dealing in tea and sometimes vraja potions. She brought ingredients for cheap through mister Izzmahil, a renegade "soft" badau, directly from the badawin caravans, and since few other traders and craftsmen would do so out of sheer intimidation, this setup worked wonderfully for her. Tisila mostly sold the ingredients directly or as base concoctions to the reputable Yasha''Lafiq apothecaries and laboratories, but she also had some basic education in chemistry and metaphysics so she had studied the vraja potions enough to know how to select those ingredients from the myriad of junk dry leaves. This meticulous assessing of commodities has awarded her a reasonably good reputation in this part of the city, and Tisila could have easily afforded slaves and workers around the house and at the modest tea-club, but she insisted of only keeping small company. Tisila made sure everything was maintained clean and organized in the house, the club and the tea kitchen mostly by herself. She wasn''t afraid of work, but it took a toll on her fatigue, so she trusted and let Izzmahil to handle the stocks and provisions by himself. Singau, her estranged son, rarely visited but the woman always kept a room tidy and ready for him.


    And there was Ssyba.


    There has always been an odd understanding that Ssyba was at first supposed to be a pet for Singau when the boy was still growing. Sort of like a jester, a smarter animal to keep for company and, if need be, offer protection. Many upper middle class families employed nanza-cats for their children. It was nothing special or interesting. These nanza were often little more than family pets, however some nanza grew to become hidden family or clan elders themselves. Back to Tisila''s household, eventually Singau went his own way and Ssyba kinda just stuck around the house. Tisila never bothered to kick her out. In fact, she sometimes discreetly incorporated her talents as nanza into the business, which mostly implied spying on small private conversations and checking on the prices or rumors. Ssyba never argued against. She enjoyed the night excursions, if she was being honest about it. The other night was no exception. When she saw the gremlin run with the stolen ingredients, Ssyba immediately chased after him way before the men of order even set foot at the scene.


    Seeing as Ssyba was quite moody, Tisila crossed her arms and asked:


    "Aren''t you going to tell me what really happened?"


    Tisila was the spitting image of motherly concern, but this concern wasn''t all for Ssyba''s sake. Tisila was concerned for the stolen materials as much as she was concerned for her own personal safety and the reputation of her tea club. If Ssyba was alive, then the Cultelari either failed to kill her or they simply let her live in exchange for somebody else. The wound on the cat''s head was a testament of it. The Cultelari were a ruthless criminal organization and they knew that before beating the dog, to take a look at it''s master. Behead the leader. Of course, the Cultelari would beat both the dog and the master. Such was the cruelty that premeditated their actions, and that was mostly because gremlins weren''t even naturally occurring beasts. Where normal animals had minds and bodies of their own, gremlins were artificial.


    "You''re not cutting purses for money, are you?" asked Tisila seeing that Ssyba wasn''t about to reply.


    Ssyba rolled her eyes to look directly into the woman''s, without moving her head. As small as Ssyba was, her eyes were much bigger and so abstract, that they gave off an eerie vibe that made even the stern matron fidgety. Something about that question triggered an unconscious and prideful tremble in the very core of the nanza-cat, and awakened predator-animal instincts that were thought domesticated.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    And because Tisila was very successful in her work with tea-club customers, she seemed to have developed a deeper understanding of what to make out of life, with all its failures, pains and pleasures, and so he could read a situation quite well.


    "I''m sorry Ssyba, I did not mean to imply¡­" she began, only to halt and reconsider her position. A human to apologize to a nanza-cat? Preposterous!


    Tisila was getting too pushy and nagging for Ssyba''s liking.


    "Lady Tisila, the gremlins are no longer your concern, I should think," urgently said Ssyba with a smug and cute face, to cool down the atmosphere a little, sensing that Tisila was getting tense due to lack of cooperation from Ssyba''s part.


    "Why is that?"


    But Ssyba pointed at her skull as a response, saying:


    "Please look at this wound. It was a healthy smack, they thought I was killed. It''s only through a wonder that I even escaped alive, let alone drag myself back home. Not only that, I actually had a gremlin throw a vial of a noxious concoction in my face. I''ve even been hallucinating since. Took a nap on top of a house yesterday and I''m fine now. But in all honesty, who would actually be fine after such an ordeal?"


    Ssyba spoke with some sense and Tisila relaxed a little more. And now, Ssyba knew, it was time to pull again, for too much sense would be unnatural for a beast.


    "But my lady Tisila, I have to admit that I have failed you."


    "What do you mean?"


    "Don''t I know how important potions are to masters? That''s why I chased after that gremlin with reckless abandon. But¡­"


    Ssyba of course referred to all humans as masters, not just Tisila. It simply was one of the many unspoken societal rules of this world.


    "Don''t tell me..." said Tisila with some shock, already envisioning what Ssyba was about to say.


    "Yes my lady, I failed to recuperate the stolen goods."


    Tisila paled and the knuckles of her fist whitened on the bamboo stick, she was this angry. Losing any vraja potions or the brewing components was grave enough, but losing a healing vraja potion specifically was akin to sending someone to their death. Humans have become dependent on the potions and their essential powers. Although the whole society revolved more or less around the magic of potions, healing potions were almost twice as precious as any other potion of similar potency. Someone''s life might count on it. Ssyba knew this all too well, but was indifferent to it. She was just a nanza-cat, but could clearly see the pressure accumulating under Tisila''s surface, ready to burst. A healing vraja potion was as valuable as someone''s life, and any such potion would have been pre-ordered half a season in advance. The value of vraja potions has been deeply rooted in every facet of the civilized world, and such a loss was immeasurable for Tisila''s business and prestige.


    Ssyba pondered on the many stresses accumulating upon Tisila these couple of days.


    "I should let her stew just a little longer," coldly mused Ssyba in her thoughts, but her face remained passive. Tisila was not a bad master by any means, but Ssyba had to play around the fact that she might have had a soul. Such an impossibility required certain planning to be done.


    Although she was human and Ssyba was a mere nanza-cat, Tisila had raised Ssyba almost as her own child, especially after Singau''s departure. Not out of any real love or care, but it was more like an investment. Nanza-cats were simply useful. Intelligent like a human but nimble like a cat. But now Tisila felt a dark and hysterical fury towards this animal. What a useless thing, couldn''t even chase a gremlin down and retrieve the precious stolen goods!


    Tisila began to pace around the room, then she flailed at the silk covering the entrance to the potions laboratory, with Ssyba following closely behind. At the far end of the laboratory was a storage room and a cool room where certain materials must be held.


    "What has been stolen?" demanded Tisila.


    "A potion, lady Tisila," meekly replied Ssyba.


    "River swallow it!" yelled Tisila, her eyes bulging out and her face getting red and distorted.


    If brewing materials were stolen, so be it, Izzmahil could rather easily procure them from his caravan contacts. What''s so shocking and urgent was that the goods stolen was a vraja potion, a healing potion no less, which put Tisila in an extremely inconvenient spot and would even offend her powerful and influential client.


    "Lady Tisila, I did manage to recover a little something," finally said Ssyba, revealing the bundle of golden meaty leaves covered with a thin layer of silk.


    These were the saint''s tongue and were a primary ingredient in a basic healing vraja potion. Ssyba schemed about and stole this bundle initially in order to obtain a vraja potion and test it on herself, but she figured she''d have to brew the potion first. However, having zero knowledge on the metaphysics of potion making, Ssyba thought she could instead get Tisila to brew it for herself, as a replacement for the stolen goods, only for Ssyba to snatch it later and drink it herself. Or even learn how to brew it by observing.


    Revealing the leaves also had a dual purpose, which was to lower Tisila''s defenses and further gain her trust. Tisila knew that the leaves were valuable even in their raw forms, the demand of healing vraja potions being so high. Ssyba could have simply sold them in the underground and keep the money and secret for herself. Thus, revealing these leaves now made Tisila reconsider her stance on her nanza pet.


    "Such an obedient creature. I did well not hitting her..." thought Tisila.


    Seeing this change in Tisila''s behavior, Ssyba laughed darkly within, knowing that she did well. She would obtain the healing potion and use it on herself later. If she had a soul and the potion worked, Ssyba''s head wound would be instantly healed. If she remained an animal still, she would immediately die.


    Ssyba was not afraid of death. Only through extreme determination could one obtain the power to change destiny and overcome all obstacles.


    Ssyba thought about it all for a moment. It was the perfect plan!


    "Did you get these leaves by yourself?" asked Tisila with such incredulity, that she didn''t even bother to know about how and when did Ssyba achieve such a thing.


    "I figured that when I lost to that gremlin, I really couldn''t return to master in such a shameful disposition, now could I? I knew I must make up for my failure."


    It was true, nanza-cats were prideful animals, almost as prideful as humans, but their sense of pride was rather animal. Tisila was overjoyed to hear of Ssyba''s industriousness. It wasn''t much about the actual numbers of business or the money, but more about prestige and reputation, as well as the fear of offending an influential client.


    Teas have been Tisila''s primary source of trade and expertise, because she wasn''t a true vraja brewess and only had basic training and knowledge. Actually, only a few other occultists and arcane workers would deal in tea concoctions, primarily because teas were a happy alternative to real vraja potions. Teas were nowhere near as powerful or reality-altering, but had the benefit that they could improve even animals or ordinary objects, so the vast majority of individuals who brought tea were gremlins, nanza-cats, deep earth dwarves, gnomes and other ordinary beasts. Naturally, true vraja brewers and mages wouldn''t want to deal with such an assortment of low animals, but Tisila did not mind at all. Other than teas, spices were popular too. Cinnamon was good and expensive, peppercorn was always in demand, they always brought profit and Tisila occasionally made deals.


    Because of this whole thing, on the rare occasion that she successfully brewed a vraja potion, Tisila would naturally take great care of it and made plans in advance to satisfy her clients. There was great pride to complete a deal with vraja potions, and great fortune came to those who did.


    "And now that the second prince¡­ nay, the First prince himself made an order of a good grade healing potion, how could I waste this opportunity because of a theft? I would lose everything, not just my reputation, and that simply I can''t accept." Tisila pondered inside and the more she thought of it, the faster her heart started to beat. She edged so close to failure in satisfying the new First prince''s order, that the mere thought of how badly it could have turned out made her body sweat. Her white cloud mana quality innately resulted in somewhat better than average quality potions, and she already had a certain experience in brewing potions, so the chances of it being of a top grade was higher than most. But failure in satisfying such an order could result in losing face. If a brewess with white cloud mana can''t brew better graded potions, what does that say about her expertise?


    "Fortunately for me, Ssyba managed to salvage this situation, thank the River-god!"


    After two nights of constant worry and stress, Tisila could finally breathe in relief. Ssyba naturally noticed this change in demeanor as well.


    "We still have much work to do," Tisila took the initiative before Ssyba said anything.


    "The most pressing issue has been resolved, thanks to you Ssyba," further praised Tisila gently petting Ssyba''s head and ear. Ssyba couldn''t give anymore of a crap about Tisila''s empty praises, but outwardly she purred.


    "I only did what I could to help lady Tisila," said Ssyba.


    "You can still further help me! Because I couldn''t otherwise get the saint''s tongue in time, I would have seriously offended my most important client. Now that I have the ingredients, I can begin brewing so that the vraja potion will be ready in due time."


    "But lady, I don''t know the first thing about making potions," said Ssyba, opening her eyes wide in shock.


    "Worry not Ssyba, just follow my instructions and do exactly what I say and together, we can finish the potion in half the time or even less," assured Tisila petting Ssyba once more.


    Ssyba purred but it was all a disgusting act. What she wanted now was to get her hands on the potion and also learn how to brew it herself. Tonight''s scheme already yielded great results for Ssyba and she was glad.


    "Let''s go then," said Tisila, to which Ssyba agreed.


    Tisila left briefly through the doorway directly into the laboratory, then beckoned Ssyba to follow. In the laboratory, she lifted the top of a stout and heavy receptacle and waved at it before sniffing. It smelled not too bad, mossy and somewhat acidic.


    "What''s that?" asked Ssyba.


    "Water that I infused with my own mana."


    Ssyba nodded as if in understanding, but in truth Ssyba had no idea of any of these concepts, only vague hints. Tisila knew it was pointless to further explain to an animal, but she was in high spirits and chose to humor Ssyba.


    "Only mana infused water can be used to brew vraja potions, and only by using mana could the powers within be activated. The higher the quality of the mana, the more potent the vraja potions and its effects."


    Ssyba understood at once. Since mana was a natural product of the soul, being the accumulation of divine energy at birth, creating, drinking and using vraja potions was strictly the realm of beings with souls, anchored to the outer heavens. It was a pure science, understood by many academicians.


    To Ssyba, this concept dawned into her mind and was comparable to that of sight. Improved sight and the use of eye glasses would be an alien concept to eyeless, sightless creatures, but at the same time, it boosted the natural ability of seeing to everyone else, and the simple mechanics of eyeglasses were commonly understood. Such was the concept of vraja potions, where they would directly act upon the soul the same way eye glasses would act upon sight. The change was purely qualitative, not necessarily a change in function.


    On the world of Jord, earth and everything on it was a reflection of heaven. Vraja potions were directly linked to the divine realms above and their essence was discovered and made usable by the scholars and alchemists of the past. Everything on earth had heavenly essence in it, from the lowest grain of sand to the very blood of royalty. In the myriad aeons since the dawn of humanity, humans had gradually discovered the secrets of soul and mana. By creating the vraja potions, humanity refined the heavenly essences and made them useful.


    "What is mana quality?" asked Ssyba in confusion, but displaying a clear boldness. She knew that souled humans used mana for their powers, but she had no idea that there was a difference in mana quality.


    Tisila gave her a nonchalant look, then turned her attention back at black kettle. Why would she bother sharing such knowledge with a hylic animal, who had no link to the heavens? Tisila was a religious woman, Ssyba knew.


    "Mana is the accumulation of potential someone has at birth," began Tisila in simple terms. "Imagine a man who is born bigger and stronger than another man, or imagine a woman who is simply born beautiful, while another woman could be unsightly. Do we have a say about it?"


    Ssyba shook her head in disagreement.


    "Likewise with mana. Mana can be thin and light, of poorer quality. The darker it is, the more concentrated and potent. Light mana, what we commonly refer to as clear spring mana and white cloud mana, is the most commonly found quality among humans. Three fourths of the entire human population on Jord should possess light mana. Even the most damned by the heavens soul has at least some small quantity of clear spring mana."


    "I understand, very interesting," said Ssyba with such concentration, that Tisila was slightly taken aback. "What quality of mana do you have, lady Tisila?" asked Ssyba.


    It was an innocent question of a confidential topic. Ssyba couldn''t know the strict methods of human society, so she answered after a moment of consideration.


    "I, for example, possess white cloud mana," said Tisila with some pride finally creeping into her tone. "White cloud mana is above average of course. It goes above the most common clear spring mana in terms of quality, and is at the peak in terms of light mana category."


    "So more than half of all masters have light mana?" probed Ssyba with the impudence of uneducated children.


    "More than half by far," said Tisila reluctantly. "Out of one hundred people, more than half simply possess clear spring mana quality. About two thirds of the remaining half would likely have white cloud mana, and these people are above the average in quality of mana. And out of the remaining fifteen or so people, fourteen would most likely have gleaming silver mana quality."


    "And the rest? There''s a small number out of one hundred, who were not categorized," astutely observed Ssyba.


    Such attention to detail disturbed Tisila''s good mood, and she began to lose her patience in front of Ssyba''s audacity.


    "The one out of one hundred would be those with darker shades of mana, those who possess faded ash mana quality, who stand at the top of the society. Our leaders, princes, kings of foreign lands and ancient heroes of antiquity. None of your concern."


    At this, Ssyba''s eyes glinted with a cold light which made even Tisila, an established brewess of vraja potions, shudder with icicles running down her spine. Disrespect turned into offense.


    "What goes beyond faded ash mana?" dared Ssyba to ask with a low, undulating voice.


    It resonated with such forward energy, that for a second Tisila forgot that she talked to an animal. Under day to day circumstances, such an intimate and insolent question would have awarded Ssyba a beating with the bamboo cane. But today, her nanza growl seemed to have turned into a distant thunder of a planetary collision storm, and Tisila simply could not stop herself from obeying and answering the question.


    "Beyond is the darkest, pitch black mana. The stuff of myth and legends. The god figures with the power to change destinies with a careless wave of their hand."

 Chapter 3: I will step upon them all

    Chapter 3: I will step upon them all


    The desert night wind howled with rarely seen savagery outside the house, as the two women, a tall human and a nanza-cat, tirelessly worked on a healing vraja potion. The dust on the streets was swept and it made the air outside somewhat hard to breathe in.


    It was not easy to brew vraja potions, that fact soon became clear in Ssyba''s mind. First of all, it demanded for a large amount of mana to be poured in and unless a sole master had ample reserves of mana on their own, most people couldn''t even begin the process. Many preparations were needed before even attempting and whether the process succeeded or failed, the mana cost would be the same. Mana was the most basic element for brewing vraja potions, otherwise anyone could do it, even a monkey. For this reason concerning resources, many masters would actually band together to contribute for a greater result. Mana not only dictated the quantity of vraja potions, but the quality as well, its purity and safety for drinking, potency and duration when applied, lifespan and level of decay. And in the act of brewing vraja potions, more mana was not necessarily the better option either. This is where the knowledge of ages showed its value, as recipes and the necessary quantities were constantly refined and improved upon.


    Tonight though, Tisila came mentally prepared and everything was set in order and ready for brewing, so that the entire process'' duration would be halved at the very least, all while avoiding any unnecessary actions which could potentially lead to failure.


    "How much did the water level drop?" asked Tisila, while Ssyba checked with concern.


    "It''s right below the second line in the kettle," replied Ssyba with innocence but decisiveness.


    The water was milky and gleaming with an ivory luster. That was because of the mana infusion, and the resulting substance was to become the base for the potion.


    Tisila turned her body and searched deep within her laboratory, not having the time to check the water level herself and trusting Ssyba with it entirely. The night was through and the prince''s order was almost due.


    "But this already is much better than in my previous attempt," Tisila thought while powdering the other ingredients. "As long as we keep this pace up and don''t fumble near the end, the vraja potion will be of a much thicker consistency and my hope is, one grade higher in quality."


    Appraisers graded potions on many variables, but usually the most important characteristics of a potion were the potency of its effect, the duration of the effect and the mana consumption required to activate the effect. These, when all combined and everything else taken into consideration, gave each vraja potion a grade ranging from one to ten, one being the simplest grade. The methodology of grading was obtained through arduous work of ages by established grandmasters, each facet of this science carefully analyzed and the methods refined to perfection, because many things rested on the grade of the potion. Grade one to two potions were straightforward and manageable to brew, the ingredients were common but their effects were simple. The vast majority of potions found on the free market ranged between grade one to three, very rarely four or grade five.


    Tisila, although she possessed the white cloud mana, her skill in creating potions was nowhere near an expert''s level. She was considered to be somewhere between average and advanced, strictly in terms of results. Her healing potions were sold as grade three vraja potions, which meant they were good and were sought after by the wealthy.


    Not many could afford to buy grade three potions and even if they could, to use a grade three vraja potion would not be worth it, when taking into consideration the fact that most people possessed clear spring mana quality. For them to use grade three potions would be equivalent to burning an entire forest just to warm oneself at night. Too much power when something similar could be achieved much cheaper and economically sound. Even for white cloud mana, grade three potions were already a bit too potent.


    But in truth, as good as her business was considered even now, Tisila could have actually done much better in life. With sufficient resources, experience, talent and education, her white cloud mana quality potions would easily reach grade four to five in practice, yet Tisila only ever managed to brew up to grade three vraja potions, and that occasionally.


    Why?


    This was Tisila''s biggest regret and shame in life. Someone with white cloud mana but lacking the resources and education and means of advancing higher in the hierarchy and the society at large. She had poor upbringing, her parents couldn''t afford to pay for her schooling during her youth and after she got married, her husband left early into their marriage, leaving her a single parent to raise Singau. Tisila had to make do with whatever she had, battling circumstances day after day, relying on her white cloud mana and luck, as well as her own talents and interest in the vraja potion brewing arts. She was the embodiment of the unknown talent, destined to die without ever being discovered and properly nurtured. Thus, the above average mana quality of Tisila only managed to produce average grade two to grade three potions.


    However, white cloud mana is what it is, and even those potions were of a certain value. This led Tisila to become the supplier for many important people, because even if there were more talented brewers of vraja potions in Yasha''Lafiq than her, pure statistics dictated that they mostly had clear spring mana or at best white cloud, so even with a good foundation and talent, the resulting vraja potions would be average or bordering the advanced class. And the truth was, gleaming silver and faded ash mana people were a few in hundreds at best, and out of them even fewer were established brewers of vraja potions. In fact, most of those who possessed gleaming silver or faded ash mana were members of the royal princedom class, or people who were discovered and nurtured by the royal family. People like Medzanalfif and Iriazel, as well as their usurper brother.


    Speaking of which¡­


    "Lady, if I am permitted to ask," began Ssyba and Tisila groaned in disdain, but refrained herself from getting angry. "Who is this client that it''s so important for you to deliver this healing potion in time?"


    Tisila''s annoyance was quickly diminished, as it was a fair question to ask. Earlier, she had used Ssyba in her own business, prodding her to spy on her clients in the tea club, chase after beggars and impress influential clients who came after healing vraja potions. Ssyba was an intelligent and beautiful nanza-cat. Even Tisila had to inwardly agree upon Ssyba''s attractive body shape, soft and tiger-like fur and alluring gaze. Only a fool wouldn''t make use of such a beauty.


    "These men," Tisila began with a low voice as she checked the potion infusion. "They are in league with the current first prince, Yanamusad."


    "Current first prince?" asked Ssyba with a clear surprise on her face.


    "Well, nothing is really certain, no official came out of the High Fortress to announce it to the public, but there have been rumors. You can''t stop rumors. Did you know that there has been a fire in the High Azur Fortress a mere day ago?"


    "And the rumors say that First Princess Iriazel died in it..." added Ssyba occupying herself with Tisila''s instructions regarding the making of the potion.


    "And lord Yanamusad replaced her. Dark times will fall over Yasha''Lafiq," mused Tisila with a bit of a gloom.


    Even commoners could tell that the age of Iriazel''s peace had ended alongside her.


    Ssyba blew into the steaming liquid before sniffing it. She wouldn''t normally engage in this conversation on politics. It did not directly concern her, but rather her human masters. Animals wouldn''t get much involved in the battle of princes, for it was mostly a game of resources, influence and vraja potions. However, Ssyba had a secret...


    "It smells like rose syrup," said Ssyba in order to change the subject, as to not appear suspiciously interested in politics.


    "Already? Quickly, sprinkle this while I grind the axehound whiskers."


    Ssyba conscientiously listened to Tisila and sprinkled the pepper-like dust in the concoction. She caught a whiff of it and sneezed healthily. Tisila giggled and inwardly thought she did good with Ssyba. Not a waste raising her.


    "Been wondering what''s gremlins doing in Yasha''Lafiq," said Ssyba, then turned and pointed at her head wound.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    She couldn''t exactly ignore that an unusually large number of gremlins stalked the streets as of late.


    "See, this is exactly what I meant. I''ve seen them myself even on that night," agreed Tisila. "Gremlins do not belong here, not that I have anything against them personally, but now with prince Yanamusad taking the First Throne. I wonder if he hired the Cultelari to help him establish his position as the first prince."


    Tisila maneuvered herself around the tea kitchen, as if looking for a small object.


    "The prince also made a significant order of certain ingredients days ago. Ah, here it is."


    "To throw a tea-party I presume," said Ssyba, smirking like a sassy cat.


    "No, but the ingredients suggest something else. It''s mostly to treat metal and heal injured flesh and bone. You do know what this means, don''t you?"


    Ssyba scratched her butt.


    "Not a shred of idea if I''m honest," she said.


    "The first prince is definitely getting himself and his men ready for some kind of confrontation, otherwise why would he need healing potions and metal maintenance materials?"


    Ssyba''s tail lashed once against her left leg, but then she casually reached for the other ingredients as instructed by Tisila earlier. She knew that Tisila had a knack for these gossipy, speculatory things.


    "That''s a bit of a stretch," Ssyba said through stiff motions around the black kettle. "Princes order ingredients and potions all the time. Be it peace or internal strife, potions are what keeps them young, running, sharp-minded. Master Izzmahil said so himself."


    Tisila sighed.


    "You''re not seeing the entire expanse of this picture. If the prince Yanamusad already ascended to the First Throne, why is he expecting conflict before even cementing his position?"


    "How would I know?" said Ssyba absently rolling her eyes, and even Tisila felt a little embarrassed for dragging this simple nanza-cat into such a conversation.


    "Maybe he expects trouble from the other princes?"


    "Maybe¡­" said Ssyba uninterested. "What else?"


    "Nothing else," said Tisila after some moments of silence. "Alright, now it''s time to filter the infusion and since we don''t need the remains anymore, we can throw that junk away."


    Ssyba followed Tisila''s directions to the absolute letter and with such vigorous heed, that even Tisila herself, while in school, did not appreciate the vraja recipes so. This was slightly unnerving but not entirely so, since Ssyba simply tried to remedy her situation and pay Tisila her due respects as her master. In Tisila''s ignorance, there could be no other answer for Ssyba''s behavior. Tisila chose to leave those thoughts aside for now, because she had to concentrate on pouring the last amount of mana and finally complete tonight''s work.


    "The final step towards the entire brewing process is also the most difficult and requires the overall greatest level of control," said Tisila.


    Ssyba merely watched with a neutral, animal indifference at the surface, but in her heart she could barely contain the excitement.


    Tisila continued:


    "This is where the talent, practice and skill has the greatest influence, because the brewer must know how to carefully close the mystical gate at the right time."


    Ssyba nodded almost imperceptibly but had it all memorized.


    "Too soon and the vraja potion will be too thin with mana and the potency won''t be there." Tisila''s tone suddenly darkened and she continued in a solemn voice. "Too late late though, and it could turn unstable and the potion might blow in your face, sometimes to deadly repercussions."


    Ssyba nodded wisely but remained silent. Within the confines of her mind, there was a desperate attempt to make sense of everything learned throughout the night, knowing that such an opportunity might never come again, despite her diligence and promptitudine.


    However, such concepts escaped Ssyba''s simple mind for the time being.


    Throughout the entire process, the potion''s mystical gate remained open under Tisila''s firm mental command, so that she could time after time pour in mana and combine it together with the ingredients. Sometimes referred to as the invisible glade or the immortal place, everything contained a mystical gate within, even intangible things such as wind and lightning, and these mystical gates led directly to the divine unknowable realm from which every universal law permeated all around the natural world. Through these mystical gates humans sent their mana alongside a soul link, which in turn allowed them to control the divine powers of the universe. The mechanics behind such an action was deeply debated and studied with fervor and curiosity.


    "Almost done," said Tisila licking her lips, and Ssyba watched carefully with a fiery expression.


    Tisila transferred the finished and filtered liquid from the black kettle into a compact glass vial, careful not to spill anything on the sides. With a simple thought, Tisila directed the last few bits of mana through the potion''s mystical gate and then closed it permanently.


    At this point, the process of creating a vraja potion was completed, and the potion could be used at any time. All someone had to do was drink it and expend their own mana in order to use the vraja potion''s property, in this case healing.


    "I knew it would happen!" exclaimed Tisila with a joyous glint in her eyes.


    As she looked closely and inspected the liquid, Ssyba couldn''t tell what Tisila meant by it.


    "This potion is a fourth grade potion. It''s truly outstanding even for my standards!"


    "Really? Huh..."


    Ssyba kept on looking at it. The liquid was deep red in color, a shade lighter than blood and obviously thinner in consistency. The glass vial held between eight and ten milliliters of vraja potion liquid in it, just enough to be downed in a single, easy gulp. A grade four potion was much better than a grade three potion. By comparison, if a grade three healing potion could close a medium wound and stop a bleeding, a grade four potion could seal a deep gash in the flesh and put together bones, leaving no marks or scars. It could save someone''s life in the blink of an eye.


    "It''s beautiful, this one¡­" absentmindedly said Ssyba.


    She was suddenly struck by the thought of snatching the potion and drinking it on the spot. Then the wound on her head would certainly heal and she would soar to the skies. Once confirmed that she had a soul, there would be nothing more inherently inferior about herself than any other human, except maybe for mana quality.


    Mana quality?


    Ssyba''s expression turned sour, to the point where she didn''t even care about Tisila noticing her. The thought of mana quality and how closely it dictated a person''s eventual growth or potential dangled heavy on Ssyba''s mind ever since first hearing about it. And the more she thought about it, the more questions she had, and some questions that Tisila couldn''t satisfy unless Ssyba chose to expose her secret. In the end she decided to opt for prudence, and kept her mouth shut. Even if she possessed the common clear spring mana quality, it was still times and times better than being a simple earth-bound animal for the rest of her short life. The change in power and status was a difference in realm, it was the night and day difference between seed and tree, for even those humans with thinner, weaker mana still held higher social positions than any other animal and powers inaccessible to anything else, as evidenced by the current environment of Yasha''Lafiq. Humans, or more specifically those with mana to use, ruled everything as long as they had resources. How would Ssyba rule, as the only non-human creature in the world to have a soul?


    Ssyba curbed her imagination and began to think more calmly. By the end of this night she had gained much and her horizons widened, the current knowledge that she held about the relationship between soul, mana and vraja potions was inestimable to her, so she decided to take a step back and reevaluate her position. First, she needed to find the quality of her mana even before she attempted to drink any vraja potion. Then she needed to secure a batch of ingredients and try her hand at brewing a potion. Either that, or she needed to somehow put her claws on a potion all by herself.


    "And after that," her eyes glinted with a sparkling light and she barely suppressed the savage and prideful thoughts inside herself.


    Ssyba was a nanza-cat first and foremost, and thus she could not rely on outside support for her growth. Be it a family, a school, a sect or an entire city, humans relied on one another and formed bonds and relationships to survive and ease their existence on the harsh world of Jord, taking care and nurturing their own so that they could in turn do the same. As a tribal animal, humans all established the same parameters for survival and had all formed more or less the same ideals and basis for a society. For what exactly was a city if not a larger family? A group of humans, be it large or small, bound together by ideology, need, blood relations and goals. Cooperation was the essence of humanity.


    But Ssyba knew, cooperation was simply the easiest, shortest path towards the same goal, which ultimately is survival. Where humans relied on one another to form nations, nanza-cats and indeed, almost all animals relied on their own strength and intelligence.


    "Why are there no nanza-cats nations?" Ssyba once asked and she did not know the answer at that time.


    Survival of the fittest. A most primitive line of thought for a most uncivilized being, for even among animals, nanza-cats were considered wild and mostly untamed.


    Why are there no nanza-cats nations? Because nanza-cats were solitary by nature and with a mentality that allowed one to step on corpses without feeling remorse. There could be no civilization. Ssyba''s aspirations as a nanza-cat were too big for her small self, giving a soul to a nanza-cat ensures that the entire world will eventually become her enemy.


    "But destruction is not my intention, nor needless slaughter, it is simply survival of the fittest. If anyone tries to prevent my pursuit, I will not compromise. I will step upon them all and reach the apex."

 Chapter 4: Still an animal

    Chapter 4: Still an animal


    It was already night time in Yasha¡¯Lafiq and the violent winds gradually began to pick up in power and speed. The moon and the stars in the sky were bright, but they were soon obstructed by a veil of sand and dust. Because of it, the streets have been emptied prematurely and the entire city sunk into rare quietness. In a corner on the roof, overlooking Tisila¡¯s house, Ssyba reached a peculiar state of mind among all the beasts of Jord. Like a metal rod that reached into the depths of the earth, her mind reached into an inner dimension of her own self.


    For an outsider looking at her, there was something poetic, contemplative and unique about Ssyba in this moment.


    ¡°The color of the desert is unwavering from afar but the color of sand is infinitely diverse when close,¡± quoted Ssyba from a popular poem before she refocused her eyes on the reality before her. ¡°I don¡¯t have anybody to back me up with stuff and materials, I don¡¯t have the support of families or clans or organizations or patrons, I am nobody thus I can only truly rely on my own claws and brain to further advance in my study.¡±


    She sighed deeply.


    After she helped Tisila brew the grade four healing vraja potion, Ssyba excused herself to go to sleep, however, unbeknownst to Tisila, Ssyba hid herself in seclusion in order to ponder and cement her newly acquired knowledge. Spirituality was a difficult topic for Ssyba, it felt like exploring in the dark. Sometimes she would bump into things and come up with outlandish concepts and create a mess inside her mind, and sometimes she felt so lost that she couldn¡¯t even pick a direction of thought and go with it. Her confusion only deepened the more she tried to reduce it, as her thoughts flew all over the place.


    In the dusty night, Ssyba focused her vision on a window. Soft and warm candle light radiated from within.


    She began:


    ¡°All souls are actually like chain links into the heavens and mana is this essential heavenly energy derived from the existence of these links. The process of creating a potion involves pouring mana into it but since a potion is merely an object, how could it hold mana within itself? If I can solve this question, I feel like I could solve the question of my own soul and whether I have mana or not."


    Ssyba took a deep breath in and closed her eyes, trying her best to glance within and solidify her inner self.


    "Mana could be said to be an accumulation of heavenly divine energy that leaks alongside the souls into our world. In a way, souls are conduits for heavenly powers. But if mana is a unique feature to souls, how could it be involved in the creation of objects, like vraja potions? It''s as if everything has the capacity to store mana¡­"


    The answer was close, Ssyba knew. She tried her hardest to squeeze every last bit of hints and clues from last night¡¯s work alongside Tisila. What did Tisila do? What was the purpose of mana? Mana was poured directly into the potion, but how could something without a soul hold mana within itself? And if a soul wasn¡¯t always needed for mana to be poured in, does that mean that souls are really only a conduit for mana to be leaked into reality, and not necessarily a prerequisite for the existence of mana? And if souls merely transmitted mana from the heavens into Jord, what prevented or allowed someone''s access to mana?


    ¡°What could there be anything else but some thing that is used to either keep mana in, or keep mana out?¡±


    Ssyba¡¯s eyes instantly glinted with a spark of understanding for the first time. She heard a loud gong sound and felt its vibration in the area of her chest. It exploded radiating light and energy outwards, then imploded, pulling tightly around an inner infinite core, solidifying into a gate. It all happened inside her soul, and an outsider couldn''t see anything.


    ¡°The mystical gate,¡± Ssyba said lightly.


    At the same time that she had made this breakthrough, a clean, white energy filled the empty space beyond the now opened gate. It was something soft and woolly, not warm like emotions nor cold like sleep, and it floated freely the same way white clouds do. Her body reacted positively to the revitalizing energy, sending forth a pulsation as her mind expanded greatly to accommodate this new dimension. Her vision went blank and she arched her back, her tail went rigid and her fur stood on end. This burst of new energy only lasted for less than a moment, and she soon went limp and soft.


    "White cloud mana quality!" moaned Ssyba in orgasmic realization.


    And when she opened her eyes, her jaw nearly dropped from shock, because everything had a mystical gate in it, and her soul''s eye could see. From the intangible things like starlight, to the buildings and common objects. Even the sky had a mystical gate, and each of these gates were firmly closed. First off, the mystical gate occupies no physical space but for the soul''s eye, it''s distinct and easily noticeable. To Ssyba, it felt like the differentiation between warm and cold. Although warmth and cold hold no more space than their source, it is very clear for the senses what is considered warm and what exactly is cold.


    Ssyba''s bright and joyful expression soon turned dim as her spirit calmed. Her eyes regained the sharp composure of a nanza-cat and the analytical side of herself came to the surface.


    She concluded:


    "In a way, everything that exists could be said to have the potential to have a soul. The existence of the mystical gate that is found even in intangible things, is a proof of it, but for some reason only humans naturally possess this direct means of opening the gate and manipulating the mana within. That is the power of the soul, it is a way for the inner self to control these energies."


    Ssyba rubbed her chin in deep thought and meditation and as she did this, she also found that the mana levels held in the mystical gate also increased by a very slight margin.


    "Isn''t that interesting? It seems to somehow accumulate by itself."


    In fact, as Ssyba was soon to discover, the process of mana accumulation was done through a specific mindset and action, through study and learning and understanding of the universe, or the mysterious Yada as it was called by the great scholars. Thoughtful study and conscious comprehension of the Yada, and the accumulation of knowledge and experience directly influenced the mana gathered within the mystical gate. It required inner reflection and deep pondering. In a way, mana was a reward for profoundly connecting oneself to the living world and the immaterial heaven.


    This was the basis of accumulation.


    It was past midnight and the winds had finally calmed down to nothing. Suddenly, there was some semblance of commotion on the streets, as gremlins and dwarves and other beasts came out. Without mistake, each of these non-humans had their mystical gates closed and were utterly oblivious to the higher truths of the soul.


    Ssyba sighed faintly, then laughed.


    "I see now, such deep and profound secrets. It''s no wonder humans dominate the whole world. How can beast folk demand justice and dignity when the universe itself makes them blind?"


    Ssyba wasn''t stupid and with mere guesswork, she could discern the basic inner mechanism of the soul and mana. Beasts have a pretty rough time living and thinking, where humans get educated into the finer and higher arts and metaphysics of the world since childhood.


    "I admit, I''ve had luck with Tisila this time but I can''t rely on her much longer if I am to advance. Even now I must present myself completely uninterested in potions and spirituality."


    Ssyba hopped down from the rooftop, knowing that she must find other means of research, and for that she had to find her own brother.


    ***


    The moon was shining proudly and white as a dream, taking the mist-light of stars to strengthen its own. Of course, to Ssyba it mattered not whether it was light or darkness. Her nanza-cat eyes made day out of the night, unveiled the deepest, darkest shadows, revealed the most enigmatic corners which would have been utterly invisible for the eyes of men.


    Ssyba took a swift, ghostly jog away from Tisila''s house. She ran in between two squat houses and jumped high, flipping over kiosks and catching onto windows, until she reached the rooftop area. As she ran towards the river Na-jid, she mulled over and contemplated the sudden turn of her life. It seemed that she did this often, however she couldn¡¯t get over the fact that she now had a soul and possessed mana of her own to accumulate and use. A new, obscure energy sparked through her like an emotion. The fur on her back puffed up as she remembered the night when she met the Unstar in his own utopian realm.


    Taking a familiar turn to the right and rolling back on the street level as she neared the river, Ssyba suddenly thought of her past life.


    Every day waking up, trying to make a living then going back to sleep only for survival. No purpose, no danger, no way of shaking the world even if the only payment is being mauled by the larger forces policing the status quo.


    "Danger," she hissed, smiling ominously.


    Danger was a thing valued by all the nanza.


    Ssyba licked her teeth. She wanted danger not for its own sake, but it was demanded of her. She was a nanza-cat, if nothing else. Stalking, the hunt itself, killing, the taste of blood was what her feline nature demanded of these beasts. But there was more to it, and it was the fact that the nanza were nothing more than play things when compared to the godly powers that ruled Jord. Such was their reality, and so they sought other means of satisfying their lust. Usually, the simplest nanza relied on thievery and street fighting. The bravest of them infiltrated human society and worked as spies, gatherers of information and assassins. And while humans indeed had their own higher concerns, and while their sensibilities far differed from those of the nanza, anyone could recognize a capable set of claws and a sharp intellect. The powerful and the strong willed occupied themselves with the art of ruling nations and building empires, but the nanza have always played a key, shadowy role in humanity''s history. Nanza valued physical prowess and self-reliability and their outlook and ethics were ultimately inhuman, but their lust for danger often thrusted them directly into conflict.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    "Without braving the risks, how could there be profit? How could I even get stronger if I can''t face what''s ahead?"


    The nanza legacy was of blood and predation. The paths that the nanza followed were mysterious and deep, encompassing both malevolence and benevolence, and there was no such thing as a purely good or evil nanza when comparing methods.


    The morning sun crept over the horizon, bleeding the sky with red and purple. As night turned to day, the river promenade started to fill up with workers and commoners starting their day.


    Ssyba sneaked along the river wall, watching the early morning commotion and reminiscing the days when hunger drove her towards the fish stalls, where she hoped to secure a free meal. As a young mouser, Ssyba attended to thick armed men slicing the bellies of various fish, cutting their heads and throwing them back in Na-jid in a single motion. Young Ssyba then diligently searched the bluff for pieces of meat, but the competition was always rough. In the whole of Yasha''Lafiq, there lived a community of maybe a few hundred nanza. Community was too big of a word, thought Ssyba, for the nanza are mostly solitary creatures. Females with kittens live in groups where they aid the elderly females raise the cubs until a certain age, and as adults they rarely meet for reasons other than mating or doing petty business. Dominant males may form small harem-like communities and indeed, there are harems of nanza following a strong male living outside human settlements, but in the large cities, each nanza usually went their own way.


    However, day after day, with the return of each fishing ship, many nanza would coincidentally meet in the port and around the wharves for easy meals, which in turn granted them the reputation of strays and cutthroats. Killings between male nanza bloodied the cobblestone streets, hand to hand combat between rivals would topple the tables of honest fishermen, and when the police became involved, the nanza would invariably be caught in the crossfire of angry shop owners and police batons.


    Such foolishness.


    Ssyba reached a pier bridging the river shore to the otherwise vast and godly Na-jid. There, standing on it and watching the river carefully, a nanza waited. As Ssyba walked over to meet this nanza, she recalled the reason why she chose to find him.


    "For me to have discovered the mystical gate is already too good. I can''t force my way and risk making Tisila or anyone else suspicious," reinforced Ssyba in her mind.


    This is why she needed to find her brother. Ssyba did not have one bit of loyalty towards Tisila and in fact she would have stolen the healing potion if she knew she could get away with it. But for now, she needed to rely on others quite a bit. This meant borrow Tisila''s potion-making knowledge, while working side jobs for her brother in exchange for materials or human money. Ssyba did not want to depend on anyone, but to expect cultivating her soul by herself, as a lone poor nanza-cat, that would simply be an act of naivety.


    ***


    Within the nanza culture, there were several paths of prestige and influence. Ssyba''s brother had always been the embodiment of a true nanza specialist, and from a young age he started working for various individuals and generals surrounding the Yasha''Lafiq azure court to act as an enforcer, or an assassin. Ssyba''s brother, orange and gray as a bloody dusk with eyes as blue as the sky, ascended into the Perfect Vengeful Spirit path, was known in the underworld as Fagan Stabs.


    Every morning, for as long as Ssyba could remember, Fagan would come home in hushed tones and tired, or go and meet on this very pier to talk in hushed tones with a colorful variety of individuals. He seemed to be tolerated by the police, where most other nanza would be rounded up and beaten following public disorder. Rich-looking men and women came to him and paid him in real coins and favors. Within the larger nanza community, Fagan achieved a stature that fringed on myth, his importance was peppered with speculation and conspires.


    Ssyba maneuvered herself as silently as she could upon the creaking wood of the pier, and approached with civility.


    "How did that happen, Zibby?" asked Fagan, turning when she was within five steps, nodding with his chin towards her.


    His blackish-gray orange striped mane glistened in the misty light by the river. Ssyba realized that he talked about her head wound, having been barely a day old. She would have to live with the scar for the rest of her life, so it seemed. For some reason, her ruffled state made her feel a bit of shame in Fagan''s presence, despite him being her own brother.


    "Hello Fagan. It was gremlins," she replied and at the bottom of her voice.


    "Of course," said Fagan through his teeth.


    He hated the gremlins more than anyone Ssyba knew, aside maybe from mister Izzmahil who had a personal grudge towards them.


    Fagan continued:


    "I know who has done this to you. That is why you have come to me, nuh?"


    Fagan surely knew about the Cultelari roaming the Yasha''Lafiq streets, Ssyba realized. Though he was too alert to ever associate his own person to the gremlins or create needless conflict, she knew that he would create a massacre for his sister if need be.


    "It''s not really why," said Ssyba and added with a bit of reluctance: "I need some money."


    Fagan Stabs finally smirked and the tension seemed to have lifted, although Ssyba didn''t like coming to him if it could be helped. Fagan always wanted to keep everyone indebted to him, at all times, even his own family.


    His lionesque face was patrician and had the typical characteristics of a dominant alpha male, there were zero scars on his body, implying that he must have been an exceptional killer. He had a longer mane than most, stylishly braided in the latest northern fashion, and the space between his eyes was filled with orange, giving the impression of a permanent sun upon a grey sky. In contrast to his caliber, Ssyba looked vagrant and poor, not that she was ugly, but she indeed lived a simpler life.


    "You do not appear to be impoverished."


    "I scrape by," Ssyba replied.


    "So you''re finally down to help your brother''s cause?"


    Ssyba shifted from one leg to the other and Fagan grinned at her, revealing a full, clean set of sharp fangs.


    "That¡¯s what I thought to myself," said Ssyba, already disliking associating herself with Fagan. She knew that his ambitions far surpassed the common and reasonable.


    The grin disappeared from Fagan''s face almost as fast as it arrived. Fagan Stabs was not much taller than Ssyba or most other nanza, but the way he modulated his poise and carefully shifted the armoring of his impressive animal muscles gave him the appearance of a true predator, a true lord of the hunt, so unconsciously Ssyba lowered her tail and ears.


    "Let''s walk a little," announced Fagan and Ssyba absentmindedly followed.


    Fagan''s thoughts have always drifted more towards glory, influence and domination, for his identity to be well above others. As far as Ssyba was concerned, he already reached the peak position in the shimmering nanza hierarchy, though obviously this wasn''t enough for him.


    "How can I help you Fagan? And if at all possible, I''d like to be paid in¡­"


    "Sure, sure. Mere crumbs of bread from the humans'' tables got our proud race itching their fists," started Fagan Stabs with an amiable tone, but he nonetheless interrupted Ssyba. "The problem is intrinsically with the nanza and their hot blooded and somewhat naive nature."


    "Agreed," said Ssyba thinking about the nanza-cats. "And?"


    "What we as a race strive for is an illusion, all our glories are a funny practice in the eyes of those above us. That''s what they do to control us, the nanza, using glory and other empty concepts for motivation and sway. Are you still with me?"


    "You mean what humans do," nodded Ssyba thinking about the invented conflicts that humans use to pity the nanza against enemies. It was considered a conspiracy in the more elevated circles of nanza. Fagan continued:


    "At the end of the day whatever we do is useless, because we toil and when we''re no longer useful, we''re cast out like trash."


    "Yeah, makes sense, but that''s how it is. Some grind with their minds, some with their backs and the nanza with their claws. If it bothers you, why do you still dull yours for human coin?"


    Ssyba struck a nerve, it seemed, but Fagan went in to explain as if to an idiotic fool.


    "Because that''s what the plan is..."


    As he talked, Ssyba turned her eyes and glanced at Fagan with a different light now, searching into his inner depths for a hint at divinity. She saw his mystical gate with her soul''s eye, and Fagan''s gate was as it should be. Closed and desolate, not even a faint wisp of mana about it.


    "Still an animal, you are," sneered Ssyba in her heart.


    "Sister, do you know what I''m talking about?" asked Fagan.


    Ssyba snapped back into her senses.


    "Not a clue," she replied. "I just want to get some cash and go back home."


    "I''m talking about human domination and it''s conditions. I have discovered the true basis for it."


    "Enlighten me," said Ssyba, rolling her eyes at Fagan''s dramaturgy.


    "It''s resources! Without the resources to make their potions, humans can not maintain their dominant position, for the world is too brutal and unforgiving. I have worked intensely for many years to get a hold on this information and trust me, without resources, humans are as vulnerable as children in the wilderness, such are the powers outside this cage that we call civilization. That''s why our positions are all established and clear, because humans need order to survive, not a chaotic wilderness. They need cogs, every piece of this machinery must know its place. To them, we are also a resource and we are far more expendable than their potions."


    "Doesn''t that make sense though?" asked Ssyba. "I mean without food resources you die, and so on. Whoever controls the resources invariably has dominion over others. It really doesn''t matter."


    "You look at things from a too limited prism, thinking with your basic self. Food, water, shelter, those things are ultimately nothing. What humans need to maintain existence is power. We the nanza are a resource of war. We are weapons that are inexhaustible and can be used with precision without the consumption of potions. Potions are too valuable for settling anything less than large scale conflicts, do you understand? Similar to us are the gremlins and the Cultelari, and so on."


    "Simple tools," said Ssyba and she found that she agreed with Fagan on the topic, although she did not know the higher truths and struggles of the world.


    "Take for example the Cultelari. They are typically employed as bodyguards and enforcers and perimeter watches, but do you know that they also have assassins in their ranks?"


    "No," admitted Ssyba.


    "I have worked with a few of them. Anyway consider a mere act of assassination. Would you rather spend untold amounts of wealth to brew potions and employ a human assassin, or you''d rather send a couple nanza claws in?"


    "The human assassin empowered by his potions would have a higher rate of success," said Ssyba.


    Fagan sighed and continued with the manner of a benevolent, if impatient, teacher.


    "The assassination itself is not as important as the attempt. It''s all about sending a message. Humans loathe killing other humans, they recognize that they are valuable, they''d rather force alliances through threats, blackmail and such rather than outright kill their enemies. In this regard, they aren''t like the nanza. We would kill anybody in our path if it meant a slight advantage, regardless of the eventual consequences. But I digress."


    "Why are you telling me all of this?" suddenly addressed Ssyba. She could vaguely envision what Fagan meant, but couldn''t quite put her finger on it.


    "Of course," sighed Fagan. "Zibby, I wish to establish an organization for the nanza¡­"

 Chapter 5: What a scoundrel you are

    Chapter 5: What a scoundrel you are


    "Can you repeat?" gently asked Ssyba, but her eyes betrayed shock and her voice trembled in utter bewilderment.


    "You heard me Zibby," Fagan rolled his eyes. "My wish is to establish a cohesive nanza troupe, an elite force similar to the Cultelari, but more specialized and unified with the aim of advancing our position in the social hierarchy. Lastly, my dream is to see a future full of hope for the younger nanza of Yasha''Lafiq, where we won''t have to cut ourselves open for mere rotten scraps of food from the docks."


    There it was, realized Ssyba with a blinking startle, Fagan''s deranged ambition (for it was deranged in Ssyba''s opinion, because he couldn''t truly understand the depths of human spirituality and heavenly power the way she could). It reduced her to silence. Ssyba looked around, feeling a sort of anxiety surging in her, uncertain as to what to reply. When the silence stretched for an uncomfortable amount of time, she gasped under her breath:


    "How do you plan to even do that?"


    "I''m glad you asked," said Fagan Stabs with luminous eyes. "What we must do is acquire capital and have a foundation upon which to build influence. A pity so many of us rot away on these dirty streets."


    "And what foundation do you envision?"


    "Our future shall be built upon a foundation of ruthlessness and blood of course. We, the nanza, are perfect natural killers."


    Ssyba was getting sick of his dramatic act. She narrowed her eyes and nodded hesitantly. Everything he said was true so far.


    "I''d rather be dead than see our race go down in history as pets and mice chasers."


    Ssyba took a deep breath in, closed her eyes and when she opened them again, the initial incredulity was replaced with a cool glint. Fagan loved that about her, this ability to control one''s emotional response and regain composure. He needed this into his team.


    "I''m not a killer," said Ssyba, unperturbed by Fagan''s studious glare after everything was said and done. "And of course I can emphasize with you, Fagan."


    "I won''t need you to kill, we have others," casually dismissed Fagan.


    "Others?" asked Ssyba. "Don''t tell me you already talked to big bro."


    "I sure did," said Fagan with an easy, confident pride oozing out. Even amongst hardened nanza, their older brother Ran was a vicious monster, closer to a tiger than a man.


    "And he agreed to come in?"


    Fagan snorted.


    He gracefully took Ssyba by the waist and prompted her to further follow him, walking side by side like lovers, with him as the guide. He could somewhat feel her sinking further and further under his influence. With Ssyba and Ran''s brawn and claws at his side, Fagan knew he could accomplish much. Blood is thicker than water, after all.


    "Fagan, did Ran agree? And what about Rauuka?"


    Fagan laughed somewhat bitterly.


    "The trick with killers," he said gently, "is outright eliminating those with too much love for their lives."


    Ssyba understood at once what he meant. Rauuka was their youngest sister, born shortly before their mother''s death, and was considered merely a cub. She was carefree and yet unburdened by the weight of life. Fagan innately wished to protect those too weak, innocent and foolish, because this alpha behavior was too deeply ingrained into his flesh and mind. Simply put, he couldn''t easily step out of this destiny unless something truly extraordinary happened to him. And to accomplish what the leader of the pride must, he needed to become a monster and have utter command over monsters. The Yasha''Lafiq environment demanded such sacrifices of certain individuals. It was a dangerous thing what Fagan lived through, Ssyba knew, but faced with the acid ill feeling of the humiliation of being weak, Fagan seemed rather at ease with the idea.


    "You''ll make many enemies of yourself," said Ssyba just to prod on his emotions, but instead, an expansive calm settled over Fagan like powdery dust.


    "I know," he cooed like a distant thunderstorm.


    Ssyba went completely silent for another moment, before revealing a full toothy smile, saying:


    "I just wanted some money, big brother Fagan¡­"


    The truth was, Ssyba wanted to keep a low profile and work away from any association in order to keep prying eyes off herself. But since she came asking her brother Fagan for help out of her own volition, it would be inappropriate to simply deny him now under his watchful eye. Either he would think that she joined another mysterious faction once the money started rolling in, or he would insist further, without even leaving place for a breather. Then how would Ssyba keep her secret safe?


    At once, Fagan rolled on his feet with a master pirouette and slapped Ssyba across the face with his paw, claws sheathed. It wasn''t painful in the slightest but Ssyba was startled and jumped back, guard ready


    "Little sister Ssyba, it seems you aren''t fully convinced by me," said Fagan amicably


    "And you''re gonna force me?"


    "That''s the nanza way, after all," replied Fagan, his eyes glowing with violent intensity.


    Staring at him, Ssyba''s eyes widened and she uncoiled into laughter. Then suddenly she was on him. Ssyba unleashed a flurry of cutting motions, but Fagan danced in the space between her attacks, until he entered her guard and caught her paws. Grinning like a roaring lion, he headbutt Ssyba directly over the still swollen wound across her right eyebrow. The pain was so intense that she went blind for a moment before recovering for another attack. This time her claws hissed by Fagan''s face, missing by only a hair. Her eyes glinted with intent as she turned continuously to cut, but Fagan jumped back lightly on his feet, skipping with perfect footwork. And when he struck again, his closed fist sent Ssyba toppling back and she pathetically fell on her butt.


    It was a clear insult for a nanza to slap another nanza with the open paw. An even bigger insult was to punch. The nanza were most deadly when they used their claws, fangs and powerful legs, so for Fagan to punch Ssyba in the nose, it simply meant that he did not consider her a threat.


    "Stand up," growled Fagan and Ssyba immediately rolled on her feet, guard ready.


    This time, Fagan jumped at her first. He kicked her in the knee, completely taking Ssyba by surprise because she expected him to lead with his claws. He kicked low again and when she tried to dodge, Fagan scythed at her hamstrings. Down once again on the ground, Fagan dropped his knee on Ssyba''s stomach, then slammed her face with his fists, while holding her arms under his knees.


    With barbed pains in her limbs and head and Fagan''s fists clouding her vision, Ssyba started to laugh. No doubt they looked like two funny cats clawing each other over some scrappy bird feathers.


    "Are you bonkers? Why do you laugh?" asked Fagan, standing up and helping Ssyba to get up.


    For nanza-cats, fighting was nothing more than a way to settle an argument or a debate. A human might pose logical facts and counter-arguments, while a nanza might jump to cut with their claws.


    "Because we''re silly," said Ssyba.


    Fagan stepped back and smiled easily, eyes crescent of laughter. This kind of violent display was too common in the nanza society, Ssyba was only very slightly ashamed because Fagan defeated her without even cutting or wounding her with his claws. He did so, of course, to get rid of her arrogance and have it easier to command her in the future. Ssyba knew it and was fine with it. In truth, she couldn''t stand up to such a monster as Fagan.


    The lives of nanza-cats were full of obstacles and it was difficult on their body and mind. Thus, the strongest, boldest and smartest nanza usually had the highest form of authority where such a position was even recognized at all. Generally speaking, the nanza simply followed the strongest if they had no other choice, and those who did not were almost always beaten into submission or outright killed. Fagan could be considered to be slightly below the human masters, purely in terms of influence.


    Fagan Stabs looked at the sky above, saying:


    "It''s already getting late, it''s time to go to sleep, wouldn''t you say?"


    Ssyba nodded silently, it was actually still very early into the morning. In reality, Fagan needed to assure himself that he could depend on Ssyba, especially in the beginning section of his plan, and he needed to clearly make the distinction between his role as leader, and Ssyba''s lore as follower.


    "Let''s go," said Ssyba lightly, taking the initiative to move back towards the dock where they met.


    A chilly wind blew directly into their faces accompanied with a strange electrical charge in the air, which made their fur stand up. At times the two nanza-cats leapt in grandiose flips, whistling through the air like arrows, and sometimes they sidestepped from wall to wall, traversing the narrow city streets in a skillful manner. At times, crowds of people would get in their way and they had to squeeze and pirouette and dance, or they had to cross directly over the roofs in order to avoid the agglomeration.


    When they got back to the dock, it was already late morning. Fagan turned his head towards Ssyba and praised with a forced smile:


    "You are really fast, have I ever told you that?"


    Ssyba snorted coldly in her heart, but nodded instead. In fact, Fagan had intentionally hastened back to the dock and tried to lose Ssyba on their run, so that he could bully her and suppress her further through embarrassment. He already proved to be the better warrior, and next he needed to prove that he is also the faster nanza. Being strong, being agile, being cunning or simply ferocious, being fast, those were some of the most important attributes for any nanza-cat of some renown. But Ssyba was already clear of Fagan''s tactics the moment he beat her to the ground, so she merely smiled and remained silent.


    Fagan''s mouth twitched. Ssyba''s indifference towards his performance and praise made him look foolish, merely a laughingstock. Was she not actually beaten and suppressed? Then why was she so smug now, just because she could run?


    "We gotta collect some money, that''s our first task. Think you can fight?" he said, forcing his grin through creaking fangs.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Ssyba''s expression was peaceful and calm, as she merely acknowledged him and nodded.


    Fagan started to swear in his mind, his simple and injured inhuman ego flaring up with pure brutish anger.


    Ssyba didn''t give a damn about it though. She had already decided: get a vraja potion and make use of her true power, of mana and her soul, ascend past the fleshly evaluations of her fellow nanza and achieve what no other nanza-cat had ever achieved. She had never thought of staying on these streets all her life to slog it all away under her brother''s claws. To these ignorant beasts, the attributes were the most important thing. But to Ssyba, they have become less than dirt.


    "Alright brother Fagan, if that''s all, then I''ll take my leave."


    "Good, we will see each other within the next couple of days."


    Fagan Stabs then spied on Ssyba for a few streets¡¯ worth afterwards. Heartache boiled in him whenever he saw the nanza as less than pets, when he saw this beautiful creature reduced to curiosities and tools. Due to this, he had a modicum of admiration for his sister Ssyba in particular, despite her angering him from time to time. Theirs was a good ancestry and his brother and two sisters were as genetically gifted as his very self. But where Ran inherited savagery and strength, Fagan had already ascended into the Perfect Vengeful Spirit path and Rauuka was as pretty as a picture, cute and soft-spoked, Ssyba''s main quality was her intelligence and creeping calmness. In fact, Fagan could almost swear that at times he felt a stifling quality about her presence. It was as if reality itself was creaking in unknown torsion, as if the pressure of holding her was too great for the earth.


    She seemed more than nanza by far, almost human one could say.


    ***


    Mid-day arrived with the sun reaching the eventual zenith, and the strange chilly wind stopped. After leaving Fagan Stabs, Ssyba walked slowly back to Tisila''s house.


    "So that''s it," she thought.


    Fagan was trying to humble her into servitude through the usual hard-boiled nanza methods, of which Ssyba was much too aware. She laughed. If she succeeded in acquiring the necessary means, her power would increase by orders of magnitude and she would ascend beyond the realms of nanza-cats. To do that, there were two crucial steps, each being extremely important.


    "The first step is to acquire knowledge about the creation, brewing and use of vraja potions. The second is amassing sufficient wealth and resources to aid me in my endeavor. Neither is more important than the other, as both of these facets complement each other. Leaving aside Fagan, I can complete, or at least start working towards completing the first step through Tisila."


    Ssyba walked to and entered Tisila''s house. In the entrance chamber of the house, the sun shone brightly against the various wall decorations. The low greetings table was filled with cold dishes and cold nad''m wine, and Tisila was sitting patiently. The moment she saw Ssyba entering through the window, her calm expression turned upset.


    ¡°What a scoundrel you are!¡± said Tisila through gritted teeth, seeing Ssyba dustied and disarranged.


    Although this was the result of Ssyba¡¯s amiable fight with Fagan Stabs, Tisila couldn¡¯t have known that, and so she rightfully assumed that Ssyba had sought problems with the gremlins once more. The room was too bright for Ssyba¡¯s senses, causing her to be awake and irritable. But she quickly checked her own mood, not wanting to deal with Tisila right now.


    Regardless of her schemes, no human in their right mind would start talking vraja potions and business with mere animals. It was like asking one¡¯s dog for opinions. Ssyba evaluated her own ability and knew it would be too much to ask Tisila for information, so she knew that the only other choice was to get mister Izzmahil, the renegade badau, to talk.


    ¡°To get whatever I need, I must first get Tisila off my back, but also somehow gain free and unsupervised access to the potion¡¯s kitchen. Helping her brew another potion simply won¡¯t do at this point. However, Tisila keeps it under a tight watch and lock, and only mister Izzmahil, when he comes to count the supplies, can gain entry. But to get under Izzmahil¡¯s skin is no easy task, though safer than with Tisila. Izzmahil is a badau regardless of what others say, and he has grown accustomed to the abnormalities of the world.¡±


    Thinking of this, Ssyba sighed. She had momentarily lost attention to her surroundings, and walked right past Tisila without even acknowledging her presence or inquiries. Losing her patience for a moment, Tisila jabbed her bamboo stick up on Ssyba''s head. Caught unaware and startled by the hit, Ssyba hissed. Tisila jabbed again, but this time Ssyba caught the stick with a flashy movement of her paws.


    "You forget your place!" the woman said with a severe voice, violently snatching the stick out of Ssyba¡¯s paw.


    ¡°I am sorry lady Tisila,¡± immediately replied Ssyba, though her mind was nowhere thinking about being sorry. She turned to leave, but Tisila pinched her ear.


    ¡°Never mind this, you half-witted vella. You think too much of yourself. I shouldn''t have shown you so much leniency when you helped me brew the healing potion.¡±


    Tisila¡¯s face was too nasty and her mood darker than night, Ssyba had to stop for a moment and get out of her own mind-space.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry lady Tisila,¡± Ssyba kept on repeating, a bit louder this time, though her expression turned grim and her eyes emitted a cold gaze.


    ¡°Take a step back and have a good taste of yourself."


    Ssyba scoffed and turned to go, but Tisila pinched her by the ear once more and dragged her in front of the mirror in the entrance hallway. She was a sloppy mess. There was of course dirt and dust all over Ssyba¡¯s fur, her langota was stained and her head wound reopened sometime during or after the fight with Fagan. She looked pathetic and beggarly, if nothing else.


    ¡°Hold on for a moment, you¡¯re always itching to be somewhere else. Do you really want to give me chest pains for worry of gremlins knocking down on my door looking for whoever is your master? What is it that you¡¯re doing all day and all night long?¡±


    "I want to be alone," Ssyba said.


    ¡°All you do lately is come home to eat, then you¡¯re off by yourself! Where? Well the River-god knows. I shelter you and feed you and I don¡¯t know. Not that I care, but if I¡¯m to wake up with gremlins in my house, I¡¯d rather not!¡±


    As she talked, Tisila stabbed painfully with her finger against Ssyba¡¯s head wound, and coupled with the barrage of scrutiny, it fairly started to drive Ssyba wild.


    ¡°I bet you¡¯re running all over the city looking for stuff to snatch or kill, looking for problems. That¡¯s what you nanza-cats do, am I right? For what? For what?¡±


    ¡°I have things to take care of,¡± said Ssyba but her face already clenched into a fist of animalistic fury.


    ¡°That¡¯s a grand one, things to take care of. You don¡¯t even own anything, not even yourself, you haven¡¯t earned a single rotten fish that wasn¡¯t for yourself. I won''t have my care for you rewarded with indifference and threats!¡±


    Tisila was in too much of a neurotic mood for Ssyba to say anything.


    ¡°Do you know that I can¡¯t sleep at night because the image of gremlins haunts my vision?¡±


    Ssyba was too on edge to give a damn about Tisila¡¯s nightly adventures. She stirred restlessly from side to side listening to Tisila¡¯s endless tirade, until finally her patience snapped. Ssyba throwed her whole weight against and pushed Tisila back. It wasn¡¯t a catastrophic event in and of itself, more comparable maybe to a dog biting the hand that feeds him, but mere animals shouldn¡¯t dare respond with violence against their masters. At this, Tisila''s fury turned into immense sadness. It happened so quickly that a silence snowed upon the room, leaving the women waiting for a few moments.


    Ssyba felt a clear, if not distant, sense of humiliation, and a long-suppressed moan got out of her. The unfair rebuke from earlier simply went on for much too long and, if truth be told, Ssyba did not see herself inferior in any way to Tisila. Her pride and disdain got the better of her.


    It was all over now! If Tisila ever bothered to notify the police, Ssyba would get a crushing beating, or she''d get hanged in a corner. But most humans wouldn¡¯t care enough for that, they¡¯d simply kill the animal on the spot. To avoid this, she would have to leave the house, stay low and hidden. Like a stray! And worst of all, her plan to get understanding and mastery methods on vraja potions was for now ruined.


    What sort of icy-cold, cruel and complicated game did the Unstar play on her? A strong wave of nausea hit her. Intense tiredness assaulted her. She mustered strength and forced herself to think but couldn''t, so she simply swung past Tisila and went to the stairs that led up to the roof. Tisila leapt back as if suddenly startled awake, and made a River-god protection sign with her thumb and ring finger, muttering solemn invocations.


    On the roof Ssyba took a deep breath and thoroughly managed to ignore Tisila''s calls. Beyond she saw the roofs of many houses and buildings from the neighborhood, and the streets below were unreasonably crowded with waves after waves of people and beasts, with the erect and titanic wall looming over them all like a protector god. It gave Ssyba at least a vague sentiment of reliability and might, that the world somehow still made sense. She leaned down and gazed forlornly on the barely visible desert. The bright blue sky suffused with an abnormal glow silently raging on the southwestern horizon, a view most uncanny. She stared for a long time at that spectral bubbling cloud in thought, and gradually an impotent sense of anger opened inside of her, with cries that could fine no way out of her heavy heart.


    In the house, Tisila threw up her hands in frustration.


    ¡°How long is this going to last? Well, I don¡¯t care, she¡¯s on her own now, I¡¯m not going to let her gnaw away at my health.¡±


    After waiting for Ssyba, perhaps unconsciously, the woman sighed and left for her potions laboratory to tinker a bit on the healing vraja potion recipe. had a notion, after learning some from her experience with working together with Ssyba, that she could somehow improve upon the original recipe and brew grade four potions more reliably. The secret, she concluded, was all about the boiling temperature. She swiftly poured some of her white cloud mana into the water, and set the black kettle on a flame, ready to brew. Tisila always had something brewing, or ready to brew, in her laboratory. Because there was still a chance of failure, however small, when brewing vraja potions, Tisila couldn¡¯t rely on a single attempt every time. She lifted the top off the kettle and let the steam swell before checking the infusion.


    ¡°I need to reduce the intensity of the flame a little,¡± spoke Tisila.


    She selected two sacks from a cabinet, inscribed Ground Glassheads and Yellow Moss. She sprinkled a measured quantity of both into the milky mana-infused water and this whole process helped calm her nerves. She absentmindedly reached for another silvery container marked Bleeding Chips and she realized, with a dull sense of weariness, that she¡¯d like for Ssyba to come back and help her brew this potion. To work together with Ssyba was one of the most stimulating experiences in Tisila¡¯s recent memory, and that was part of the reason why she had been so strict and discomposed.


    ¡°Why does she have to be such a reclusive animal? If only she were my daughter¡­¡±


    Tisila styled herself to be a good mother and Singau¡¯s departure made her all the more attached to Ssyba, though she never would have admitted. But as the situation stood before her, Ssyba was an unobedient beast and Singau, her only child, was absent from her life.


    ¡°It¡¯s all your fault,¡± murmured Tisila speaking to Ssyba, Singau, Izzmahil or perhaps even her own separated husband, the father of Singau. These were the only people in Tisila¡¯s life and out of four, three were gone or going.


    ***


    The previous day had used up all of Ssyba¡¯s spirit and willforce. She fell soundly asleep on the roof, thinking about various topics and plans and actions, and slept unperturbed until sunset. She opened her eyes into the twilight of dusk and felt her body and soul instantly recovered. She inwardly checked upon her mystical gate and saw the white cloud mana amassing within, gently swaying like a pure mist. She undulated to her feet and stretched the way most cats do, then turned to leave in order to meet up with her brother, Fagan Stabs.


    Instantaneously, Ssyba¡¯s predator senses screamed unwanted company! There was definitely someone else on the roof with her, right there and then. She sensed that it wasn¡¯t Tisila nor was it a nanza-cat, but rather a shadowy and threatening presence, a nearly imperceptible vibration in the air. Ssyba deliberately flexed every member of her agile body, straining like a crossbow ready to launch a bolt, each muscle holding much tension in her bones. It was getting dark, sure, but not for her cat eyes.


    Then a movement melting into existence, and a form jumping from a corner. Ssyba flashed her claws out like a set of razors, but before she could even raise her paws, something powerful crashed her into the wall, forcing a thick forearm into her throat and a metal spike ramming painfully into her ribs. Before her assailant managed to stab her, she arched her back, heaved her claws up like two hooks, and brought them down with a lioness roar. Her claws bit into and went through flesh. Hot, steaming blood sprayed and dripped. Her assailant relented and Ssyba pushed against the wall, leading a wide kick into the unseen. It missed. Then the assassin had her, wrapping a chain around her neck and pulling her to his chest.


    "How I''ve longed to do that, wench," growled a low buzzing voice.


    His breath smelled of garlic and wet earth. It was the largest, thickest and ugliest gremlin Ssyba had ever seen. His green-gray skin was marked by the characteristic bumps, scales, various tumor-like growths and ridges. Worst of all, there was a third eye on his cheek, under his otherwise normal left eye.


    Ssyba had surrendered her breath, fought only to protect the fragility of her neck. The gremlin wrenched twice, but the third time Ssyba managed to hook her fangs on his trapezius muscle, biting a good chunk off. Howling in pain, the gremlin manhandled her up and smashed her head against the floor. As he yanked her up again, Ssyba struck with her foot, puffed the light off his normal left eye with the point of her claws.


    The gremlin staggered for just a second and at once Ssyba slashed low on his stomach. He caught her arm and brought his colossal hammer-like fist down on her head. One strike. It caught her unprepared. Her left eye socket crumbled like an eggshell.


    Ssyba collapsed on the floor and blood seemed to chase the edges of her form.


    "Soft," nodded the gremlin as a man''s voice called from the house below.

 Chapter 6: The only way is forward

    Chapter 6: The only way is forward


    Somewhere in Central Yasha''Lafiq, the morning sun was shining bright and the air was uniquely still and suffocating, as if mere breathing could not satisfy.


    A long, ivory-stone thoroughfare led the first prince''s general on the way through an opulent artesian water garden, from the High Azure Fortress towards a traditionally made tso-man house. Where most citizens of Yasha¡¯Lafiq were too poor and careful to afford drinking water and instead turned to the common nad''m, this whole garden exemplified the true riches of the princedom, of which the general had only had an inkling of beforehand. Towards the north-east a stone aqueduct of ancient craft could be seen running all across this walled district, and plum trees on each side of the walkway offered some much needed shade.


    The second prince''s residence, the two-story high tso-man house, was made out of two circular closed pavilions stacked one on top of the other, with a grand and sweeping golden-tiled roof. The walls were supported by seven salamander pillars, each representing the occult water aspects of Jord: spring, river, lake, ocean, rain, cloud and ice. The whole interior was spacious and went up in a subtle ascending direction, the main room being split into three terraces. It resembled the style of a legendary tso-man palace, complete with water, coral reefs, salamanders, flood dragons, fish and other aquatic motifs adorning it. This was the domicile of prince Medzanalfif, and the general was gently led inside by the prince''s white-robed servants.


    He took the initiative:


    "General Talamar pays his respects to Second Prince Medzanalfif," spoke the general.


    This man was vigorous and tanned, handsome like any true son of the desert, but an odd bronze luster radiated off his skin in the sunlight, as if his flesh was crafted and given shape out of an unknown metal. His lively eyes and thick jaw gave off an aura of confidence and steadfastness. He was the first prince''s left-arm general, the man known as the Siege and the one personally acclaimed by prince Yanamusad as the architect of his ascendancy.


    "It''s been many years since we last met," leisurely acknowledged Medzanalfif. "Back then, though you might not remember, I noticed your performance and commitment to the city''s well-being in the herald storm''s sad aftermath."


    "I am grateful that the second prince remembers, though I have been backed by my betters and gained much from it as well. Thus I can not take the credit fully by myself," Talamar bowed stiffly.


    It was obvious that he wasn''t a man of niceties and royal formalities, and Medzanalfif laughed. Men such as the Siege were of unhesitating action and firmness of hand.


    When he was a junior, he had a fortuitous encounter with a princess of Yasha''Lafiq who fancied him, guided and invested in him. As Talamar''s power and experience grew, so did his reputation until he entered the inner circles of the city, while the princes sought to recruit or buy him. The man grew up to become a prestigious expert in the physical vraja aspects, but his loyalty remained forever with the princess. Although there weren''t any clues at the point of her death nor at the funeral, many realized that the two might have fallen in love with one another. Soon after that, Talamar was recruited by Yanamusad, under whose supervision he eventually gained the reputation as the Siege. Talamar''s arsenal included many strength, endurance and durability enhancing vraja potions, as well as an extremely rare unbound metal vraja potion. Most unbound class vraja potions were sparse across the world, almost impossible to acquire under ordinary circumstances, and each and every one of them were relatively priceless. Even most of the princes did not own one. The reason being that the power they brought forth from the heavens had a lifelong duration and the effectiveness was permanent at its available quality. In other words, if someone consumed an unbound vraja potion, they could use the power indefinitely without any mana consumption. In a sense, unbound vraja potions altered the very foundations of the Yada, actualizing the essence of being. That''s why they were called unbound, because they surpassed the natural rules of Jord and the great Yada.


    But the heavens were fair, and although unbound vraja potions were outstanding in their own right, the price and demands were often too overwhelming for any one individual to bear. This was simply the balance in all things.


    "There is no need to put yourself down. Vraja potions are only tools, nothing else, and the attitude and display of skill is still any man''s responsibility. Nobody will take that away from you," responded Medzanalfif, waving his hand.


    "You are too kind, second prince."


    Medzanalfif smiled with ease. He was considered very handsome by the entire royal court and could have married any princess if he so desired, plus he appeared to be radiating with an aura of insight and brilliance, which made him an attractive potential ally. His careful nature and obscure studies in the dark soul discipline however made him seem quiet and remote, and some could consider that to be offensive.


    "But now I have unwillingly ascended to the second position, so many have already approached me," thought Medzanalfif.


    He was clear about this. The princes only cared about themselves, status and ultimate power. Right now in Yasha¡¯Lafiq, the most powerful faction was under the current first prince, Yanamusad, so naturally all those who opposed him wished to collude under the second prince, Medzanalfif. Such a thing wouldn''t have been tolerated long by Iriazel, Medzanalfif knew, but towards the end of her life she was schemed against by many, including Yanamusad, who eventually restricted her from resources and sources for her power. Her long forceful reign was outrageous and she had gathered too many enemies, lone experts coming out of seclusion and masters to conspire against her. Their dark alliance turned out to be the only way to finally destroy and axe her from the First Throne, save for betrayal, because Iziarel had accumulated tremendous battle results over the years and no sole individual could contend with her great arrangements.


    Out of the shadows, however, Medzanalfif watched as one of the pillars of support for Iriazel and the last one to stay by her side. In the end, even he had to withdraw and show manners to her assassins and authors of her death. Even now, his face showed a calm expression, because he understood that this meeting would only mark the beginning of collaboration between the main forces of Yasha¡¯Lafiq. It was a long-term investment to cooperate and supply Yanamusad.


    Yanamusad had very few flaws, except that he cared too much about his own well-being, wealth and power. Not that he was selfish, in fact he had a truly affectionate and protective nature towards his family. In order to protect his child, he nearly risked the entire Iriazel operation by keeping his right-hand general at the back together with some troops. Thus, his forces were weaker when sieging the Azure Fortress and if Iriazel wasn''t already weakened by the other princes'' schemes, the results would have been different, for Iriazel was known to respond tenfold when conspired against.


    Medzanalfif smiled lightly at this thought. To think that the entire landscape of Yasha''Lafiq could have changed upon the whim of a father''s absolute resolve to protect his only daughter. Medzanalfif could not understand the depths of filial love and if he was truthful to himself, he would have done things somewhat differently in Yanamusad''s place.


    He sighed. Nobody could be invincible, no matter how much power and resources and knowledge they amass. Such a thing as defying death and the heavens did not exist.


    After a moment of silence, he stretched his palms outwardly as in welcome, and said:


    "Alright general, let us do business."


    Talamar did not speak, only took out a register from his satchel and handed it over to Medzanalfif. There were many lines written on the paper and it touched upon key aspects only known by the princes of Yasha''Lafiq, including arrangements, old deals and debts, secrets and future endeavors, but there was also a list of ingredients and materials for vraja potions numbering in the hundreds.


    "This is fair, I can provide you with no issues," Medzanalfif barely opened his eyes to browse through the contents.


    To brew, consume and use vraja potions were the three main aspects of power. The depth of each of these fields of study was an acknowledged discipline in and of itself. Many scholars and experts would study a facet for decades before making a breakthrough in strategy or bring a new approach to light, and some might simply refine upon the established tactics without going too deep into exploration. In this regard, Medzanalfif could be considered a true brewing great master, but more specialized in the fine process of ingredient selection and storage. He possessed an array of materials and elements as wide as the desert, and only through unreasonably vast maneuvering did Yanamusad restrict him (as well as other master brewers and ingredients shops in the city) to provide Iriazel with what she needed, thus weakening her tremendously in the end.


    Medzanalfif gently turned while excusing himself, and called for a white-robed handmaiden.


    "Zenki!" then sat for a few moments in silence, before turning back towards Talamar.


    "I have my own disciples in this respectable branch of brewing, out of which the appraising of ingredients is only a small division. That''s what we do here, evaluate and correctly sum up the prices of ingredients."


    "That''s marvelous, second prince," murmured Talamar, though Medzanalfif thought he only did it out of respect, not genuine academic interest.


    Zenki arrived shortly after. She was a very narrow and erect woman in her middle age with a distinct librarian look to herself, and by her lighter skin tone and black hair tied in a bun, Talamar correctly guessed that she was a south-westerner. The unique political climate of Yasha''Lafiq was indeed a focus point to many foreigners, many of whom wished to work directly with the princes.


    "Are you familiar with any of these ingredients?" asked Medzanalfif while pointing directly at the register.


    "With all of them, except four," Zenki replied.


    "Very good. Go now and have them all ready for delivery, except the four. What does it say?"


    Zenki squinted her already slanted eyes and lowered her reading glasses, then replied:


    "It says here dry icy elderspear, wooden stormbird legs, breadfish scales and purple soul moss."


    "That is no trouble. Find Fufei and request his assistance, and also tell him that this is a priority above all others, since we are serving the first prince Yanamusad."


    Zenki nodded stiffly and trotted off the way she came. Looking at her with but a sparkling glance, Talamar straightened his back and shoulders, but did not move a single step.


    "Please have something to drink, general," said Medzanalfif while blinking.


    It seemed like he was crying, then his tears transformed into something resembling an ice flower levitating mid air. It opened and a fragrant water tendril stretched out of it and poured directly into the glasses awaiting on the low table.


    Talamar looked at it with suspicion and Medzanalfif smiled at his innocence born out of ignorance:


    "This is the iced sky bloom vraja potion," explained Medzanalfif. "It is quite expensive throughout the whole Alyriam desert belt buckle because of the required ingredients, although it is only a grade two vraja potion and the ingredients are rather common plants elsewhere. Since the means of brewing it are mostly tied to the foreign lands beyond the western mountains, this makes it a very rare potion here, and as far as I am aware, I am the only one possessing the complete recipe in the entire Yasha''Lafiq."


    The world of Jord was wide and vast, with deep wastelands and thick wilderness, filled with spectacular flora and fauna and wonders that surpassed the imagination. It was very difficult for humans to travel freely and brave the dangers beyond their natural borders, and communication and knowledge of the outside realms was quite limited. For example, the people of Yasha''Lafiq and the Alyriam desert were isolationists mainly due to their princedom form of government, where the succeeding prince would consolidate their own power and maintain their position rather than build upon the successes of the previous prince. Thus, the citizens of Alyriam mostly occupied themselves with their own lands and businesses and crafts, and would pay little to no attention to what happened abroad.


    For Medzanalfif to casually drop information about the far nations beyond the western mountain range, it gave Talamar a vague sense of pressure. It was obvious that Medzanalfif¡¯s business was very prosperous and he was in no rush to arm himself and his allies for an eventual clash with Yanamusad.


    "It must be exceptionally useful for those that walk the desert," observed Talamar while accepting his glass of water.


    "You are correct. The badawin caravans have made me very rich, though they discovered that when faced with direct sunlight, the flower had the tendency to evaporate quickly."


    "Is it potable?" asked Talamar with the simple-minded curiosity of the desert-born.


    "It is," assured Medzanalfif.


    Talamar tasted it and nodded with contentment. It was indeed purified and satiating, cold and tasted almost like sweet roses.


    "This potion flower allows for the storage of clear water and although it''s not an unbound vraja potion, the duration is extended for as long as it doesn''t dry up from sunlight exposure and overuse. It always replenishes with the water that the user imbibes, it purifies it further and stores it for later use."


    Talamar made a face as if he wanted to say something, but he stopped when the floating flower made out of ice closed up and disappeared in a frigid cloud.


    "Are you interested in this potion?" inquired Medzanalfif, also drinking some of his scented water.


    Talamar''s body stiffened and his eyes flickered only once, but it was enough for the methodical Medzanalfif to guess that this metal man, the general, was not cold and arrogant. His greatest flaw however could be his reluctance to ask for help, and once receiveth, he would make sure to compensate it tenfold.


    "Ah, it seems rather that you wish something else from my stocks."


    "Yes, that is correct," responded Talamar.


    Medzanalfif lowered his voice:


    "Do you want it under the table?"


    Talamar shook his head then took out another list from within his military coat and showed it to Medzanalfif.


    "I can sell this all to you, general," said Medzanalfif, narrowing his eyes. "Interesting, this is the felid pheromone vraja potion. It is used to enslave the minds of cats and felines, but it is not true mind control. Rather, it is a way to sway their emotions according to your heart¡¯s whim, like gently pushing a boat to and fro in the great God-river. Do you want it?"


    "Of course," responded Talamar.


    Medzanalfif was quite shrewd and realized some things immediately. This potion is useless for a master of the physical vraja aspects and it was not suitable for the Siege''s fighting style as a powerhouse of overwhelming strength and fortitude. He had already investigated all that was relevant about the general, and it seemed like Talamar solemnly scrutinised the loss of one of his subordinates during the clash with Irizael, despite the overall success of their operation. The official story was that the man died while battling the flames in an effort to save princess Iriazel, and Medzanalfif intuited that Talamar loathed this cover up. Naturally, it meant that he had the need to prove his own worth as a lone pillar. Him coming here, and not letting Yanamusad send someone else, likely meant exactly that:


    The general was a fairly introverted man for whom a failure sends bigger ripples than ten successes. Men such as the Siege made perfect soldiers.


    Medzanalfif could not help but admire Yanamusad for his capacity to acquire such a useful tool.


    ¡°Not many will find a need for this vraja potion, so it is somewhat cheap on the market. General, you did the right thing coming to me for this transaction. I am willing to sell you the vraja potion as well as materials for further brewing. Should you lack the means, you are welcome to use my laboratory, for a small fee.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, second prince.¡±


    ¡°Dancing troupes and badawin caravans will use it on their nanza-cat slaves, and others in exotic harems, can you imagine how? So it looks like a strange request coming from you. If it¡¯s not too impolite to further ask, what do you need the felid pheromone vraja potion for?¡±


    So many improper questions! Talamar¡¯s fists balled into two sturdy, hammer-like fists capable of cracking through solid walls. It was all he could do to refrain himself from hitting this prince for his immodest assumption. A hard moment of fading smiles followed, during which Talamar realized his mistake. What Medzanalfif posed was a fair and unavoidable question.


    "I need it personally," Talamar replied through his teeth.


    ¡°It is a grade one potion and not as useful as one would expect, even when employing higher quality mana. Cats, especially big cats of the elven-cat and nanza-cat categories, are somewhat individualistic animals and the intelligent ones can occasionally resist this diffused form of emotion manipulation when they are forced to do things contrary to their nature¡­¡± continued Medzanalfif, seemingly oblivious to the internal struggle within Talamar¡¯s metal stronghold of a body.


    "Make sure to align your heart to their mood and the control will be more potent."


    Talamar merely nodded at Medzanalfif''s suggestion. The silence stretched for too long to simply denote shock or hurt. There was reluctance and an even thicker sense of suspicion in Talamar¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°I will come here to trade often in the coming weeks, second prince, so there is no hope in hiding and no purpose in denying.¡±


    Talamar paused again and finished drinking his rose-tinted water. He felt like a traitor talking and divulging secrets with his own voice, and the words came out in painful gasps.


    ¡°The first prince has tasked me with retrieving important assets from the tomb of Ba. For that, I would need a special assault force under my direct command, expendable troops as you well understand. My first choice was to hire the Cultelari of course, but currently the first prince himself will lead them in order to penetrate a recently discovered izzia hive in the east."


    "That does make sense," Medzanalfif nodded and waved for one of his capable servants to prepare this order of materials and consumables. Izzia hives were usually treated as a priority.


    A potion was handed to Talamar for immediate use, as well as brewing instructions and ingredients to be sent to the laboratory, where Talamar, or somebody hired by him, could brew.


    "Second prince, you are worthy of everyone''s respect and first prince Yanamusad had made the correct decision to trade directly with you, instead of unfairly treating you as his enemy."


    Talamar was polite and could not stop himself from praising, in spite of the fact that mere moments ago he nearly split Medzanalfif''s skull with a punch. Men, it seems, were easily swayed by all things indirect.


    Medzanalfif merely smiled gently.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    "It is my honor to be able to do business with the first prince himself and his men."


    Medzanalfif appeared very modest by lowering his status to the same level as Talamar. After the short tense moment, the two men now discussed for a while longer in a harmonious manner, exchanging pleasantries and information.


    "Please let me pay a sum of money as a deposit for future transactions," offered Talamar earnestly. "If the first mission with the nanza-cats is a success, I will need all the materials for the felid pheromone vraja potion that you have, as well as access to the laboratory for brewing. I will form divisions and have my own men also use the potion to enhance their commanding ability."


    Medzanalfif accepted the money and assured the general with elegant goodwill. This had made Talamar evaluate the prince much more highly.


    "I am curious about something, if you would oblige," Medzanalfif suddenly spoke.


    "Please, second prince, ask me anything," Talamar''s gaze flashed.


    "What does elder brother Yanamusad seek in the decrepit ruins of Ba?"


    Talamar was taken aback for a moment, but quickly regained his calmness.


    "Perhaps the second prince knows more about it than I do," he spoke truthfully. "My mission is to retrieve assets and I know little else."


    Medzanalfif gathered his brow in a frown and started to contemplate on Iriazel''s information as well as everything else that he knew about Yanamusad. His thoughts turned out superfluous and tangled, with too many variables to consider. Perhaps Yanamusad sought legendary ingredients for vraja potions, or hidden recipes or means of brewing, or perhaps it would aid Yanamusad in some other convoluted way.


    "I have no way of knowing," admitted Medzanalfif to Talamar.


    "First prince Yanamusad did mention that I would need to deal with the old elementals and their overlord while inside, first, as a measure of precaution. There is a possibility that I might need the numbers, which is why I will employ the nanza-cats."


    Medzanalfif''s gaze flashed with understanding as he heard the general''s complaint. He was somewhat of a scholar of ancient beliefs himself, and was familiar with the most popular legends, metaphysics and the metaknowledge. What Talamar described was nothing else but finding the ossuary of Ba Busal, lost in ancient times to the perils of the desert. According to the legends, the sage Busel''ek married a soulless tso-woman and unearthed a way to give them mana, power and an artificial soul with the use of vraja potions. But before he could research further and gain understanding over life and death, the outraged leaders of those bygone days hunted him down and exiled him, because they could not kill him. In his last days of life, he had built and buried himself within the mausoleum known today as the tomb of Ba Busal, or simply the tomb of Ba.


    Medzanalfif cast his eyes down as he pondered:


    "If there truly exists a way to ascribe a soul to the soulless... don''t tell me, Yanamusafd wants to learn the secrets of resurrection from Busel''ek himself? If that''s the case, he doesn''t want any artifact or assets, he wants a stubborn fool with a large sense of duty to clear those dark catacombs so he could safely explore and study them. What for, though? Does Yanamusad really seek to resurrect the dead king Na''calial, or is that part of an even larger plan as well?"


    Medzanalfif''s thoughts moved at lightning speed.


    "Let''s see what are Yanamusad''s main fields of study¡­ no, he is a great master in the ka aspect and a colossal combat maniac, feared and admired by many for his physical prowess. But a scholar, Yanamusad is not!"


    Seeing that Medzanalfif had not said anything in a while and was absentmindedly gazing off to nowhere, Talamar said:


    "At the present time, first prince Yanamusad should have already given orders to mobilize his vanguard troops towards the izzia hive in order to scout the situation. He proclaimed both theirs and mine to be urgent missions, although since he wants to capture live specimens, the izzia hive should be more dangerous to deal with, which is why he is leading himself soon."


    As he spoke, Talamar''s intonation changed slightly, which caught Medzanalfif''s attention and it hooked him out of his meditation.


    "He said he needs live izzia specimens?"


    Medzanalfif took great care not to sound excited or concerned, but this seemingly irrelevant information was disturbing to say the least. The external affairs council, which was a neutral force in Yasha¡¯Lafiq, often organized extermination missions on the izzia swarms and even forced the princes to participate or collaborate and join forces, when such a swarm could potentially pose a problem. It was simply because the izzia were a hive mind monster. But to capture live izzia specimens, it would only be done for the harvest of materials, usually by lower tier warriors, since the izzii did not yield useful potion ingredients.


    "Let us be honest, Yanamusad doesn''t need izzia body parts, nor does he need aggressive pets. He is too ambitious, too grandiose. If he personally wants to attack the izzia hive, it could only mean that he wishes to take control of the hive mind and thus, gain control over the entire swarm!" Medzanalfif thought, with dread creeping up his spine.


    With a distant tone Medzanalfif had thanked the general and sent him on his way together with his order of ingredients and felid pheromone vraja potions, then moved gracefully into his study room.


    Medzanalfif carefully pondered Yanamusad''s intentions over his stacks of tomes and scrolls, trying to find understanding in his actions with the help of ancient knowledge. After a person reaches a profound maturity in vraja comprehension, something of a divine intuition would make its way into their mind. The vraja potions were not merely a tool, but they were a way for the divinity to make itself known. Vraja potions were vessels that carried the laws of the great Yada in differing proportions, each unique. Upon brewing, drinking and using such potions, upon using their mana, humans gained insight into these laws of nature itself and could uncover secrets previously not even hinted at. Medzanalfif could feel his mystical gate filling up with his faded ash mana as his understanding deepened. He was close to uncovering his elder brother''s plans.


    Yanamusad did not amass power for power''s sake, as much of a barbarian that he was. He looked for certain things, certain elements and there was a vague connection between each step. The izzia hive mind, Ba''s secrets of raising the dead, the king Na''calial and Iriazel''s mystifying relic from the time of dryads. Just as a vraja potion was not merely a tool, but an opened book of heavenly knowledge, Yanamusad did not merely gather tools of power, but wished to attempt something which would truly defy the heavens.


    That was it! Medzanalfif gasped in astonishment.


    He nearly jumped from his chair and tossed all the books and parchments around, trying to find one with the information that he needed.


    Yanamusad wanted to conquer the heavens, brute force his way directly into the heavenly realms. For that, the only possible thing that he could do was to Break through the north with overwhelming force, an army and much sacrifice.


    "The Break! The Break! That''s what Yanamusad wants to do!"


    The Break, in theory, referred to a magical journey northward, attempted only by masterful sages and god-like men, towards enlightenment and utter mastery over the earthly realms below. It usually involved a massive battle at the ends of the world, and the reward for winning was the heavenly realm. This concept would go on and influence literature and the arts deeply in the world of Jord, it was as basic as the hero''s journey. Those few exalted figures of history who had attempted the Break were all exemplary individuals, god-emperors and mighty warriors, experts in many fields and leaders who could amass vast armies at a shift of their thought.


    There were few ways Yanamusad could attempt it, and in every instance he needed to take control of Yasha''Lafiq and its First Throne. Iriazel''s peace brought an unprecedented sense of stagnation within the ruling powers of Yasha''Lafiq, and Yanamusad could never forgive it, thus removing Iriazel was merely the first, and easiest, step.


    ***


    Ssyba slowly opened her eyes. All she saw before her was a white blur but as her vision gradually returned and her eyes adjusted to the early morning light, she saw a bedroom. She found herself in a bed covered by a silk red blanket. Beside the bed there was a small incense stove burning some and giving off an arousing fragrance. The room was sandy and modest but elegant, the table and chairs, bed and dressing paravan were all made out of dark wood and adorned with soft carvings and paint. There was a gentle atmosphere hanging in the air¡­


    And contrasting it, Izzmahil¡¯s face looking over Ssyba was like a rough mud statue in a prince''s palace. The badau was dark and wrinkled and dried up like a dehydrated plum. His skin was rough and tattooed, and his brows were heavy set like two cliffs.


    "Just how long did I sleep?" asked Ssyba.


    She was feeling healthy, well rested, as if rejuvenated but there was a sense of slowness in her mind and the space between her eyes felt heavy. She patted her head and her heart sank. There was no injury, no scar, no pain, absolutely nothing.


    "Yes, yes, the potion did its job," rasped Izzmahil. He gesticulated around her face and body, saying: "The flesh remembers even though it''s closed. Come on, poke it!"


    He pointed with his finger on her ribs and head, and it felt heavy and hot, like a mad nightmare of bodily pain. However, the potion''s aftereffect absorbed most of the pain.


    "You got messed up hard," remarked Izzmahil. "This must have been payback from last time they came to steal."


    Ssyba merely shook her head.


    "You shouldn''t have chased that gremlin bastard, now that the Cultelari are in town," said Izzmahil, his voice suddenly severe. "This even looks like the job of the Cultelari. You bullied one of them and they wanted pain for it. Real nasty bastards."


    Ssyba sprung up from the bed, unable to sit any longer.


    "I''m not about to just take it in the ass with a smile on my face," began Ssyba to talk.


    It was almost time for her to go and meet with Fagan, let him know that she''s up for the task.


    The reinforced health and vigor of her body was almost overwhelming, after these last few days of continuous exhaustion and injury. She glanced upon her paw and raised a fist, then unclenched it and flashed her claws out like a set of razor blades. It dawned upon her that most people, especially animals, are living in a perpetual state of bearable illness and ruin, but due to a lack of point of reference, they regard their destitute condition as the norm.


    "So that''s it? No explanation?" suddenly said Izzmahil with a low grumbling sigh in his voice.


    "Lady Tisila concocts such teas, well, they are miraculous," said Ssyba, unsure of what else to say to Izzmahil.


    Ssyba only realized that now, with the health vraja potion running through her body and acting its magic, that she had been discovered somehow!


    "Lady Tisila truly knows how to make a good tea, hehe..." awkwardly said Ssyba once more, but this time with some tremble in her voice, trying to nonsense her way out of this fiddly situation.


    Izzmahil pondered upon her for a while.


    "No," he replied. "That was a potion, kitty, don''t try to bullshit me, it ain''t gonna work!"


    The silence fell hard and heavy upon them. Ssyba''s face knotted into a frown, her back heaved and clenched and her tail coiled and went rigid, but she remained on the spot. Izzmahil merely snorted at her. He wasn''t afraid of a nanza-cat, even if she did possess a soul.


    "It couldn''t have been a vraja potion that healed me, mister Izzmahil," said Ssyba, staring at Izzmahil with a spine-chilling gleam in her cat eyes. "That would be impossible. Care to check again?"


    But Izzmahil stared back at her, remote as a mountain.


    "It was," he said with a wheezing tone, "because I brewed it myself and I carried it on my person. And though you may lie, the mystical gate on yourself can not. I suggest you close the damn thing, it leaks white cloud mana all over the fucking place!"


    At that exact moment, Ssyba understood the breadth, the sheer vastness of the human beyond those black eyes. What he had lived and what he must have seen, the places that he had traveled as a badau riding on top of hellish entelodonts, might just as well be part of another world. The badawin were, in a sense, more than the simple folk inside the city. They had a truly unique sense of observation and discipline. Even though Ssyba''s mystical gate escaped Tisila''s scrutiny, it could not escape Izzmahil.


    "What¡­ how did you know?" asked Ssyba with a distant and unsure glance.


    "Don''t be absurd, you had it wide open like the whore''s legs. Close that gate before someone else notices it!"


    Ssyba closed her mystical gate and immediately after, there was no more trace of mana left around it, as it all evaporated. The poorer the quality of mana, the faster it dissipates.


    She rearranged her scattered thoughts and breathed out deeply, deciding within herself:


    "I''ve been discovered but I''ll make the best of this situation for now. It actually isn''t bad at all considering the fact that I wanted to pursue Izzmahil for help in the first place." She snickered under her breath and her gaze turned cold and firm. "Wait, shouldn''t I simply act now and eliminate him? There would be no restriction on me if nobody knows my secret, but it''s also true that I would need a human''s help at some point, just as I need Fagan. I can not build a good foundation on my own, and Tisila won''t do it."


    The truth was, Ssyba was not ruthless and cruel like her two brothers, she detested slaughter and she even had somewhat of an admiration for Izzmahil. And besides, for an intelligent animal to kill a human was the most unforgivable crime in Yasha¡¯Lafiq. It was a premeditated crime. If someone ever caught her she would be executed, but before that she would be mercilessly tortured and torn apart for many days as a form of spectacle in order to serve as a warning.


    Ssyba calmly evaluated the situation and she decided that it was not worth the risk. When people panic, they make foolish decisions and the pressure of outside factors only intensifies the hastiness of such an ignorant set of actions.


    But Ssyba quickly recovered her wits and thanked Izzmahil deeply and sincerely for having the presence of mind to administer her a health vraja potion.


    "You would''ve died," replied Izzmahil with less emotion than Ssyba would have liked. "I saw that your mystical gate was open and overflowing, but that might have been a fluke. Either way you were succumbing to the injuries so I made the unthinkable decision to give you the potion. It''s a grade two health potion you see, and with that amount of white cloud mana reacting to it, it was enough to heal you."


    "But mister Izzmahil, does that really mean that I have a soul?"


    "We''ll, at the very least it means you have accumulated mana to spare, for whatever reason."


    "And isn''t that unusual?" asked Ssyba with a spine-chilling gleam in her cat eyes.


    "It is," murmured Izzmahil while shrugging. "Perhaps you are the foretold reincarnation of goddess Marduni."


    Marduni, the goddess of birth and rebirth was a deity of intelligent animals, beasts and other non-human beings who lived in the human society. It was in their belief that every living creature was of the same flesh, made by the same godly hands of Marduni, birthed and rebirthed, incarnated and reincarnated until the prophesied Gift will be born, a godlike existence, a beast with a soul, one who would create the afterlife for non-humans.


    "Do you really think that?" asked Ssyba.


    "Too much is left unexplained in this world," responded Izzmahil at length while pondering the incense rising smoke. "Even the princedom can''t cope with all the mysteries of Jord, for a lot is more dangerous than the powers of mankind."


    Ssyba raised her head to look at Izzmahil and widened her eyes.


    "Really? You think so?"


    "I know it, I''ve seen it! The vast world out there is so magical you won¡¯t believe it, you don¡¯t know how it grinds you unless you''ve walked it. It¡¯s strange, I tell you, I could tell stories about snakes so large as to blot our beloved river, Na-jid, in a single gulp, and winged snakes who breathe fire hotter than any vraja potion can conjure! There are ruins of an ancient civilization, nothing more than hills and cliffs to your eyes; those were buildings at one point. There are places we in the badawin caravans call dryad groves, where life spills into our world from yet another world entirely, completely unchained and unaccounted for. In these spots, there are plants far more dangerous than whole armies of mankind!"


    "I can''t imagine a banana tree moving and battling," said Ssyba with bemused politeness.


    "Those things within the dryad groves are not simple plants, nor are they animal in nature. They are perhaps shadows of another world. Have I told you the story of Hauras?"


    "Don''t think you have," said Ssyba plainly.


    "A badawin legend..."


    ***


    At the time of worldly creation, when there was heaven on earth and the earth was in heaven, the first human was made pitiful and fragile, to be constantly chased down and bullied by larger beasts. Why, it''s because heaven was a physical place within Jord and no soul was needed to travel between heaven and earth. All beasts were free to roam all the realms of existence and creation.


    Now, the first human was small and would often hide in the dark and under the cover of brushes and moss, in the divine domain of the dryads. Hauras was the first human''s name.


    Having heard of Hauras'' struggles, the dryad known as Plight pondered and came with a solution, and she said:


    "I shall give you the drink of Mastery, but you must also give a part of yourself to me and my garden."


    And Hauras agreed and was made intelligent and mighty. With his newfound power, he conquered all that he could lay his hand on. With such power however, came the envy and contempt of all other beasts, and they banded together and so his enemies multiplied. Soon, Hauras found himself kneeling before Plight once more, saying:


    "The beasts of the world formed groups to come against me. I need the help of the dryads!"


    Plight, upon pondering, replied:


    "I made a mistake in giving you all that Mastery. I shall split you in half because your strength of arm and sharpness of mind is world breaking and the beasts are concerned. You will no longer be alone to battle on your own though, so rejoice."


    Thus, the woman came into existence and together with the woman, children that Hauras had sired. He wasn''t as strong as before because his time was slowly taken away by Plight and age caught up to him, but he had many hands to help him in times of need. The age of war between man and beast followed.


    While all of this happened on earth, the lords of the heavens observed and were not pleased.


    "If humanity conquered the earth, it would only be a matter of time until they conquer the heavens!" they all agreed.


    And the lords of heavens separated heaven from earth, then descended with stars, thunder, fire, wind, ice and all the elements upon humanity. The age of war between man and universe followed.


    For the third time, Hauras knelt at the dryad''s heel, pleading:


    "The heavenly lords are decimating my sons and daughters and have barred us all from their domain. We are tired, starving and in pain, ruled by fear and antagonism. Help us!"


    Plight pondered and said:


    "I can not help you. If we, the dryads, aid you against them, then this world will surely end."


    And Hauras walked out of her grove with sadness in his old and battered heart. He went alone on top of a mountain and sat upon a rock, too exhausted and drained to do anything else. The lord of death in heaven, unexpectedly, took pity on Hauras and descended upon the mountain in the form of a spider.


    "There''s a fine thread that I have, me," he whispered in Hauras''s ear. "It can''t get you out of here if ya tie something onto it."


    "Like a gift or a present? But I have nothing," said Hauras pitifully. "The beasts of earth and the lords of heavens battle against me and they have taken everything that I ever had."


    Both Hauras and the spider lord of death sat in silence, until Hauras said:


    "I have nothing else, so I offer you my own life in return."


    The lord of death agreed and wove a thread for Hauras to grab onto.


    "What about my body?" desperately called Hauras.


    "Leave it behind, don''t cling to it" responded the lord of death. "It''s too heavy for me to pull."


    Before departing into the heavenly realm, however, Hauras said:


    "But my lord, there are my children here. I can not leave them all alone."


    "Then I shall weave the thread of hope for them to hold onto, so that they will know their way to heaven when the time of death comes. I ask for nothing in return, because hope is cheap, easy to hold onto and also easy to lose."


    Hauras agreed, and the spider lord of heaven pulled him from the earth into heaven.


    ***


    By mid-day Ssyba had mostly recovered her sense and sharpness of wit. The spell of the vraja potion returned to Ssyba a feeling she had not known since her time as a cub. What had been anxiety in her then had widened into a mental stamina that was indescribable. Restlessness became vigor, and self-fear became clarity.


    "What are you going to do?" asked Izzmahil while tossing Ssyba another glass of nad''m. "Tisila made me promise that once you wake up, you''re no longer allowed to enter the house. The Cultelari, you see... The badawin have a saying and it goes: this is the straw that broke the camel''s back."


    Ssyba blinked quizzically. That was no lie, no jest that came out of Izzmahil¡¯s mouth, she could sense the worry in his voice despite his hardened outside. Izzmahil was one of the toughest men that Ssyba had ever met, he could put the fiercest nanza-cats to shame. To Ssyba it was clear that Izzmahil and Tisila might probably have fallen in love at their age, a simple love born out of need for companionship.


    "What is there else to do, mister Izzmahil," said Ssyba somewhat troubled. "The only way is forward."


    She exhaled a long breath and leaned back. Tisila might have forgiven her latest outburst of violence, when Ssyba pushed her, might have looked past many of Ssyba¡¯s misgivings as an animal, might have even accepted the fact that she was an equal in essence. But the fact that the Cultelari had come into her own house twice, it was simply too much to look past. Her fright and her worry wouldn''t relent.


    "Well for starters, you could attend to the prince''s Declaration," suggested Izzmahil with a playful wink. "There''s a large crowd promised today in the northern square, rich people too, the stalls are unattended, there''s chaos to be sure."


    Something genuine glittered in the badau''s eyes, something implying a mischievous sense of wisdom and cunning.


    "Is it today already? I don''t know mister Izzmahil¡­"


    "You should go," urged the badau further. "It''s not often these days that a prince gets to ascend to the First Throne, and who knows, maybe something good will fall out of the sky right in your lap."


    Ssyba hesitated, but an urge began to take bloom into her own heart.


    "Before you leave, do forgive Tisila," suddenly said Izzmahil, standing up and taking Ssyba''s paw in his own two hands. "She is alone and afraid, don''t take it to heart."


    From this moment on, Ssyba knew, this human, the badau named Izzmahil, would look upon her as an equal.


    "That''s quite alright, mister Izzmahil," said Ssyba with a shiver of exhilaration in her body. "I''ll see you around."


    "See you later kitty."

 Chapter 7: It rains over YashaLafiq

    Chapter 7: It rains over Yasha''Lafiq


    The Declaration was already at hand by the time Ssyba got there, and the midday sun was dripping like molten iron upon the largest crowd of people in a century. This mass assemblage was all thanks to Yanamusad''s ascendancy to the First Throne.


    Never had Ssyba seen so many people gathered in one place.


    All the buildings surrounding the northern marketplace, overlooked from the south by the towering Azure Fortress, were in some way impacted and overwhelmed by the squirming masses. Some were perched upon the roofs and balconies like pigeons, some moved in bulky amorphous groups and columns, directionless and mindless, some more daring even climbed the statues that normally dominated the plaza. The streets leading to the northern marketplace were slow with thick multitudes, and the usual stalls, kiosks and places of trade had all been cleared and ruined or abandoned the day before, leaving the entire public square absolutely filled to the brim with people instead. From a certain distance the gathering appeared more like a sea of indistinct heads and faces, such a wide agglomeration of individuals, not only humans, but all sorts of beasts and animals, slaves and others. Ssyba saw dwarves, gremlins and some nanza-cats too, by far the most prosperous creatures who lived alongside humans in their societies. She had encountered some cowled and hooded individuals bearing the aura of tso-men, walking with a swagger that whispered death and a criminal gleam in their black eyes. She avoided those with a wide berth. Among the multitude of mobs, she nearly sensed the presence of elementals too, but wasn''t sure.


    It hadn''t taken long for Ssyba to regret coming here. Dust, heat and the stench of sweat were so thick that it stung her eyes. From all sides slimy bodies, legs and limbs pressed against her, forcing her to move with the tide in a pulsating manner. Standing still was just impossible, she was simply thrown around like a straw doll by the will of the mob. At some point she began contemplating her death, praying continuously to Marduni to reincarnate her as a human, now that she had a soul.


    "Curiosity killed the cat! Curiosity killed the cat!" mumbled Ssyba on and on.


    She glanced up, saw the High Azure Fortress rising above them like a silent mountain-god from the sea, and it gave her renewed strength. Numbers of functionaries and servants moved on the heights or leaned from beyond the windows and balconies. Ssyba saw someone drink a vraja potion and rain down upon the entire plaza an endless cloud of red and yellow flower petals. They fluttered down from the stone walls of the fortress upon the crown below and bathed them all in splendid coolness.


    Throughout this whole process, Ssyba inspected the man''s mystical gate carefully: according to her observations, he first drank the vraja potion, then he opened the mystical gate and allowed his clear spring mana within to react to the potion''s effect. A strange representation like a symbol began to take shape by the mystical gate, and all the mana from the gate flooded silently and cleanly directly into the symbol, activating its effect. This was called a reaction unique to every potion in the world, and the beneficiary could strengthen the reaction by simply pouring more mana in it. This was the main reason why higher quality mana was so important to a person''s overall power. A reaction activated by a fixed quantity of clear spring mana for example will become stronger if imbued with a higher quantity of clear spring mana, but regardless of how much clear spring mana is used, white cloud mana will always be more potent, and so on and so forth.


    Ssyba watched with keen interest the entirety of the process:


    "This would be an issue when I gain power in the future, because just as Izzmahil took notice of my previously opened mystical gate, others might identify whatever reactions I have activated on me, and my secret will thus be uncovered. The element of surprise will be lost, and right now that is my greatest asset, at least until I am strong enough to keep a profile," mused Ssyba within her innermost thoughts.


    Such a flaw would have to be mastered somehow, so Ssyba had shelved the issue for later consideration.


    Suddenly, howl!


    A chorus of war-horns sounded from the interior of the monolithic fortress, like the bottomless bellow of a titan. There were hundreds of them but the sounds melted into one abyssal howl across the earth and sky. Everyone around Ssyba, bar none, remained dead silent in anticipation for the whole duration, until the long howl of the horns grew into a reverberating roar. Then the masses cried together in an even louder roar, so much so that even Ssyba had to shout, carried over by the inertia of all those around her.


    The multitude of people became restless and impatient as soon as the horns stopped howling, and Ssyba realized without a doubt that these people worshiped the First Throne and the first prince, in their own way. It wasn''t merely respect or fear of their power, no. It was worship and veneration, because power was all that mattered in human society. Power dictated all facets of life.


    "How that must feel," thought Ssyba.


    How could she ever rival humans who commanded events such as this? The truth was, she wasn''t supposed to. She could live quietly and simply as a nanza, and nobody would bat an eye. Mister Izzmahil was the only one who knew about her secret and she could, if need be, get rid of or avoid Izzmahil entirely.


    But fate itself offered her a soul as a gift from an outer God of heavens, an Unstar. This must only mean one thing, that destiny decreed she must gain power and take control over the reins of her own life. Why else give a soul to a nanza-cat, of all the creatures of this world? How would a rock dwarf use this gift? What about a mere unintelligent animal such as a fish?


    "Why give me, and only me, a soul?" this question only served to hang heavy on her heart so she decided to stop pondering for now and simply be thankful.


    Such a gift can absolutely not be squandered and treated like trash.


    Soldiers draped in white and golden uniforms marched six in a row between the hulking pillars supporting the entrance into the fortress. The gold trims and metallic parts of their uniforms gleamed richly under the tyrannical sun, and the polearms each carried seemed to become a shiny claw of a monstrous entity with hundreds of fingers. Hoarse shouts commanded them into a beautiful and precise parade. The whole crowd of people below tightened like a fist, with a density that surpassed every imagination. Ssyba stumbled together with them, feeling like an overripe grape about to burst in a vice. Even the air seemed to have taste and Ssyba rolled her head back and gasped as if to draw breath from a blanket of fresh air above them.


    Eventually she reached the side of a building and having had quite enough, Ssyba gritted her teeth and clawed her way up the wall. When nearly at the top, somebody grabbed her paw and helped her up on the roof. He was a complete stranger but Ssyba didn''t mind. She quickly checked his mystical gate and observed that he had some sort of movement reaction active, as clearly evidenced by the fact that he casually rested on top of a tall building. Maybe he had consumed a vraja potion that allowed him to jump high, or something that gave him the ability to climb walls like a cat. Ssyba couldn''t know and did not care all that much.


    "Thank you," said Ssyba, and the man merely nodded with indifference.


    The crowd down below turned into a thunderous swarm of arms and heads.


    Then, from the darkness of the fortress'' interior hall and into daylight, the first prince emerged.


    First prince Yanamusad was a powerful figure, large and tall as a cave lion on hind legs, with a fierce visage that made the soldiers who attended him seem childlike.


    "Who safeguards who?" giggled Ssyba.


    She looked on. Yanamusad had a thick and short beard covering a chunky jaw, upon his head rested an olive wreath and both his arms were surely as thick as Ssyba''s entire body. Simply looking at him and digesting his whole presence, even at such a distance, Ssyba recognized power. Pure. Flawless. Veritable. Supreme and dominant. This man, she thought, could fill in the shoes of armies. He wasn''t merely a prince anymore. All her senses screamed danger at her. As she checked his mystical gate, the number of reactions on it, as well as the shadows of his faded ash mana quality overwhelmed her. How many of these were strength enhancing reactions, how many reinforced his durability and endurance, how many offered him ways to sweep over the land in mere moments the same distance others would walk on for days? And how many more were utterly arcane reactions from vraja potions unknown by the common man? Telekinesis, elemental control, transformations, instant healing, mind enslavement, hyper senses and however many other magical powers Ssyba couldn''t yet comprehend.


    Sayba knew some things about the prince: before his ascension to the First Throne, Yanamusad had been the second prince and an renowned general in Yasha¡¯Lafiq amassing a wide reputation as an izzia hunter and hive destroyer, but by herself, Ssyba couldn''t have known the sheer power one man could hold.


    Until today.


    For several more moments, the atmosphere reverberated with the cries of the crown while the prince stood there before and above them all, waiting with a menacing, boiling patience. He was smoldering, thought Ssyba with some amusement. It was clear to her that this man was a creature of action and deed, not empty promises.


    After Yanamusad settled in the place of honor at the front, the other members of the royal court filed behind him one by one, each flanked by a pair of close attendants and each of them took their respective place of honor, by rank:


    Medzanalfif took the place closest to Yanamusad, as the second prince of Yasha''Lafiq. He was tall and saturnine, but decidedly handsome in a very specific somber and aristocratic manner. Ssyba inspected his mystical gate and noticed many reactions boiling in it, as well as the murky faded ash mana fuming all around it.


    The next one was a woman, dark and powerfully built with an aura of ferocity unlike anything Ssyba had ever seen, except maybe in her brother Ran, a nanza-cat closer to a tiger in temperament and raw might, and of course except Yanamusad''s. However, in this woman''s eyes there was a murderous scrutiny and an absence of anything else, so much so that it made Ssyba uncomfortable. It became obvious then, that this woman and Yanamusad were of the same blood, sister and brother. She was Kimasta, the third princess of Yasha''Lafiq.


    The person who followed looked like an ordinary middle aged man, with short hair and a clean shave, and he sported such an undemanding smile that Ssyba thought at first to be out of place. However when she inspected his mystical gate, she nearly plummeted from the rooftop from dizziness.


    Why?


    Well, Ssyba knew of only a few types of quality of mana beforehand, each denser and darker than the other, thus more powerful. Light mana (clear spring and white cloud) and bleak mana (gleaming silver and faded ash). However, the humans of Jord categorized mana quality in more than these two pairs. What Ssyba saw on the fourth prince was starry night mana, a quality even above faded ash. It was so dark that she had to close her eyes and drop down on all fours, or else risk falling down. Such a tenebrous sight was heavy on the soul! Just how powerful was this man? His name was Basan, and he was the only person in the entire Alyriam desert belt buckle with starry night mana quality! He was capable and smart and had accumulated a tremendous influence over the many decades of his life. Back then when Iriazel ascended to the First Throne, Basan was already an established figure of Yasha''Lafiq, a lower half prince rising slowly and unperturbed through the ranks, though he never particularly battled directly for the Throne. He became one of the main pillars for Iriazel''s hundred years of peace, together with Medzanalfif, and somewhat of an enemy of Yanamusad. Unlike Medzanalfif, Basan openly supported Iriazel and was vocal about maintaining peace. A family man and an enjoyer of vraja arts, Basan loved the quiet times and ponderous research, fully utilizing his gargantuan mana to further the field of vraja potion usage.


    Even though he was considered an enemy of Yanamusad, the new first prince couldn''t make a move against him because of his sheer coverage. Basan was stretched all across Yasha''Lafiq, maintaining many applications and reinforcing many endeavors. His dense and near limitless mana (by common parameters) managed to cover many habitual weaknesses any other prince would face. One part of starry night mana quality equated more sheer mana quantity than the entire city of Yasha''Lafiq at once.


    Closely behind Basan followed another prince. He was stiff and bony, tall like a willow tree and pale, yet not ugly. There seemed to be a soullessness and an uneven gait about him and Ssyba rolled her eyes, thinking:


    "Another¡­"


    Another monster in human form. Ssyba had already developed a sort of instinct when it came to the princes of Yasha''Lafiq; each and all of them seemed to be wrong, almost inhuman. His faded ash mana stretched in all directions like a spider web into nothingness, as if split into a myriad of echoes. His name was Naj, the fifth prince, also head of the guards, principal of the Temple School and great grandmaster of the Guild of Constructs. Marduni only knew what esoteric knowledge this man held in his head.


    Then Ssyba shuddered when she saw the sixth prince walk into plain daylight. He looked fearsome and was taller than anybody else present, even when hunched at his back. He possessed six clawed arms. Each arm was long and bulging with twisted, unnatural muscles and it was obvious that this man-creature was tough as a natural calamity. His name was Zimil, and was the sole inheritor of four unbound vraja potions, giving him such a brutal appearance but also permanent power, unaffected by mana quality and quantity. Because of this, he kept his mystical gate closed and maintained his position through staying tenacity and an unbroken cadence.


    Vesmia, the seventh princess of Yasha¡¯Lafiq was a soft, beautiful woman dressed in a pure white robe only loosely draped around her curves. Her eyes were drooping and had thick, sensual eyelashes, her hands were delicate and walked with a passionate bearing. She looked almost too perfect. Vesmia was extraordinarily influential, had lived for hundreds of years and many past and present princes and powerful people paid respects to her. To safeguard her secret for such a long life, Vesmia had gained the trust of many strong characters all throughout the city. Among the most noteworthy of them numbered Basan and the late first princess Iriazel herself. Nobody knew how many princes, generals and experts were assassinated to keep her secret away from public knowledge, and how many were enslaved by her with the promise of eternal life.


    The eighth prince looked old and dry, his hair gray and his face was full of wrinkles. One eye was pale blue and seemed to have a will and move on its own, while the other eye was pitch black. There was a reluctance in his step and demeanor, and Ssyba guessed that he was nearing his death. In truth, many princes suffered at his hand during his prime as he schemed and plotted. He once specialized in assassination and poisoning but since then, the princes, together with Vesmia, decided to restrict him, afflict him with a vraja curse and slowly destroy him, only much slower and indirect. In a way, he suffered the same fate as Iriazel. His name was even forgotten and he was only known as Espadon, forever kept away from ascending further. A frail husk of his former self. There seemed to be no hope left in Espadon''s movements, no purpose and no goal.


    The ninth princess, Rithra the Dreadful, was once a woman who consumed an unbound transformation vraja potion, turning her into a mythical angel beast. She resembled a monstrous creature with long, wispy luminous hair that covered her face, and out of her forehead speared a gold unicorn horn. Her wings were folded loosely against her back and both her legs and hands looked like golden eagle claws.


    No doubt, the angel beast transformation was at the core of her strength and every other vraja potion that she used was in order to assist this core ability.


    It wasn''t strange at all. Many slightly wealthier people would choose to specialize in a single direction even if they had the proper funds, because mana was always a limited resource. Truth be told, even for the princes, having more than a complete set of vraja potions to pick from was demanding on resources. They would often choose a main path to focus on and collect complementing potions in order to create a unified and efficient system. Many existing potions in this world could be used together, for example someone who specialized in the fire element would use vraja potions that complemented firepower or modify the mana consumption of fire vraja potions. For example, using water elemental potions together with fire was not only impractical, but also potentially dangerous.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    And finally, right after Rithra, arrived the tenth prince, walking serenely into clear daylight. Although all of them were indeed very rich and influential in their own accord, the lower half princes weren''t as popular with the public and weren''t as powerful and dominant. It was simply the natural course of Jord and the great Yada. More specifically, the tenth prince was the easiest to replace because many rising stars would challenge the position for the chance to ascend. This new tenth prince, La''iaham, was a bit of an exception. He became the personal medicine man for the previous tenth prince, and was recommended and allowed into their ranks upon his death. La''iaham had a gentle glance and an attitude of apparent pity for those around him, along with a calmness and faint disappointment of having seen through the worldly affairs. Even before he worked for the previous tenth prince, he was already a medicine man for most of his life and had acquired many friends and connections throughout both the upper class and the lower commoners of Yasha''Lafiq. He was popular with the people and gained prestige as a benevolent healer who often worked for free.


    Even Ssyba knew of him, though not personally, through Tisila and mister Izzmahil.


    ***


    The crowd became louder and louder with each emerging prince, sometimes cheering with such a deafening roar that Ssyba couldn''t help but roll her eyes at the insanity. Humans, it seemed to her, always felt the need to worship and make gods out of the extraordinary. And the ten princes surely delivered, they were most impressive!


    Yanamusad walked to the main pier that projected from the fortress into the plaza below. As if by command, the noise thinned and subsided and very soon, the crowd finally calmed down in listening.


    "My brothers and sisters!" shouted Yanamusad vigorously. "Peace is an affront to our warlike nature, aye, but the fact that you have tolerated it for so long is no less than blasphemy in my eyes! In the absence of internal conflict, Yasha''Lafiq has grown slow, moribund, the people of the great river Na-jid have become lethargic! More than twenty years ago, when the herald storm blasted our walls, you cowered inside. How many of you cursed at your impotence?"


    Yanamusad''s voice was clear and warm like the sun. Every movement carried an inevitability with it, thought Ssyba, that seemed to shout cataclysmic fury. He acted and posed as if everything said had already happened and been agreed upon.


    "Such a voice," nearly cried Ssyba in delirious bewilderment.


    It seemed to pull upon her every passion and thoughts like a puppeteer''s strings. Even she became incited, enraged, let alone the masses.


    "You have become obscene in fear, followers of a false doctrine, one that promised peace and plenty without cost. But know this: peace never was free. It costs a brother, a sister, a daughter, a son! There is no greater abomination than turning a blind eye to it while expecting it to last. When the herald storm hit, you tended to your fireplace when the roof was collapsing upon your heads. You tended to the inside while the outside was lashed and gored! The izzia swarms have run amok unchecked, the badawin caravans can no longer trade with our city, the elemental legions knock at your doorsteps, and you dare cry that your favorite royal personality had died? When was the last time that you glanced upon the desert that you call home? When was the last time that you went out into the sun and looked beyond the walls?"


    Yanamusad tossed a thick spittle directly into the crowd, but nobody even dared to flinch. Such a deadly silence had fallen upon the entire plaza that Ssyba could have sworn the people all died of shame.


    "Shame!" shouted Yanamusad like thunder. "From today on, we shall war because the planetary collision storm is upon us. We shall loose upon the izzia hives sharp vengeance! We shall make the elemental lords crumble for fury, disperse them into the four winds! We shall reclaim Alyriam and grow strong!"


    As Yanamusad reached his crescendo, the crowd gained new vigor and life and began shouting together with him. It was because most people, even merely on the subconscious level, agreed with him. Theirs was a harsh and unforgiving world, Jord, and the price for existing must be paid in blood and war. Iriazel''s peace was too sterile, too local for it to last. Ssyba only intuited at the humiliation the other princes must have felt during this speech.


    "Then we shall conquer the north!" in the end roared Yanamusad. "The heavens are above us, they await for us, my brethren! Their hallowed grounds promise boundless treasures, untold prosperity for the mighty and the courageous!"


    The masses of people all but erupted with fervor and throughout this nightmarish plaza scene, Ssyba also knew, with strange lucidity, that Yanamusad only spoke the truth. Yasha''Lafiq needed to heal itself of narcosis and strengthen its arm.


    "He wants everything," said Ssyba.


    When she glanced at the man at her side, she saw him groveling and whimpering, his knees stained by snot, sweat and teardrops. She turned her head back at the plaza and the stone and metal pier upon which Yanamusad still thundered his Declaration.


    Every word was plump with the emotional exaltation of the crowds. Every man and woman roared and wept and blinked tears away, shivering and drenched in exhaustion. Ssyba looked on at every prince and princess, every upper class lord and lady. Some of them were pale, some were unmoved. Prince Basan snorted and pivoted from one leg to another in apparent annoyance. Princess Vesmia whispered something in Zimil''s ear, while La''iaham''s eyes darted wildly across the gathering.


    Yanamusad was soon joined by three others, two of which were his generals, and a young woman. One of the men seemed to gleam in the sunlight as if his skin was molten metal. He was Talamar, the first prince''s left-hand general. The other one was a meaty, dark individual who looked like a badau, a stronger, more ruthless version of mister Izzmahil with an inverted V shaped scar upon his forehead. Except for the military personnel, this badau was the only one to openly carry weapons, specifically a long dagger dangling at his hip, but judging by the intensity of the other princes, Ssyba did not think it would do much good. His name was Fasamir, right-hand general of Yanamusad and one of his personal trainers of martial arts.


    The third person at Yanamusad''s side, the young woman, was dressed in flimsy silk. She had a great white mane for hair, thick, wild and full, but she seemed feeble and unwell otherwise. Ssyba narrowed her eyes. What was that smile upon this girl''s face? No, it wasn''t a smile, it was the calm expression of someone utterly indifferent to the secular world around her. Ssyba closely watched on with interest. There was such fulfillment in this girl, such an unfathomable abandonment of life and rule, that Ssyba couldn''t help but scoff. This girl was none other than Yanamusad''s only daughter, Havasta.


    Yanamusad''s controversial Declaration went on for a long time afterwards, touching upon many societal problems that plagued Yasha''Lafiq. One of them was the uneducated nature of commoners and the inability of young ones to safely develop and grow in strength, exactly due to this lack of education. The flawed constitution of their city either tossed them into the fires of death like kindle on the whims of the princes and the generals without the proper means to deal with the dangers of the world, or the commoners were simply undersupplied and in dire need of practical use of their mana. This was one of the reasons why vraja potion materials were so expensive, because the average person lacked the means and knowledge of proper and efficient use. Which led to the next issue, and that was hoarding. Nobody wanted to trade and if they did, they asked for enormous prices or laughable demands. With single entities owning more than hundreds of others, the only result was stagnation in a wide area. Yanamusad also took a firm stance against the use of beast folk slaves, attempting to raise their status through new concepts which included paid salary and benefits. This policy managed to hit on three problems: thievery (which was decidedly a nanza problem), violence (which concerned the nanza but included the gremlins and the Cultelari in excess), and the use of paid beast folk professionals and thus relocating vraja potion resources towards more practical areas (specifically the military and the education of people and proper introduction into the three vraja arts).


    Every point that Yanamusad raised somehow infringed upon the other princes'' interests, although the multitudes of people were howling with joy. Most beast folk present were also ignited by the Declaration, but Ssyba wasn''t feeling as stimulated. Already quite bored and throwing her glance lazily across the expanse, she suddenly found herself looking into the striking face of Yanamusad.


    The noise below reached new limits but an uncanny stillness settled between the two of them. Yanamusad looked directly into her eyes and Ssyba looked directly into his, even from such a distance.


    Then the ephemeral moment was gone. It could have simply been a short-lived coincidence, but Ssyba jumped off the roof and fled nonetheless. Would a simple mouse dare look into the cat''s mouth? In this case, Ssyba felt like a mouse and Yanamusad like a lion.


    ***


    Several days have passed since the first prince''s Declaration and it was time for Ssyba to go meet with Fagan Stabs for his job.


    The sky darkened with a sinister mist. As it neared nightfall, blood appeared to pool upon the edge of the horizon and the last rays poured onto a stage where four nanza waited patiently.


    "So, we are finally here," said Fagan, giving Ssyba a deep look. "Recent events have made it somewhat more complicated for us to do our job, but certainly not for the worse."


    "What''s this job?" asked Ssyba.


    "We need to collect some due payment from a commando of gremlins. It''s not the Cultelari but they''re born hitmen nonetheless. Months ago they also hired me and one of my men and they failed to deliver payment, but that is not the issue."


    Fagan led Ssyba to the other three nanza. One of them was too massive to even be called a nanza-cat, for he resembled a tiger more than anything else. That was their older brother Ran, lounging directly on the ground and taking care of his claws. The other two were the twin hotshot brothers Zioz and Shan. Zioz, a black as night, prodigious nanza radiating with vigor and his eyes seemed to shine against his misty mane, he appeared confident and quick-tempered. A veritable archetypal nanza. He advanced rapidly in skill and class and this had led Fagan Stabs to start paying slight attention to him. Shan, his brother, looked similarly black though more lionesque in posture, and appeared to be the more collected of the pair.


    "Long time no see, big brother," said Ssyba, going directly to the tiger.


    Ran turned to her only far enough to reveal a savage grin that made Ssyba gain some confidence.


    "Good to see you girl," he said with a raspy voice which implied the fact that he loathed using it. Not all nanza-cats fancied using human speech. Ssyba instantly understood that Ran only agreed to help Fagan because Fagan had told him Ssyba would come, and in turn he managed to convince Sayba, in part, due to Ran''s presence.


    Conniving as always.


    "These here are Zioz and Shan, the twins of the Bend," introduced Fagan.


    Both of them bowed, but Shan was the one to speak:


    "Mister Stabs once rescued us in our neighborhood and we said we would repay the favor. We came the moment we received the letter."


    "They speak highly of you out there," said Ssyba. "You are always working together and have good teamwork."


    "Lady honors us," replied Shan with too much of the common human courtesy for anyone''s liking. He appeared to be the leader of the pair, while Zioz scoffed and shook his head in disdain.


    "I heard you two once killed a cobalt knight."


    "You heard wrong," said Zioz intensely.


    Shan patted his brother''s shoulder and said gently:


    "Brother, you ought to treat lady¡­"


    "Ssyba."


    "...Ssyba fairly. She was complimenting you."


    Zioz was about to speak, when Shan suddenly interrupted his intent.


    "Mister Stabs, you asked for our help. A job that requires us both is surely a rough one, is it not? Are we about to clash with these gremlins, or simply chat with lady Ssyba and then ask for the money?"


    "Not that I can''t be rough," hissed Zioz while lecherously eyeing Ssyba from head to toe.


    Ssyba snorted arrogantly. She had no illusions about what type of nanza-cat he was. She had spent a good part of her life in the proximity of such males and had long ago learned how to treat them, work their levers and redirect their ardor.


    "Like I said, the fact that they owe me money isn''t important," intervened Fagan, sensing the increasingly heated atmosphere. "It''s the fact that they owe my boss money, but they hide with the Cultelari, thinking that will grant them immunity. My boss simultaneously wants to send a message."


    "Typical human," said Ssyba. "How they love their messages."


    "Yes, but this message isn''t intended for the gremlin commando nor their sayadao, but for the other princes. It''s actually a chance for us to get hired. If we manage to handle this job well, we will be hired and be under his direct authority, answering to nobody but himself."


    "Does that mean the new laws have already come into effect?" asked Shan.


    "Yes, may Marduni fill the first prince''s bowels and keep his feet warm and children healthy and all that. We can thank him for this chance."


    "Who is this boss we''re working for?" asked Ssyba.


    "His name is lord Talamar, you probably saw him at the Declaration. He must be chummy with the first prince because he contracted me even before the event," truthfully answered Fagan.


    "So he knew what would happen."


    "What does it matter? It''s not like most beasts can organize themselves and entertain high profile men such as Lord Talamar."


    "Yeah, I suppose it doesn''t matter," conceded Ssyba.


    "Yes, yes. More importantly than that, are we to expect the presence of a sayadao here?" asked Shan.


    "Here, nah. This is just their favorite den, too poor for Cultelari though. Once they come out of it, I''ll demand the money or we''ll take it by force."


    Shan breathed out with relief. He and his brother had a history with fighting sayadao and they weren''t looking forward to do it again. Ssyba too, had experienced the might of a sayadao, though unknowingly. It was the large gremlin that once hit her head with the iron club, the same one who assaulted her at Tisila''s house.


    Ran''s ear suddenly twitched in the direction of the building at the far end of the stage. With an old man''s sigh he stood up on hind legs and flexed his swollen muscles. His neck and back was wider than a man''s and his claws were always kept sharp and clean.


    "Well see about that, Fagan. They arrive," said Ran with his monotonous, gritting voice.


    The group of nanza stopped their discussions and looked up and saw a batch of gremlins gradually coming closer towards them.


    "Fuck off moggie before I eviscerate your ass," shrieked one of the gremlins, lunging ahead of the group but stopping right before touching Fagan.


    He was hunched at his back, only a bit taller than a human child but his sinewy arms and thick wrists promised a strength of iron. This gremlin looked dry of fat and weakness, tough like a leather boot.


    "I''m only here to renegotiate the terms of your employment by lord Talamar," replied Fagan to his face, clearly holding back the urge to smack the green guy.


    "Renegotiate?"


    "Yes, pay my lord what is his due, or pay with your blood."


    "Fuck. Your. Lord!" spelled the gremlin with his all too nimble lips, showering with some spittle Fagan''s shirt.


    Fagan ignored him and pressed on.


    "We aren''t in whatever ditch you grew up in, you motherless insect. Surrender the money and you can leave."


    From the sidelines, Ssyba watched intently. It was merely a step in the wrong direction in order to turn every gremlin in the city into the enemies of nanza-cats.


    The gremlins were all taken aback at Fagan''s aggression.


    "Is this guy mad or what?"


    "Care to repeat again, bastard?"


    "Did I hear anything wrong?"


    They all expressed their shock and indignation at the insult, their faces tight with animalistic rage. The leader gremlin shoved his long, knotted finger onto Fagan''s clavicle.


    "You''re dead meat if you trash Mother again," he said, gritting every word out and painfully pointing his finger into Fagan''s sternum.


    Zioz crossed his arms and seemed tense and rumbling within himself. Shan watched nervously at Zioz and back at Fagan. Meanwhile, the other gremlins pressed dangerously close but Ran stepped up right by Fagan''s side, with a low, paralyzing growl. Despite his utter mass, he moved so fast and agile that even Fagan was taken by surprise.


    The atmosphere grew very intense and the feeling of slaughter floated between them.


    With a slight jolt, Ssyba wiped her brow.


    "Sweat?" she thought.


    She looked up towards the darkened sky.


    "No. It''s starting to rain."


    For the first time in Ssyba''s memory and in well over twenty-five years, it rained in the Alyriam desert. It rained in Yasha¡¯Lafiq.


    "It''s just rain," mused Ssyba again with a heart as cold as ice and an indifference bordering insanity. She checked all their mystical gates and all of them lacked mana.


    "These fools can never make me sweat."

 Chapter 8: Intense battle

    Chapter 8: Intense battle


    The atmosphere was solem.


    Big, heavy rain drops fed the hungry sands, battering five nanza-cats and thirteen gremlins facing each other. On the stone stage small puddles of water already started to form as the rain fell relentlessly. The late evening sky was overcast and the thick curtains of rain obscured the field of vision at a distance, murking everything with gray and ugly stains.


    The leader gremlin actually took a few steps back at the sight of Ran, but quickly regained his composure and puffed up his chest.


    "You," he hissed under his breath. "Get the fuck out of m¡­"


    Snap!


    As he talked, Ran casually smacked him good with an open palm slap, an insult in nanza culture. The sound of the slap reverberated throughout the stage, but Ran''s might was too great. The gremlin''s head moved sideways in an unnatural angle and he fell down on the muddy ground, breathless.


    The gremlins jumped like crazed rats.


    "You dare!"


    They moved without hesitation but Ran quickly plummeted into a battle stance, unsheathed his claws and lashed out at the incoming gremlins with wild abandon. His claws furiously cut the first gremlin across his eyes, blinding him. His movement was precise and brisk.


    Looking at one another, the prodigious twins Zioz and Shan nodded and flashed their claws out, jumping right in the thick of things. Ssyba followed closely behind, leaping athletically in the midst and started fighting wildly. Even though many days have passed since she drank the healing vraja potion from Izzmahil, she still felt great and recovered. Fagan struck with controlled movements, rarely using his claws but mostly utilizing joint locks, throws and grappling techniques to break, disable and hold his opponents.


    A gremlin swung his iron club towards Shan''s head but the cat lowered his body and dodged, then he lifted his leg and slashed the gremlin violently across the neck and face with his foot flaws. The gremlin''s loud roar resonated with misery and pain as he rolled on the ground, until he started gurgling and dying.


    Ran swung his monstrous claws as if he had scythes instead of arms, his expression as flat as a predator''s. He had too much reach and mass, compared to him the gremlins were like twig toys. How could they possibly withstand such a tempest of brawn and razor-sharp claws? In the blink of an eye, he had grabbed a gremlin by the head and smashed it against the floor, then used the lifeless body to club another two gremlins off their feet.


    "Somebody, run after the sayadao¡­"


    One of the gremlins on the ground yelled, but before he could finish Fagan ran at full speed and fiercely kicked his abdomen, sending him delirious. The gremlin curled up like a shrimp.


    By this time, all of the remaining gremlins had taken out their iron clubs and spike knuckles.


    One of them flew in a rage, swinging at Zioz. With a slight poise of his body and turn of his ankle, Zioz swerved like a dancer sideways and let the gremlin''s weapon fly past. Then he stretched his left arm out, and when the slash came, it went through the gremlin''s neck as if through butter.


    It was such fluid maneuvering, that even though he was locked in battle, Shan took the time to whistle in appreciation.


    As they saw this massacre, the other gremlins quickly stopped, dropping their iron clubs and other weapons. In their eyes, these few nanza-cats were too profound in their act of killing, not nearly as violent as they should be. Gremlins count tackle large beasts and powerful enemies, if only through numbers alone, but these nanza were trained fighters. They had proper restraint, did not respond to taunting needlessly and attacked only the vulnerable parts.


    In the end, five gremlins were dead, other two were surely dying and all of the total remaining had injuries, cuts and dislocated joints, bruises and pains.


    "Are you going to give me the payment or not?" asked Fagan, stepping forward.


    He was the cleanest of the nanza cats, because he mainly fought using the "Soft way". Ssyba knew that her brother didn''t much like to grime himself with blood, unlike Ran who reddened the whole stage.


    The gremlins looked at each other, and one of them offered to go back into the den to get the money.


    "I''ll go with this bastard in case he tries to run!" offered Zioz.


    "No!" roared Shan, and both he and Ran rushed over to grab Zioz and pull him away. "You stupid idiot, he''ll pull you into a trap!"


    Fagan considered for a while, and agreed. As expected, the gremlin came out followed by at least twenty other gremlins, on top of the remaining ones. There were now over thirty gremlins with weapons and iron clubs, and only five nanza.


    However when they arrived and saw the battle scene, it made them lose some heart and a chill ran down their spine. Such savageness and might.


    Ran saw them arrive, and sighed. Ssyba got closer:


    "What do we do now?"


    But Fagan merely smiled and ran ahead without a word. Ssyba thought she saw a grin on his face. The twin brothers once again exchanged a meaningful look, nodded and followed Fagan into battle. Ssyba took a few steps but Ran grabbed her by her paw and pulled her closer.


    "You take care girl. You take care," was all that he hissed before dropping on all fours and unleashed himself fully amidst the gremlin, like a tiger among sheep.


    The gremlins'' eyes were wide open as they witnessed the absolute, complete madness that followed. These nanza-cats were fighting like Marduni''s own warriors, their expression cool and their movements strict. The nanza in particular, as an intelligent animal, had developed and nearly perfected the fighting style of dodging while striking at the same time.


    After a few breaths, bodies fell down onto the ground again. The yelps of the dying gremlins permeated the thick rainy air.


    "This is too dangerous to continue!"


    "Those monsters¡­"


    There were still well over twenty gremlins left, but they did not rush forward. Their eyes couldn''t believe what they had just seen. But actually, the gremlins would almost never fight groups of enemies, choosing instead to assault lone targets or lead them into traps, and the nanza-cats could almost never associate for battle due to their aggressive,  lonely and arrogant nature. This was the main reason why the hotshot twins of the Bend, Zioz and Shan, were so widely known across Yasha''Lafiq. They managed to establish a system of operations which allowed them to work together. One nanza-cat was about as strong as they come. Two nanza-cats cooperating in battle was already an exponential growth in lethality and results. Five to six nanza-cats cooperating could take on a gremlin commando, as evidenced.


    Fagan calculated that eight to ten trained nanza-cats could successfully complete just about any sort of mission.


    Of course, the gremlins did not consider this thoroughly. Their new leader swept his gaze over the fallen ones, over his remaining troops, and gritted his teeth.


    "After them!" he shouted.


    The rest of the gremlins looked at each other, groaned and ran to attack and swarm the nanza-cats, with angry roars and swearing.


    The battle lasted for a while.


    In this world, fighting was the main path towards attaining any goals. Every great individual, be it beast or human, had to fight at some point, if only to keep history from erasing their name. As a result, violence was encouraged especially in the lower societies where survival itself was the primary focus, and when they couldn''t anchor themselves to more intellectual pursuits.


    In this, regarding fighting, Fagan wasn''t bloodthirsty. He did use his claws when the situation demanded because he wasn''t a fool, but he believed in the Soft way, or at least he presented himself as such. Many times he wanted to smack Ssyba and Rauuka growing up, but Marduni only knew how many times he refrained himself. He even battled Ran at times, using his new philosophy as a battle tactic.


    Fagan did not rip and cut, he did not bite or shred with his fangs. He did not tear flesh open nor did he spill blood. So ironic, considering his moniker "Stabs" when in reality, he had never stabbed anybody in his life. The number of times he slashed could also be numbered. They have given him this nickname because as the Perfect Vengeful Spirit, Fagan was an assassin known across the curvature of Na-jid, yet what the common rabble couldn''t understand was that knifing or stabbing somebody was the worst way to assassinate somebody; too much mess, too many signs, too many anchors left behind that could lead to Fagan. Knifing (or in a nanza''s case clawing) took too long to do the deed, unlike garrotting or strangulation.


    The Perfect Vengeful Spirit represented simply that, in Fagan''s opinion, the spirit of vengeance for the nanza-cats of this world. Not savage murder nor the hot spilling of blood. Vengeance meant closing wounds and settling scores. It was two steps forward after one step back, and after so many steps back, it was now time for Fagan to move forward and avenge the nanza of Yasha''Lafiq.


    After many rounds of battle, the gremlins stared in shock, gasping for air and trembling. The sounds of their dying brethren were no longer a cause for concern when their very own lives were threatened.


    "Are we digging our own graves?" one of them said worried.


    "We''re simply going to die here."


    Their leader gulped in exhaustion, surveying the rooftops for any sign of reinforcements, because of the alarms that this battle surely raised.


    "I know," he said, "but if the saydao comes and we have given the money away, he''ll kill us nonetheless. Better to fight and hope for a chance to win!"


    Some of his fellow gremlins were indignant but couldn''t argue with this. They were down to seventeen fighters. More than three against each nanza-cat. Not enough.


    "I have a plan, listen," said the leader while raising a battered hand with six thick fingers. "We only have to hold on long enough for one of them to slip, then we gang up on them. Fighting a lone battle is suicide but with this method¡­" he closed his fist, "we''ll crush them!"


    On the other side of the stage, Fagan frowned when looking at the gremlins conspiring while they recovered their breaths.


    Nonetheless, he was feeling absolutely inspired. This battle proved to him that the nanza were by far the superior beast and with careful supervision and nurturing, they could grow into a veritable force. He already had very little uncertainty to begin with, but right now he had just seen the strength of five nanza-cats shattering a gremlin commando. With this the doubts in his heart were cleared.


    "We have taken control of the situation," he said, lifting a finger and pointing it at the gremlins. "The problem is, their dignity is now being directly attacked and they''ll feel more threatened the longer we fight."


    "Mister Stabs is right, I have also thought about it myself," added Shan. "The more we drag this battle on, the chances for a sayadao to appear approaches one."


    Ssyba shot a gaze as sharp as a blade at Shan, but she quickly lowered it as Zioz looked in her direction.


    Ran sighed deeply:


    "There is nothing wrong with fighting as long as there is fighting passion. What do you suggest?"


    Fagan''s face turned dark like an abyss.


    "We have given them chances to pay and they refused, but these bastards get the itch to cause trouble every once in a while."


    "You''re right," lashed Zioz. "That''s why we have to smack them down if they''re to learn fear and respect!"


    "Shut it!" boomed Shan.


    Zioz crossed his arms and watched the gremlins coldly.


    "Zibby, are you good to go?"


    "Yes brother, keep going," truthfully answered Ssyba. She was also feeling inspired and motivated by the amount of money and resources they''ll get as a reward, as well as prestige. Gaining strength from potions was so close, she could basically taste it and it gave her the will to endure.


    "Then we fight on!" roared Fagan, followed closely by Ssyba and Ran, who waved his claws like gored fans.


    The gremlins took a pained breath in and with much trepidation ran to intercept the incoming nanza-cats.


    The sky flashed once with the blue sparks of heavens, and the roar of God Most High rumbled over the combatants.


    Ran thundered across the stage, his claws leaving marks and making scratching sounds on the stone. He gathered fatal momentum and within less than the blink of an eye, he descended with animalistic fury upon the gremlins. Time seemed to slow down to a stop, then he hit. He howled and seemed to bring his arms into an embrace, cutting down two gremlins there and then, one across the belly, one across the neck and face, hissing death and blood. Another swipe downwards, another gremlin dropped dead. He kicked, another gremlin was sent flying.


    The remaining looked at him with horror, as Ran fell into stance and went for more.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "Anybody!" screamed Ran with venom. "Anybody! Anybody!"


    A larger gremlin seemed to oblige him, but Ran swiftly crouched and attacked without leaving space for even a breather. He caught his lower jaw with his incoming paw, sent him flying with a broken neck and split face.


    Ran raised his powerful arms in welcome.


    "Anybody!"


    Meanwhile, following their leader''s plan, only a few other gremlins were sent to battle Fagan and the twins. Six of them were chosen to gang together on Ssyba, whom they perceived to be the weakest link among the nanza.


    Her chest heaved and blood pooled at her feet from some wounds that she obtained. The gremlins pressed on. There was a pitched melee, out of which one of them dropped down, fumbling with his spilling innards.


    "You damn strumpet, I''m gonna make you wriggle in agony!" called one gremlins.


    "You''re gonna bleed for days¡­!"


    The others began taunting and threatening Ssyba with pain and hurt, but she ignored them and focused only on the battle, though her breath grew chilly in her breast.


    One, two, three breaths, then the battle resumed.


    The gremlins all jumped at the same time, swinging their iron clubs with wild abandon, but they were stocky and slow compared to Ssyba, who skipped lightly between their attacks. She couldn''t attack by herself, not always, but she could hold her position and keep dodging. She threw a glance at Ran and saw that he was surrounded by three gremlins.


    Her own enemies restlessly pounded their iron clubs one after another like a troupe of drummers, but Ssyba did not relent. Then she shot a quick, flashing glance at Fagan. He was busy with two gremlins.


    "Damn," she murmured under her gasps.


    A gremlin suddenly caught her by the throat, another crashed his iron knuckle into her right ribs, the others closed in but she kept them at a distance with her feet claws. She hissed but managed to break free by cutting both their arms at the same time with her claws.


    "Twins!" she cried, but Zioz and Shan were busy battling three other gremlins, and that''s when comprehension dawned in her mind. Their leader made up a plan to get rid of her first because she seemed to be the weakest of the troupe. Shan and Zioz battled together, they were effectively unstoppable, holding each other''s weakness in sight and improving upon each other''s strengths. Ran was simply a monster, they couldn''t cope with him, and Fagan was just as powerful.


    "It makes sense," Ssyba wheezed in dreadful realization.


    She coughed, spat some blood and lost her focus for a split of a second. The gremlins madly ganged up on her by surrounding her and battering her with clubs, fists and kicks.


    "No!" shouted Shan who was the closest to her. He ran to save her and one iron club meant to kill Ssyba hit him squarely in the side of his head, sending him with a thump on the ground.


    Zioz, seeing this, roared something crazy, his eyes bloodshot with anger. He kicked the gremlins away and dragged Ssyba. Then he started battling the five gremlins all by himself. He transformed into a destructive whirlwind of razors, kicks and fangs. The moment he dodged a blow was the moment he cut, all in a continuous manner, darting his claws in between evasive maneuvers and pirouettes like a dancer. Panicked shouts erupted among the gremlins as they were cut dead one by one.


    All heads turned at Zioz and his mad onslaught.


    "Mistake!" yowled Ran with bloodlust.


    His claws blazed through flesh like knives, glistening gremlin blood raining down on him and on the cobblestones. Ran thus disposed of the remaining enemies as they lost their concentration, cutting them down quickly and viciously.


    Fagan also finished his battles and promptly went to check on Ssyba and Shan.


    "Nothing''s wrong," Ssyba replied.


    "Shan?"


    "I am quite alright," said Shan, helped up by his brother. He seemed to be a little unstable on his paws and his right eye was swollen shut.


    "Mister Stabs, I am just a little unsteady but otherwise I am good."


    Fagan worked his jaw, peering across the stage, his potent cat-eyes sifting through the scene. Such sharp violence, it was something awe inspiring to say the least.


    "Rough enough job for you?" Fagan asked Shan.


    Shan was also meditating upon the unfathomable beauty of this battlefield, his pride as nanza flaring up. He looked at Fagan and began laughing enthusiastically, while wincing and holding his head. Zioz shook his head, but Ssyba could see a faint smirk on him.


    "We must now clear their hideout of any money and goods. While I collect the payment for boss Talamar, you guys pick anything of value."


    Ssyba stared at him.


    "Can we keep anything? Really?"


    Fagan stopped in his tracks and shrugged.


    "Who is there to stop us?" he nodded with contempt towards the thirty something gremlins littered like bloody logs upon the pavement. "Them?"


    Ssyba laughed.


    Laughter, flawless like the sound of Na-jid rushing among smooth marbles, coarse with the pains of her wounds, beautiful for being a young female nanza-cat, ridiculous with mockery for the animals. Ssyba laughed until the corpses seemed to laugh back at her with funny faces. They were not funny at all though. They were the faces of the slaughtered, frozen in permanent grimace, split, cut open, bruised, smeared with blood.


    Zioz watched her for some time, then he snorted air through his nostrils and went after Fagan, with limping Shan still holding onto him.


    "What?" asked Ssyba?


    Ran stared at Ssyba without expression, then he smiled. Something about him, not just his bulk and claws, reminded her of a weapon, as though his smile alone could cut.


    "What?" she asked again.


    "I thought you hated killing."


    ***


    The gremlin hideout was, on the surface level, a drinking den where alcoholic beverages, wine and nad''m were served to the common folk. Wooden tiles covered the floor and it was obvious that the place was cleaned regularly, if only to maintain an honest business facade. There were seven tables in total, four tables set against the walls and three larger tables in the middle surrounded by benches. Upon the long, shiny sales counter there were unfinished drinks, paper, ink, writing pens and other objects abruptly left behind. Every other table had wine jars, half empty glasses and other unfinished things hurriedly abandoned.


    The nanza-cats walked around as they wished. It was a small wine den, but this type of business was by far the most profitable in Yasha¡¯Lafiq. Normally, the owners would even lay tables and chairs outside for other clients as well, but this place had none of that. It was obviously just a front to hide further schemes.


    "Tea?" derided Zioz, lazily picking up a pot with two fingers.


    "Do not touch anything unless mister Stabs commands you to!" instantly rebuked Shan, towards whom Zioz rolled his eyes.


    "Why?" he asked.


    "Anything you disturb with your paws can leave behind breadcrumbs which could lead directly to us."


    "I actually don''t care about any of that," said Fagan leisurely, while checking out the den as if he was the owner.


    Frequenting drinking dens and tea clubs was the favorite pastime of Yasha''Lafiq citizens. Cold drinks, soft drinks, hot drinks, alcohol, even water were all served and it was a place of social gathering for all species and races. Because of this, it was a stable and safe source of income and even the most renowned vraja potion brewers had a drinking business open. The lafiqi culture was to go out and drink. Even Tisila owned a small tea club.


    Fagan curtly flipped through the accounting books, of which there were about ten, and noticed that the profits were negligible and the wages were dead standard. There was nothing outstanding or interesting at all about this establishment, and in a way, this was the perfect cover.


    "Check the floors quickly!" ordered Fagan.


    They all began to bang on the wooden floor and pull on the boards until Ran found a trap door. They ripped it away and discovered that it led a great deal underground, for even with their cat eyes they couldn''t see a clear end of that tunnel.


    Fagan led the group down the ladder into what seemed to be a stone corridor of human design that went deeper and deeper underground. It was part of an older structure reutilized and eventually refurbished by the gremlins, it seemed like. Eventually it narrowed into a jagged natural cave, and then it opened wide into a spacious natural cavern lighted with bright lamps. A fragrance of mold and stagnant puddles of water permeated the air, speckled at times with the musky scent of various objects, plants, spices, oils and whatever other goods that the gremlins have stored.


    Near the entrance to this spacious cavern, there awaited a bored gremlin woman at a polished wooden table. Her large yellow eyes were half closed and she breathed softly, as if near sleeping, when suddenly she jumped alert.


    "Pecoe, what took you so¡­ oh my sweet dear Mother! Where¡¯s Pecoe?¡±


    Fagan slammed his paw on the table.


    ¡°Dead.¡±


    The gremlin woman narrowed her eyes.


    ¡°Who the fuck are you?"


    "Your daddy," said Fagan.


    "Get lost, we''re not doing business with¡­"


    Before she finished speaking, Fagan reached out, grabbed her by the ponytail and smashed her head hard on the table. She started bleeding and slobbering all over her face.


    "She looks better for sure," scoffed Zioz.


    The gremlin woman flung herself back at the nanza-cats in rage but was quickly subdued by Zioz and Shan, who twisted her arms until she squealed.


    ¡°The next time you boil up, I¡¯ll have him gouge out your eyes,¡± threatened Fagan while nodding towards Ran.


    The gremlin¡¯s eyes burned with such a desperate rage and humiliating pain, that even Fagan subconsciously swallowed dry. Gremlins, unique to almost every other animal on Jord, have that lunatic capacity to ignore one¡¯s pains and tortures in order to fulfill their mad revenge. When you cut their arms, you¡¯ll kick you; when you cut their legs, they¡¯ll bite you; when you knock out their teeth, they¡¯ll spit you.


    "What happens here in this place?


    "Fuck y ¡­"


    ¡°What business?¡± demanded Fagan again furiously, but before the gremlin woman could talk, Fagan jerked her head back and forth by her hair.


    "Speak, or else I''m cutting you bad!"


    Smack!


    Before she even opened her mouth to respond, Fagan slapped her hard over her large, bat ears. The gremlin¡¯s eyes went dim and smoky and she nearly collapsed, but Zioz and Shan caught her and pulled her back up.


    ¡°Wake up. What do you have stored here?"


    ¡°Blow me!¡±


    Fagan grabbed her by the collar over the table. She tried to pull away but Fagan''s grip was like iron. He unsheathed his claws and held them over her throat tight enough that blood dripped onto her shirt.


    "Stay still and just talk!"


    ¡°It¡¯s illegal to kill, don¡¯t you know?¡± mockingly laughed the gremlin woman in what sounded more like a mad animal¡¯s screeching.


    Getting quite annoyed by the entire situation, Fagan nodded at Ran, who silently obliged. Previously, before joining the others, Ran had been instructed by Fagan to bring a gremlin''s head with him just in case they ran into others, and use it as a fear tactic tool in order to avoid conflict.


    "Wanna join this friend of yours?" asked Fagan.


    "Mother, I curse these flea infested sacks of shit! By the wrath of Bakroi I curse you with seventeen plagues¡­" screeched the gremlin woman when she saw the decapitated dangling in front of her.


    However, her already large eyes widened like saucers and her green complexion paled when she saw Ran unsheathing his claws and approaching her.


    ¡°I told you I¡¯ll gouge your eyes out.¡±


    Ran walked right next to her with a seraphic indifference and deftly pushed three claws against her right eyeball.


    "Answer me," calmly said Fagan, which to the gremlin, it was more frightening than a beating motivated by anger. It was clear to her that they¡¯ll be slow and thorough.


    "Stop! We''re holding onto goods here, ya know," the gremlin woman suddenly blurted.


    Right at that instant, Fagan placed a paw on Ran¡¯s and stopped him from tormenting the gremling.


    "I don''t. What goods?"


    "Spoils of battle, smuggled stuff, thievery, things of blackmail, the usual."


    "The usual my ass. Better produce me a list before I split you open like the rat you are."


    The gremlin obeyed under Fagan¡¯s watchful eyes. She took a piece of paper from a cabinet near her reception table and handed it to Fagan. He looked and browsed through it, and it was soon clear that this place was a storehouse for illegally procured items, money and supplies. The sum that he looked for was also listed on the paper, and Fagan''s lips curled into a faint smile.


    "No wonder this place was protected by a whole commando of gremlins. Aside from a buffed up potions-chugging human, there were few forces that could directly deal with a commando."


    His smile turned into a toothy grin.


    "Well, that and my force of nanza-cats."


    Fagan was under no illusions that his trump card was Ran and without him, their battle strength would definitely be reduced by almost a half. Ran easily amounted to approximately forty percent of their total battle capacity and ability to deal with unforeseen situations. Just Fagan, Shan, Zioz and Ssyba alone could have likely fought off the initial wave of gremlins, but even now when they brought reinforcements, Ssyba and Shan nearly lost their lives. Fagan looked at Ran in a more appreciative light, knowing that in day to day circumstances, such a feat couldn''t have been possible. They were aided by luck, Marduni, a newly found fervor to complete their first job and perhaps even the element of surprise.


    "Alright, we have wasted enough time!"


    Fagan shoved the list high above his head.


    "I recuperated the payment we came for, but you feel free to pick whatever else you need. Here is the list. Before we go, make sure to grab your own payment bonus and let''s get the hell out of here."


    Shan and Zioz picked the list, scanned through it and went on to choose their items. Ssyba paid close attention and noticed that they put their paws mainly on small, easily concealed and expensive items such as jewelry, badges, tokens, writing tools and yori paper.


    Ssyba came with a purpose only and knew exactly what she wanted, but didn''t know how she could put her paws on without attracting too much attention.


    "Ssyba, what are you waiting for? We do not have all day long to decide. Grab what you can and let''s move. We''ll split the money in equal parts once we deliver his payment to Talamar."


    "Fagan, what can I do with these?" deceptively asked Ssyba, while pointing at several ingredients and vraja potions off the list.


    "These aren''t useful. Human weed and lotions, you can''t move them around the black markets as easily as other stuff from this list because humans keep a close eye on their stuff."


    "I have someone who''s interested in vraja potion brewing ingredients," truthfully said Ssyba. "A human, I''m not doing business by myself."


    "That badau evict of yours?"


    "Yes, and his employer, lady Tisila as it turned out. I know for a fact that any vraja potions and whatever materials are used for them are very expensive."


    "You are right," said Fagan in a contemplative mood, studying her face in the meanwhile. "But the potion market is closed to us. It is simply too niche, it''s only concerning humans and humanly affairs. You won''t find us dealing with these things, it brings too much unwanted attention from the authorities.¡±


    Ssyba''s face turned sour.


    "What about the gremlins?"


    "Gremlin sayadao can also be human. In fact, most sayadao from the Cultelari ranks are human, and I heard that their grandmaster is a former human assassin."


    "Is that why they''re such a powerful organization?"


    Fagan nodded.


    That''s when Ssyba''s vexation was suddenly cleared up.


    "Mister Izzmahil is willing to pay me for those brewing materials. Even if it¡¯s cheaper than on the market, I¡¯m taking it and it¡¯s a start for me. We have an established relation of cooperation, having formerly worked together under the same roof for lady Tisila, who might I add is also a brewess of vraja potions. Now help me get all these items from the list, please."

 Chapter 9: Gaining strength and grasping the three orders

    Chapter 9: Gaining strength and grasping the three orders


    The morning light was accompanied by waves and waves of heavy damp winds. People were already out and about on the streets, marveled at the last night''s rain which was something many of them did not witness in decades. Some commoners carrying utensils, shoulder poles and buckets walked under the roof upon which Ssyba sat and contemplated. They made a commotion about the rain and the group was followed by some children who were playing in the puddles. By mid-day, it would all be dry again, so they rushed to recuperate as much as possible. Ssyba''s moody expression lightened slightly, thinking that her animal metabolism and small frame did not require much water.


    "My small frame might also prove to be a hindrance in the future," she muttered with a strange glimmer in her eyes.


    She looked with a distracted, dour gaze, part of her mind focused on the things that she might expect going forward and trying to formulate at least the semblance of a plan.


    Within her mystical gate the white cloud mana ebbed and swirled freely like mist carried by air currents. The uncomfortable breeze that ushered at her fur forced her to stop aimlessly pondering and move her thoughts towards her own, more pressing, business, particularly last night''s battle and its aftermath.


    "I thought you hated killing."


    Those were the words that Ran, her eldest brother, spoke to Ssyba after the battle, where five nanza-cats had shattered a gremlin commando of over thirty in clear superiority of combat prowess and ability.


    The words sank deep into Ssyba, doing a harsh exertion. Ran had assumed that Ssyba was concerned about killing, mostly because Ssyba had more than once expressed her unwillingness to kill. But that happened only because Ssyba wasn''t needlessly cruel and even Fagan knew that she was more cautious than the average street nanza. Initially Ran had agreed to come to protect Ssyba and if need be, do her part.


    "Let Ssyba do the small parts," said the monstrous Ran, to which Fagan agreed because getting Ran was his main focus and for acquiring his power, he would tolerate Ssyba''s presence. Not that Ssyba was useless, but within the troupe, Ssyba was easily the weakest link. Even the gremlins had sniffed it out.


    However, something quite unexpected had happened to Ssyba in the meantime (unbeknownst to her brothers) and in the end, she discovered that killing gremlins wasn''t as terrible as she once thought. That, in particular, concerned her more than Ran''s simple-minded assumptions.


    "I must not grow to enjoy such a thing," Ssyba kept repeating as if to iron that sentiment into her psyche. If she were to truly gain divine powers through mana and vraja potions, the act of killing gremlins would be akin to stepping on ants. Thoughtless and more or less inconsequential because in the world of humans, beast folk represented no threat.


    She looked at her earned assets again, this time with a determined sparkle. Of one thing she was positive out of all this bloody business: the act of murdering gremlins did not torment her as much as the rewards impressed her.


    What did she need in order to become stronger? Resources and vraja potions.


    Her share of the loot numbered many things and stuff that would have been considered trash, including mostly materials, chemical substances and various ingredients. Yet exactly these were the source of power for the entire human hegemony. The gremlins only used this stuff for trade, to blackmail or to secure resources for their sayadao. In this sense, they had a deeper understanding. The nanza-cats like Shan and Zioz couldn''t understand their worth and Fagan himself wouldn''t even associate himself with her in order to sell them for a profit. For him, these were nothing but cooking items and it showed his (and everyone else''s) disinterest and lack of deeper perspectives.


    For Ssyba, however, these were part of an entirely new dimension that she needed to traverse and learn it''s patterns and measurements. The science of vraja potions was profound and it required continuous study, experimentation and trial and error out of her.


    The first rule that she learned, potions equal power and power is the life-blood of this world. Would she even be alive today if not for the power of vraja potions? How does one acquire said power? By drinking the potion. How does one acquire the potion? By brewing the potion. How does one brew the potion? With mana and ingredients.


    Ssyba was entirely clear of the system, the only issue was simply a matter of execution.


    Another crucial aspect was her nature as a beast. To the rest of the world, there was no need to pay attention to one nanza-cat and invest interest into her. One would be inclined to see this as a disadvantage in gathering resources and accumulating power, but for Ssyba it was a paravan of safety. How could she have learned the basics of vraja potion brewing from Tisila, if Tisila hadn''t deemed her base? Why did Izzmahil waste a healing potion of her, back then? Why, even, did Fagan''s benefactor hire their troupe? The answer was simple, it was because they were beasts folk who could have no comprehension of such higher dimensions of the world.


    Thus, Ssyba could act unobstructed under the cover of being an animal. She would be free as she always wanted to walk her own path and secretly accumulate an impenetrable foundation and a mountain-shaking strength. The most optimal route was to progress alone and work alongside Fagan for more benefits, to avoid any unwanted attention and suppression.


    Ssyba shuddered, not merely because of the road to ascension laid in front of her, but because it was so steep. She felt like a worm trying to climb a mountain.


    "Well, even a tree grows from a small seedling."


    Ssyba inspected the strength vraja potion already in her possession. She had told Fagan nothing about it or what it was although he most likely knew. Glancing at it, she could see the mana imbued within this vial, its closed mystical gate and the strange symbols ascribed to it.


    "It is time! Better now than later," said Ssyba but her voice nearly cracked.


    Silence fell like a blanket over the entire world, over the loud commoners and their children. Ssyba felt a wrenching sensation within her invisible interior as though she tried to wrestle a vigorous fish on the docks and render it motionless. It was her own white cloud mana, she realized, nearly spilling out of her mystical gate. The uncertainty of drinking a potion touched her with wonder.


    Slowly, Ssyba undid the cap from the vial. The contents smelled like spicy chili pepper and it was bright and fiery in color. She knew what she had to do.


    Ssyba brought the vial to her mouth like a glass of nad''m and simply swallowed the contents in one gulp. It tasted pungent and heavy, sorta like garlic but clearer and sharper. She felt tears burning her eyes.


    Almost instantly she had opened her mystical gate and the mana reacted. It misted and clouded like a hurricane flock of sparrows flying directly into the symbol that appeared beside her gate, empowering it. Mana went inside the symbol like water spiraling into a drain and the more it absorbed, the stronger Ssyba felt.


    As the natural way of things stands in accordance with the great Yada, the body strength of a nanza-cat is far inferior to the body strength of an adult human. Even Ran, who was considered a tiger among cats, was only about as strong as an adult man and it was so only because of his wide physicality and mass.


    Within a few breaths of time, the strength symbol on Ssyba had absorbed as much mana as it could, because it was only a grade one vraja potion, and it began to react and force changes and adaptations within her fleshy structures.


    Ssyba felt an itch all over her body and across her limbs, then the itch turned into a slight pain as if from too much stretching, continuing in a pulsating manner as the power of the potion forged her muscles.


    Strength vraja potions were not unbound vraja potions, but they were very valuable because as long as the user could maintain the caloric intake and be active enough to warrant such muscular strength, the strength gained could be used indefinitely. In this sense, the strength vraja potion acted more like a grade one hair growth vraja potion. Once used, the hair on the user would grow but it did not disappear even after the reaction was through.


    Of course, this simple potion could not give Ssyba unlimited strength. It was only a grade one strength potion and it offered somebody more or less the equivalent strength of one man, when taking into consideration her mana quality. Even a small child could become as strong as an adult this way.


    After drinking and using the potion, Ssyba developed to be as strong as Ran or an adult human, when it came to sheer output. It did not mean that she could suddenly fight Ran toe to toe. A strong person can carry another strong person on their back, but that did not mean they were equals in terms of combat ability. Ran still outmatched Ssyba in battle aptitude.


    Ssyba''s newly bloomed muscles reshaped her body somewhat, added some contours to her physique and she appeared more formidable, but she felt troubled. Her narrow frame remained a problem that she couldn''t address yet. At this moment, her small body and slight silhouette became a true cause of concern.


    "It seems like the reaction stopped," said Ssyba, observing the effects within her mystical gate. She finally gained the full strength this potion could offer.


    The reaction only lasted for as long as it withdrew mana to sustain its effect. Once the reaction ended, the mana consumption subsided and effectively halted, and the reaction symbol also disappeared. This meant that reactions within one''s body would only appear by the mystical gate for as long as they were in effect. Once the reaction was finished, the symbol disappeared and nobody could spy on her and discover her secret even if they searched with their soul''s eye.


    Ssyba closed her mystical gate and flexed her limbs and body. There was a new strain pulling at her joints and a vitality that she wasn''t accustomed to.


    "The potion worked! So this is what true strength feels like?"


    Ssyba stretched out her arms, her sight fixated on her own muscular thickness. With a wicked smile, she embraced the truth of this reality.


    ***


    Ssyba obsessed over mister Izzmahil over the next few days, and even during gaps in conversation with Fagan and the other nanza-cats of the assault troupe. How much should he be allowed to know? The fact that Ssyba has a soul and mana to spare, that was the fulcrum upon which everything rested, but realistically speaking, could Izzmahil leverage this knowledge to somehow entrap her?


    In the moments before Ssyba went inside the warehouse to find Izzmahil, these sort of thoughts tortured her still animal mind. It was true that she valued freedom more than sheer power, so whatever business she would get to conduct to completion with either Izzmahil or even Fagan, her own kin, her own liberty will always be the most expensive coin to consider.


    The warehouse was not particularly impressive but it was large and spacious and it hosted the wares of many different traders, complete with hired commercial workers and haulers going about their businesses. The whole structure rested upon thick pillars over a side canal of Na-jid, had three entrances which suited Ssyba and her purpose fine and the place was invariably crowded, as was everything on the docks and the markets of Yasha''Lafiq.


    "Too many people mashed together in too small a place, surrounded by too high walls," contemplated Ssyba as she made her way like a slippery fish in between rocks.


    "Hey you," called a tanned worker dressed in sweaty white.


    "Yes?"


    "What are you looking for?"


    Ssyba wasn''t the only beast and non-human doing business here, but nonetheless she felt extremely focused upon and highlighted despite the fact that so many others openly carried potion ingredients. She had brought her goods in a carefully packed velum and must have appeared confused, so she simply answered:


    "I''m looking for mister Izzmahil if you know him."


    "I do, come with me."


    Ssyba relaxed a little and followed the worker, and sighed in relief when she noticed Izzmahil trading with another man some few paces ahead.


    "That''s two green tokens," said the worker.


    "I don''t have any," responded Ssyba.


    The worker lowered his arms and leaned closer to Ssyba in an intimidating way, when Izzmahil suddenly jumped in between them.


    "Hold it Murza! The cat''s with me and doesn''t usually trade with us, she''s got no tokens right now but is here to get some."


    The worker named Murza folded his arms across his white vest. He seemed indignant and dissatisfied by Izzmahil¡¯s explanation. It was clear to Ssyba then, that there could be no meaningful communication between them. It was such a deep and wide misunderstanding that there could be no way of crossing unless Ssyba paid what was demanded.


    She felt like she could kill him. New, sorcerous strength coursed through her limbs, true vraja power and she would have been aided entirely by the element of surprise, but she wasn''t completely confident first because of the height and weight differences between them, second because she was sure that others would jump in to beat her up senseless, third because there was no actual insult or slight done against her. If she attacked, she would then simply be considered a typical nanza troublemaker and would get rounded up by the police and dealt with accordingly.


    After a long, solemn silence, Murza moved out of the way. Ssyba saw him working his jaw and felt like he wanted to spit on her and if he did, she would have thrown the velum and jumped for the kill, caution be damned. Fortunately he did not.


    "Come," urged Izzmahil.


    Ssyba followed but her eyes kept following Murza out of wariness.


    "I''ll inspect whatever it is you have and I''ll give you tokens for it, fairly. But regardless of how much you earn, you''ll go find Murza right away and give him two green tokens."


    "Right," said Ssyba at length.


    "And next time don''t accept nothing from these unbathed whoresons unless you come clearly to trade with them. It''s how they shake beast folk out of their tokens without a way to retaliate because they''ll skin you if you even raise your eyes disrespectfully."


    Ssyba laughed and revealed the contents of her velum.


    "Any reason why we haven''t traded at Tisila''s house?" cautiously probed Ssyba.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    "Tisila doesn''t want you anymore," said Izzmahil. Ssyba shrugged at the fact that Tisila wanted her out.


    "Also, I don''t usually carry tokens with me openly. Nobody does, you''d be wise to follow my advice. And surely I never carry more than I need at Tisila''s."


    "I understand. Are all transactions done with tokens?"


    "Everything that concerns vraja potions, yes. Oftentimes the values are too astronomical for money and humans prefer to carry a few tokens on a ring rather than bags and bags of coins for ingredients and whatever else they need."


    Ssyba glanced all around her and saw what was being done. Tokens came in grades, just like vraja potions. Green tokens were the lowest she inferred, and they concerned the trade for grade one vraja potions and materials.


    Izzmahil took over the ingredients. Many were trash, merely dry useless leaves and skins and stinky bones, but Ssyba couldn''t have known that so she grabbed anything that she could carry. He grimaced a number of times as he combed over the opened velum, but that told Ssyba little. The badau''s expression was invariably a grimace and it only seemed fit for him as part of that harsh race of men. Few things in the Alyriam desert were more terrifying than the badawin. Even the princes paid respects and traded openly with them, paying with untold riches to woo them and keep them from wandering without returning to Yasha''Lafiq. In a way, the badawin were solely the blood of Alyriam and Yasha''Lafiq, bringing in precious things from all over the desert and its hidden wealth.


    "Three murmured Izzmahil."


    "Three what?" winced Ssyba with a pang of disappointment. If all this hard work only amounted to three green tokens, two of which she would have to pay Murza, it would be a let down.


    But Izzmahil merely ignored her and went on with his accounting. There was an off putting moment of silence, interrupted only by the shouts and clatter of trading done all around them. Roars of laughter, or pleading, or begging or working or demanding, all around Ssyba, men were doing real business with objects of divine power. She glanced with her soul''s eye and studied the mystical gates of her surroundings.


    Such a thing was never part of Ssyba¡¯s reality. The way she understood it, the world only had two dimensions. Things near and simple, and things far and mighty. The near was family, species and kin, survival and the inane struggles of beasts. Food and shelter was the main subject of discussion. For female nanza-cats it was mating with the strongest males, and the males concerned themselves with combat and imaginary territories in a world of borrowed things. Fagan, for instance, with all his talents and boisterous talk, was only a house pet. His "territories" were human streets in a human city, and only because humans were doing something else, accumulating true, heavenly power.


    These were once the far things: concept after mysterious concept, impenetrable strengths to beasts and animals. The first prince ascending after dominating and slaying the previous owner of the First Throne, malevolent powers granted by vraja potions, mana quality and potion grades with which one person could rival a nation, schemes atop schemes.


    Ssyba felt very small.


    "Hmm, that''s one I think," mindlessly talked Izzmahil while picking various materials, and it gave Ssyba some comfort knowing that the man was serious about this business.


    And then, there was a moment of enlightenment.


    Ssyba wasn''t small. She suddenly felt very large, like a source of light seeping through the cracks of a wall that could no longer contain her. Larger, in fact, than Yanamusad, the first prince. Looking at Izzmahil doing his job and feeling the strength of the potion adding tensions in her bones, the world suddenly collapsed. Those high and powerful men were as petty and contemptible as any gremlin, their riches were only the human versions of the rotten fish that the nanza battled for. Their high fortresses and palaces were on those same streets where Fagan acted as king of the nanza-cats. The First Throne was no more precious to humans, than what the good spot on the docks to catch fish heads was to nanza-cats.


    Ssyba realized that she had complicated all aspects of her life. The world did not even have two dimensions. It only had one: scale.


    Izzmahil eventually stood up and had a vague expression on his hard face.


    "I''ll take the velum as is, but know that there is also much trash," he said while sweeping the ground with his boot, throwing all the trash directly into the canal.


    "I counted and here''s the value of your stuff: seventeen green tokens and two yellow tokens. I almost gave it three yellow tokens but I wager you''d find green tokens more useful for now. Is that alright?"


    "It seems fine to me at first glance," said Ssyba, while containing her excitement. "But why is it so? How much does everything cost here?"


    "This bundle of purple thorn petals costs one green token."


    "For all that?"


    "Yes, it''s mostly what''s commonly known as filler material in potion making, it''s not useless but it grows everywhere and people only buy it out of convenience and to save time. See, this one here is white crystal-claw dust, it''s very expensive because even if you have just a little clear spring mana, you can add this catalyst into the vraja potion and have it act as a reaction amplifier. I gave one yellow token for the jar even though I could have found it for five or six green tokens. I can''t be bothered to search the markets for too long and I''d rather see you grow your capital¡­"


    Izzmahil continued to explain. He secretly observed Ssyba in the meantime and noticed her intelligence and composure, deciding to help and invest in her. The materials that she brought were also useful and key ingredients in popular vraja potions such as hair growth, night vision, adhesive honey, hair armor and so on, so he paid her fairly because the affairs of this world were fickle, and he counted on Ssyba feeling indebted to him. Still, as a renegade badau and a favored trader in the eastern square warehouses, he couldn¡¯t brazenly assist her because it could leave a bad impression to others.


    Izzmahil counted the tokens which were small metal tablets of various measurements and colors. Green was the cheapest, used frequently in trading grade one vraja potion materials. Yellow tokens came after. There were also equivalent rates, where one could spend many green tokens to purchase as much as one could with a single yellow token. These rates varied from place to place and depended on many things, such as the age of materials, number, the mood of the trader and so on. Generally speaking though, the rate was seven to one.


    Izzmahil arranged Ssyba''s tokens on a token ring, whipped a ribbon of red and blue cloth from a pocket and made something like a sash for her to wear across her chest and shoulder.


    "Don''t be careless. These are more valuable than coins."


    Ssyba thanked him and turned to leave, when Izzmahil grabbed her by the shoulder. Out of instinct, Ssyba shrugged his hand off but due to her enhanced strength, Izzmahil was slightly taken aback.


    "What did you do?" he asked with eyes wide from shock.


    "Mister Izzmahil, if I have no strength to build upon, how would I protect myself in this world?"


    "But why did you drink a strength potion and you didn''t bring it directly to me?"


    "Because I have worked very hard for these gains, but I found my foundation lacking and I nearly paid with my life for it!"


    "Is that so¡­


    Izzmahil relented and nodded, but his eyes showed disapproval. Ssyba saw it and laughed bitterly in her heart. Every human, she realized, would have had this attitude towards her becoming stronger. Without personal understanding and experiencing the impoverished lives of animals and non-humans, it was hard for them to understand the importance of having a strong foundation upon which to build recognition. Fagan earned the respect of the nanza-cats of Yasha''Lafiq due to his strength and combat prowess, and Ran was so mighty that he gained Fagan''s respect. It all boiled down to strength for the nanza and ultimately, nobody could blame Ssyba for lacking foresight.


    The truth was, for somebody untutored like Ssyba, building basic strength and elevated physical standards was more important than the other more subtle aspects of vraja powers. Ssyba''s words were very sincere and they made sense from a simple-minded point of view, but Izzmahil couldn''t help but narrow his eyes. He never would have imagined that Ssyba would be so bold as to actually gain direct power from vraja potions. In his mind, he imagined Ssyba to use her unique situation to create an easier life for herself, not audaciously charge into the den of lions that was the human society.


    "So what are you going to do from now on?"


    "I''ll steadily build my wealth with your help and guidance master Izzmahil, and accumulate upon my strength and power if at all possible."


    "Building wealth is the proper thing to start doing first. Without wealth, how can you even consider anything else?" said Izzmahil with proper arrogance. "But be careful who you''re targeting next. The river God only knows that I want to see less and less gremlins roaming Yasha''Lafiq in the night, but even the princes would think twice before angering the Cultelari."


    "Please advise me further, mister Izzmahil."


    Izzmahil cleared his throat before starting to teach.


    "It is very important indeed to build a proper foundation, but Ssyba, that is reserved for the elites and professionals. Do you know how expensive it is to maintain power? Us commoners have no place up there."


    Ssyba had an inborn bestial fighting nature that wasn''t easily subdued, it was only natural for her to focus of combat and battle utility, but she did not even stop to consider the other aspects of powers. Vraja magic was boundless, thus it was split into three main, broad orders:


    Brewing, also known as the first order, was the study of material selection, gathering, storage and preparing. But as was the case with all three of the orders, they all split into many branches. Brewing was also the study of recipes, improvements and optimisation in mana consumption, proper measurements, reverse engineering already existing potions whose recipes have been lost in time, ingredients farming and so on.


    Drinking (the second order) studied the methods of obtaining powers from vraja potions and some of its many branches included timing, mana consumption, mysticism and proper optimisation. Experts could close their mystical gates while the reaction still absorbed mana, so they could only obtain a different or a reduced effect for less mana consumption. Sometimes, the full effect was not even truly desired when something similar could be achieved with a smaller quantity of mana, allowing proficient scholars of this aspect to perfectly squeeze and reap every benefit at the lowest cost possible. These experts excelled at prolonged battles and wars of attrition.


    Lastly, the third order was the usage of vraja potions, and it also split into many categories including attack (which further split into smaller branches such as ranged, medium and close range, elemental, physical, mental and so on), defense, healing and recuperation, movement and many others. Attacking might sound appealing to somebody like Ssyba but just as an example, those who specialized in healing have always been in high demand regardless of mana quality, having a grand status among their peers.


    Ssyba nodded continuously. Saying so, Izzmahil paused and looked at Ssyba with a meaningful gaze. He had met hundreds of people in his long years with the badawin and even after he left them, and could somewhat understand where Ssyba was coming from. He was not surprised at all that she snatched the first opportunity for gaining direct strength without any sense of measure and discernment.


    "So what do you think?"


    "The possibilities are endless," said Ssyba as determination showed upon her face. "After hearing all this, I have gained much insight."


    "Yes, but none of it applies if you have no wealth to support your needs. Look at them," said Izzmahil disdainfully nodding at the workers passing by. "Do you think any of them are concerned about these metaphysics? It''s expensive to maintain a set of reactions within your body. Your strength right now, how much do you think it will last? It was unwise to rush it, you could have sold me that vraja potion for at least two hundred green tokens!"


    Ssyba rubbed her nose:


    "I am still thankful for your advice mister Izzmahil, but I will follow my own path. Others might not be concerned because of difficulties, but precisely because of that I will. Challenges are difficult but you can only gain accomplishments if there is a challenge!"


    Izzmahil stared at her in a daze, unsure of what else to say. He had taken such a long time to introduce Ssyba into the metaphysics of vraja potions as a way to dishearten her, yet he did not expect his work to turn her mind in the opposite direction. To him, Ssyba functioned on foreign principles to his own. His thoughts were the truth that applied to most humans. They focused more on wealth, riches and luxury, building generational wealth and resources. What good is it for somebody to be able to lift like a bull? It has no intrinsic value! Valuables, possessions, assets, cash, these were quantifiable. Principles such as strength were only surface level, in truth, they served the capital as much as anything else. Izzmahil smirked in himself thinking that if humans did not have the all-powerful mana to spare, as an animal they would be closer in temperament to the mystical dragons. Hoarding, judgemental, filled with an air of superiority. Perhaps that was the reason why dragons were such a popular art motif.


    "You would fit in with the badawin. They cherish this romantic frame of mind," smiled helplessly Izzmahil.


    He then sighed deeply.


    "Never mind me, I''ll help you to the end, but first you do your part and pay Murza what you owe him. I vouched for you after all."


    After they finished talking for a while longer, Ssyba thanked him and left with her earnings. Seeing her walk away, Izzmahil¡¯s forced smile vanished and his expression turned solemn, swearing in his heart. This Ssyba was really a troublemaker out of touch with reality. He had judged her intelligence correctly but there was nothing simple about her character. Izzmahil hated that sort of attitude. The badawin were full of these zestful dream-warriors, he had had enough of them and their overwhelming push for attainment and execution. "Resource vacuums" he had called them, reckless spenders and general fortune chasers who created hard times due to their maneuvering.


    Izzmahil could not stand it at all!


    ***


    Ssyba was suddenly awake. The city smelled like hot stables in the late afternoon and the air was usually heavy on the breath. Bells began ringing some distance away calling for those who paid respects to the sun, as opposed to those who paid their respects to the river, to bid farewell and pull the veil of darkness on its bright face. Ssyba used some nad''m to rinse her mouth and she discovered that even if she had the cash for water, it was its tonic astringency that she preferred.


    By the time she had finished waking up and stretching her limbs off the accumulated stiffness, the streets below were no longer alive with voices, shouts and commotion, but growing more and more silent by the minute. Ssyba waited until the street had cleared fully before jumping off the roof directly on the cobblestones. Her increased strength made it much easier to perform these physical feats, despite the fact that it tired her more, so she needed to learn how to regulate her strength.


    She slipped along the street sides, sticking to the shadows and the corners where she could, and stalked silently under the dark and stained building walls otherwise. She nimbly avoided the areas swept by the elemental hounds and those frequented by the law enforcers. Then she raised her eyes on one of the main arteries, she saw a patrol of policemen spying on her from up ahead. They must have noticed her because they quickly rested their hands on their beating sticks, but made no further advancements. At first Ssyba feigned indifference, walking past them without as much as exchanging one glance, but very soon the pretense became the thing itself. What was there to even be afraid of? She remained conscious of their eyes upon her, but only as an insignificant peripheral burden. Her mind was swimming far from her cursed, base world.


    As she regained leadership of herself, Ssyba felt a profound sorrow but had not made half a step before she was seized by an equally profound joy. The burdens of life seemed to be lifted from her at that moment. Indeed, what was there to be afraid of, for someone like her who had Creation itself branded inside her mind''s eye? Suddenly, the cool midnight air seemed to be made expressly for her, fresh and bathing.


    Ssyba jumped away from the principal road and climbed up on a fence, where she waited for her prey with blessed patience. There was a change in her eyes, watching all sorts of commoners and non-humans finishing their businesses and heading back home. She even spied a nanza-cat up and about who knows where.


    "There they are," wheezed Ssyba under her breath as two household gnomes took a corner and walked towards where she stood hidden.


    Gnomes were truly worldly beings who loved the inner workings of all things, having an innately curious nature and remarkable intelligence. Some older gnomes even stood as scholars and researchers into vraja metaphysics though they themselves were lower creatures with no soul. They were very hard workers and loved by everyone, especially humans who used or employed them in quantities to work as vraja potion brewers. The second prince Medzanalfif even nurtured a few ancestries of gnomes upon his domain and he mobilized them in his many businesses to work as budgetaries on projects and operations that stimulated their passion.


    These two seemed to discuss something important as evidenced by their faces tightened like a fist in concentration.


    "Master''s maimarandir has stirred once again and it murmured. According to its calculations, although we''ll be spared ''till this year''s celebration, the planetary collision storm will arrive in nine tenths of a year from now."


    The other gnome frowned and asked:


    "Is your master definite in these deductions?"


    "Eighty percent positive, he told me."


    "So soon¡­"


    "Take heart, he doesn''t expect it to be of extreme consequence. But although the storm itself won''t endanger Yasha''Lafiq, it could still reduce its might significantly."


    "Still I remember the herald storm," said the other gnome with a pang of sorrow in his voice as hopelessness seemed to steal at his nerves. "If that was only a subsidiary of the real planetary collision storm, what can we lowly folk do?"


    "Master says we should at least give the first prince the benefit of the doubt because he puts a good price on our services. Surely he has an eye for the useful. Hey, who are you?"


    One of the gnomes was slightly surprised by Ssyba''s sudden appearance right when she jumped and landed in front of them. But he calmed down and relaxed his eyes and face and was just about to say something when Ssyba quickly grabbed him by his long hair and pulled him forward. With inertia and using her massively enhanced strength to drop it like a melon, Ssyba cracked the gnome''s skull upon the pavement. He went limp on the spot, dead.


    The other gnome was too disturbed and stunned in disbelief to do or say anything, as they were often reasonable creatures who could hardly grasp savagery. A crisp sound, and the scenery changed upside down as his neck was broken.


    He opened his mouth as if to say something but he collapsed on the ground.


    He died with his eyes staring wide at Ssyba, trying his damndest to understand his killer.

 Chapter 10: To forge a body as strong as a rock

    Chapter 10: To forge a body as strong as a rock


    Ssyba killed the two gnomes and immediately pounced on their corpses, grabbing and heaving them away from the road like two woolen dolls with her enormous strength. She quickly searched their bodies and found the green tokens that she was looking for. Thin and long of about an index finger, roughly rectangle shaped with a pretty metallic luster on the face. They were carried unpretentiously on a token ring and covered with a blue sash decorated with golden stars.


    Humans often employed and used beasts and non-humans for menial and arduous tasks, it was nothing unusual. Was a horse not carrying the rider? Was an aurochs not used for burden? In the same sphere did vraja potion brewers use gnomes as familiars and laboratory assistants because it was a gnome''s nature to be studious and diligent. They were sincere creatures and had nimble thoughts, one could quickly see their worth.


    Once she learned about tokens and that whole other dimension of commerce opened to her, Ssyba promptly reviewed her position and reconsidered her actions. She would honor Fagan''s deal because he was her brother but beyond that, betraying him wouldn''t benefit her in the slightest. Her main source of income would be the simple targets filling the streets of Yasha''Lafiq: gnomes, gremlins, who carried tokens and ingredients or even potions.


    Naturally tokens were useless for the lower castes and non-humans so those who had them on their person weren''t in any danger walking the streets. However, to Ssyba, they represented steps towards power!


    In one of the gnome''s satchels, there were potions arranged with inscriptions and symbols attached to them. One was a prism-like vial with a blue and orange liquid in it. The orange was misting like clouds against the blue sky-like background. It was a grade one homing firebird vraja potion, quite weak in direct firepower but strong as an alternative unpredictable form of long range attack. The user could breathe out and summon a small firebird who locked onto their target. These birds were agile and fast and once they reached the end of their flight path, they detonated in a blast of flames. Long range attacks like these have always been useful throughout history, and breath attacks even more so because a combatant could use it if he was incapacitated or had their limbs bound. It was for this reason the fire or frost breath vraja potions were so high in demand. The simplicity of use simply filtered them and allowed them to float near the top of the list.


    Ssyba was however not interested and quickly pocketed the homing firebird vraja potion. There was another squished cylinder vial with a darker, silvery liquid in it. This was the grade one metal belly vraja potion. Its reaction reinforced the user''s belly and lower abdomen area with a thin metal plate, increasing their defense and resistance to attacks. It was quite useful and tough to crack or penetrate by conventional means. If someone used this potion and would be punched in the gut, to the attacker it would feel like hitting a metal plate armor piece. The only downside to this grade one potion was that the user became quite rigid.


    In the satchel there was another vraja potion, in a small round bottle the size of an egg. This one was a grade two right eye polearm gaze vraja potion. Once activated, the right eye of the user would gain a formless attacking power. It could direct an invisible crash into the direction of their eye contact, having an effective range of a few meters. If clear spring mana quality was used, the attack would feel like a hefty punch at around three meters. With Ssyba''s white cloud mana quality, it would feel more like a war sledgehammer swing effective at over fifteen meters. The only downside was, once used, the right eye would suffer consequences and could even go temporarily blind, depending on the strain put on it.


    The fourth vraja potion was carried in a pocket by the other gnome and he even had some green tokens on the side, proving that it was a recent acquisition. The liquid was dark purple and thin like water, there was no inscription and no symbology attached to the vial yet, awaiting identification. Ssyba took this potion and surmised that she will have to have it identified sometime tomorrow, after she had sold her gains.


    Other than these four vraja potions, both gnomes had materials and ingredients in their satchels, meticulously arranged and inscribed by use. Among all these ingredients, Ssyba even recognized the saint''s tongue leaves used for healing potions. A while ago, her former master Tisila brewed these species of leaves to create a grade four healing vraja potion, which reminded Ssyba that she also needed to learn how to brew potions by herself. It was the sensible course of action because she couldn''t rely on chance and plundering forever. Someone might look into the deaths of her victims and though she might clean up the scene of the attack, the rush was bound to leave behind areas of neglect. Although the hunts weren''t as consequential due to the nature of her victims, their human masters might lament the senseless loss and investigate them as victims of murder or crimes against non-humans. If that was the case, the chance of getting caught was sure to increase with each victim.


    The risk that Ssyba took tonight was born out of need and curiosity and she would have to take further safety measures from now on. If others would do this, they would feel guilt and not think their actions through, but not nanza-cats. They battled and killed for the slightest things, they were fine with death for gains and weren''t kind beasts at all.


    "Going beyond the animal kingdom and pulling myself out of the mud of the world, how could there be no price in blood to pay? Next I''ll have to hunt down for profits but isn''t that the true essence of being a nanza? I may have a soul, but my flesh is apex predator flesh."


    Ssyba raised her paws and unsheathed her claws for her to ponder upon.


    "My claws are nanza claws and I use them, my bones are nanza bones, even now, with the additional strength added into my being, I feel the tension pulling at my bones and tendons. I am still a nanza through and through. Ran thought I hated killing and I do, except when it''s necessary. I hate senseless killing but does a lion hate his prey? For me, all of Yasha''Lafiq are now my prey."


    Ssyba started laughing heartily with a brilliant blaze burning in her eyes and heart. There was complete confidence and control over her situation as she became more familiar with her needs and expectations.


    ***


    A battle ended, between a gremlin commando group and a band of corsairs who loaded cargo on their black-sailed catboat, with the intention of sailing down Na-jid to east, to Ya''Sira. Out of over thirty-five gremlins and more than a dozen armed and armored corsairs, only eight gremlins remained, all wild-eyed with braided hair and tattoos or piercings. Right by the boat, the haul was basically untouched, the corsairs had the idea of smuggling those goods out of Yasha''Lafiq by night.


    "This was too easy," said the largest gremlin, obviously their leader, feeling extremely pleased with the results of this battle.


    He was a candidate for the position of sayadao, he had amazing leading and fighting capabilities even among other commando leaders and he had criss-crossed many outstanding victories on his belt. Losing more than half of his commando group was not a big price to pay for those materials and jewels that the corsairs nearly escaped with. The Mother will see that he''ll get more troops soon, if he continues to deliver.


    His luck was also great. If he recruited capable and disciplined brothers and would lead them to victories, the advantages would snowball and they would result in more advantages, better gear and stronger brothers from more eminent strains, an easier time to pick battles and maybe even the aid of a sayadao.


    "This time I was lucky, but I can not get complacent and let my heart and mind be clouded due to victory. I must set my jaw and look straight ahead, Mother willing."


    The leader thought about it for some time, before collecting his concerns. He ordered his seven remaining brothers to gather the loot, stack it all together and even their booty out at the base. Hearing that death won''t be casting dice with them today, they scrambled to plunder the corpses, the catboat and crack open the haul. There were many interesting items inside the chest, including elemental crystals, vraja potions, empty vials for brewing, banakir ink and the corresponding yori paper used to inscribe potions, various brewing materials and money, obviously. Hard cash, no tokens.


    Intent on their scavenging, the gremlins didn''t see the unfamiliar nanza-cat approaching menacingly. With claws unsheathed and propelled forward by her enhanced musculature, she dashed towards the biggest, largest gremlin first, the leader. She swung out with her claws and before anyone could react, they passed straight through his face like a set of razor knives through cheese, sending the gremlin flying into a limp sprawl of blood and slobber, his face crested open like a sliced watermelon.


    The others rallied instantly, but Ssyba was mad and unstoppable. Her strength shattered the gremlins like pottery, she cut through them with ease until her claws cracked and broke, her kicks twisted and crushed bone, she slammed them on the pavement and ripped her way to stillness, going beyond even her own body until the tendons attaching her left pectoral muscle to the arm tore apart and her right tibia snapped like a twig. When none of the gremlins were left, Ssyba dropped on all fours, wincing in pain and exhausted of all but a primal need to live.


    Far back in her thundering mind there was a mad constantly narrowing whisper, tormenting her with a persistent cadence:


    "I thought you hated killing."


    ***


    Ssyba was in a brutal state, dazed and aching all over her body due to the intensity of strains upon her anatomy. The nanza-cat physique was simply not constructed to be naturally brawny and robust. They were quick, light on their paws and bursty.


    She limped and crawled on all fours like an abused animal on the dusty streets, her mind blank and baffled at the absurdity she felt welling up within herself. She tried to remember where she was going and pushed on with perseverance through the smoky sunrise glow.


    Down at the far end of the street, the early vendors and traders rumbled towards the port and the warehouses. Ssyba limped into the familiar large, elevated warehouse with three entrances and glanced about for Murza.


    "You again?"


    The man''s eyes widened with surprise and shock at her broken and ragged form.


    "The River-god, who''d you run into?"


    Ssyba shook her head and opened her bright eyes to look into Murza''s. She readied a green token and said:


    "I have some merchandise and I want some help to move it."


    Murza''s displeased figure immediately mellowed and faded into agreement, nodding as he studied her for a bit. Ssyba''s clarity of mind and demeanor was more terrifying to him than actually seeing a howling beast instead. It is said that the eyes are mirrors of the soul, and as Murza stared at her with a narrow gaze, he couldn¡¯t help but think that he glanced into something vast and deep and disturbing.


    Murza was not a complicated man but the circumstances of his life had been so arranged as to drown him in trouble. Those troubles would never allow him to deny tokens. He appeared to be in his late forties, with brown hair streaked with gray, a hard face used to frowns and hardships.


    "Your badau is not here today. But what has happened to you?"


    Ssyba snorted. She could barely handle her stuff with all the broken claws, bruises and swellings on her body, her left paw was all but immobile due to the severe injury and her limp was critical. But after the last night''s raiding, she had gained four saleable potions in need of appraising, various materials valued at around forty-five to fifty-five green tokens, eight elemental crystals, forty-nine green tokens in addition to the other fifteen that she already had (out of which one she converted into cash for food, right after she paid Murza what was previously owned), one additional yellow token, as well as some hard cash.


    "Just help me move my stuff," said Ssyba, taking out another green token.


    "Alright, deal. See that woman there? Talk to her and if she asks, say that Murza sent you. She should be able to look over your stuff if she isn''t busy."


    Ssyba was already clear in her heart about how this business is conducted and after waiting for a good enough moment to arrive, she took a deep breath in, ignoring the sharp stab under her ribs, and limped with confidence and determination at the woman.


    "The first token is to secure their attention, the second is for obtaining information, the third¡­" repeated Ssyba under her pained breath.


    The woman was slender and tall, a white colored belt hanging loosely around her waist. Against her tanned skin and black clothes, it was a fashionable contrast and she looked beautiful and rich.


    "What is it?" she lashed with hardened eyes.


    Ssyba nearly flinched but she recovered her composure. She took out three green tokens right from the start and stacked them at the woman''s feet.


    "I want to do some business in my master''s place."


    The woman''s demeanor remained hard as granite. Those that came to the port looking for trade were all vraja potion users or those serving masters and experts, with tokens to spare. An animal or non-human, they did not simply come to take a look, and those poorer individuals and common menial workers would get an eye-opening experience into the true value of vraja potions, satisfying their curiosity. Most humans who did real business were well off or had families or patrons secretly backing them.


    Thus, this woman had some expectations towards Ssyba''s trading power, otherwise she would have kicked the stray away.


    "Let me look around first," said the woman, not expecting Ssyba to own any potions anyway. Who in their right mind trusted animals to carry such expensive items?


    Ssyba obliged and showed her the first velum, a smaller one full of materials. She had looted all of these from the gnomes, discarded their satchels and corpses straight into Na-jid before going after the gremlins. The velum was black and soft, with owl eye motifs embroidered on it.


    "Hmph, beggarly stray," the woman immediately thought. People worth talking to carried their materials in satchels or had others carry them, so who was this poor nanza-cat wrapping all these materials into a velum? Only the destitute did this.


    "I have assessed the contents of this velum and I''m only willing to pay about fifteen green tokens for them all. The only saving grace was the elemental crystal."


    "You mean this? I have others like this one," said Ssyba and pointed towards the light-red prismatic object.


    The woman felt slightly perplexed, but shook her head not having any higher expectations of Ssyba¡¯s merchandise. After all, a velum worth fifteen to twenty green tokens was meager pocket change.


    "Let''s see then," she said, sighing.


    Ssyba revealed a small sack with seven other elemental crystals, three of which were the same light-red variety meaning they belonged to fire element


    . One other crystal was round and golden in color, and the other two were icy-azure and star-shaped.


    "Where do you have all of them?"


    "My master gathered all of these items during one of his missions, though I know not from where. He had only sent me to sell them so I can purchase the right for a medical examination and treatment," said Ssyba with the same tone she had used when Tisila''s mood darkened and she reached for the bamboo stick.


    "About time someone hunted down those elemental spectral hounds even if they do it for profits, don''t you agree?" laughed the woman.


    Ssyba could only feign a smile, but an idea was already taking roots into her mind.


    "These here are thirty-one green tokens in total, is that alright with you?" appraised the woman, her tone becoming sweeter and softer towards Ssyba.


    But next Ssyba grabbed onto her other velum and opened it wide at the woman''s feet. This next batch of merchandise stunned the woman and forced her to reconsider Ssyba''s status on this market, as well as her trading power. Seeing this tattered nanza-cat, an undisguised look of revulsion crossed the woman''s soft and round features, but now she was forced to readjust her attitude and bend to the new circumstances. This second velum was larger and had materials and ingredients totaling twenty-four green tokens, mostly due to the healing potion ingredients increasing the value of contents. Adding to the other two transactions, Ssyba earned a total of seventy green tokens!


    The woman, feeling extremely surprised, could not help but mentally analyze Ssyba again.


    "Who is your master, if I''m allowed to ask?"


    "His name is lord Talamar. I work directly under him, but last night''s mission rendered me incapacitated and he is not willing to invest in my recovery unless I manage to sell all of these. Healing costs."


    Hearing this explanation, the woman''s face softened in a lenient manner, but her eyes remained flinty and surprised. Ssyba smiled inside at the woman''s conflicting emotions, which she couldn''t even bother to hide. Ssyba had used Fagan''s employer as the name of her lord, because it was the closest answer to the truth and she had learned a long ago that it was better to tell the truth in every reasonable situation, as to not forget yourself and get tangled in an ever growing mess of lies and invented narratives.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    "This damn cat has a really good background for the Siege to personally get interested in her well-being. Otherwise, why would he give her this chance to redeem herself? How would she even get all these ingredients by herself, if not with someone backing her actions?"


    Thinking of this, the woman''s red lips curled into a friendly smile.


    "What is your name?" she asked.


    "Ssyba."


    "Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Riyara. There are some high quality ingredients, as expected of the left-arm general of the first prince, lord Talamar himself," said the woman in a single breath while taking all the ingredients under her shadow and nonchalantly counting the green tokens for Ssyba.


    "Halt," responded Ssyba, raising her right paw in Riyara''s face. "This is exactly seventy green tokens. I''d rather you pay me ten yellow tokens instead."


    "Sure," said Riyara through gritted teeth.


    Could this cat be any more frustrating than this?


    "Tsk, this ignorant cat got swindled out of tens of green tokens by me. I could read the despair and scamper for some profits ten steps ahead of even herself, but is trading so easy? If she tries to be cute with me, I''ll make sure to burn her gains."


    Riyara was a spiteful person and Ssyba could see the small-minded malice on this woman''s face like a bright painting. Which is why she took the mysterious vraja potion out and asked:


    "Can you review and estimate this vraja potion for me, lady Riyara?"


    The woman''s eyes shone brightly recognizing the potion to be a grade two spirit anchor vraja potion. It was virtually useless for anybody but those who took the engraving arts seriously. The spirit anchor potion was only one of many ingredients and steps required to create engraved objects, maimarandirs, sorcerous weapons, talismans and so on.


    This time, she did not show any difference in her expression, but continued to smile beautifully like a flower, saying to Ssyba:


    "Of course, this is a grade two spirit anchor vraja potion. Nobody except those who craft engraved weaponry would find any use for this potion. I''ll relieve you of it for one hundred green tokens."


    Ssyba''s eyes widened. One hundred green tokens for a useless potion was an unexpected joy. However, Ssyba was also extremely careful and contemplative by nature, and instantly she had considered the possibility of fraud. This potion could really be as useless as Riyara claims, but those who engraved objects could be willing to pay much more for it.


    "One hundred fifty," said Ssyba without even blinking, choosing to play a more conservative game and try not to gamble too much with her loot.


    "Fool that you are, do you expect me to throw tokens into the water, waiting to see the ripples? One hundred twenty!"


    Ssyba snorted internally. Since Riyara was willing to even increase her offer at all, it meant that the potion was in fact much more expensive than what was priced in the beginning.


    "Lady, I can''t go back to master lord Talamar empty handed. I won''t ask for one hundred fifty green tokens, but one hundred forty-five sounds fairer."


    Hearing this, Riyara''s eyes shone with a new light. This Ssyba wasn''t a complete idiot, she could comprehend the value of vraja potions, even if only intuitively, and was using the renown of her master to gain a better offer. In truth, the spirit anchor vraja potion could be sold for around two hundred and ten green tokens.


    "Fair? You only relented by five tokens. Fine," grunted Riyara under her breath and crossed her arms in mock frustration. "Fine, fine, alright. One hundred forty, and this is the last price, my mood is already ruined. I can make do without it, but you can''t!"


    "You are magnanimous!" said Ssyba with renewed energy. "I''d like, if possible, for you to pay me in yellow tokens."


    Riyara rolled her eyes and pretended to be properly annoyed as was expected of someone of her rank, but paid Ssyba twenty yellow tokens. However she already made a profit of almost one hundred green tokens in total, out of these few transactions alone. Ssyba was proving herself to be quite the gold mine. Riyara had to remind herself not to be too greedy because at the end of the day, it was not the nanza-cat who was haggling. Ssyba was just a branch of the tree, she simply represented her master lord Talamar in these transactions and if the lord felt that what was paid was unfair, he might investigate and trace the transaction back to her, and just as Riyara bullied Ssyba, Talamar might seek trouble and bully Riyara himself.


    Next on the list was a dark silvery potion Ssyba presented as the grade one metal belly vraja potion. Riyara narrowed her sensual eyes in a questioning glint and stared long at Ssyba not because she doubted the merchandise, but because she saw a ripe opportunity. Her mind was a trader''s mind and she saw things in opportunities, costs and investments.


    "This is obviously the Siege''s own potion, it''s as clear as day to me. Metal belly vraja potion is only mildly useful for a regular person in very specific ways, but since he has the metal physique unbound power and is an expert, the metal belly potion increases his defense significantly while adding none of the drawbacks."


    Through overthinking, Riyara conjectured that the Siege had sent his nanza-cat to sell his own potions because, unlikely as it were, either he lacked tokens or he decided to clean up his reserves and replace many of the old items with newer ones. Regardless of the truth, Ssyba would become a regular here in the warehouse and if Riyara was to get a business relationship going and establish herself as the main provider (of either tokens or materials), she would gain a fortune. This nanza-cat''s status was rather unique, Riyara would have to tread cautiously from now on and not directly offend her.


    "How much is this potion worth?" asked Ssyba.


    "Have no fear, I will offer you a fair price for it. How about seventy-five green tokens?"


    Ssyba raised her eyebrows slightly and looked at Riyara. The woman''s expression changed drastically and her tone was friendlier, quickly waving her hands like an old sister.


    Seeing Ssyba''s reluctance to answer or agree to anything, or even forward her own demands, Riyara quickly added:


    "This metal belly vraja potion is normally not as useful as it sounds. It adds a layer of metal over the user''s abdomen but it feels like a suit of armor. You can''t move in it except with difficulty and offers no further protection. It will be really hard to resell it to somebody who isn''t researching the metal field of study."


    "Ah, I see¡­" said Ssyba, comprehension dawning in her mind.


    "I have a reputation to uphold, don''t worry about not receiving what is asked of me," added Riyara with complicated emotions in her mind. She did not want to flatter and be all over Ssyba, but at the same time she did not want to lose the potential customer through some slight offense. She wanted to make gains out of their transactions but she did not want to exploit and swindle the nanza-cat out of too many tokens, and risk the Siege''s wrath.


    Some beads of sweat trickled softly down Riyara''s beautiful, smooth face. Ssyba plainly looked at the metal belly potion. She had already decided to quickly sell all these gains and put her paws on a grade three healing potion at the minimum, but her exterior was extremely calm while Riyara grew more and more agitated.


    "You have been too generous with me, lady Riyara," said Ssyba with a smile.


    The transaction was swiftly completed and Ssyba once more asked to be paid in seven yellow tokens and five green tokens.


    "Anything else, Ssyba?" asked Riyara, even mentioning Ssyba''s name as a form of respect.


    After the metal belly acquisition, Riyara gained at least twenty other green tokens in direct profits.


    "It''s this orange and blue potion, the inscription says homing firebird vraja potion, is that correct?"


    "This one is interesting, long range attack types are always in high demand," said Riyara but her eyes glistened with life.


    If it truly was the homing firebird vraja potion, then it was much more expensive as well as powerful than other regular attacks of the same category. Its creator was none other than lord Amehalas, an ancient great grandmaster of house Lightning Phoenix, way in the north. He was a legendary figure of the past. Speculation has it that he created an entirely new field of combat and it involved overwhelming the enemy with a multidisciplinary selection of elemental attacks in the form of homing birds. Because each bird was a compact elemental projectile crafted in such a way that it did not require intimate knowledge of said element before deploying it, an expert in this combat style could face just about any sort of situation and number of enemies and come out on top. And as the law of equilibrium demanded, such complexity, variety and sheer spectrum of attacks was exceptionally expensive to sustain. Nobody in the whole of Yasha''Lafiq had a comprehensive understanding and ownership of this discipline and its methods, but a select few went all out to attain it.


    Riyara observed Ssyba and immediately knew that Ssyba had no idea what treasure she held in her paws.


    "I will buy this potion because I am in a good mood today, little colleague Ssyba, but know that it is nothing special. Its firepower is less intense and sustainable than a fire breath potion of the same grade, and has less penetration power than something like an ice spear."


    "So it''s useless?" asked Ssyba.


    "No vraja potion is ever useless, but some are obviously less impressive than others, especially in the lower grades. The equation between benefits and disadvantages is striking when we talk about grade one, two and three potions."


    "How much can I expect to gain out of this one, then?"


    "I can offer you ninety green tokens because I want to establish a good relationship between us," cooed Riyara with fake honesty in order to lure Ssyba in.


    But right at that time, before Ssyba could agree to anything and fulfill the transaction, someone barged in front of Riyara and pointed at her contemptuously.


    "Hold it, I am the one who shall be buying the homing firebird potion!"


    It was Murza. Ssyba''s intent came to a halt at once, and everyone''s attention redirected on the three of them.


    "Are you trying to swindle my prot¨¦g¨¦? I''ll have you know that she has influential connections in the free warehouses of Yasha''Lafiq, including the badawin!"


    Riyara''s eyes widened and could barely contain her upset.


    "Nanza, this woman is untrustworthy, she has tried to swindle you out of profits."


    "Shut it! How dare you slander me?" interrupted Riyara quickly walking up to Murza. "Ninety green tokens is already a lot for this simple attack potion."


    "Don''t listen because she has no data on this type of potions aside from hearsay. This is a grade one homing firebird vraja potion, true, but my master''s master is a true erudite in this field of combat. Her name is lord Taozaira of the lafiqi branch of house Lightning Phoenix!"


    All the other people''s animosity towards Riyara grew as they heard this detail, and those who already had lingering doubts about her turned unfriendly. Riyara had thought that an ignorant nanza-cat like Ssyba would be easy to deal with, easily persuaded with meagre pay and sweetened words, and would gain a fortune off her back. But to think that someone like Murza would pay close attention to their business and would rudely disturb them, such a predicament was unexpected and angering.


    "Listen to me, nanza. I offer one hundred green tokens," announced Murza after some consideration.


    Seeing as the onlookers were getting close to the boiling point, Riyara said:


    "It''s irrelevant to us how much you offer. If somebody is willing to pay a golden goblet for a single fig, does that make a single fig as valuable as a golden goblet? This is a free market and the prices are settled in between traders. Walk away before I call somebody to kick you out of the warehouse for seeking trouble!"


    You live in the society, you follow the society''s rules. Murza''s futile exasperation was plain as day and visible on his face and he could no longer utter a word. Riyara paid him no more attention. With a single sentence, she had managed to silence Murza and soothe the crowd, so she turned back to Ssyba.


    "My offer of ninety green tokens stands, but I am sorry for what has happened to you, so I will round up the sum and add another ten, totaling at one hundred green tokens! Now it matches that bastard''s offer."


    "It seems right and fair," said Ssyba nonchalantly.


    A cold, murderous light flashed across Murza''s eyes as he watched the transaction with hatred and regret in his eyes. The thing he hated the most was his utter bad luck and seeing these undeserved gains in the hands of slanted individuals.


    "Maybe I should have offered the cat ten yellow tokens! That''s all I have on myself but I could have further sold the potion for over five hundred green tokens! That''s right, this cat is poor, there''s no way she wouldn''t have been moved by my offer when originally, the woman offered her ninety and was just about to complete the transaction. I am an incompetent, greedy fool, holding onto scraps!"


    While Murza''s heart was bleeding from losing such a golden opportunity, Riyara''s heart was rushing madly. The homing firebird vraja potion was worth a hundred yellow tokens with the right customer and it was obvious to her that the man knew it. If he dared to offer significantly more and Ssyba felt moved, Riyara would then be forced to counter the offer herself. This could theoretically go on to reach unreasonable prices in the hundreds. Riyara took a risk and won greatly, and she had reinforced her win by adding another ten green tokens and paying the round sum of a hundred. But she could have so easily lost on this gamble and that had made her sweat profusely.


    Life in this world was an unending battle, there was no such thing as a free meal and the strongest and most resolute wins over the meek and the indecisive. Today, Murza had learned that lesson.


    ***


    Three hours later Ssyba limped out of the warehouse with a brand new token ring and sash, a new leather satchel for carrying materials and a fashionable potions belt with three potions on it. On the token ring, she had barely eighteen green tokens left, all hanging loosely and wrapped in her new beautiful azure sash embroidered with pink moon motifs.


    "To think that my audacity has been rewarded so bountifully," said Ssyba snickering as she limped back to a secluded zone where she could cement her gains safely.


    Even though Ssyba has calculated an initial estimation based entirely on Izzmahil¡¯s info and her limited past experiences, after seeing so many tokens in her paws, everything was way out of her expectations. If it weren''t for her injuries and the hasty need to buy a healing potion, Ssyba would have been many times richer.


    "But the grade three healing potion nearly cost me everything I had left," said Ssyba.


    She was enlightened. No wonder Tisila was so insistent in delivering her healing potion and did everything in her power and ability to brew the highest possible grade of vraja potion that she could. If a grade three nearly depleted all of Ssyba¡¯s hard earned tokens through blood, pain and broken bones, how expensive was a grade four vraja potion? Even in this world, one could settle for life!


    At this point, the grade three healing potion awaited glistening in Ssyba''s paw. It was a red liquid in an emerald vial and Ssyba was painfully aware of its value. Health and one''s life was the most important thing. Without a healthy mind and body, what could a person do? Thus, everyone who could afford always kept medicine and prepared healing methods for themselves, and healing vraja potions were the best for it. Instantaneous healing was a heavenly aid in times of crisis, without exception.


    Ssyba''s eyes glimmered with brilliant determination as she opened the vial and drank the grade three healing vraja potion.


    Her body was in terrible condition. Not only was the tendon attaching her left pectoral muscle to the arm pulled clean off the bone, even her right tibia was cracked due to the powerful kicks. Because of the terrible strain put upon her body during the battle, many of her joints and muscles were bruised and inflamed. Her heart shuddered.


    Ssyba opened her mystical gate and her white cloud mana uncontrollably rushed towards the reaction symbol like a magical mist being drained into a void hole. She felt a heart-piercing pain but did not make a sound although she wanted to scream. As the mana empowered the potion''s reaction, her injuries received divine nourishment: the bones started to mend and the flesh and tendons grew rapidly and healed. This was only a grade three healing potion, it could not perform an unspoken miracle even with Ssyba''s white cloud mana quality, but the most critical areas have been taken care of and healed. Some pain was still there and some surface-level flesh and skin wounds remained untouched, but within a few days they would close and heal on their own.


    Such an injury would have taken out a regular nanza-cat indefinitely, leaving some serious side effects which could never be satisfactorily addressed. They would be abandoned as a weak link and left to the mercy of the streets. Such severely injured nanza-cats, even if they survived the initial injury, they''d be dead within a year or two.


    "The living conditions of this world are ruthless and difficult," pondered Ssyba as she flexed her limbs with renewed vitality. "Many of us are forced to fend off against the demons stalking the night, and no place is considered truly safe."


    Having said so, Ssyba grabbed the second potion out of her belt and heaved a deep sigh. This was the grade one rock density vraja potion, with the ability to increase the density and mass of one''s body, including bones and tendons. It was a popular vraja potion among martial fighters, law enforcers and policemen and of course, menial workers due to its relatively cheap price of twelve yellow tokens and five green tokens. Even a menial worker could afford such a vraja potion after about a year and a half of working and saving.


    Ssyba sat cross-legged on the pavement and opened the white glass vial. The liquid inside was also white and resembled milk, though it smelled like wet stones baking in the sun. It tasted salty and not very good, but she drank it all in a single mouthful. She then opened the mystical gate and allowed all of her remaining white cloud mana to rush towards and engulf the reaction.


    Pain! An absurd and pulling pain probed at every extremity, every fleshy and bony part and every hole and opening of her body. It felt like her bones turned into hot iron and her musculature and soft organs were scalded in boiling oil. Ssyba''s face distorted with pain and she could hold it in no longer. She screamed and soon, her whole body was trembling furiously though she felt paralyzed, unable to even move her jaw or open her eyes. Once it was over, she finally relaxed and a burst of itchy tiredness assaulted her mind, however she forcefully persevered and took a few deep breaths before standing up.


    "It''s over," said Ssyba.


    Her voice was hoarse after screaming in pain, and she took a few moments to listen to her surroundings. The pain momentarily forced her into a weakened state despite being healed by the previous healing potion, so she had to assure herself that no cutthroats and curious onlookers were on their way following all the noise that she had made.


    All of her investments had one clear purpose in mind, that was to improve upon and enhance her physicality. With the grade one strength potion and the grade one rock density potion, empowered by her white cloud mana, Ssyba was now as strong as a large human in peak athletic condition.


    But why did she need the rock density potion though, losing all of her earned tokens?


    One disadvantage of enhancing bodily strength was the durability of the body itself. Someone could gain the strength to carry a house on their back, but their bones and flesh would simply break and crumble under the pressure. General Talamar, known as the Siege, gained the durability of metal by drinking an unbound vraja potion and thus he could withstand tremendous pressure upon his body.


    Ssyba had now solved that disadvantage, at least temporarily.


    It cost her an impressive amount of tokens however. When added together, the healing potion, strength potion and density potion totaled a worker''s wage over a period of four to five years. That was simply because the world was too dangerous and it was considered suicide to venture and cultivate power alone like Ssyba did, and the groups and societies intentionally kept their pawns restricted through the use of laws, rules and procedures. The systems in place did not allow any single individual to climb rapidly upwards, so as to not disturb the fragile stability of agreed-upon peace achieved through the toil of numbers. Anybody who tried to be a lone force would get rapidly pulled down by the numbers and the systems who forged the chains. Iriazel was proof that even the first princes, often thought to be the peak of ascension, did not exist above the chains of societal restrictions. Old prince Espadon was another one made to be an example: take a seat within the confines of the system and you''ll live.


    "Unless an individual''s strength has reached the point where they can oppose an entire organization with all their systems and pawns at once, dreaming of true freedom is pointless."


    Ssyba affirmed the truth that she needed to become even stronger yet, take even bigger risks and topple all challenges set against her.


    She pondered long into the night as her paw mindlessly caressed her unsold grade two right eye polearm gaze vraja potion, firmly secured in the potions belt.


    End of part 1

 Chapter 11: Everyone is out to prove their worth

    Part 2: Heavenly demon


    Chapter 11: Everyone is out to prove their worth


    The hours of the day and the days of the week passed quickly. The disturbance caused by Ssyba''s crimes and killings did not spread or grow to have any consequences, and nobody asked questions in the three entrances warehouse either. The small-scale incident between Riyara, Murza and Ssyba had died down as soon as it arrived and the regulars acted like nothing ever happened.


    One day Zioz collected Ssyba and brought her to what must have been one of the largest rooms in an upper-class tavern known as the Howling Paladin. Though he moved with the same self-congratulatory impatience as always, the usually puffed-up nanza seemed too quiet this time around. Whether it was due to some quarrel between him and somebody else, or was it health related, or perhaps even related to whatever her brother Fagan had planned for their troupe, Ssyba could not tell.


    The room and indeed the whole tavern at large was aristocratic in decor, the likes of which Ssyba had never seen, with polished light wood furniture, richly colored paintings on the clean whitewashed walls, and the tables sported silverware and expensive eastern porcelain.


    In addition to her, Zioz and the other three nanza-cats (Ran, Fagan Stabs and Zioz'' brother Shan), another man awaited them.


    He was clean shaven and elegant, with noble features and an air of militaristic dignity about him that suggested a practiced self control and discipline. He looked somewhat younger but Ssyba knew that it must have been the effect of many vraja potions which maintained his health and vigor in peak condition.


    "Are they all here?"


    "I have recruited twenty other nanza-cats, as you suggested, my lord," attentively replied Fagan. "Should I have collected them as well?"


    "No need. Are these four your captains?"


    "In a sense. They are the ones I trust the most."


    "Then we should leave them under your command," said the man.


    Fagan bowed his face to a degree that denoted acknowledgment. To Ssyba, however, it looked absurd for a nanza to apply human etiquette not because she couldn''t respect their civilization and sophistication, but that it looked like a learned trick coming out of Fagan, something that a dog might do when prompted by his master.


    "To the rest of you, my name is lord Jayaza, principal officer serving under lord Talamar. While you answer to Fagan during this mission, Fagan answers to me. We have a plan and we have the resources to bring it to fruition. All I am asking of you is cooperation in following orders."


    Except for Fagan, neither nanza bowed or made any attempt to convey recognition of authority, but Jayaza went and shook hands with all of them, one by one. Ran was about as tall as him and looked him straight in the eye, while the others were somewhat shorter, as the nanza-cats came. He quickly ended the ludicrous exercise of mock civilization between man and animal, an opinion obviously shared by the hotshot twins of the Bend, and went on to explain:


    "Just as Fagan had probably explained to you, it isn''t mercenaries that we need, but a compact, efficient and mostly discrete task force. It isn''t war that we want, but an expedition into the pitch plack depths of the Tomb of Ba Busal."


    "So do you need nanza-cats as cannon fodder?" asked Zioz without a single hint of malice of negative emotions.


    "I''m guessing they wish to keep the vraja potion consumption to a minimum for this mission," added Ssyba in passing.


    For the nanza-cats it wasn''t anything strange to consider that, it''s like using dogs to guard a perimeter instead of hiring sentries for a wage.


    Jayaza paused, disconcerted by their nimble mind and penetration. Cannon fodder and the use of as little resources as possible were indeed the two main points of hiring nanza-cats.


    He had his own orders, he did not like it any more than these felines did.


    "We need your particular skill set in that environment, there is truly nothing in this city better suited for raiding those tombs than your troupe."


    "I''m guessing there is ample compensation, is there not?" asked Shan.


    "Yes, there is, trust me," said Fagan, to which Jayaza intervened:


    "You shall be all handsomely rewarded to such a degree that, even should you wish to retire, there would be enough in terms of capital to live the rest of your lives without the thought of acquiring food. It''s as simple as that."


    The man did not even hide the fact that he needed professionals who did as good a job as anybody else, without the strain of vraja potion expenditure. It was far less demanding to take care of and feed twenty or so nanza-cats, provided they all survive, than to supply someone else with vraja potions. Who did Jayaza try to fool anyway? In many ways, the nanza were just as cunning and intelligent as any human.


    Then Ssyba asked:


    "What lies in the Tomb of Ba?"


    A hard moment of silence. The question fairly took Jayaza by surprise, and much more than the serenity with which these nanza accepted their role as expendable troops. At first it was unnerving to him how easily these beasts accepted death as a part of existence, but then he remembered their religion and primary god, Marduni, who reincarnated them over and over. Mad beasts.


    "I mean no disrespect, but what does it matter to you? We are searching for a sorcerous hoard, it is more metaphysics than anything you''d know about."


    "I was just nosy about it, my lord, because I have had some experience regarding vraja potions brewing."


    "She is the strangest among us," offered Fagan to explain as if to make amends for a disabled sibling who had spoken out of line.


    "Did you?" asked Jayaza in what seemed genuine curiosity in Ssyba, ignoring Fagan entirely.


    "Yes my lord."


    "Whom did you serve under?"


    "Lady Tisila, although once I joined big brother Fagan''s troupe, I had to leave her business."


    "Tisila does sound familiar. Healer?"


    "Brewess of healing potions," answered Ssyba.


    Jayaza slid his nad''m bowl onto the table and leaned forward to better look at Ssyba. She had learned a long time ago the art of patience and polite watchfulness, and she had grasped better than any animal the true nature of mankind. So she never met his gaze, only carefully circled around the frontier of his soul and spirit, protecting her meaning with implications and mystery. That''s what intrigued men, realized Ssyba some time ago. They''d never ask questions, never probe further if the need for mystery was satisfied. Humans only were as curious as it allowed them to further the areas of the unknown.


    "So when are we expected to leave?" asked Fagan.


    "We shall settle into ranks at the southern gate tomorrow past mid-day and set out along the Efayan rock-spires until¡­"


    "I am sorry, lord Jayaza, but as far as my knowledge serves me, the Efayan rock-spires are overrun by the izzii."


    "Were overrun," corrected Jayaza to which Fagan made such a face, that Ssyba nearly imagined him jumping at the man''s throat to rip it. Not a day into the expedition and the humans would already see the nanza-cats killed.


    Everyone knew that the izzia hives of the Efayan country couldn''t have been exterminated. Yanamusad did lead many hunting trips into the rock-spires, true, but the country, although bordering Yasha''Lafiq, was never tamed and even the badawin made long trips east and westward just to avoid it. The rocky geological formations made for natural habitats for izzia breeding and hunting grounds.


    "Isn''t tomorrow too soon?" asked Ssyba.


    "We need to recover the hoard from the Tomb before the next full moon."


    "That is two weeks from now," observed Shan, rubbing his chin.


    "It can''t be done," added Fagan.


    It was obvious to Ssyba, and perhaps to the other nanza-cats, that Fagan did not enjoy making plans from a position of hierarchical inferiority. He wanted to collaborate with the humans but he hated the death of nanza-cats. At this point in time, most of his close collaborators knew his plans for the future of the nanza-cats of Yasha''Lafiq.


    "Yes it can," said Jayaza. "Now more than at any other time because the first prince is leading an expedition into the rock-spires as we speak."


    He paused after that last point, as though to let the implications resonate. The nanza-cats all glared at one another, as Jayaza crossed his arms and leaned back a little. He had to remind himself that these were not men he talked to, but animals, base and uncomplicated.


    "Does the first prince plan to exterminate the izzii for good?"


    "His mission is two-fold: one, conquering the Efayan hive because it is the closest threat to home, and two, clearing a way for our own small expedition so we can increase the rate of success. Gentlemen, the first prince himself is clearing a way for us to reach the accursed Tomb of Ba Busal!"


    "I did not know that," Fagan said eventually with genuine penitence.


    "Look Fagan. Were it not for the first prince''s Declaration, an expedition such as this would be out of the question in the best of times. Outright insanity is more likely, we would never do it. The Tomb is too far gone into the wastes for it to be even attempted, but now there are extermination troops set loose against the hives. With the planetary collision storm looming just beyond the horizon, we all have to pitch in for the survival of Yasha''Lafiq! Trust the first prince''s plan."


    The nanza-cats listened in some sort of animalistic disciplined silence, and Fagan nodded, narrowly suppressing the indignation in his voice.


    "Tomorrow it is then."


    "Once we leave the city and you look across the horizon past the wall, you''ll understand the perils we are in," Jayaza said evenly, with less emotion than he had previously displayed.


    ***


    Fagan Stabs commanded a full muster of his troupe the following morning. The nanza-cats assembled along the southern wall, by the gate, some arriving as early as the sunrise, some lazily walking as the day progressed. They were a colorful group of twenty in total, including Fagan himself, sporting all sorts of felid variations. Some males, a few females, some were lithe and tight like rope, resembling panthers on two legs, patiently waiting in the sun with their eyes closed. A few were of the large, brawny and tiger-like variety, like Ran who was the largest of them all, and Ssyba who had grown up to be muscular and cut. Some other nanza-cats seemed savage and uncouth, and they eyed one another with the animalistic lechery of those who only bordered the nanza-cat community of Yasha''Lafiq, never truly joining. Where did Fagan find such beasts, Ssyba couldn''t know


    "What have you done these days, Zibby?" asked Fagan, crudely pinching her arms and feeling the unnaturally dense musculature underneath her fur, like a stone cliff waiting hidden just under the waves, ready to crush the hull of a ship.


    "I have been training, big brother."


    "It seems like you''re a late bloomer, so to speak. You''re resembling Ran more and more each day, it''s in your genes to be strong."


    "If I''m a late bloomer in terms of strength, does that mean Rauuka is a late bloomer as well and she''ll grow to be just as handsome and capable as you?"


    Fagan laughed bitterly.


    "I simply noticed that you are so bulky. What have you been eating?"


    "A ton of fish from the market," admitted Ssyba. "I''ve been trading my green tokens for cash to buy real food this time around."


    "You''re taking care of yourself, good¡­" said Fagan, also pinching her quads. "Take a look at those legs, Marduni save those who meet these iron clubs!"


    "I''ve been doing squats," laughed Ssyba with some embarrassment.


    Without having a point of reference as wide as Ssyba''s, Fagan merely laughed and accepted her explanation without further commentary.


    Once they all arrived and lined up near the wall, Fagan began describing the nature of their expedition, what was expected of them and the rewards. Ran stood off to the side, tall and broad, with ruthless orange eyes scavenging each and every single one of these nanza-cats as if to stab them if one even dared step out of line.


    Fagan explained the extraordinary perils that they would face, that they would likely battle izzia monsters and brave the untold depths of the Tomb. Would they risk it all to become princes, or nurse to their pulse and die a worthless stray? He mentioned the rewards that they would reap, each and every single one of them. Most importantly, there won''t be anything to fight and die over, as they would all be paid their share in full. This, in particular, sparked everyone''s interest, as they all eventually stood up and paid heed.


    And throughout all of this showy display, the crazed nanza-cats listened with a predatorial attentiveness that others would have thought impossible. The essential thing tying together such a motley troupe, realized Ssyba there and then, was the ungodly fear these nanza-cats had for Ran and the legend that was Fagan.


    "King of the nanza-cats," she had murmured under her breath, and this is how he raised his princes.


    The incoming odyssey concerned Ssyba, to be sure, but on so many nebulous levels that the anxieties seemed to cancel each other out. She had no illusions about the many undertakings they would confront, but if their superiors found reason that the nanza-cats would do a fine job, it only reinforced the idea that it was indeed doable. Even she had to admit, there was a tremendous advantage for the nanza-cat animal to traverse those ruinous catacombs.


    Following this muster of Fagan''s troupe, lord Jayaza quickly joined them alongside two other men, and more than a dozen busy servants. The ensuing hours were dedicated to outfitting and supplying the expedition force, assigning tasks and rehearsing their plan, getting ready for the first night''s trek. The three men quickly surrendered whatever unnecessary items and trinkets they had and put on the same gear as every other member of the troupe, quickly selling the idea of a unified, cohesive band. The nanza-cats seemed impressed by this gesture, that apparently humans would step down from their high fortresses and silks and join with the rest of them in the mud. Even Ssyba joined in the general enthusiasm.


    Fagan, however, was unimpressed.


    "What are you thinking about?" asked Shan.


    "Convince them to take a step alongside you, and they''ll walk the next mile just to prove themselves right," said Fagan, showing with his chin toward the assembly.


    These humans, for all Fagan knew, were fundamentally indestructible when compared to their flimsy troupe. The only reason they hired nanza-cats was to save up on potions.


    Shan shrugged and checked his baggage and gear one last time, then he left to join his brother with the rest of the company.


    Fagan glanced at all of them and genuine sorrow crept from the nether into his expression, the regret of kings forced to condemn innocents to appease the masses. For the first time, he felt the cumulative weight of all the things he had achieved and said, the lies and truths all tangled to lead to this moment: nanza and men fighting side by side the hazards of this world. The only question remaining was, how many would die until his full dream would come true? How many was he willing to sacrifice? The twenty before him? Even his brother and sister?


    Sucking the thick, dusty air, Fagan looked up to the heavens as though peering beyond a thin veil for just a glimpse of the truth. Below him, the company had already coagulated into smaller clumps, booming and cackling and shaking with laughter, revelry and typical nanza brash rudeness, making bold promises and tying friendships, daring and proclaiming. They would all spend blood and kill under the pretense of thoughtless fellowship, when in truth it all came down to the same thing: instinct.


    Simple and animal, and infuriating the more it contrasted with the sharp strictness of Jayaza and the two other men.


    And Fagan realized, with the euphoria reserved for the guiltless, that he would sacrifice a hundred, a thousand, however many nanza fools it took for the ascendancy of the entire nanza species!


    ***


    The company trod through the southern gate into the incoming chill of the desert evening, an abrasive train of nanza crisply led by three men.


    They began by scaling the tall sand dune closest to Yasha''Lafiq, named Baza''s Pyramid. It was treacherous to climb the sands and by the time they were three fourths into the ascent, they all huffed and puffed hungrily. Most of the nanza-cats however could handle it because their beastly anatomy allowed them to. In Ssyba''s opinion, it seemed appropriate that such a toil was already required so close to home. It made palpable the extent of their limits. Leaving the walls of Yasha''Lafiq was not enough, they had to strap through the fringe of civilization and turn their back completely to the princedom that protected them, leave everything they had known out of sight and out of mind and turn their attention to the desert ahead.


    It was only fair that all passages into dread should exact a toil of exhaustion.


    "Watch for the southern horizon once we reach the top," said Jayaza, elbowing Fagan gently.


    Fagan did his best to keep pace with the man before him and as he gained the crest of the dune, a soft breeze greeted him, tugging gently at his whiskers.


    "This is¡­?" he barely murmured, astonished at the sight.


    He stood there paralyzed until the nanza behind him bumped into him.


    "Why did you stop? Oh, Marduni save us¡­!" said Shan, putting his paws over his head.


    "Is that the¡­?"


    "What in the hell?"


    One by one, as the nanza-cats gained the top of the dune, they all stood in disbelief and wondered at the spectacle.


    The planetary collision storm piled on the southern horizon in all its glory. Titanic event horizons circled one another like floating ethereal eyes, dark filaments of elemental matter mawed at the earth and the heaven, lightning flashed like swords engaged in a myriad war, and the sky seemed close enough to touch and shatter the rock beneath.


    But the distances remained crisp with silence.


    "By the heavens, is this what awaits us?" asked Ssyba through pained gasps.


    "It''s a distance away," answered Jayaza. "Do you now see why it''s imperative we complete the mission before the full moon?"


    The other man, named Yamsoor, added:


    "By my own estimates, the storm ought to hit Yasha''Lafiq in nine months, but the elemental pressure will increase the closer the storm gets. We can''t relax, we can''t be wasteful. I doubt we''ll see another badawin caravan until it passes, so we better tend and preserve our strength, no?"


    "Nine months?" asked Fagan, though he could barely believe his own eyes.Stolen story; please report.


    Ssyba''s gaze was fortunately hidden under the shadow of her hood, otherwise one might see the intense cold glare with which she inspected the planetary collision storm. The storm''s mountainous mystical gate was surrounded by what appeared to be millions of other gates, all belonging to the army of elementals flying and lashing wildly at the earth below. In a way, the planetary collision storm was a purposeless war between elementals, each tugged against one another by an ancient evil compulsion.


    Under the threat of the storm, any other non-issues were quickly sidelined by the first prince, the nonsense of princely battles for ascension had been completely stalled and proof of it was the relative silence coming from the higher estates and the Azure Fortress. Many had begun to realize the enormous scale of the storm and the looming threat, so people have begun taking care of their resources and accumulating more firepower.


    Yanamusad''s Declaration resonated deeply with Ssyba now. Indeed, when was the last time the people of Yasha''Lafiq had glanced over the desert to observe the incoming apocalypse?


    ***


    The plan was to travel south all the way to the border of the mountainous country of Efayan, then run eastward on the northern edge in order to avoid the immediate threat of the inhabiting izzia swarms. The Tomb of Ba Busal stretched there on the northeastern corner of the country, sculpted into the mountains of that wild land. The group looked forward to a five to seven day journey and they would travel during the night, while during the day they would set up camp and take refuge from the flaming sun. Yamsoor had assured that their way was an oft traveled route used by the badawin who came from the east and wanted to avoid Efayan entirely, and it was as reliable and safe as anything in the Alyriam desert.


    That first night, setting off from Yasha''Lafiq, the expedition force traveled south until the sand dunes slowly started to reveal rocky ground and that''s where they made camp the moment the sun was beginning to show its face. They made for the top of a tall dune peaked by a rocky cliff. There they found a sheltered hollow cavern and from a certain distance, it looked like the eye socket of a stone cyclops. Yamsoor told the group that this cliff was named Raya''nailsir, the Giant King''s Skull in the badawin language.


    "How can anyone survive in the desert is still a wonder to me," commented Shan.


    "The badawin are bred and trained for this life since before they could walk, they have methods that we can''t decipher" explained the man Yamsoor.


    "Were you once traveling with the badawin?"


    "I have some experience in tracking for them for a pay, but nothing beyond that. But this cliff is not any secret. Raya''nailsir has been an outpost as old as time and a geographical mark on every map in Alyriam. The blackened walls of this cave are the result of fires being lit during the night, see?"


    The nanza gazed around as if noticing the cave for the first time.


    "Does that mean the badawin travel in the day, as opposed to at night?"


    "It is nothing unusual," replied Jayaza to Shan''s concern, then he brought out a vraja potion bottle. He drank it, glanced up and his eyes glowed an ominous black, showing traces of black smoke. Instantly, the shadows all around them thickened and the entrance to the cave seemed to darken as if covered by a silken canopy. This was the grade one dusky velarium vraja potion, a standard issued potion supplied by the princedom to desert outrunners. It was easy to brew and undemanding, the materials plentiful and the storage conditions made it a popular choice throughout the entire Alyriam. Even lady Tisila used these vraja potions in her tea club business, when the day turned too hot. The dusky velarium potion created a thick shade and a veil of darkness all around the user, offering shelter from the sun and the heat.


    Jayaza settled down and drank another potion. This time the small portable kettle in his hand started heating, and the water that he poured sizzled and boiled. He used the grade one fire touch vraja potion.


    "Does anyone else drink coffee?"


    "I''ll have one," said Yamsoor.


    "I also wish," said Zioz.


    "Me too."


    "I want a cup."


    The other nanza quickly gathered courage and relaxed in the presence of these men, seeing as they weren''t tyrannical nor too demanding. Jayaza started introducing as they all sat down to sleep or relax:


    "Derdal will be our eyes and ears on this entire expedition, he is a reconnaissance specialist and detection expert. His methods include observing the presence, distance, speed and type of incoming enemies."


    The man named Derdal merely nodded, his bald head covered by a turban.


    "But Yamsoor here is by far our most prized man. Everyone is expendable, including myself, because he''s the only one who can reliably navigate these shifting sands and get us back home."


    From the other side of the camp, Yamsoor stopped doing whatever he was doing and made kissing gestures towards Jayaza.


    "If he so much as gets a chill, one of you gets skinned and gives him the fur."


    There was a sparkle in Jayaza''s eye and a humorous note in his voice. Fagan and the others chuckled amicably.


    Ssyba retreated in a lower and secluded corner of the cave, where Ran was devouring a rose-back crawler that he caught on his own. Due to his size and ferocious demeanor, other nanza-cats felt safest to simply keep a distance from him. This also suited Ran fine, since he liked to sit a little apart.


    "Something''s concerning you, Ssyba," said Ran when he saw her arriving.


    "This is only the first resting place and they are already preparing a large meal. Didn''t Fagan warn us about it? We need to make our food to last."


    "There is food in the desert though most know it not, it''s not all wastes," said Ran battling with a fleshy bit. He nodded in the direction of Yamsoor. "He knows it, the badawin know it but many shamefully don''t. Remember that the nanza come from down south and they have survived on these lands for as long as creation."


    "That''s where you got the crawler?"


    "I hunted it."


    Ssyba then turned her eyes thoughtfully to the others, her ears peeking towards the talk and the laughter. Starting out as a large group of twenty-four, the expedition force gradually congealed into smaller clumps, some groups of blood and brotherhood, some of common ground and some of rank. Among the latter, Fagan, Shan and Zioz had their place. Shan in particular felt at ease talking to Jayaza and even Yamsoor at times, due to his careful and polite attitude.


    After that first day of camping, the pace had been forcefully hastened by Jayaza, they took less and less breaks and arduously marched further into the day, going past sunrise. However, the nanza grew restless and energetic, their nature demanded battle and savagery, movement and action, they couldn''t be easily restrained by Jayaza even with the help of the oppressive sun. They began hunting the sands for scaly trout, rose-backs, twin-head salamanders and other varieties of edible fauna to supplement their ratios.


    It was just as Ran had said, that to the curious eyes not blinded by desert anxiety and dread, the sand wastes were seething with life.


    Ever since leaving the confines of Yasha''Lafiq, Ssyba had been afraid that her body would fail her, that she would fall behind the expedition, that she couldn''t carry her own weight and become a liability. That certainly wasn''t the case. In fact, Ssyba was far stronger than any of the present nanza-cats, somewhat surpassing even Ran in terms of robustness, and she easily kept pace alongside the humans in the front. This feat of endurance and strength was of course attributable to the vraja enhancements upon her body. Currently she had amplified her strength to be on par with an adult human and body density far greater than what was natural. Coupled with a newly healed body from previous injuries and strains, Ssyba could be said to be at the universal peak condition of the nanza-cat physique.


    For a long time they had walked only southwards in order to reach the border with Efayan before the end of the fourth night. The planetary collision storm loomed vast and magnificent above them, wide as the horizon. Its peak swallowed the empty sky above like a dark monster and the dry mountains below lost and consumed by its endless elemental rage.


    "Better keep up, don''t stop sightseeing" urged the man named Derdal continuously, towards which the nanza mumbled angrily.


    He spoke with a low and deep voice that oddly resonated across the expedition force. Although the nanza-cats harbored malicious intentions towards him, on the trail he was the undisputed leader and they did not dare act impudent. Even Jayaza and to a lesser degree Yamsoor kept their mouths shut in front of his authority.


    Ssyba kept her expression indifferent. During the journey, she had always managed to follow tightly behind, and up until now her breathing was barely noticeable heavy. Only Ran, Fagan, Zioz and another panther-like nanza kept up the pace. Ran swept his gaze over Ssyba, showing a hint of praise. Fagan''s look also softened a little towards her. In the beginning of the journey he had been slightly nervous about Ssyba''s performance, but now he had to reevaluate her in the light of the past few nights. She had tolerance for exhaustion and the dry heat of the desert. Although her appetite was as large as Ran''s, she had learned quickly to moderate her rations and supplement the daily meal with freshly caught desert fauna.


    What Fagan saw was a diligent nanza with unmatched potential. A female version of Ran.


    "Truly, the blood of our family is regal and strong," Fagan thought. Among the four siblings, three were matchless in capability and physical prowess and while Rauuka was still too young and has yet to prove herself, she was very beautiful and could still grow up to become a rightful nanza princess. In the right circles, she could even become part of a harem.


    In front of the expedition force, Derdal''s bald forehead split to reveal a dark purple orb that vaguely resembled a larger orb. His job was reconnaissance and was an expert pathfinder, the others followed his every move and acted accordingly. As the orb pulsated with a shadowy luster, he opened his mouth and he spoke:


    "There is a grunt type izzia five to six hundred meters ahead. I suspect it to be a four-sword lean stalker."


    "Halt!" shouted Jayaza.


    "Numbers!" called Fagan instantly, and the nanza-cats assembled into ranks.


    "Two¡­ four¡­ fifteen¡­ eighteen? There''s only eighteen. Who is missing?"


    The nanza-cats glanced up and down their ranks and shrugged as they questioned one another. In the meantime, Yamsoor straightened his back and walked some way towards the direction of the unseen izzia stalker, his gaze flashing with concern. It was too dark to see much ahead, but he had an inkling.


    Fagan returned to Jayaza to report:


    "Lord, two are indeed missing. It has been confirmed to me that they walked that way in search of crawlers," he said, stepping forward and pointing in a direction.


    "That is the direction of the izzia stalker," said Derdal.


    "Can you investigate further?" asked Jayaza with a calm and collected tone.


    Derdal nodded. He drank a potion and undid his boots. After a few moments, his bare feet transformed into what appeared to be fleshy tree roots and they dug deep under the sands.


    "I have confirmation now. According to this method, the lean stalker ahead is indeed a four-swords grunt, though it appears to be in a catatonic state or otherwise it is stationary. Perhaps its overmind had been destroyed already and the creature was simply left behind."


    "Or perhaps it''s done killing the cats and it''s feeding," said Yamsoor returning to the expedition force.


    "What should we do?" asked Fagan.


    "Engage. Either the cats are already dead, or the izzia is dormant and we have nothing to fear. Let''s go," answered Jayaza after a short moment of consideration.


    He ran in front and took the lead while preparing a set of potions to drink if need be. Although nanza-cats were expert hunters and had a keen sense of awareness, the four-swords lean stalker was a beast entirely created by the izzia swarm for the sole purpose of assassination. It could easily burrow under the sand and move silently as though through water, it had a lethal array of weapons and were relentless. If the two nanza-cats awakened it, they had no chance to face such a monster.


    Derdal, who was ever in front of Jayaza, suddenly shouted:


    "There it is, it awakened out of its dormancy!"


    "What''s the situation?"


    The purple orb on Derdal''s forehead pulsated one more time.


    "There''s no mistake, one of the nanza-cats is on the ground and I observed no more traces of life leaking into the nether. The other is fighting a losing battle against the izzia grunt."


    Everyone''s expression changed. Fagan rushed in front and demanded:


    "Let''s go join the battle!"


    "It might not be advantageous," retorted Yamsoor. "If we battle the four-swords grunt, we might lose more nanza-cats and we need the cohesiveness of our force intact by the time we reach the Tomb. Right now we can quietly take a way around this place and leave the izzia stalker with only two kills. It''s almost a fair trade."


    Jayaza pondered, but Fagan walked in front of Yamsoor and crossed his arms indignantly.


    "I''m not going to bleed my troops every time we engage with izzia monsters. We go and fight and try to save at least the one who is alive."


    Hearing Jayaza, Yamsoor''s expression went cold as ice but the nanza-cats set forth with newly found light and fervor in their eyes, and the respect they felt for Jayaza increased. Only by relying on one another could any group and unified force surpass the dangers of this world.


    The expedition force moved through the night heading towards the location. Beyond the dunes in a small dusty valley, a lone nanza-cat was making a desperate stand against the izzia four-swords lean stalker. His name was Sielo, he was a rugged nanza with dark brown fur and slanted black eyes. His claws flashed from time to time as he fiercely battled the stalker, drawing the cold moonlight and sending traces against the darkness.


    Sensing the incoming reinforcements, the izzia grunt rotated one of its many eye stalks and roared hauntingly. Its lean body was full of injuries and cuts and many eye stalks have already been severed or squished. It sensed the disadvantage and it escalated its efforts to decimate Sielo.


    The monster was as tall as a towering man though it walked hunched at the back, its tail offered counterbalance and the beast could move exceptionally fast and agile. It mostly resembled a bipedal skinny bird with metal-like smooth feathers covering all the vulnerable parts. The head was lean and elongated and looked like a flower when it opened its terrifying many-jawed mouth, and all around the base of its arrowhead skull it had rows and rows of eye stalks, waving in motion like tendrils.


    But the most eye-catching feature of this izzia grunt variant were its four arms, each ending in a great claw that looked like a sword of the same metal-like biological structure, giving its aforementioned nomenclature. The four-sword lean stalker was a beast designed by the izzia hive to annihilate its victim with viciousness and uncanny skill.


    The expedition force did not get closer, but observed from a distance for a few moments. Jayaza''s expression was unchanged as he watched silently.


    Around this time, Sielo also realized the situation and began pacing backwards towards the expedition while dodging the incoming attacks.


    "He isn''t going to hang in there much longer," said Fagan.


    "Four of the strongest nanza-cats will go forward with a vraja potion aid and bind the izzia''s arms. Derdal will deal the killing blow, preserving the¡­"


    "I can''t!" interrupted Derdal.


    "You can''t?"


    "I have used too much mana tracking and assessing the situation and I have not recovered nearly enough to unleash the lightning fang gaze."


    "No matter, then I shall do the killing blow. Yamsoor, please enhance the nanza-cats and let''s do this as cleanly as possible."


    Yamsoor snorted but he still bent down and spit a transparent green substance at Jayaza''s command. As instructed, the four chosen nanza-cats dipped their claws in that substance and immediately, their claws began glowing faintly with a green hue. These four were Ran, Zioz, the black panther-like Sibaud and another nanza-cat named Bulion.


    "This is the binding gel potion. It''s a grade one vraja potion that enhances the user''s touch with an adhesive substance. This gel can expand and contract at will and it can even stick other surfaces together.


    After Jayaza explained the effects of the potion, Fagan took over the lead and ordered the nanza-cats to their understanding:


    "The four of you will go, battle the izzia grunt and bind its arms to the best of your ability so that it won''t attack. Once it is done, lord Jayaza will go in and kill it swiftly in order to preserve its valuable body and preserve as much mana as possible, while keeping the rest of the expedition force as safe as possible."


    Fagan instructed the chosen four and they all listened attentively. Seeing the nanza-cats taking their jobs seriously, Jayaza breathed a sigh of relief. This task of killing the izzia grunt would provide valuable information and a clear indication of what is to come in the Tomb of Ba.


    The izzia grunt growled furiously and summoned all its strength in order to destroy its victim, the nanza Sielo. These beasts were biological machines designed with the sole purpose of killing, their natural faculties only revolved around that mission. Sielo had barely any strength left and his head was nearly struck from his body when suddenly, Ran intervened and parried the izzia''s sword.


    "Let us handle this!" said Zioz, jumping over Sielo and striking at the grunt.


    However, the grunt''s honed killer instincts allowed it to react quickly to protect its eyes and vulnerable parts at the base of its skull. While it blocked Zioz'' claws and its other arm was bound to Ran, it swept its two remaining arms as if to hug Zioz in a sharp deadly embrace. It all happened in less than the blink of an eye, Zioz could not react quickly enough to such an encroaching strategy.


    But at this moment, Sibaud burst forth and drew out his scimitar. All everyone saw was a white flash of metallic shine, then the next moment one of the grunt''s arms flew in the air while the other attack was parried. It had all occurred too suddenly, Zioz was shocked for a moment before he regained his breath and quickly jumped away. His fervor and careless attitude nearly had him killed, but it looked like Sibaud was keen enough to save him.


    "What was that?"


    "I only saw the flash of a sword!"


    "Is that one of us using a weapon?"


    Everyone discussed the situation fervently and even the unimpressed Yamsoor opened his eyes slightly to give Sibaud a glance.


    The other nanza, Bulion, joined Ran and Sibaud and used the binding gel to tie one of the arms to its hip. Within the span of a single breath, Sibaud jumped, performed a flip, gained momentum and severed the lean stalker''s head with a single strike from above.


    Zioz'' eyes were shining with a bloodthirsty light the moment he saw himself outclassed in this instance. Growing up in Yasha¡¯Lafiq, all that he ever wanted was to rise to fame, to gain an outstanding reputation to match Fagan''s and ascend to become an Aspect of the nanza-cats. Untold prestige would come his way. But to think that he had been outmatched by a previously unknown nanza wielding a scimitar, this situation was beyond shameful.


    Meanwhile, Sielo helplessly dragged himself to Fagan, and as he did this, Fagan ordered two other nanza-cats to drag the lifeless, torn body of their fellow.


    "Lord Stabs¡­"


    He hadn''t even finished saying this sentence, when Fagan walked in front of him and kicked him ruthlessly, shouting with a vicious tone:


    "What I require from you is utmost professionalism!"


    Sielo fell down to the ground, his ragged clothes stained with blood from his wounds. He grimaced in pain and looked at Fagan with hatred. Fagan''s expression turned cold as he raised his foot again. He nodded, allowing Sielo to climb back to his feet, before kicking him again. He fell to the ground.


    During this whole performance, the other nanza watched in silence and solemnity, knowing better in their hearts than to intervene.


    "All we wanted was¡­!" said Sielo as he stood up again, just before meeting face to face with Fagan''s kick.


    Fagan crossed his arms at his chest and stared down at this ragged nanza-cat fiercely. "Dare to say one more word?" Fagan indifferently spoke.


    Sielo gave a vicious glare at Fagan as he crawled back up with difficulty, but he was kicked one more time.


    "I don''t like your expression," ultimately said Fagan.


    Sielo lowered his head and climbed back to his feet in sour silence, not daring to look in Fagan''s direction again. He was immediately helped up by some of his fellow nanza-cats and walked back within the expedition perimeter to receive treatment.


    Looking at his departing figure, Shan asked:


    "Strange, why were these two so arrogant as to purposefully ignore the quality of our unified formation?"


    "This is normal. The moment we left Yasha''Lafiq and returned to the ancestral grounds of our specie, some of us have reverted back to their primordial selves," Fagan shrugged his shoulders, his gaze, however, coldly scrutinized his nanza-cat troupe.


    "Does that mean that civilization is merely a pretense?"


    "For many among us. In the city, our lives are cheaper than dirt and survival is made difficult by the whims of our human masters. We have to play it kittenish and bow our heads."


    "But here in the desert we are in our natural element," Shan was instantly enlightened.


    Some of the nanza-cats already displayed the pent up savagery of their kind, but quickly retrieved their gazes and looked at other things after they noticed Fagan''s cold glance.


    "We won''t have to dwell between two worlds for long," thought Fagan with a ferocious scowl.


    ***


    Jayaza''s expression was shining like gold. He did not even have the chance to consume his offensive vraja potion, but this was for the best. He laughed loudly, ordering the expedition force to establish a camp and begin harvesting the izzia corpse for materials and loot, as well as recuperate their spirits and losses.


    "Here my friend, let''s have a drink!"


    "Thank you, master Jayaza," said Sibaud, accepting the wine cup.


    It was delicious and sweet. This victory was so significant, that Jayaza opened the last bottle of wine from their ratios.


    From today onward, they would have to rely on extracting water from the air using vraja potions.


    While all of this was happening, Ssyba joined Yamsoor in the task of processing the izzia corpse. She hoped that this way she would gain some knowledge in the ongoing task of acquiring power. After all, brewing potions was one of the most crucial things for an expert to ascend.


    ¡°They are incinerating Mali¡¯s corpse, the fool,¡± said Ssyba, talking about the nanza-cat killed by the izzia grunt.


    ¡°It is how it¡¯s done in the desert. We don¡¯t want to leave any sloppy traces for other predators to follow,¡± said Yamsoor, bending over the izzia stalker. ¡°Although we lost somebody, look at this beauty.¡±


    ¡°Are there really swarms full of these things?¡± said Ssyba frowning, crouching down to inspect the corpse.


    ¡°Swarms usually consist of thousands of them, and yet these aren¡¯t even the most powerful variants. Common science says that within their physiognomic group, the closer they are to the humanoid form, the stronger they are.¡±


    Ssyba¡¯s pupils shrunk hearing this, and she suffocated a slight tremble at the thought of a thousand izzia grunts assaulting all at once. What class of being could take upon such a force and come out on top?


    ¡°This izzia grunt is a walking treasure. Look at how well preserved it is! That nanza cat can truly wield a blade, can''t he?"


    "Yes, though in our culture it is frowned upon to use weapons other than our claws," answered Ssyba, reminiscing over Sibaud¡¯s execution.


    ¡°Really? You will have to tell me about it sometime,¡± said Yamsoor in good spirits.


    "How useful is this corpse anyway?" went on Ssyba.


    "It is intact and complete for once, fresh.¡±


    "Does it matter?"


    "It does because everything can be used, and the quality matters most. The skin, these metal feathers, bones, eyes, blood, brain, intestines. Generally speaking, the higher level an existence is, the more potent its body is, that¡¯s why the most useful ingredients are so rare. Izzia grunts are not that valuable and we won''t be able to use any of these materials right now, but we can store them away and still make a profit once we reach back home."


    "Oh, there is such a thing?" asked Ssyba, feigning an innocent sense of interest. "How do you use these things?"


    "The secret is having intimate knowledge over the natural processes of the world and enough mana to spare in order to imbue water with it.¡±


    "Intimate knowledge you say?" said Ssyba, raising her sparkling eyes at Yamsoor.


    "Yes, deep and intimate... What is the difference between a normal bird feathers and this izzia grunt feather?"


    "The izzia feather is made out of metal," answered Ssyba.


    "Correct, that''s right. So if I wanted to brew a vraja potion from the metal discipline, what would I use?"


    Ssyba eyed Yamsoor in a coquettish manner and slid closer to him, saying:


    "I''m guessing the izzia feather."


    "You are a natural just as Jayaza said," applauded Yamsoor.


    "Teach me some more, I''m very interested," purred Ssyba further, placing emphasis on the right words in order to lure this fool in.


    In Ssyba''s initial estimations of Yamsoor, he was a nanza lover.

 Chapter 12: Envy and hate

    Chapter 12: Envy and hate


    Roar!


    The expedition force had intercepted four izzia grunts of the oni category. They managed to kill one of them before the other three raised their ugly heads and howled loudly. They made a sound like elephants, and they resembled grotesque humanoids with heavy, hammer-like fists and tusks the size of spears protruding downwards from their thick red skulls.


    "Steady yourselves, don''t let them split up. The oni grunts in particular can''t fight well in tight formations," advised Jayaza.


    "Neither can we, unless we want to turn chaotic," said Fagan.


    "Just follow the usual four-man formations!"


    The rain, cold enough to crack teeth, poured from above in interweaved curtains of water washing over the rocky ground. Dark clouds roamed the sky, turning everything obscure and clogging vision.


    "Here they come! Remember the formations and don''t let them split up!" yelled Shan.


    Watching the izzia oni grunts regrouping for battle, the nanza-cats could only raise their spirits and rush to intercept them, aggressively engaging in battle.


    An oni grunt jumped abruptly to the side and it swung its heavy fist, aiming for a female nanza near the right side of the nanza battle formation. Her heart skipped a beat, her pupils shrunk into thin slits, she could only hear the eerie whistling as the massive hammer-like fist swept through the air at her.


    "Dead¡­" was all she could mutter.


    She had no time and reaction speed to dodge, and taking the hit would crack open her skull like a nut.


    But at this crucial moment, a hasty shadow overcame her position and the female nanza-cat felt the world spinning and tumbling all around her. When she finally recovered, all she saw was Ssyba taking the hit and was shaking violently, while Sibaud vaulted from behind to sever the oni''s arm with his scimitar.


    The female nanza''s expression dimmed, how could Ssyba block such a vicious attack without turning into meat pulp? Only by sweeping her gaze over the battlefield and seeing Ran did her heart fill with amazement, gratitude and aye, even slight jealousy. In the animal kingdom, some simply surpassed others, disparity was as natural as leaves falling.


    The female nanza-cat, named Tidja, simply stood there on the ground, squinting with envy and doubt, thinking about Ssyba:


    "No matter what the reasons are, her strength is too much. Not even our males can face up to these oni grunts. This Ssyba, there is a great secret about her. Maybe a different breed, beyond nanza and elven-cats?"


    But where the rest noticed Ssyba to be a naturally powerful beast, alongside specimens like Ran and Zioz, Sibaud was the exact opposite. He battled and killed ruthlessly and unashamedly with his metal weapon, but his unmasked aggression has gained him the appreciation of the expedition force leaders. His reputation was improving and with the expedition still a ways before the end, there were many more opportunities for growth. Fagan Stabs had already established terms of contact with Sibaud, Sielo, Bulion and a few others.


    With a fleshy thud, the last oni grunt fell on the ground. It opened its massive mouth wide, its eyes lost focus and it finally died. On its body there were cuts and injuries all over, making Yamsoor shake his head in disbelief.


    "Why couldn''t we formulate a plan to limit losses? The skin of oni grunts is good for durability potions and we know the hives don''t like to throw too many grunts at us."


    "Derdal did not want to use the lightning fang gaze yet, it can not be helped," sighed Jayaza, throwing a cold glance towards Derdal.


    Yamsoor called it a day and kept whatever he could save, but felt heartache due to this. If he could have kept these three corpses intact, together with the four-swords lean stalker, the materials that he planned to sell would have awarded him a net gain of about ten red tokens, after paying Jayaza his due. He planned to purchase a set of potions when he returned home after this expedition. This naturally required a great amount of tokens, but also he wanted to keep Jayaza and his masters close. Getting cheap on due payments would be a loss, he needed to gain the trust of those higher ups so he could reap more benefits in the future.


    The rain continued to pour, the ground was muddy with wet dust and diluted blood. Some nanza were standing beside the butchered oni grunt corpses, taking deep breaths as the fur on their bodies was drenched by the rain.


    "Finally."


    "These ones were aggressive, it was too difficult."


    "Good thing for Sibaud''s scimitar."


    "I''m flattered, but if not for your defensive maneuvering, I wouldn''t have been able to attack so relentlessly," said Sibaud politely, wiping blood and rain water off his face.


    The others looked with masked disapproval towards him and his much too human temper, but it seemed that he was very effective in combating the izzii.


    "Compared to you, I''m feeling old already," joked another elderly nanza.


    The others laughed together. Only after Sibaud left did their expressions change rapidly, turning bitter and solem. It was truly hard to accept a nanza-cat using tools for making battle, it was even worse than males nanza-cats used by human females as bed attendants. But fighting together with him, they could feel his heartlessness and wicked battle style and when thinking about it, they felt threatened. Everyone was quick to applaud Sibaud but nobody dared to voice their opinion to his face.


    Did they not hate the fact that he used a weapon?


    Let''s see, the nanza-cats are a solitary beast with no support system in place for protection and nothing to ensure their survival and nurture in the world of humans. Because of this, each and every single nanza-cat had to rely on their own strength as well as on the thickness of their blood relations. But one aspect worth mentioning is that the big cats (of the nanza variety in our case) are apex predators and have been on the top of the food chain for as long as they have existed. On the surface, the nanza-cats are possessed by an exaggerated self-importance and sense of pride, but what goes deeper than that is the treatment that they suffer under human''s rule. What does it mean for a predator to be prey? It means shame, deprivation and mental pressure. But it''s invisible, subtle, most can not even feel it until it builds up. It starts from the restrictions of basic necessities: food, shelter. Those nanza-cats who are considered wealthy are only used as tools and they give their claws, furs and bodies willingly.


    Deprivation of time also plays a role and it affects those elites like Fagan Stabs, who command influence. They don''t need to work on the outskirts of the polite world, but directly within it. Doing this and that, running errands, completing tasks or finding those who can complete missions, this was all for attention and favor.


    If one can not see it and deal with it, the sentiment of being suppressed grows into resentment.


    Everyone knew that the nanza are self-reliant and martial traditionalists to a fault, and this Sibaud was proving to be an exception. He was flashy and a contrarian, talked like a human, liked to end the fights too quickly, he was the worst nanza out of all. When he fought, not only did he not use the fangs and claws, feet and even tail, but he also preferred to parry attacks instead of dodging, proving himself to be quite skillful in armed combat.


    "Haha¡­" a shrill voice laughed from the side, interrupting Ssyba''s train of thoughts.


    It was Tidja.


    "What do you want?"


    "You took a fancy to Sibaud?" she asked, while pointing with her thumb at Sibaud, who cleaned his scimitar of blood some distance away.


    "No," said Ssyba.


    "Don''t pretend, we''re both females, I can recognize just by looking at your gaze."


    Ssyba rolled her eyes upwards. Out of habit, she had actually scanned Sibaud''s mystical gate for signs of mana or vraja potion reactions, but her inspection revealed nothing to her.


    "Say, say, big sister Ssyba. Isn''t he quite pleasing to look at? But he''s strange, at least to me. I like panthers but that sword of his, it frightens me."


    "Don''t tell me you''re afraid of big, long swords now," said Ssyba while slapping Tidja''s hip.


    "Why you!"


    Ssyba shrugged.


    "Yes, I must admit, Sibaud is alluring in an uncanny sort of way, like a strange fruit. But I''m not yet interested in settling down."


    "Do you think," started Tidja, but hesitated for a split of a moment. "Do you think he''ll try to undermine others in order to gain the favor of the expedition leaders?"


    "What do you mean?"


    "Say you''ve noticed how Sibaud is never the first to enter the battle," frowned Tidja.


    "That''s the sign of a smart cat," said Ssyba, but regretted her words even before she could speak them out loud.


    Tidja''s frown deepened.


    "What''s more, he seems to be waiting for somebody to get in trouble before striking, never actually taking initiative. Is that how a true warrior conducts himself, now you tell me."


    "Is that what it looks like to you?" inquired Ssyba.


    "Is it not?"


    "Speak plainly Tidja," sighed Ssyba profoundly, already feeling tired.


    "Hehe, this Sibaud is too vexing. If he isn''t taught a lesson, he''ll just climb over everyone''s heads with his cursed sword. We made a plan."


    "Oh, we?"


    "Yes, Zioz got Spill and a few others who''ve found him too unsympathetic, look at his attitude. He is clearly looking down on us even though he''s using a metal weapon."


    "Right," said Ssyba at length, quickly coming to a realization:


    Ever since Zioz had been humiliated by Sibaud in the battle against the izzia four-swords lean stalker, his heart was filled with indignation. He had wanted to find trouble with Sibaud, but was instead oppressed by the threat of the scimitar, knowing full well the dangers when facing metal weapons. In this, he could not rely on himself to take revenge, deepening his hatred. Zioz could thus only count on the pettiness of others, making use of his already established connections and fanning the other nanza-cats'' emotions of offence against Sibaud. For Tidja in particular, Zioz must have used his dominant male glamor to persuade her into his plot.


    "What are you guys thinking?" plainly asked Ssyba.


    "We want you to lure him away the next time we make for rest. Give him a good time, do you understand? Hahaha¡­"


    Tidja''s habit of snickering and laughing in between words and sentences was getting tiresome. Her voice dripped full of disdain and malice.


    "In the meantime you do this, we''ll steal his scimitar. Then as his senior, Zioz will put him in order, hehehe."


    Ssyba''s mind brightened with comprehension.


    "Spill and the others are a bunch of savage beasts. Nothing good can come of it," she murmured.


    Tidja looked at Ssyba and grinned full of teeth and fangs, saying:


    "If Sibaud is a human pet and doesn''t know the rules, we''ll just have to properly teach him."


    ***


    The expedition force eventually resumed its journey, piercing ever deeper into the south but making sure to simply skirt the nearby mountains that emerged menacingly like a monstrous jaw. They instead picked to run eastward on the country''s border.


    "Attention!" called Jayaza.


    Yamsoor stepped forward and instructed the expedition upon the situation:


    "We have entered Efayan territory, the remaining journey is all wasteland, mountains and valleys inhabited by izzia swarms and very few human settlements. Beasts run free here and there''s no chance to meet or expect reinforcements from Yasha''Lafiq now, so whatever else we decide to do, we''re on our own. From now onward, everyone has to place full attention on the surroundings and not stray beyond thirty paces away from the rest of us."


    Everyone nodded in agreement. This was the most dangerous segment of the expedition''s route. Once they passed this relatively straightforward portion along the northern Efayan foothills, they would finally reach the tomb of Ba Busal.


    "Alright, next we will establish the new rules and defensive measures," Jayaza continued.


    An hour later the discussion ended and the expedition returned to travel.


    Dark clouds filled the southern sky bringing forth a solemn atmosphere and signs of heavy winds. The planetary collision storm emerged voluminous and magnificent above the rocky horizon, mountain spires lost in all that breathtaking desolation.


    The expedition force walked diligently in file, each member tied carefully at the waist with a rope as to not lose one another in the dusty winds. It was a treacherous undertaking and several times Fagan expressed his opinion, but the leaders ignored his calls for a break.


    The only times they untied themselves was to intercept incoming stray izzia scouts or grunts, as they traveled ever east. Derdal and Yamsoor made sure to use every bit of resources they had, and not even once was the expedition taken by surprise. And after every assault, Yamsoor gathered the useful materials with a solemn demeanor.


    But the set of precautions they''ve taken allowed them to limit their losses and fatigue, Derdal''s scouting methods gave valuable insight to Yamsoor, who in turn relayed the information to Jayaza, who in turn ordered Fagan to fittingly organize his troops.


    Every once in a while they were attacked by packs of two to six izzii monsters of the oni grunt category, but also a couple four-swords lean stalkers, rock-jaws and even one behemoth, for which Derdal and Jayaza had to intervene and use valuable potions and mana resources. One nanza-cat named Kure died and a couple others were injured and required immediate healing. In the end, they did not kill the behemoth but simply chased it away, much to Yamsoor''s heartbreak. Some close friends of Kure chased the behemoth for revenge, but couldn''t catch up to it and they didn''t dare to venture deep into the mountains. The anguished nanza-cats could only stare fixedly at the retreating wounded monster.


    "Such a fruitless encounter, damn it all!" shouted Yamsoor over Kure''s corpse. This attracted the gaze of all the nanza-cats in his immediate vicinity and together, they stood there overlooking their fallen comrade.


    Who knew what possessed the izzii to attack so frequently and to move ever northward? Perhaps the swarm overmind saw an opportunity and decided to pierce through, or maybe they all fled the incoming storm, hoping that the north could protect them.


    The behemoth''s attack made Jayaza and Derdal realize the danger they were in. The longer the delay, the greater the chances of being completely engulfed in a sea of izzia swarms. That very morning of the sixth day, they decided to speed up and leave northern Efayan foothills as quickly as possible, even risk matching during the day.


    "After this trip ends, I''ll retire and enjoy my life!" complained some nanza.


    "I have been traveling all across Alyriam for many years and this was the most challenging incursion into Efayan," informed Yamsoor.


    He meant to hearten the others up, as if to damn their unfortunate luck, but his words only muddied the atmosphere. Some sighed, some were downhearted, some were hollowed by the most recent death. The size of the expedition force was decreasing slowly, the nanza-cats no longer cared about having a good time and hunting for small game. They started to sense that their very lives were on the line. Some izzia assassins tailed the party for almost half a day, adding to the mental pressure, some grunts attacked outright and some only harassed the expedition, attacking and retreating at will.


    The leaders did not stint on mana expenditure this time. Derdal used his lightning fang gaze liberally, scything through rows and rows of izzii as if through grass. Jayaza used his metal discipline potions to clash side by side with the strongest in the front line, while Yamsoor offered support through various spellbinds, whether enhancing the claws of the battling nanza-cat with various effects, or magnifying their endurance, durability and fighting prowess.


    The setting sun dyed the spear-like mountain tops in blood red.


    The scale of the expedition force was now already thinned. In total, four nanza cats had died since the beginning, but after going through this cruel elimination and sharpening, the expedition force now showed signs of an elite group.


    ***


    "One more step and I''m dead!"


    "No matter what, the payments need to be re-evaluated once we get back¡­"


    "If we ever get back, hahaha."


    Gradually, the morale of the entire expedition force sunk to an all-time low, many have lost their will to move on after walking for a full night, a full day and half of another night without stop, all while being attacked continuously by izzia packs. The nanza-cats began raining down curses, and some dared to talk back, disgruntled at the expedition leaders.


    Yamsoor even willingly abandoned some of the less valuable materials to speed up their travel and show a hint of righteousness.


    Fagan couldn''t help but keep gritting his teeth in frustration, as his pace continued to become slower. He had doubts in his heart and these emotions turned into a fog that couldn''t be dispelled unless they rested and talked.


    "Lord Jayaza, I''m requesting we stop."


    But Jayaza continued to walk.


    "Lord Jayaza, it wasn''t a question of approval, but a request."


    "The way ahead is cleared, there is no way we will face any izzia or predators," explained Jayaza after a moment of silence, though without turning to acknowledge Fagan.


    "I''ve heard this for the past three encounters. The nanza are tired and they aren''t aided by sorcery like you are!"


    Jayaza looked surprised back at Fagan.


    "Did you expect this expedition to be a stroll to the fishing market?"This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Suddenly, a cold light flashed across Fagan''s eyes and his pupils shrunk to thin lines. He stopped on the spot, his mind filled with darkness.


    "How do you know there won''t be any izzia?"


    "Derdal has detected some company just ahead. Humans, a badawin caravan most likely but we can''t be sure."


    "This¡­", muttered Fagan lowering his head, covering the killing intent flashing past his cold blue eyes.


    Jayaza was already marching ahead, gently tugging at the waist binding for Fagan to swallow his pride and follow.


    Eventually it turned out it wasn''t a badawin caravan at all, but an efayan assemblage of refugees, running north to escape the storm. They were all hunched and lean under the strains of their provisions, and would have resembled skeletons marching if not for their jovial demeanor upon meeting the expedition force. An elderly man at the head of a narrow carriage filled with goods was the leader of this refugee band. He was short and stocky and would remind one of a kindly grandpa.


    Jayaza walked ahead together with Yamsoor, and the leaders of both these parties greeted each other.


    "May I ask the distinguished warriors what lies ahead the way you came, before we move on?" dared the elder.


    "The way has been cleared last night with great sacrifice, so it is safe passage all the way to Yasha''Lafiq."


    The elder man''s face brightened at this news and he heaved a sigh of relief, his face clearly loosening up.


    "Old man, but you are clearly some way from home, what has happened to you?" said Yamsoor, sizing the passing refugees up and down and inspecting their cargo with some nonchalant interest.


    "We were forced to leave our town at the foot of the mountains due to heavy rains and lightning strikes. We haven''t any knowledge of such floods in the last couple generations."


    "That is the planetary collision storm and it''s coming, don''t you know this much, old man?"


    "Watch your tone, Yamsoor!" Jayaza intervened. "My fellow here wants to tell you that this is not a natural weather phenomenon. You should head northwards to Yasha''Lafiq and seek shelter there."


    "I have overheard that we are really within days of bright Yasha''Lafiq?" asked another one of the refugees with a thick southern accent, with some vigilance in his gaze.


    "Yes," said Jayaza, heaving a sigh. "We have been expecting refugees from all over Alyriam at this point, but see if anyone is willing to offer shelter, otherwise you will purchase your place with work and whatever supplies you have to spare."


    "So everyone is suffering nowadays," the vigilance in the other man''s eyes lessened.


    "In these times, can there be a free meal?" said Jayaza with melancholy.


    The elder narrowed his eyes and said no more.


    After finishing these introductions, tidings and information were then shared back and forth between the parties. They also traded supplies, arsenal, vraja potion ingredients and recipes. Ssyba silently cursed herself for not bringing some tokens along, though she couldn''t have possibly guessed that they''ll meet a caravan of foreigners on their way. Yamsoor also traded his looted izzia ingredients for some basic goods.


    "Wouldn''t they fetch a better price at the warehouses in the city?" asked Ssyba with some initiative.


    "Yes, but restocking on our provisions is more useful right now."


    "I feel enlightened," marveled Ssyba as if witnessing some shard of divine wisdom. "It''s worthless to drag all those ingredients in hopes of a better price later. Besides, they might even be discarded on our way to the tomb."


    "Exactly, you are right," said Yamsoor with a jolt of shock at her intrusive wit.


    However, Ssyba had more than once expressed her passion towards vraja potions and she even worked with a brewess of healing potions. It was not strange at all for Ssyba to have accumulated knowledge of trading along the way, so his vigilance disappeared, blaming this unusual tension on the sudden meeting with the refugees caravan.


    "Young Ssyba, wouldn''t you happen to be looking for work after this expedition is finished?"


    "Marduni willing we all get back safely," laughed Ssyba, and Yamsoor felt a little silly for having had any incertitude in her.


    "Yes. I was hoping you were, because I am hiring. Just leaving the offer for you, I have some higher up connections and hoping to get into some real business soon."


    "Are you sure, lord Yamsoor?" Ssyba asked.


    "I am. In my opinion, you are wasting yourself in this brutish line of work, there are things far more suitable for your cleverness," further offered Yamsoor, to which Ssyba agreed completely. In her heart, Ssyba''s attention was already beyond limiting herself to helping Fagan achieve his dream.


    "It depends what my gains are after this expedition and whether I''ll continue to work under Fagan next," admitted Ssyba.


    "Understandable, but keep my offer in mind," said Yamsoor, winking at her.


    "I will," said Ssyba with a smile.


    Soon after that the winds calmed and the sky cleared, so Jayaza had finally called for a break, officially at least, because nobody was in the mood of continuing to travel at this point anyway.


    As always when strangers meet in the wilderness at a resting place, they gathered ''round and turned from trading to storytelling, to simple talk of life and family, to tales about the unending threat of the desert and its inhabitants.


    "Did you guess already what got into these izzii bastards?" asked someone.


    "Our elder believes it must be because they are also affected by whatever destroyed our village."


    The elder acknowledged these introductory words with a mood free of agitation, saying:


    "The izzia swarms have been driven up the valleys by these odd flash floods. With their burrows and underground hives destroyed, they ravaged the country and are moving northward day by day."


    "Makes sense, they are running from the storm as would any living beast. How did you escape anyway?"


    "My eldest son, Simirum, saved us with his array of earth and roots vraja potions, quickly building a strong defense and a safe way out, otherwise we wouldn''t have survived."


    The one named Simirum quickly stepped forward and puffed his chest, declaring how he had battled fifty izzia soldiers all at once. It was all in good spirits and everyone''s mood gradually brightened.


    "Brave warriors, this road you''re taking is more dangerous than the open desert up north, from where you come from."


    Jayaza''s lips curled up in a smile.


    "We are searching for the tomb of Ba Busal," he said, but most of the refugees present shook their heads.


    "To you, the name Ba Busal might tell nothing, but what about Busel''ek, or Busal Akl?" intervened Derdal, making his expertise in history and mythology known.


    Derdal was always quiet and solemn, rarely speaking. Even when he spoke, his tone was cold and indifferent, brusquely clearing any subject and making his will known. In sooth, Jayaza had picked Derdal more for his knowledge and research of the tomb, not for his aptitude as a reconnaissance specialist, for he had a pick of many other mercenaries and adepts.


    Still, the refugees shook their heads.


    As Derdal began talking, it turned out none among those present had ever heard of the name, not even the efayan elder. In such a rich and cultural city like Yasha''Lafiq, even fewer had any semblance of authority on the subject: The Tomb of Ba, the catacombs of Ba Busal, the mausoleum or the lost ossuary were all placeholders. Everyone seemed to have made their own lore regarding these ruins, the legendary tales of today having once been nothing more than candlelight speculations and eccentric theories. The actual truth was, as odd as it might sound, even more fantastical than the fabricated stories.


    "These ruins were once part of the treasurehold of Na''calial," elucidated Derdal as the rest of them successively gathered around him. "The civilization before Alyriam turned into a desert was prosperous and powerful, these lands were filled with lush greenery, sparkling waters, wildlife and strong people."


    "I can hardly imagine there to be forests in place of this desert," admitted one of the nanza-cats, to which many nodded in support.


    "Envision a desert oasis surrounded by trees, and stretch all that image over the whole land," said the elder, humorously petting the nanza''s head. The nanza squinted his eyes and seemed to ponder.


    "It was more than that," said Derdal to all the faces watching him attentively. "Alyriam was extremely rich and its borders sacred. It was a whole unified region of our world, it had mountains, rivers and lakes, fertile plains and beautiful woodlands. There have been many legendary and mythical figures in the past and many civilizations have had their roots here. It was only after, that this whole region turned to dust, flattened by the planetary collision storms over millennia of elementals grinding against one another, and its power waned."


    More and more gathered around Derdal as he explained the history of the land to them. It was almost comedic: savage and predatorial nanza-cats, some renowned killers, poor refugees who barely owned the clothes on themselves, elders and youth alike, all watching him with wide eyes and a childlike attitude.


    "What caused these storms?" finally somebody asked the question that no one else dared.


    "It was due to the glory of that era. Today we are diminished and dwindled, but in those days, kings were gods, much of the lands that we tread upon and the weather have been modeled in the antique history. Can you imagine the ten princes of Yasha''Lafiq mortally overshadowed? That is what king Na''calial could do."


    The gathering began discussing the tale with a chorus of voices, each giving their impression in a dramatic display. But when your eyes are dazzled by those bygone magnificence, do you bend the knee and acknowledge? Do you bow your head in reverence, and only dare mutter the words? Or do you feel envy?


    Dispossessed as an animal ought to be so that balance in the Yada to exist, for Ssyba it was envy. She coveted the treasures and power of Na''calial, her beastly mind already wandered far beyond her impermanent limits. Ssyba wanted to be immortal, to be feared and revered as the shadow that follows, to make offense of nobles and princes and force them to look over their shoulders, to become a bloody demon, calm with violence and deep in honor, indifferent to the perishable ethos of mankind.


    In the end, it all came to the same conclusion: war between self and circumstance.


    "I''ve heard these stories," ventured Yamsoor. "This is why planetary collision storms hit Alyriam at set intervals. It was a punishment for Na''calial''s ugly whim."


    "What story?" asked Jayaza.


    "It was a story about the frailty of men that I once heard. In it, the king overstepped his boundaries and tried to seduce the dryad queen for the secret of immortality. Outraged by such pretense, the dryads incited the beasts of the earth against Na''calial. But they couldn''t war against his power and so they were slaughtered and enslaved. In response, the dryads collaborated and created the planetary collision storm, which eventually did destroy old Alyriam. Apparently, even the heavens joined against Na''calial."


    "Talk about shitting the bed," mocked one of the nanza-cats, joined by an ensemble of hoarse, animalistic laughter. Anything that the nanza-cats could latch on to make themselves feel superior to humans and their insatiable lust.


    "Indeed," murmured Derdal. "Only much later, aeons later in fact, did the sage Busel''ek, also known as Busal Akl, come into play although his story is much more popular."


    Derdal then described the legend of the sage Busel''ek, whose love for his soulless tso-woman wife was great enough to commit countless atrocities in the name of research. Almost a thousand years ago, Busel''ek was the vizier to a minor lafiqi noble, and the tso-woman was merely a soulless creation of the Guild of Constructs, as all tso-men were. They fell in love at first sight and although Busel''ek commanded much influence and had control over vast resources, he couldn¡¯t grant a soul to his beloved. His experimentation led him to cause many sacrifices and delve into the formidable and widely prohibited necromantic arts.


    After the other nobles discovered all the atrocities enacted in secret, they attacked and hunted him down. The tso-woman uncharacteristically fled her masters, the city, and braved the desert all on her own. Under the play of destiny, she found Busel''ek and together they hid away in the mountains of Efayan, legends have it, where they managed to live as sages.


    This story of emancipation, although controversial at the time, spread far and wide in Alyriam and gave the non-humans some much needed confidence. The tso-men eventually rebelled and fled, founding their fantastical city, creating a culture beyond the eastern borders, and many animals and non-humans secured liberty.


    Derdal''s mood became solemn:


    "The tso-woman fleeing the city was akin to treason and Busel''ek was already considered a wanted criminal. Eventually their hideout was discovered and besieged, though nobody could truly penetrate its defenses. It time, it was believed that Busel''ek died there, together with his tso-woman."


    Ssyba listened without comment, both fascinated and dismayed at the profundity of their history and the boundlessness of the world just beyond the comforting walls of her city. Magical constructs, forgotten tombs, tragic tales of love and death. Like most nanza-cats in Yasha¡¯Lafiq, she had never once stepped outside of the confines of her own ignorance yet ventured to look at the world with an arrogance only an animal could amass.


    Not anymore.


    From that day onward, out of those moments of comfortable companionship, tale and gossip, Ssyba developed a curiosity and a strong will to school herself and learn all that could be learnt about the greatness of the world and everything on earth and heaven. And for the first time she understood: she had no real comprehension of what the world had to offer.


    ***


    Day turned dim faster in this region, and with all the arrangements and the cacophony of the two parties bumping into one another, the decision to camp together for the remainder of the night has been made, not without controversy. Derdal had nothing against it as he claimed he needed to meditate and sleep in order to recuperate mana. He was justified by the fact that he had wasted too much mana beforehand when using the lightning fang gaze, and how mana-intensive reconnaissance in general was. Yamsoor argued that it was the seventh night already, and tomorrow they''d have to hasten the march and risk facing the tomb fatigued. To his impotent exasperation, nobody seemed to give a damn.


    The clear night sky was studded with ripples of multicolored bright stars. Around a campfire some distance away from the main camping area, seven nanza-cats were sitting in a circle and conspired in muted tones.


    "Boss, we just couldn''t find Sibaud''s sword no matter how hard we looked," reported one of Zioz'' underlings, daring not to look into his eyes.


    Zioz revealed an irked expression, then turned displeased at Tidja.


    "What the hell did you even do? Didn''t you tell Ssyba to take care of Sibaud?"


    "I did, I did, but it seemed to me like Yamsoor is holding her occupied," Tidja meowed pitifully.


    "Again, with that degenerate!" Zioz roared, eyes wide opened and so wild that even Tidja jolted. Before she could scamper back, he reached and grabbed her by the chin and dragged her closer.


    He licked his lips as if he readied himself to devour her like a rodent.


    "Speaking of Sibaud, where is he?" asked another nanza in a futile attempt to pacify Zioz.


    The campfire quieted down as everyone looked around for their enemy, but he was nowhere to be seen.


    "See, even if she wanted, Ssyba couldn''t keep him occupied because he is gone," miserably whined Tidja under the painful pressure of his squeeze.


    Suddenly, a pair of bright eyes regarded the group from just beyond the edge of darkness. Immediately after, a wide and eerie metallic smile flashed.


    It was Sibaud unsheathing his scimitar. He stepped into the light of the campfire.


    "It''s him!" hissed Tidja.


    Everyone was stunned, the target of their fiddling scheme had unexpectedly appeared directly in front of them. This bold act of revealing himself made them all feel concerned and upset. Did Sibaud learn of their plot and alerted Jayaza? No, Shan would have said something, thought Zioz.


    A nanza male named Lorgo jumped straight to his hind paws and nonchalantly walked up to Sibaud, speaking with a sinister smile:


    "If you know what''s good for ya¡­"


    He hadn''t finished saying what he wanted to say, when Sibaud raised his leg in one instantaneous moment, sending him flying back. For some reason, Lorgo had anticipated that Sibaud might attack and he was prepared to parry his blade or his left paw''s claws. What he didn''t appreciate was the angle of the kick as well as the force. Sibaud veritably smashed right through his blockade.


    "Courting death!"


    Immediately, all the nanza jumped forth and roared as they charged at Sibaud. He raised his scimitar and held them all back at sword point.


    "You waste your fur!"


    "Fight like a true nanza, coward!"


    "Despicable, actually using your weapon!"


    Their insults rumbled like a raging tide, but they all held back and slowed their advance.


    "You''re looking to be skinned alive!" shouted Lorgo.


    His left brow was already so swollen that it shut his eye, but he stood up gritting his fangs.


    "I''ll fight Zioz in a duel!" Sibaud shouted over the others. "I won''t use this blade if you all stand your damn ground, but I won''t hesitate cutting you nasty scumbags."


    Surprised and angry, the group began roaring furiously but were silenced by Zioz'' reply.


    "You have guts. Fine!" he said while flexing his neck, shoulders and arms.


    Zioz waved his claws open and pounced upon Sibaud without a second thought. They battled for a time, kicking, slashing and dodging, before Sibaud spun and crashed his knee into Zioz'' nose, breaking it instantly. Blood started flowing copiously. This attack did not go unpunished as Zioz swept his claws horizontally, sending Sibaud''s face to the side. When he turned back, three gruesome cuts stretched from ear to mouth.


    He screamed in pain and rage, however Zioz quickly lunged forth and was already on him, kicking at him. Sibaud ducked and tried to attack with his claws at the belly area. Zioz expertly brought down his heel mid air like a descending sledgehammer, cracking unpleasantly on Sibaud''s head. His forehead smashed on the hard ground. Zioz did not react in time, Sibaud''s paw reached and pulled him off his feet. He climbed over Zioz and began asphyxiating him.


    "How¡­ I hate¡­ your kind!" grunted Sibaud with his saliva and blood flying all over.


    Zioz abandoned all thought of breathing, battled only to keep his carotid and neck from collapsing. He managed to slide his arms under Sibaud and cleared some distance, then kneed him in the crotch.


    "Ouu¡­!" Sibaud grimaced and jumped straight to his feet, but was savagely slapped back on the ground by the one named Spill.


    As blood from the cuts began to pool under, Spill walked over and muttered maniacally, unsheathing his frightful claws. His fur was white and gray with a few darker spots, his eyes were wide and psychotic. He was born with a mutation and a mental deficiency. His claws have always been unnaturally long and sharp, and his precarious mental capacity did not allow him to do much besides killing. He wasn''t even capable of dressing himself and would have died, had Fagan not discovered him many years ago, wild and starved as a cub. He had taken care of this beast ever since that day, training and tempering his mind and body into that of an assassin.


    "Don''t do it! He''s mine, I was winning!" crawled Zioz back on his feet with the help of Tidja.


    He put his paw on Spill''s shoulder to stop him, but Spill merely shrugged him off. He paced from Zioz back at Sibaud, who was curled on the ground grasping at his face and making muffled sounds. He unpretentiously raised his massive claws, closed his fist until only his forefinger pointed at the fallen nanza, and stabbed at Sibaud''s ribs.


    Sibaud screamed in pain.


    "Hey hey, don''t be like that, come up and fight us and cut us," said Spill with coolness, but that made him all the more spine-chilling.


    He grinned then, taking joy in this grisly sight.


    "Make way, ratbags!"


    "It''s mister Stabs, give way!"


    "This isn''t good! Stop at once!" somebody walked over from the main camping site.


    It was Fagan, and everyone else scuttled back as if to deny their involvement in this scandal.


    Straight away, Spill dropped on his knees, lowering his head.


    "Lord Fagan Stabs, I continuously pray for your good fortune!"


    "Never mind that, but what has happened in this place?"


    "It was my fault," admitted Zioz, limping forth from the back of the group.


    Fagan''s anger surged to the skies, he decided to teach all these nanza-cats an unforgettable lesson. But seeing both Zioz and especially Sibaud''s poor state, he forgot his rage and asked:


    "Why did you look for problems with Sibaud?"


    "He had dishonored me first, and the use of a blade only added to my injury," plainly replied Zioz as he wiped away his tears.


    Fagan''s disappointment in him brought more pain to Zioz than all the battles and all the insults ever could.


    Sibaud slowly recovered his senses and upon seeing Spill kneel on the ground near him with his head lowered, in that thoughtless moment he rushed with his scimitar out in one precise motion, ready to decapitate him. All time slowed down to its infinitesimal limit and he would have succeeded if not for Ran intervening, who parried the blade. Sinaud wordlessy recovered and spun on his knees for a low angle counterattack. Ran raised his claws ready to parry but was taken by surprise when the blade flashed past him. Sibaud actually tangled his tail around his leg and pulled Ran on the ground. Then, in a fluid sweep, he regained his footing and mercilessly brought down the point of his sword towards Ran''s chest.


    This time he was stopped by both Fagan and Ssyba, and was subdued on the ground.


    "This has gone too far, son," growled Fagan with the intensity of a wild monstrous beast.


    "Son? The slaughter I could have unleashed!"


    Smack!


    Fagan slapped Sibaud despite his cuts and injuries.


    "That''s quite enough. Ssyba, take away his sword!"


    "Give it back before¡­"


    Slap!


    This time it was Ran who slapped him, hard enough to silence him.


    "We can''t let this go on," continued Fagan as he walked over every nanza involved, giving several tight slaps with an open paw as he passed by them. There could be no greater insult in the nanza world than bowing your head and being slapped.


    Fagan''s expression was ugly and with each word of scolding and each resounding slap, he turned even more gloomy and scary. The once warlike nanza were now covering their faces in pain and shame. As he did this, Shan simply grabbed Spill by the arm and dragged him away from the turmoil, walking alongside Ran who carried Sibaud.


    Then he turned to Zioz:


    "You are getting more and more out of control, you even dare causing a scene behind my back. I won''t ask them to heal you," darkly spoke Fagan as he pointed at the humans, who could use vraja potions to instantly heal others.


    Zioz and the rest were stupefied. They knew what battling izzia monsters implied. An injured, slow or otherwise ill nanza-cat would simply be the first to die.


    "Mister Stabs, what are you doing?" shouted Tidja, the one who nearly died during an izzia assault.


    However, Fagan barely moved to acknowledge her presence when she fell down to kowtow, mewling pitifully. He had nothing against bullying among the nanza in particular. On one hand it would suppress the arrogance of the more fiery ones, like Zioz and a few others, on the other hand it promoted harmony between them all, with the strongest on the top easily controlling the weaker ones.


    But this time the bullying went too far, they nearly risked death and thus, the success of this entire mission. What difference was there between them and hired bandits?


    Each nanza involved received a few slaps, none dared to speak up in fear of Fagan''s authority. They could only clench their fists and grind their fangs in shame and anger.


    "Get to sleep, I will settle accounts with you tomorrow when we resume the journey. It''ll be a long hike and I''ll make sure you carry the weight of your sins," shouted Fagan.


    The nanza didn''t dare go against his order, but before leaving all of them angrily looked at Sibaud, engraving his image in the depths of their hate-filled hearts.

 Chapter 13: Dragonfly rune

    Chapter 13: Dragonfly rune


    The cloudy sky interlocked heaven and earth together in elemental storm energies.


    Crack!


    The sky flashed abruptly and a bolt of lightning cut across like a blue dragon, then in an instant it was gone.


    The caravan of efayan refugees had already woken up to set out on their journey, cleaned and rejuvenated by the rain. There was an endless stream of shouts and bustle rising and falling and the atmosphere allowed them to travel safely during the day. After stopping to rest for the night, it was time for the efayans to leave their country and follow the path along the border, then head north to reach Yasha''Lafiq.


    To protect their goods as well as themselves and prevent them from getting drenched wet by the rain water, the refugees who had the methods, potions and mana to spare, showed off their abilities.


    One of them raised his palm up and allocated his clear spring mana to a grade one golden shielding palm vraja potion. A sunny brightness floated away like an umbrella from his palm and covered a wide circular area with warmth and light, repelling and drying up the droplets.


    Many other efayans used a wide assortment of grade one plant branch vraja potions whose effectiveness was increased by the rain water and the light shining from the golden shielding palm. Among these potions counted the bushy canopy vraja potion, weed shade potion, silky grass potion and frond ears potion. It was clear that this town specialized in the plant and root branch of potions, which gave someone the power to manipulate, create or use plants and rapidly grow them from the ground or change their bodies. It was a popular branch of potions throughout middle Alyriam, particularly the lush and fertile area surrounding the god river Na-jid. While this path was fairly undemanding in materials and the means of brewing were cheap and affordable, it still offered a balanced mix of offense and defense, a generous selection of supporting abilities such as trapping, path-making and transportation, and it was straightforward to use and excel at.


    The disadvantage of plant branch vraja potions lay in the fact that they had many clear weak points. The terrain greatly affected the efficacy of a fighter who depended almost entirely on the creation of plants, plus the plants themselves usually had a natural weakness to metal, fire, decay, blade and ice branches. Ice, blade and decay were uncommon to be found across all Alyriam, but the metal branch was perhaps one of the most popular, with many high level fighters using it. The grandmaster of the fire branch was none other than the former first princess Iriazel, so advancements in the fire branch have been made over the last century, it was a deeply studied combat path.


    "The rain is heavy, take note of the slippery stone!", the refugees yelled and gave out instructions.


    "Better open your eyes wide so that we won''t get ambushed in this confusion!"


    In this weather, the trail along the border between countries became even more difficult to traverse and even though many had useful and strong potions to use, they were still of humble beginnings. Once their bodies were drenched by rain and coupled with the intensive labor, they would easily get an illness. If they encounter wild beasts or izzii on the road, they might all easily lose their lives, or get injured or lose themselves from the caravan. Other than natural disasters and beast ambushes, there could also be other packs of refugees, or traveling merchants or even groups of bandits who committed robbery. They have been lucky this time to chance upon Jayaza''s expedition, but others might harbor criminal thoughts.


    Eventually they all met to bid each other farewell.


    "We''re leaving," Jayaza saluted the refugee elder.


    "Take care of yourselves, brave warriors."


    "And you too, lord elder, and may we meet again in Yasha¡¯Lafiq so maybe we''ll have a chance to talk over a glass of water and enjoy a nice meal."


    "We would like that very much."


    Reluctant to see this party of martial fighters leave in the opposite direction, the rest of the caravan gathered to send them off with their gazes. Many had complicated expressions, recognizing well the dangers ahead.


    "Whether it''s them or us, the road ahead is unforeseen. Out of those who will get to return home, how many of those present today will be left?"


    "In these hard times, how can we be sure of the day tomorrow?"


    "You''re right, it''s hard even to make a living inside the large cities, let alone travel the desert."


    As the expedition force left further and further, the refugees began talking and debating. The cheerful and light-hearted atmosphere of last night gradually disappeared and was replaced by burdensome emotions.


    ***


    The last hike into the mountainous terrain of northwest Efayan proved more arduous than anything the expedition force had ever faced. The trail heaved and plummeted, the ground simply shifted between bare stone, sheets of dislodged ancient rock and sharp pockets of pebbles. What''s more, the weather atmosphere turned more violent with each step, as if the winds themselves rose against the expedition force, to turn them away in their tracks and leave them breathless.


    That afternoon on the eighth day, a stop was called at the base of a rock spire. Nobody yet knew the cause for the break, but everybody remained incurious and aloof, too beaten up into submissive tiredness. They sat down and unburdened themselves with little or no conversation. The refugees were already forgotten, the sky gradually cleared of clouds and began to shine like a coin. The air became dry and still, with nary a proof of the rainstorm that very morning.


    Yamsoor was the first to notice that they walked upon the ruined remains of an ancient stone road, but soon all the nanza-cats recognized the signs of cut stone and the arrangements of craft.


    There was almost no enthusiasm in the discovery.


    Jayaza ordered for an assembly with Yamsoor, Derdal and Fagan, while Ran, Shan and several other more prominent nanza-cats stood looming at a distance to listen. When the expedition leaders concluded their arrangement, Derdal sent Shan to communicate to the rest what had been decided.


    Shan''s noble countenance scraped across the nanza party as he shouted for numbers.


    "We shall settle here and leave the unnecessary supplies at the entrance for when we return¡­"


    "What''s the problem?" shouted Sielo who stood in the back.


    "We have reached the tomb of Ba, it is just beyond the far end of the valley," answered Shan while pointing a distance away at a towering mountain spire.


    "This is it, we''re finally here¡­", whispered Ssyba to Zioz, who collapsed to rest a couple of paces behind her.


    He, Lorgo, Tidja, alongside a few other conspirators of Zioz'' entourage have been punished to carry many of the supplies and ease the burdens of other more obedient types, who were regarded as better soldiers.


    "So what now?" Sielo asked Shan, a distance from Ssyba and Zioz.


    "The expedition has come to an end. Here we rest for the last time before we enter."


    A drawn silence, filled by the hissing banter of the nanza-cats. The end of the road seemed to trouble the nanza-cats somehow, as if the desert and mountain wilderness offered some reassurance and comfort to them, where the works of men only laughed at them.


    Zioz leaned his head towards Ssyba and his tone seemed to be a sentence to death:


    "That''s not all, listen."


    "What do you mean?" asked Ssyba.


    "He''s my brother, I know he''s reluctant to speak further but the leaders talked about something else which agitated Shan."


    Ssyba did not understand Zioz'' disquieted tune until she turned her own attention to Shan and saw the intense glare with which he regarded the nanza-cat troupe.


    Shan continued:


    "Lord Derdal thinks something big hides in the tombs, at least as big as an entire izzia flock or a behemoth. According to lord Yamsoor''s initial estimations, we could face up to a hundred izzia rock-jaws, grunts, lean stalkers and so on¡­"


    As he spoke, Shan watched the feline faces trying to find the appropriate expressions. He could tell they were frightened by expectations to the point where it almost seemed comedic. These raucous, vicious beasts acting like lost cubs, watching with the same timid sincerity. Battling even one izzia grunt was considered difficult enough, so the possibility of facing hundreds of them genuinely concerned the nanza-cats.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Because of this, the lionesque Shan couldn''t find it in him to hide the information from them despite the fact that Jayaza had instructed him to only disclose the absolute necessity in terms of information.


    Curses filled the nanza troupe. Some murmured, some roared out loud, most were afraid but not in any debilitating way.


    Ssyba clutched at her chest. When Fagan first mentioned the mission into the arcane depths of the tomb, Ssyba had thought only about potential gains, only about unspoken power retrieved from within the bowels of the earth. By the time Shan had finished talking, all those ideas had evaporated and the implications of what they were about to attempt assaulted her psyche. For the first time in her life, and she imagined in the lives of many of the nanza surrounding her at the moment, they truly arrived face to face with the most horrifying enemy of mankind in the Alyriam desert belt buckle: the izzii. There were fewer things she could imagine more gruesome than being hunted and massacred in those dark catacombs. As much hunters as the nanza were, the izzia hive mind had created an abominable existence. The princedom of Yasha''Lafiq couldn''t cope with it, how could mere nanza-cats?


    The nude truth was that few things in Alyriam could match the threat posed by the izzia swarms.


    But Ssyba had no inferiority complexes regarding her own personal power. Not even counting the yet unused right eye polearm gaze vraja potion, Ssyba was as strong as an adult human male and had enhanced body density, which further increased the durability of her bones, skin, muscles and even the softer organs. She knew that if need be, she''d have a better chance at survival than any of the other nanza, including Ran and Fagan and in niche situations, she could fare better than the three humans, of course depending on what strange vraja potions they had at their disposal.


    Ssyba pondered with a dark expression, her face merely a black hooded oval out of which two large hot iron eyes sparkled:


    "Strength acts weirdly upon the body of an animal, it enhances every physical aspect in untold ways as the different biological constituents work off of one another. Although the base bodily strength can be naturally increased by a margin through diet and training, each muscle group is only as effective as biology allows them to be and they generate only as much force as the physical reality enables them to. The strength vraja potion acts as an extraneous source of strength, outside of the physical reality, it adds a flat amount of strength and acts as an exponent to the base strength. In other words, the result is greater than merely the sum of its parts. In my case in particular, it repeatedly multiplied the effectiveness with which I can navigate the terrain and the mastery of my natural combat abilities. But why? Take a human for example. Unless arduously trained, a human ten times as strong is still a human with the finesse of a human, but we the nanza have intrinsic competences which can not be duplicated. My tail is as lethal as a steel whip, my claws are a set of razor sharp knives, my fangs can crush bone, my legs allow me to jump across distances and my inborn agility is heightened. I can execute feats of athleticism that no human could ever hope to accomplish, regardless of how strong they are. One should imagine the size and strength of a brawny man with the quickness and efficiency of a feline."


    Yet, Ssyba''s line of thought ended with a heartbreak resembling the end of childhood. However strong she was, this journey humbled her with its iron intensity, and all of her over-ambitiousness seemed buffoonish. The unpatterned fact of her existence was a caricature compared to the powers set loose upon this world in ancient times, a residue of other existences.


    Ssyba walked on with a heavy mind, thinking that her triumph lay not in nobility or prowess or cleverness (like in Fagan''s case), but in the perversity of luck.


    From that moment of the initial rest and assessment, to the moment where they eventually reached the entrance of the tomb proper, another few hours of hike had passed and the night descended quickly with the speed of a hammer.


    They had some difficulty scrounging for fuel, but eventually the expedition managed to get a fire going. Jayaza had insisted they not use vraja potions again unless forced in combat.


    This filled the troupe with dread for some reason.


    The tomb was awe inspiring and huge.


    A high vertical wall towered over them, a gargantuan monument cut directly into the mountain''s stone. At the base, supported by majestic pillars as thick and robust as water barrels but hundreds of times larger, mawed the enormous gate and entrance like the stylized opened jaws of a serpentine flood dragon. The night in these mountains was dark indeed, but the impenetrable pitch blackness of the tomb looked like an obsidian portal into a nether region of the world, a precipice between the world of the living and the world of the dead.


    The expedition gathered on the platform beneath this monument, strained their necks looking up and having their mouths open and eyes wide. They had all expected many awful or terrible things, but were caught unprepared at the greatness and aura of mystery surrounding the moment.


    "See the serpent reliefs radiating away from the entrance, it clearly resembles traditional tso-men motifs. It''s like this whole place was made in offer to them," said Jayaza.


    "To his tso-woman queen¡­," added Yamsoor.


    "Or maybe it was made by them. Have a look at this," ended Derdal beckoning the others to observe.


    Much to everybody''s astonishment, the stone wall had been so masterfully cut, that it was as gleaming as polished glass. In fact, the delicacy seemed more like a reveal, as if the mountain stone was mud rinsed away to reveal the sculptures beneath. And the reliefs clearly depicted serpents and waterways, or had sea and river and water elements added one on top of another in a mad braid of meaning and art, so that everywhere one looked, there were entire narratives and stories to decipher. Each and every single portion of the wall surrounding the entrance was sculpted in this fashion, interlocking floods and dragons and sea monsters.


    Derdal shook his head in mock acceptance of something long denied:


    "This is no human craft."


    "Didn''t you say that this place has once been king Na''calial''s treasury?"


    "It was. As far as we know, there hasn''t been any sizable tso-man society in this area of the belt buckle, so why this?"


    "Yes, it makes no sense for tso-men to be building over some ruins in the middle of nowhere," agreed Jayaza.


    Yamsoor walked away from Jayaza and Derdal and crouched at the base of the entrance, palming the ground and feeling the manufacture with his fingers. He did so as if checking a corpse for heat or a pulse. He lingered over the sculpture of a dragon, then looked back significantly:


    "This is the alien design of tso-men hands alright. There is no rhyme and reason to read into, no conventional beat to go by."


    The other two looked up the monument in a different light now. There was too much beauty and grandeur, it did not entirely resemble the place of hide and rest of a fugitive and his tso-woman wife.


    Even as they discussed and argued over the history and the construction of the tomb, some nanza-cats wandered forward inside, effortlessly crossing the invisible boundary that seemed to hold the humans back.


    "As expected of lesser beings," Ssyba wordlessly murmured.


    She had gained some appreciation of the greater scopes over the past few weeks since uncovering the mysteries of the soul, but her fellow nanza-cats were obviously past their awe. The dimensions escaped the grasp of their minds, they could do nothing but laugh at an incomprehensible world.


    There was comfort, Ssyba assumed, in the smaller things.


    To them, such works represented nothing but a shrine to human intellect and heavenly power. At the base of all things, it had nothing to do with the intentions of the nanza.


    Sibaud, meanwhile, also theatrically entered the scene, walking past the expedition force with his sword drawn. Despite his stature, which was taller and leaner than the average male, he seemed a frail sliver before the draconian maw about him, like a knight facing off a dragon. Only the gleam of his scimitar, a crescent moon against blackness, bespoke his might. It seemed to say: this nanza-cat is beyond nanza-cats.


    He turned his gaze across the tomb, ostentatiously scraping a rune with his blade on the entrance wall as he did so.


    "I don''t think it''s a good idea to disturb it," boldly intervened Ssyba.


    The act of a nanza touching the tomb seemed venal, obscene, as if mere contemplation or the touch of a finger could dirty and soil this artwork.


    The cowled darkness that was his face turned to regard her, held her in scrutiny before lifting skyward as though studying the law of fate across the night sky. He raised two paws and drew back his leather hood.


    Sibaud''s face was cut open during the clash with Zioz and later Spill, his left cheek split into a gruesome smile that astonished Ssyba.


    "This is marked palace,"


    "You marked it, you fool," said Ssyba, to which Sibaud smiled.


    "Does that frighten you?"


    "It does not, but it does flaunt our presence to unknown eyes. It almost begs to be investigated."


    A disapproving pause.


    "I suppose it does," admitted Sibaud.


    Very little conversation still punctuated the silence, and no one took it upon themselves to address the whole expedition force or make declarations. Jayaza had imparted some basic orders for the morning and a few other things. Yamsoor made a point to make his bedding nearest to the entrance and keep watch, making sure dread did not take hold over the others.


    "See that snake there? I swear it looks like me prick, eh?" Sielo was always quick to make a fool of himself, eyeing each female of their nanza-cat troupe.


    Some laughed, but it was controlled and it died quickly. Oppressed by the draconian eyes hanging above them, a sort of anxiety encircled everyone.


    All talk soon sputtered out as weariness and lethargy possessed them, and the expedition force unrolled their mats and sleeping bags across the smooth stone of the platform. The curious moon watched them for a time.


    Few fell asleep but were to fatigued to say or do anything other than trace the stars. Fewer slept well. The black mouth of the tomb seemed ready to snatch them away.


    The morning light revealed more desolation and melancholia than the majestic brilliance of last night. The sheer wall was cracked, the snake and dragon sculptures were eroded by the caprices of weather and the passage of time, the waters were worn into little shapes resembling dunes. What they dreaded in the nighttime became a fragmented and gouged piece of rock during the day.


    Still, it was huge and imposing and it commanded a level of solemn reverence only tall monuments could. The troupe broke their fast in relative silence, made the camp ready for their hopeful return, some brewed coffee with what little remained of their fuel. Jayaza had left some vraja potions behind and Yamsoor had discarded every material piece and ingredient that he had acquired by killing izzia grunts. The expedition paused to wait for Derdal to scan the entrance, then they conferred in low tones to outline a basic plan in case they got ambushed by izzia stalkers: four nanza-cats per izzia grunt and the team formations as well as the order of attack have all been previously established.


    After that, they entered the black tomb of Ba Busal with not a word, no fanfare, not even a passing comment typically attached. They simply assembled in a file and followed Derdal and Yamsoor.


    Ssyba glanced at the pale blue sky one last time before joining the string of figures vanishing into the oily darkness. By chance, her eyes caught the mark inscribed by Sibaud the previous night. It was the symbol of a Na-jid dragonfly, it seemed, and perhaps due to some eccentricity of light and the rising heat of the day evaporating the last few drops of dew, it appeared to her that some clear spring mana lingered over the symbol.