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Elsewhere, Wall Sina…
The air in the secure chamber was cool and still, smelling of old stone, polished wood, and purpose. It was a room buried deep within the bureaucratic heart of the Interior, its walls lined with locked cabinets containing files that did not officially exist. A single, huge torch lamp cast a stark, fiery light onto the large, central table, upon which lay a detailed, hand-drawn map of the Walls, its edges worn soft from frequent handling.
Sir Aldric stood over the map, his broad shoulders casting a long shadow across the districts of Wall Sina. His finger, calloused and scarred, traced a slow, deliberate circle around the inner sectors. His golden eyes, reflecting the lamplight, burned with a cold, focused intensity.
"The pattern is erratic, but not illogical," he rumbled, his voice a low vibration in the quiet. "It likely preys on easy targets. Livestock. The isolated. It avoids main thoroughfares. It is a creature of instinct, not strategy. But its abilities…" He tapped the location of the nobleman's estate, then the cattle yard. "Phasing. Disappearing to thin air. These are not the traits of a mere beast. This is a manifestation of the cosmic filth we are sworn to purge."
Beside him, Ser Valerius nodded, his own, paler eyes scanning the map with an academic's precision. He placed a small, black stone on the locations of the confirmed attack. "The scent is strongest here, in the affluent sectors. Fear makes for a potent spice, and the privileged scream the loudest. Our agents in the MP have successfully muddied the waters, but the rumors of a 'demon dog' are spreading amongst the common folk. A problem we will soon need to address."
A third figure stood apart, leaning against a floor-to-ceiling bookcase filled with bound ledgers, shrouded in the shadows between two sconces. He was tall and lean, his posture relaxed yet coiled. A featureless, polished white mask completely concealed his face, reflecting the lamplight in distorted, ghostly shapes. His arms were crossed over a simple, dark tunic, and he had not spoken a word since the meeting began. He was simply… a presence. A silent, watching void.
A fourth Knight, a burly man named Gideon, grunted, his hand resting on the hilt of a heavy broadsword. "We should widen the search into the abandonment sites of Sina's outer district. That festering pit is a likely den for such a creature. Let the MPs continue their farce. We will conduct a real hunt."
Before Aldric could respond, a series of sharp, coded knocks echoed on the reinforced oak door. At Aldric's nod, Gideon unlocked it. A man slipped inside, his movements hurried. He wore the distinct green jacket of the Military Police, but the look in his eyes was one of fervent loyalty, not lazy arrogance. He was one of theirs, a deep-cover agent.
"My lords," the MP-Knight said, bowing his head briefly. "The situation has changed. There's been a public incident. The beast has been sighted in the open."
The air in the room seemed to grow colder. Aldric's head lifted slowly, his golden eyes fixing on the messenger. "Report."
"It was in a merchant district of Sina. It caused a panic, overturned a supply wagon. It was cornered by garrison troops on the Wall itself." The MP-Knight's voice was tight with excitement and dread. "Witnesses are calling it the 'Demon Dog' as opposed earlier. It was fired upon by a cannon—"
"A cannon? In the city?" Valerius interjected, aghast.
"The shot missed. The creature… it scaled the vertical face of Wall Sina. It reached the top, and when cornered, it… it vanished. Leapt from the ramparts and disappeared into thin air." The messenger took a steadying breath. "The last confirmed sighting placed its trajectory… towards the territory of Wall Rose."
A heavy silence descended, broken only by the faint flicker of the massive torch lamp. The beast was no longer a secret to be investigated; it was a public spectacle on the run. And it had just expanded its hunting grounds exponentially.
Gideon slammed a fist on the table, making the black stones jump. "Rose? That doubles our search area! We should coordinate with the Interior Squad. That butcher, Kenny, and his lot. They have the run of the place. They could be useful."
Valerius shook his head, a sharp, dismissive gesture. "The Interior Squad are blunt instruments, thugs with royal license. They would slaughter everything in their path to get to one target, creating more chaos and drawing unwanted attention to forces they cannot comprehend. The subtlety required for this hunt is beyond them."
Gideon made a disgruntled gruff, "Then why did Rod make that barbarian part of our legion in the first place."
"Last I remembered that was King Urie's doing." A forever knight; Agil; beside Gideon corrected.
"Must you ALWAYS find something to thwart when I'm speaking!" Gideon snapped at the knight.
"Want to start a fight on that brute?" Agil questioned.
"Why you-?!"
"Enough! By Sir George's beard act like grown men will you both?" Valerius interrupted, making said two straighten themselves, though Gideon spared a glare at Agil's side to which the latter responded with a raised eyebrow.
Valerius then turned to Aldric, his expression resolute. "With your permission, my lord, I will lead the pursuit into Wall Rose. The trail is fresh. I can move with a small team, unseen."
Aldric studied his squire, his gaze probing. "Are you certain, Valerius? The Rose territories are vast and lawless in parts. The creature is desperate, and desperation makes even prey dangerous."
"It is my duty," Valerius replied, his voice steady. "And besides, your presence is required here, my lord. You are the only one capable of maintaining the security of our… primary asset." He gestured vaguely, but meaningfully, towards the deeper, more secure levels of the complex. "His containment is paramount. The… unconventional nature of his restraints requires your particular strength to maintain. Nothing must be allowed to compromise that security."
He didn't need to say a name. The unspoken reference to their powerful, dangerous, and anonymously imprisoned "asset" hung in the air between them, a testament to a power they barely controlled and deeply mistrusted, but found indispensable.
It was then the masked knight pushed himself off the bookcase. The movement was fluid and utterly silent. He took two steps forward, into the pool of lamplight, his blank mask turning first to Valerius, then to Aldric. He gave a single, slow nod.
There was no protest. No discussion. The silent volunteer was accepted without question.
Aldric's gaze swept over them: the zealous scholar, Valerius, and the enigmatic, silent hunter. A suitable pair for a hunt of this nature. His eyes fell to the ancient, cruciform sword sheathed at his own hip, its pommel worn smooth by generations of Knights' hands.
He let out a long, slow breath, the sound like stone grinding on stone.
"Alright then," Sir Aldric said, his voice a low command that brooked no argument. "Lead the way. Find this demon. And show it that the walls of man are not so easily breached."
___________________
Night time, Wall Rose's territory…
Evening over the 103rd Cadet Corps training grounds was a deep, inky black, punctured only by the sharp, cold brilliance of a million indifferent stars. A thin mist, born from the evening's chill and the nearby river, clung to the ground, swallowing sounds and twisting familiar shapes into looming phantoms. The main barracks were a silent, hulking silhouette, all lights extinguished by the strict curfew. Only the distant, rhythmic tread of the night watchman broke the absolute quiet.
It was a silence that begged to be shattered.
Behind the supply shed, tucked away from the view of any patrolling officer, three figures huddled in the damp cold, their breaths pluming in the moonlight. Oluo Bozado, a lanky cadet with a face that always looked like he'd just smelled something foul (I am NOT sorry), was shivering, and it wasn't just from the cold. Beside him, a stocky, bold cadet named Liam, and a wiry girl named Anya, who was trying and failing to suppress a smug grin.
"The terms were clear, Bozado," Liam whispered, his voice a low, challenging rumble. "Loser of the spar has to do it. No backsies. You lost. Fair and square."
"It ain't about backsies, it's about bein' a damn fool!" Oluo stammered, his voice a nasally whine as he gestured wildly towards the oppressive darkness. "That old shithouse is off-limits fer a reason! Shackleton hisself said it's 'bout to fall down! A good sneeze'd blow it over!"
"The only thing about to fall down here is your nerve, Bozado," Anya chimed in, her grin widening. "It's a five-minute walk. In, out, done. Prove you're more than just a loudmouth from the sticks."
"The objective," Liam declared with mock solemnity, "is to enter the derelict latrine, 'christen' its crumbling interior as a testament to your bravery, and return with a piece of its wood as proof. Simple."
"It ain't simple! It's disgustin' and it's stupid!" Oluo protested, his fists clenching at his sides. He hated these city kids and their dumb dares.
Liam leaned in, his face inches from Oluo's. "Or what? You're scared? Scared of the dark, Southern boy? Scared of a little rotten wood and some country-sized spiders?"
The taunt hit its mark. Oluo's face flushed with a mixture of humiliation and pure, unadulterated pride. "I ain't scared'a nothin'! Specially not some rickety old outhouse!"
"Then prove it," Liam said, his voice dropping to a final, flat challenge.
That was it. Swallowing the lump of pure dread in his throat, Oluo puffed out his chest with a jerkiness that was anything but confident. "F-Fine! I'll do it! Y'all'll see! Ain't nothin' but a pile'a wood and bad smells!"
With that, he turned and marched into the mist, his figure quickly becoming a ghostly outline swallowed by the night. Liam and Anya exchanged a triumphant, silent look before ducking lower behind the shed to watch his progress.
The walk to the old latrine was a journey through a nightmare. Every rustle of a leaf was the scuttle of claws. Every creak of a distant tree branch was the groan of a Titan's hand. The moon, his only companion, seemed to cast more shadows than light.
'Stupid city kids. Makin' me do this... I'll show 'em. Oruo Bozado ain't no coward.'
He reached the dilapidated structure, its door hanging off one hinge like a broken jaw. The smell of damp rot and ancient, forgotten waste was overpowering. This was stupider than a box of rocks.
'Ain't scared,' he repeated to himself, pushing the creaking door open just enough to slip inside.
The interior was worse. Pitch black, the air thick and suffocating. He fumbled with his trousers, his hands shaking.
'Just gotta do this and get it over with. Get the proof. Show 'em how it's done.'
He finished, a wave of relief washing over him. Now, for the piece of wood. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the slimy, splintered wall—
SCRITCH.
A sound. Not outside. Not the wind. It was inside. A soft, scraping drag, like something heavy being shifted in the far, dark corner.
Oluo froze, his blood turning to ice in his veins. Every hair on his body stood on end.
'J-Just a rat... a big 'un...'
SCRITCH... drag...
No rat made a sound like that. It was too... deliberate.
That was all the convincing he needed. Fear, pure and absolute, overrode any thought of proof or pride. He yanked his trousers up, spun around, and burst out of the latrine, not even bothering to close the door. He ran. He ran like a jackrabbit with its tail on fire, his boots pounding against the hard earth. He didn't look back.
He crashed through the door of the main barracks, the sound echoing in the sleeping hall. He leaned against the wall, gasping, his body trembling uncontrollably.
"Hey! What's the meaning of this racket?!"
A sharp, authoritative voice cut through the gloom. Instructor Dal, a grizzled veteran, emerged from his small side room, holding a flickering oil lamp. His eyes narrowed as they fell on the panting, pale-faced cadet. "Cadet Bozado? It's the middle of the night. Explain yourself. Now."
Oluo pointed a trembling finger back towards the door. "S-Sir! There's somethin' out there! In the old latrine! I heard it!"
Dal's expression shifted from anger to weary exasperation. "Something? Spit it out, cadet. A rodent? A bad dream?"
"N-No, sir! Somethin' big! It was... scratchin' in there with me!" Oluo's eyes were wide, his country accent thickening with panic.
Dal sighed, a long, suffering sound. "Alright, let's have a look. And you, cadet, are on latrine duty for a month for this little escapade."
The instructor grabbed his coat and a sturdy walking stick, motioning for Oluo to follow him back outside. They stood on the porch, the mist curling around their ankles. Dal raised his lamp, its weak yellow light pushing back the darkness only a few feet.
"Now, where did you hear this... thing?" Dal asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.
Oluo pointed a shaking hand towards the latrine, his mouth open to speak.
That's when Instructor Dal saw something…unusual.
Just at the very edge of the lamp's reach, a silhouette. It was low to the ground, powerfully built, and moving with a fluid, predatory grace. For a split second, the lamplight seemed to catch on a pattern of faint, pulsating lines along its back, glowing with a sick, deep light-blue hue.
Dal's breath caught in his throat. His military-trained mind rejected what it was seeing. The shape, the movement... it was all wrong.
He blinked, hard.
When he looked again, the silhouette was gone.
He stood there for a long moment, his heart hammering. Finally, he let out a slow, controlled breath.
"Huh," Dal grunted, forcing his voice to remain steady. "Must've been the wind." He turned to the terrified cadet, his face a mask of stern discipline. "Your imagination, Bozado. And your punishment stands. Now, get back to your bunk before I make it two months."
"…Yes sir." Oulo lamented.
Meanwhile, less than a hundred yards away, the fully grown Vulpimancer moved on. The sharp, panicked vibrations of the young human had been an irritant. It had simply shifted its weight, the sound of its claws on the rotten wood frightening the fragile thing away. Easy.
It limped on, its five good eyes locking onto two new sources of heat huddled behind a smaller structure. Their heartbeats were fast with excitement.
The creature paused, a low, subsonic growl rumbling in its chest. It assessed the potential threat.
It was tired. It was wounded.
With a dismissive flick of its tail, the Vulpimancer turned. It deliberately chose a path that took it away from the two hidden cadets, its glowing stripes pulsing faintly in the dark as it melted back into the deeper shadows between the barracks. The hunt for easier, quieter sustenance continued.
Alien countdown: Heatblast (Inferno), Wildmutt (Savage), Fourarms (Titanfist), Ghostfreak (Phantom), Diamondhead (Obsidian), Greymatter (Cerebrus), Eyeguy (???), Stinkfly (Buzzrot), XLR8 (Blitz), Upgrade (Overhaul), Ripjaws (Leviathan).
Chapter 22-30 are already available on Patreon.com/Weeb Fanthom.