Mike stopped at the cave's mouth, the pale morning light spilling in through the curtain of roots. He turned back toward the shadows where the Leshy's eyes still glowed.
"The children," Mike said. "Who are they?"
The Leshy's gaze shifted toward the small figures playing quietly among the roots. "They are the seeds I protect. Taken from the reach of those who would twist them, devour them, or forge them into weapons. Here, they grow without fear… until the day they choose their own path."
Mike studied the children for a moment, how they laughed softly, even in this strange, tangled refuge. He gave a single nod. "Where's the nearest town?"
"Keep heading west," the Leshy said. "Three days, if the storms don't turn you. Less, if the path stays clear."
Mike inclined his head in silent thanks and stepped out into the daylight. The forest closed behind him, the roots curling inward until the cave was gone.
The sun was high by the time he emerged from the last of the twisted forest, and the land ahead stretched wide and scarred. Broken hills lay like toppled giants, the remnants of burned villages scattered among skeletal trees. The whispers in his mind remained low, present, but not clawing at him as before.
Hours passed beneath the weight of heat and silence, until a sharp, human scream tore through the still air.
Mike froze.
The sound came from beyond a low ridge. He crept forward, and when he crested the rise, his eyes narrowed.
A hunched figure moved along the cracked road, a creature half-man, half-beast. Its skin was marred with jagged patches of dull black scales, and leathery bat wings jutted from its back, twitching with every step. A short, barbed tail swayed lazily behind it. The creature dragged a wooden cart bound with rusted chains.
Inside the cart, four young women struggled against the restraints that bound their wrists. Their clothes were torn, their voices hoarse from screaming. The wheels groaned as the creature pulled them over the uneven road, muttering something in a guttural language under its breath.
Mike's hands curled into fists. Heat rippled under his skin, the dragon within surging forward. His breath came in slow, deliberate pulls, each one sharper than the last.
The creature glanced over its shoulder, its yellow eyes catching the light as it spotted him. It hissed, baring jagged teeth.
Mike stepped onto the road.
"Let them go," he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of a growl.
The creature's lips pulled into something like a smile. "These are claimed. By right they are my brides. You don't want—"
It didn't finish the sentence.
Mike moved.
The cart's chains rattled as the scaled creature released its grip on the handle and spread its wings wide, casting a jagged shadow over the road.
"You reek of foul power," it hissed. Its tail lashed, carving a line in the dirt. "Not god. Not man. A thing born to be hunted."
Mike took a slow step forward, the air around him already warping from heat. "Fuck off."
The creature lunged, moving faster than its twisted form suggested. One clawed hand slashed toward his throat while the other swept low, aiming for his ribs. Mike twisted aside, feeling scales scrape against his arm, and drove his knee into the creature's chest. Bone cracked but the thing didn't fall.
Instead, it flared its wings and shoved him back with a force that tore chunks of dirt from the road. Mike skidded several feet, his bare heels digging trenches into the ground.
The women screamed again as the creature darted toward the cart, gripping the chains like weapons. With a flick of its wrists, the iron links glowed red-hot and snapped free, whipping toward Mike like flaming serpents.
His eyes burned molten.
The dragon inside him surged.
Mike ducked under the first chain, grabbed the second mid-swing, and yanked hard. The creature stumbled forward right into his fist. The blow shattered its jaw, blood spraying across the road.
The thing's roar turned into a screech as it writhed, bones cracking and shifting. Its body twisted into a more monstrous form, legs bending backward, claws elongating, wings expanding until they blotted out the sun overhead.
"You should have walked away," it snarled, voice now guttural and layered with something older, something inhuman.
Mike's skin rippled, scales breaking through in jagged patches across his shoulders and arms. His teeth sharpened, the edges of his dragon form spilling out with every heartbeat.
"Too late for that," Mike growled.
The creature dove. Mike met it head-on.
The impact sent a shockwave through the road, splintering the wood of the cart and knocking the women onto the dirt. Mike grappled the beast's neck, forcing it down, but its tail coiled around his leg and wrenched him off balance.
They rolled, claws and teeth tearing at each other. Mike's roar shifted into something deeper, something that rattled the ground. He slammed his palm into the creature's chest and unleashed a burst of white-hot flame point-blank. The scales bubbled and cracked, the smell of burning flesh filling the air.
The monster shrieked and tried to take flight, but Mike's claws sank into its wing joints and ripped downward. Membranes tore like wet parchment. The thing collapsed, thrashing in the dirt.
Mike loomed over it, both hands wreathed in black and red fire. The dragon in him wanted to burn it to ash, to erase it utterly.
The women huddled behind the shattered cart, eyes wide with terror, not at the creature, but at him.
Mike froze, his breathing ragged. His hands trembled, flames guttering out. He stepped back. The thing tried to rise, but Mike's heel slammed into its head, and it went still.
He turned to the women, his voice rough. "Go. Now."
They didn't hesitate. They ran, vanishing into the scorched horizon.
Mike stood alone on the road, the carcass of the winged beast smoldering at his feet. The whispers began again, soft and persistent.
Not enough… not yet…
Mike shook his head and transformed just enough as he devoured the creature. His wounds slowly healing. He stood up once he had finished the beast and began heading west.
As he was walking on the road, Mike felt the unpleasant sensation of being watched. He turned toward the forest but couldn't find anything. The longer he walked the more uneasy the sensation became of being followed.
Bahamut's voice interrupted Mike's observation "You are being hunted."