A guttural cry split the pre-dawn hush. Corvus stiffened, every fiber screaming protest. He lay on a rough bed of packed ash, body clamoring for rest. He had pushed his abilities to the brink, his reserves depleted. Now, a low rumble of approaching danger vibrated through the ground. Ash-Stalkers. A horde. Corvus shoved himself upright, grit grinding under his palms. Kaelen stood outside the makeshift shelter, a broad, unsettling grin splitting his face. His eyes, predatory and sharp, tracked the approaching menace. ‘Look alive, boy. Night’s not over.’ Kaelen’s voice rasped, devoid of sympathy. ‘Thought you were done sleeping, did you?’ Corvus ignored the barb. He could feel the ground trembling, a low, rhythmic thrum. Vast shapes began to materialize from the shifting dust, dozens, then hundreds. Ash-Stalkers. Canidae-like predators, gaunt bodies formed from solidified ash and bone, their teeth obsidian shards. Eyes glowed with residual alchemical fire, green and malevolent. Leading them was a colossal beast, easily twice the size of its pack. Its shaggy mane, coarse and spiked with crystalline fragments, flared around a head topped by twin, curling horns of solid grit. This was the alpha, the matriarch. She moved with a terrible grace, her every step shaking the ground. Ash-Stalkers hunted in vast packs, fearless, relentless. They crashed forward, a wave of snapping jaws and razor claws. Their numbers alone could overwhelm any solitary being. Most hurtled towards Kaelen, drawn by his sheer, brutal presence. A smaller, yet significant, group peeled off, charging directly at Corvus. Corvus moved. A thin wall of compressed ash erupted from the ground before him, humming faintly. It took the brunt of the first impact, Ash-Stalker maws snapping against its unyielding surface. The air vibrated with their frustrated snarls. His stamina, ravaged by the previous day’s exertions, protested. He couldn’t sustain a defensive barrier against so many. Mana management, Kaelen had drilled into him, was paramount. Ash billowed around him, answering his will. He didn't form large constructs. Instead, fine streams of ash coalesced at his fingertips, sharpened to needle-like points. He focused, drawing on every ounce of remaining will. He released them. Five ash-needles lanced out, swift and silent. Each found a mark: the soft tissue behind an Ash-Stalker’s glowing eye, or the unprotected joint of a foreleg. Screeching, five of the creatures stumbled, ash-blood staining the ground. Even as they fell, others surged over their bodies, heedless. Corvus breathed, a shallow, controlled intake of particulate-laced air. The first volley was successful. He refined his technique, making the projectiles smaller, denser, faster. Each required less energy, yet delivered more concentrated force. More ash-needles flew. A silent rain of death. Ash-Stalkers clawed at empty air, then collapsed, their alchemical light dimming. He took down five, then five more. A rhythm began to form, a grim dance of survival. He risked a glance at Kaelen. A maniacal cackle tore through the night. Kaelen was a blur of motion, Gritfang, his serrated obsidian cleaver, a dark smear in the dim light. Around him, a growing mound of twisted ash-bodies bore silent witness to his rampage. Dozens, perhaps more than a hundred, lay broken. Kaelen didn’t employ elaborate techniques. He simply swung. Again and again. Each strike cleaved through bone and sinew, sending sprays of black ash-blood into the air. The already dark plains grew darker with the stains of battle. Occasionally, an Ash-Stalker managed to sink its fangs into Kaelen's arm or calf. The obsidian teeth shattered against his skin, splintering into harmless fragments. ‘Tickles, doesn’t it?’ Kaelen roared, seizing a creature clamped onto his thigh. Its skull, dense as granite, crumbled under his grip like dry clay. He hurled the broken body into the thick of the pack, scattering more of them, legs bending at impossible angles, bellies torn open. Kaelen’s slaughter was absolute, devoid of mercy. No Ash-Stalker dared stand its ground against him for long. Watching, the alpha matriarch, who had until then observed the chaos from a slight distance, stepped forward. A faint, cerulean glow pulsed around her body. It denoted a heightened alchemical state, a B-rank equivalent, perhaps even higher. Sparks, raw and volatile, began to crackle from her grit-horns. She was channeling the residual alchemical energies of the land, a raw, destructive force. A bolt of unstable particulate-energy shot from her horns, tearing through the air, arriving before Kaelen in an instant. Kaelen simply extended a hand. He caught the bolt, much like one might pluck a fly from the air. The crackling energy, bright enough to momentarily illuminate the battlefield, vanished within his palm. Only then did a primal dread flicker in the alpha matriarch’s glowing eyes. She understood. This was no ordinary prey. A guttural roar, deep and resonant, tore from her throat. A command. Retreat. They had lost too many. Half the pack was already dead. Continued struggle would mean annihilation. The alpha’s judgment, grim as it was, was sound. Kaelen, however, had no intention of allowing their escape. He released Gritfang. The cleaver spun, a dark vortex of sharpened obsidian, scything through the fleeing Ash-Stalkers. Their mournful cries echoed across the ash plains. The sheer carnage, the methodical destruction, froze Corvus. But Kaelen was not finished. Kaelen braced himself, pushing down into the ash. He launched himself skyward, a dark silhouette against the pre-dawn glow. Gritfang, having completed its bloody circuit, arced back to his hand. He plummeted, a meteor of flesh and steel, straight towards the alpha matriarch. A desperate shriek tore from the alpha’s throat. A blinding impact. Ash erupted in all directions, obscuring everything. When the particulate cloud settled, the aftermath was horrifying. The alpha matriarch lay utterly destroyed, a mangled ruin of bone and ash. Only one of her magnificent grit-horns remained intact, detached and pristine. Kaelen stood over the corpse, unblemished. No trace of fatigue marred his face. He seemed invigorated, a faint, cruel smile playing on his lips. He looked like a man refreshed by a brisk walk, not a brutal slaughter. Corvus couldn't even manage a deep breath. His mind reeled, overwhelmed by Kaelen's unadulterated power. Was this truly a human? He hadn't used any intricate displays of power, no unique ‘skills’ like those whispered about in forgotten lore. Only sheer, devastating might. Kaelen turned his head, his gaze sweeping over Corvus. ‘Still breathing, boy. Good.’ Corvus could only nod, his throat tight with dust and awe. Kaelen chuckled, a dry, grating sound. He bent, retrieving the pristine grit-horn from the alpha's corpse. ‘These horns. Useful, very. Full of residual alchemical charge. Refine it right, and it could be a potent focus.’ He held the horn for a moment, then extended his hand. The horn shimmered, then vanished. As if it had never been there. Spatial manipulation? Corvus’s understanding of Kaelen, of everything, shattered. Kaelen’s combat was primal, brute force, a warrior of ancient, forgotten paths. Yet, he wielded a rare, almost mythical power. A small obsidian dagger appeared in Kaelen’s hand. He tossed it to Corvus. ‘Find your own sustenance now. Most of an Ash-Stalker’s flesh carries toxic particulate. But the muscle along their flank, a strip the width of your hand, is safe. Dry it well.’ Kaelen demonstrated, carving a small, precise slab of meat from the alpha’s side. It was barely the size of Corvus’s palm. Corvus watched his movements intently, then knelt beside a fallen Ash-Stalker. He mimicked Kaelen’s cuts, careful to avoid the brittle, ash-choked tissue. Kaelen offered no further instruction, but Corvus understood. Survival meant learning, quickly. He’d subsisted on Kaelen’s jerky for days. Now, he realized its origin. Monster flesh. A grim necessity in this world. Corvus had known hunger, truly known it, in the ash-wastes before Kaelen. He felt no revulsion, only a cold, practical determination. Kaelen continued to carve, taking just enough for a few days. Resupply, for him, meant another effortless hunt. Corvus was not Kaelen. He had to prepare. He harvested diligently, securing nearly thirty pieces of meat. No more. He had no way to store it. He wrapped the strips in his torn outer cloak, bundling it over his shoulder. ‘Resourceful, at least.’ Kaelen’s voice, a low rumble. Corvus was still weak, still had miles to go. But he had endured. He had learned. ‘Let’s move, boy. Before the scent draws more of them.’ Kaelen turned, indifferent to the carnage, already walking. It wasn't fear, just an aversion to inconvenience. Corvus nodded, the bitter taste of ash in his mouth. He didn't want to linger either. Sunlight, pale and thin, began to pierce the particulate haze. It revealed the full horror of the battlefield. The ground was littered with broken bodies, swarms of iridescent dust-moths already descending to feast. More scavengers would arrive. The law of Veridian Prime: the strong prey, the dead feed. No escape. Corvus followed Kaelen, a dark silhouette against the rising sun. He was beginning to grasp these laws, to internalize them. Kaelen strode ahead, paying Corvus no mind. Corvus pushed himself, forcing his tired legs to keep pace. He used his ash-stride, a quickening of his steps, propelling him over the shifting ground. He expected the mana drain to be immense, a crippling blow after the night’s battle. But it wasn't. A subtle ease. A smoother flow. More mana remained than he had anticipated, and its control felt… sharper. The desperate struggle, the choices made on the edge of oblivion, had sharpened him. He had pushed his manipulation to its limit, and it had responded, reshaping him. Stronger. He was stronger. He would continue to grow. Corvus watched Kaelen’s back, a figure of brutal, relentless power. He still didn’t understand why Kaelen tolerated him. But one truth was stark: survival at Kaelen’s side meant an evolution, a hardening he couldn't achieve alone. He kept moving, a ghost in the ash, trailing Kaelen into the desolate expanse.

A Grin in the Ashfall