Chapter 28: Lyndwyrms III

For a moment Kren worried the Storm Eagles would refuse. If they did, he’d be left with no choice but to abandon them, and that wasn’t what he wanted — but he had to prioritize his own people first, rather than a bunch of stubborn birds. The boy, Jomin, hopped down from the rock despite the protests of his allies. Fima shifted subtly, positioning herself close enough to Kren to act instantly if the boy turned out to be a threat.

Instead, Jomin made sure to keep the rock at his back, his dog held tight against his chest. "What’s your plan?" He nodded toward the Lyndwyrms slowly circling their group like a pack of wild hyenas, waiting for an opening to strike. "They don’t look like they intend to let us leave here unscathed."

Kren nodded in agreement, then tilted his head toward the remaining Storm Eagles. "What about your friends?"

Jomin shrugged. "They’ll follow wherever I go. They’re coming with us, and we’ll help however we can. Once we’re safe, we’ll figure out how to proceed from there." Kren narrowed his eyes at the boy. There was something almost like a warning buried in those words, though Jomin clearly meant no disrespect — he was simply being direct, naming the thing everyone else had been too busy to address.

Namely, that Kren and his party were outsiders in a land that didn’t allow outsiders, barring extraordinary circumstances. Kren smiled at him. Clearly, this was no ordinary happy-go-lucky teenager.

"We can worry about everything else once we’ve survived this." Kren held Jomin’s gaze a beat longer. The boy didn’t flinch, didn’t show a trace of fear or intimidation. For a moment it felt less like two people talking and more like two sovereigns sizing each other up, their inner beasts rising to meet the challenge.

The moment broke as the rest of the Storm Eagles dropped down from the rock. "We move, now!" one of them called, sweeping past Kren with Jomin in tow. Kren turned to his own party, and they fell in step.

"They know this ground better than we do. We stick with them. Form up around the group — none of them can cultivate, and the Lyndwyrms will pick them off the second they get a gap. Let them fire support from the center of the formation. Let’s Move! Toa, please cover me a second."

Kren slid his sword home and drew the pistols instead. Bernice had once told him about guns from her old life — a marvel of technology capable of firing dozens of rounds, sometimes more, without pause. These muskets were nothing so generous; his old rifle had managed four shots before needing a reload, and these pistols only two.

He reloaded on the move, the motion smooth after half a lifetime of drilling under Bernice’s watchful eye. As he worked, he noticed the Lyndwyrms keeping pace rather than closing in — following just close enough that it felt less like a chase and more like they were being herded.

"Toa, back in formation. The treeline’s coming up — tighten it. If they find any gap, they’ll take it. Eagles, get ready to offer support." One Lyndwyrm broke from the pack, clearly eager to close the distance before they reached the trees and lost the open ground it had been using against them.

Kren spun the pistol in his right hand and fired. The round caught it just beneath the eye, punching through bone. It crashed down with a shrieking wail — and that alone was signal enough for the rest of the pack to surge forward as one.

The real problem, Kren was quickly realizing, was that these Storm Eagles weren’t cultivators at all. No kingdom crest, no clan crest of their own — an entire people who’d lived generations without any real connection to their inner beasts. Which meant that now, in the one moment real power actually mattered, they simply couldn’t keep up. They were moving as fast as they were able, and it still wasn’t nearly fast enough.

Suddenly, a few things made sense. The dead they’d found earlier — left behind as bait, or sacrificed on purpose so these four could get this far. They were too slow. At this rate, the Lyndwyrms would catch them before they ever reached cover, and Kren had to decide, fast: push forward, or cut his losses.

"Aki, Ruhu — intercept! Toa, widen the circle. Fima, stay with the eagles and cut down anything that slips past us." Kren ordered.

"But Your Majesty, my place is beside you! I should be the one—"

"That was an order, Fima N’Mbezi. Do you question your king?" Kren’s voice cracked out like a roar. Fima flinched, her pupils narrowing to slits, tail bristling — but this was an active fight, and it said something about her sheer willpower that she managed to shake off the weight of a sovereign’s command at all. Even young, even freshly returned to the crest, the pressure of the system behind him was its own kind of authority. And she could still move to carry out his orders.

"Forgive me, my king. It will be done."

Fima dropped back into formation nearer the Storm Eagles. There was nothing left for Kren to say. The Lyndwyrms hit them a heartbeat later.

Kren fired again, precision almost unnatural as another round found a Lyndwyrm’s eye. It went down only a few feet from Jomin, who shot him a flash of gratitude — but Kren was already gone.

[Spirit of the West Wind]

He blasted forward, a blur across the field, crossing into the treeline just as a trio of Lyndwyrms caught up to them.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Three shots rang out — two Lyndwyrms dropped, both eye shots. The third clipped along the ridge of a brow instead, drawing a pained screech rather than a kill.

That cry died fast as Toa cut through, purple Aura trailing off his hooked greatsword.

[Venom Blade Dance]

The massive blade flowed through a rapid sequence of cuts, stripping limbs from the pack in quick, brutal succession. Whatever survived the cuts, the venom would finish.

Kren kept moving, using the trees for cover as they stayed close to the Storm Eagles, who clearly knew exactly where they were headed. He hoped that meant somewhere safe, not a trap. Either way, the Lyndwyrms weren’t built for forest hunting — it showed in the way the trees kept tangling their charge, sending them tripping over each other’s bulk. It wasn’t much, but it bought seconds. Precious ones.

But these beasts still had to be put down, and between now and then, a lot could still go wrong. The thought should have troubled him. But Kren, Kren couldn’t stop smiling.