Can you avoid becoming a monster if you walk the path of hate?
Noche L. Grim has sworn revenge against Edward Death, and while her strength is unparalleled compared to the average Create User, it's pathetic against his seven Birds of Death.
Especi...
The forest grew silent and Noche paled. The company was deep into the woods now – no light escaped the treetops. No living animal could be heard. This was a place where various mutated animals, drive experiments, and chimeras chose to hide. So, the silence was unnatural.
"Guess those purple monkeys are gone," Gabby whispered.
"What are purple monkeys?" Noche asked.
"A byproduct of some bastard who decided to combine D.N.A. of the blue-ringed octopus with a baboon," Rowan said.
"Fuck."
"At least they can't use Create," Jonathon whispered. "Any living creature can get infected with Drive – but only the intelligent can use Create."
"Like with that dragon. Remember how excited the internet got when some mad scientist made that?" Gabby said.
"Didn't they combine a crocodile, bat, and dolphin?"
"Yep. Then they made sure the thing knew how to use Create – encoded that knowledge into its genes. Next thing you know – boom! Dragon."
"Not that we have to worry about that anymore," Rowan said. "Cross dealt with it before it made more. No, the most dangerous thing in these woods is the volves."
"Volves? Sounds familiar," Noche said.
"Yeah – Venomous wolves," he muttered. "Their poison only paralyzes, it doesn't kill... Even so, they're much deadlier."
"They've very intelligent and hunt in a pack like normal wolves," Gabby said. "But they're not smart enough to use Cre-"
The soldiers froze when a faint rustling emerged from the side of the path. Noche paled as four black eyes stared in her direction. A growl emanated from beyond the black brambles. Gray fur leaped towards Noche, the world spun, something pinned her to the ground.
"VOLF!"
Noche's eyes widened to strands of saliva bridging the gap between rows of razor-sharp teeth. The huge, gray furred creature loomed above her as four black eyes glared into her soul. Its maw snapped towards her neck – something wet slapped her face.
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As the tongue slid up her cheek, Noche entered a trance – this vague sensation was all too familiar. She snapped back to reality the moment a Cross soldier approached with a Grim gun.
"NO WAIT!"
With a break-dancing spin, Noche reversed her position with the volf, grabbed the barrel of the gun, and lifted it up before the soldier fired. The others stood and waited, unsure what to make of the situation.
"I know this volf!"
Noche blinked, she spoke on impulse, not from conscious thought. She turned back to the creature which stared at her with four beady black eyes.
"I know... This volf?" She muttered.
Her brows furrowed as her eyes locked with the creatures – on all four legs it stood five feet tall. Noche took a step forward, the volf growled, but she didn't deter; Noche raised her hand.
The volf's pupils shrank, causing solid black eyes to look more like that of a normal canine. It pressed its head into Noche's palm. Soldiers began lowering their weapons, but faces continued to look towards each other with concern.
"I know you," tears welled in Noche's eyes. "I know I know you."
The volf licked her face again – wiping away the tears as they fell. It also left a massive cow lick at the top of Noche's head. Noche hugged the dog and pressed her face firm into its fur.
"Noche, we have to keep marching," Rowan said.
"Five more minutes," she mumbled.
A hand landed on her shoulder. She turned to see Rowan smiling, but eyeing the soldiers behind him. Noche sighed, stood up, and took a step back. The volf's head went from the blonde to the other soldiers – it turned towards the brambles and walked into the dark of the woods.
Noche rejoined the soldiers as their unit resumed marching.
"Psst, hey – how'd you do that?" Gabby whispered.
"Do what?" Noche responded.
"Not get killed by a volf!"
"I... I don't know," Noche paused. "I just felt a connection to it."
"That's crazy – those things were made to be weapons you know," Jonathon said.
"Well, so was General Salt," Rowan whispered. "I heard he's a failed experiment to turn a human into a being of pure Drive."
"He can grow into the size of a planet," Gabby said. "I doubt he's failed."
"Failed or not, I think we can all agree on one thing. Salt is anything but a weapon," Noche said. "I saw him cry once because he found a dead ladybug in his garden... Weapon is not the word I'd use to describe him."
The four of them paused.
"Do you think his final form is a pillar of pure salt?" Gabby asked.
Rowan rolled his eyes, Jonathon snickered, and Noche had to turn away. She stopped smiling when a familiar face caught her eyes. A girl with vibrant red hair and amber eyes, but no one Noche knew well. Who was she?
It clicked – the waitress from the honey bunny café. Autumn! To think someone like that was part of the Cross military. What a small world it was indeed. The ex-waitress noticed Noche's stare and waved at the blonde before the company halted.
In this dark blue, near pitch-black forest, all was silent except for the rustling leaves. Goosebumps pricked the flesh from the wind's chill and cold fog rose to the knee. In the depths of these woods the ground was un-level, steep, and sharply varied in height.
Eldritch trees, with sizes so large it made man seem like ants, held roots that presented many tripping hazards on the rotting soil. Every so often were deep chasm that dropped into a fog-filled eternity. Occasionally, howling was audible in the distance, but whether it was the wind or some creature was indiscernible.
These woods were more akin to the bottom of an ocean's abyss — this was a forest of darkness where no sunlight nor warmth could reach.
Boots turned towards Medusa. "We're here."
Trees shook back and forth as if the woods came alive. Leaves cascaded off the branches and danced about — they were not leaves, but moths. Hundreds of the insects drifted in the air around the cross army. Each moth combusted and fell one by one.
As their corpses became a smoldering pile of embers, the jagged branches of the trees were revealed. Not too far from their current spot, beyond the lingering pine trees, was some sort of building. It was a cartoonish castle and it dropped Noche into a lake of ice.
Beyond the castle was a cliffside that lead to a steep fall into the ocean below. Static rang in Noche's ears — she clutched her head. Artic wind screamed past her — salt and brine filled the air. A massive strike to the head replaced conscious thought with darkness and pain.
Her eyes snapped open to the gray, dead castle before her. She gagged on the ash that floated on the breeze; in the void behind her, a volf howled towards the moon. Winter's cold penetrated her skin as blackened trees loomed over her like a monster's claws.
"Tonight, death sails on the wind," Noche muttered.
