Great Wyrm Chronicles: Giganton

Chapter 6: Fury

Fury awoke in the dry and dusty canyon where his brother had dropped him in the cold night. Now it was morning, and the blistering hot sun beat down on his injured self. Fury slowly assessed the situation.

Fury lay on his stomach, facing the earthen wall of the canyon. He slowly turned himself onto his back, which was already badly sunburnt. Fury looked down at where Ataxia would be attached to him, except he didn't see Ataxia, he saw his own blood staining the ground of the canyon. The ragged cut at his waist left him in no condition to move, for if he did, immense pain would curse him.

With every drop of blood that left his body, he felt his power diminish, his strength weaken, but his will only growing stronger. Though he was unkillable, Fury wished his fate was different. He wished to die in a massive battle, serving Chaos.

Fury only had one hope, one hope for Chaos to save him. He used the little magic he had left, causing his body an intense and excruciating pain. He used his magic to make his eye live. His eye fell out of his socket, growing two muscular arms and growing much larger in size. Fury could no longer see– he didn't see black, he saw nothing, absolutely nothing.

"Go," he commanded his now conscious eye. "Find Ataxia. Find Chaos. Find anyone who stands with me. Find them, and bring them here to save me." He commanded his eye with shaky breaths. Fury was now drained of all his energy. Is this what death feels like? He asked himself, breathing heavily, yet no breath seemed to go through his lungs. His mind had given up on life, but his body held on to a sliver of hope, hope that Chaos would find him.

The eye creature left him now, the stomping of its arms growing fainter as it went. His breathing was jagged, coughing up blood every few minutes. Fury wanted to die, but he also knew his body wouldn't allow him to ever truly perish, whether it be by Chaos' hand, his brother's, or his own.

Minutes became hours in the canyon. Fury couldn't remember how long he was down there. The sun seemed to spite him, the scorching rays beating down harder than he ever thought possible, seeming to melt his skin. The only cooling was the small puddle of blood that formed from the jagged cut at his waist.

The pain from his waist couldn't compare to anything he had ever felt. Every time he got used to the pain, the wound would throb and pulse anew, rippling pain throughout him. His mind was not on his pain, though; it was on his brother, his brother who had abandoned him, left him to rot in a deserted canyon far from Chaos' palace.

Did I push him too far? Did I push him too much? Thoughts of regret corrupted his mind. Even if I did, leaving me to die in a canyon is unforgivable... Fury thought about his and his brother's actions. He swore to himself, he swore to live until he got revenge on Ataxia.

Meanwhile, Fury's eye ventured out of the canyon, climbing on the rocky walls using its arms. The eye emerged out of the canyon, the deep chasm now behind it. The eye looked around the barren landscape, unfit for living. The blistering hot sun beat down on the wasteland.

Fury's eye went onward, looking for the possibility of life nearby. The Eye continued forward, looking at the brown desert contradicting the cloudless blue sky. The journey across the desert was treacherous, the blistering hot sun seemed to stab the eye, the lack of water certainly didn't help either. The eye felt as if death could come and take it at any moment, the lack of water making it hallucinate oases. Just as the Eye was about to give up, it saw a bunker, the bunker that belonged to Ataxia and the Gods. Now seeing its goal in the near distance, the Eye hurried into the bunker, now taking in every detail of the Gods' plan.

The Eye was going to make Fury proud.