Chapter 14: Déjà Vu
"This was too much for him to handle. It was like watching memories of his life play out from a different camera angle, sometimes with new scenes added."
- Dennis Sharpe
The Purple Dragon of Legend was the rarest of all dragons. Born once every ten generations, with raw power far greater than anyone had ever seen or imagined. Capable of mastering all the elements, even abilities none in the Dragon Realms ever thought possible…
…including time itself.
Dragon Time was the sole reason Spyro survived when the Well of Souls collapsed. In its most benign form, through some obscure manipulation of physics, Dragon Time manipulated the fabric of spacetime, slowing the passage of time for everyone but the Purple Dragon. The Chronicler said it was an ability that enabled the user to see events just before they occurred. An opportunity to act ahead, to allow that extra wiggle room—that extra time to do whatever it took to ride the storms of the times.
Joshua Renalia knew how it looked like from Spyro's perspective. The vision turned blurry, the sounds distorted. Everyone around him moved sluggishly, even opponents normally too fast for Spyro to keep up with. Once upon a time, as a young gamer, Joshua would play The Eternal Night and slog through every level, no matter the difficulty. He remembered pushing himself to go on, to move farther along the game regardless of his frustration, of the stronger and stronger temptation to throw away the controller and quit in a fit of rage.
After completing that level with the Skavengers, he went to bed feeling like he accomplished something that day. Yet as Joshua still felt the adrenaline rush of finishing the level, a stray thought occurred to him. He remembered how many times he resorted to—he abused Dragon Time in-game, just to survive, a behavior he couldn't help repeating in Arkham Asylum—because it was more convenient. Then he wondered, what would it be like from his enemies' perspective?
Did Spyro suddenly gain in speed, moving with unnatural alacrity?
Was his very form swathed in a blur, obscuring him from his opponents?
Or did he move so fast that the opponent simply found the Purple Dragon in front of him, seemingly teleporting across the battlefield?
Unlike the other Elements, there was no stopping Dragon Time. Beyond the high strain put on the Purple Dragon, it had no glaring weaknesses. No direct countermeasures. Once it was used—once supernatural speed kicked in—once the familiar blur cloaked the draconic body, anyone unlucky enough to face the dragon was surely dead, and they wouldn't know it until a second passed and the Purple Dragon of Legend loomed above them, claws and teeth raked in blood.
Anyone, indeed, save for the wielder of the Unknown Element.
The instant Spyro entered Dragon Time, a strange sensation swept Joshua Renalia. The human turned his gaze towards Spyro; his emerald eyes saw past him. He looked through him, his own brain marking the Purple Dragon automatically.
To Joshua, a pulse of life felt alive. It was an indiscernible shape, one he often made reference to a sphere, if only to satiate his need for understanding. Beneath the surface laid a host of activity, a series of tiny intricate signals linked not only to the biochemistry and neurology but also to emotions and the ethereal spirit. The machinations of a soul, should the living organism within the Unknown Element's radius of influence possess one.
From the outside, Spyro the Dragon stood on all four paws. His stance was low, tense, perhaps. So was the Guardian Candidate next to him, the fraudulent character also preparing for combat. Suddenly Spyro's life signature became a mad flurry of activity, tickling the fringes of Joshua's ego boundaries. It danced, setting off alarm bells as it buzzed and prickled.
Joshua went on guard immediately and—
The frenetic sensation flooded the entire area on which he stood. Hairs stood up, and pure undiluted instinct demanded—commanded the human to step back. To move. Anywhere but there! Impelled by the unquestionable desire to live, he backpedaled twice, his left leg planted firmly behind him.
The Purple Dragon blurred before his emerald gaze and startled the young man. Spyro's indistinct silhouette zipped faster than he's ever seen him move, even when he controlled him as a player. In two blinks of an eye, he twisted his twin horns upward where Joshua's abdomen had just been, in a movement that would've gutted him had he refused the call of self-preservation. The fabled Hero of the Dragon Realms came in a rumbling thunder, coated by an intimidating coat of electricity outclassing Kilat's by a vast chasm.
But Joshua didn't want to fight Spyro. He didn't want—he couldn't want to even hurt him. He, the character the gamer loved as a child. He, the person from whom descended the hero he had come to know. Still operating from terror, his every movement wild, frantic, and panicked, Joshua Renalia had not only evaded the Volt Tackle, but also moved through the process of retaliation.
Joshua had the presence of mind to recalibrate his aim, to twist the sledgehammer in his hands so the business end did not strike the dragon's snout.
Purple eyes widened at the lack of meat being torn between his jaws, or the solidness encapsulating his horns. "No way!" An uncharacteristic yelp of surprise sped out his muzzle as he saw the teenager's weapon coming for him. Too surprised to even notice the fact Joshua ensured he only got hit by the ironwood handle, rather than its metal head.
Spyro felt the strike and was pushed back. "H-h-how?" he stammered, perplexed. "Ancestors, I was in Dragon Time!"
"I don't want to fight you, Spyro!" Joshua Renalia did not push the offensive. "I can't fight you! You're my—
A ferocious growl cut him off. The Purple Dragon had blocked out his pleas, ignored the pacific begging, perhaps because that goddamn fraud spent minutes arguing the dangers posed by the human during the scant time Joshua spoke to Cynder arguing his.
Spyro was upon him. Joshua glimpsed an Element illumine the tips of his wing fingers. He yapped incoherently, raising the sledgehammer in defense. Spyro spiraled three times in rapid succession, wisps of fire blazing a trail across the air. Every coil, every twist sent two strikes at the human, who needed every ounce of his strength holding on to his only line of defense.
CRRRRAAACK!
Damn it, it's starting to break the ironwood! Who knew wings were this strong? This attack looked so ludicrous, so implausible in Dawn of the Dragon, Joshua never realized it was a piece of lore never explained in the video games, most likely forgotten in plain sight, being a common attack for players controlling the Hero of the Dragon Realms.
But Spyro was not done yet.
His counteroffensive was far from over.
Without slowing down his momentum, the Purple Dragon continued, proceeding to twist faster and faster. Raucous howls filled Joshua's ears—almost deafening up close!—as the Ice Element pulled in the air at such rapid speeds a miniature cyclone of snow and ice formed, centered on the Savior himself.
Joshua recognized the attack even as it formed. The Snow Storm. A mana-draining secondary attack from Dawn of the Dragon, as brutal as it was effective for crowd control and destroying elite enemies.
"Mother of God!" Joshua yelled. He kept his sledgehammer elevated. He knew it wouldn't do much against an attack like this, but he needed all the defense he could get, and the gamer hoped he could at least manage to deflect what little he could.
A vain hope.
The sudden drop in temperature put Joshua's body into shock, instantly enfeebling his ability to keep up. Blinded by the supernatural blizzard, multiple hailstones pelted the boy from the sides, smashing into him with such ferocity Joshua could only scream as he felt his bones snap, his arms shrieking, and his legs on the verge of crumbling. Agony rendered Joshua Renalia sightless. Tears flowed out his eyes continuously as he kept screaming, screeching as he spent all his efforts on keeping his sledgehammer raised, on protecting his head.
Even now, the Unknown Element refused him. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't focus on Spyro's pulse of life, not when he held himself back. He didn't want to hurt Spyro. He couldn't do it. No. Not his hero. Not his idol.
He couldn't…
He mustn't!
The wind magnified. As soon as the howls overwhelmed Joshua's screams, a powerful gust comparable to a tornado plowed into the teenager's body, blowing him several feet away, away from Spyro and the devilish ice twister he subjected him to.
"Grrllk!" he suppressed his unmanly shriek, almost biting off his tongue in the process. Joshua strained to open his viridian eyes, gasping from the sensation of a hundred blades crisscrossing across his entire body. From his legs to his arms to his shoulders, Joshua Renalia felt as though he'd just been put through a meat grinder.
Joshua did not even realize how frantically he shivered until his mind managed to pause and determine why he still felt pain running laps throughout his body.
His legs were mutilated. Bloody.
His own arms weren't faring any better.
The sledgehammer miraculously remained in his grasp, but what good was that if he no longer had the means to raise it?
Joshua Renalia stretched his ego boundaries as far as he could for a second, before his consciousness retreated into his body. He choked, repressing a sob. Now he was truly f*cked. Spirit Gems had become scarce, and the paucity of the heaven-sent crystals was so apparent Joshua knew this was it. Whether by the young man's overreliance on them or by proactive measures of the city guard, the extended awareness of the Unknown Element sapped all of Joshua's hope at getting out of this alive.
He felt weak. Nauseous.
Joshua found the urge to close his eyes, to sleep the endless sleep, increasingly difficult to resist. An exhaustion he could not possibly describe swept the human. His newfound senses impaired, even Infernus's pulse of life was hard to pinpoint, flying above them like a ravenous vulture, waiting for his prey to finally die.
The Guardian Candidate jeered at him from above, a smug expression probably decorating his muzzle. "Did you seriously try to deceive the Savior of the Realms?" he reviled. "He knows your true nature, Servant of Malefor. Your cunning words may have swayed Cynder and the little girl, but I made sure they will have no effect on the Purple Dragon."
Joshua would have cursed Infernus for his derision if he was not lying down on the ground, dangerously close to dying and desperate for help. For a last-minute miracle. Why weren't the Ancestors helping him? Why was Cynder just standing there? She believed in his innocence—she tried to stop this. Why wasn't she acting now?
Deep sorrow hammered Joshua's chest.
He was alone.
He was all alone.
It was him against a bigoted, distrustful world. Kilat no longer stood by his side, his only true friend in this ordeal dispatched easily—EASILY!— by that idiotic Fire Dragon.
Goddammit! Why was life being so difficult? He didn't deserve any of this! All this happened because he decided to walk right up to the front door? Because he wanted to give Kilat the chance to live a normal life? Instead of the destitute existence of a homeless vagrant?
Crap, why didn't he listen to her? Why didn't he take her advice and take the secret tunnel in the Valley of Avalar? Why had he been so f*cking STUPID? Had Joshua been that hopelessly naïve, thinking Kilat's company would've spared him the disdain of all those retards at the Gates? Believing Spyro would've given him the benefit of the doubt?
Some boss battle this turned out to be.
Joshua Renalia was first and foremost a gamer. He'd played enough games over the years, the young man developed over time an appreciation for game design. From the structure of the plot and little nuggets of lore scattered across the virtual world, to the complexity of gameplay mechanics and, naturally, the challenges for a player to overcome.
Crowning achievements that the gaming industry eventually learned to monetize. It would make no sense for someone to intentionally relinquish every perk—every benefit—every reward more than five times in a row, after all, if there wasn't a shiny medal to be put right next to the username. Status symbols. Fame and credibility. It was depressing, really, how nerds and geeks… how people who were already outcasts to begin with could be such blatant hypocrites.
Joshua's gaze lingered on the Purple Dragon, who stood silently, a grim air enveloping him while he watched him bleed to death. It rested on him for a moment, on his expressionless muzzle, before his viridian gaze tore away from Spyro and fastened on the airborne Infernus, who soared towards him, perhaps intending to truly finish him off.
Up against a Fire Guardian Candidate and Spyro the Dragon himself, yet Joshua had just barely grasped the abilities of his Element. He possessed even less proficiency in controlling it.
What use was the power to disable his enemies with an unblockable attack, when he had no idea what triggered it? What use was the power to manipulate all the known Elements in the Dragon Realms if he couldn't do it consistently on the fly?
From his unique perspective, this was Nintendo Hard.
No established video game developer, would, in 2015, dredge up the impossible modes of the foregone years of Joshua's childhood. They wouldn't have thrown him into the blazing fires of hell so soon after the game had just begun. Pokémon didn't start off with your PC facing off the Elite Four the instant you took your first pokémon from the resident professor. Dead Space may have begun the games in high-octane moments, but the franchise never threw a beginning player into a throng of advanced, difficult-to-manage necromorphs with the baseline plasma cutter.
Even Ted Price had mercy for players of the original Spyro the Dragon. Had the CEO of Insomniac Games been as heartless, as cruel as the evil maniac who designed I Wanna Be the Guy, a level as difficult as the infamous Tree Tops of the Beast Makers' realm would have been waiting for the player the second they took the portal to Classic Spyro's home, Stone Hill.
If this sickening situation God was putting him through—if this wish fulfillment turned nightmare had been a bonafide video game, Joshua Renalia would've never faced Spyro the Dragon. He would've never had to meet that bastard Infernape in a battle to the death. Even if the Divine Author orchestrating this story pitted him and Kilat against scores of intolerant dragons no less retarded than the Guardian Candidate as Rimeer was prejudiced, it might have only been right—it have only been fair if Joshua Renalia had at least been shown the Almighty Father's mercy, granted the knowledge to invoke even the less-lethal applications of the Unknown Element.
But no! He had to face the most powerful dragon in the Realms. The Purple Dragon had help from a callous bully he tolerated. Joshua had little control over his Element, if he had any at all to begin with. Worst of all, he couldn't kill. He couldn't bring it within himself to inflict harm on Spyro the Dragon. On the Savior of the Dragon Realms.
The sacred hero of Warfang.
His hero.
The Grand Architect of all life on Earth did not seem to care. At this moment, Joshua even felt God Himself drew some sort of sick satisfaction, silently watching a young man's wish fulfillment transmogrify into a hellish nightmare he had no hope of escaping.
Yet as all hope left the teenager, Joshua Renalia concentrated his gaze on Infernus. He would've growled, he would've snarled like a lion if he could. This was the dragon who turned Spyro against him. This was the prick who stopped Rimeer from letting him through.
The son of a bitch who clobbered a child—a f*cking child!—to silence her.
The motherf*cking c**t responsible for all this goddamned shit.
A Guardian Candidate?
A successor for Ignitus? For a wise Fire Dragon, generous, munificent, and erudite beyond words?
Infernus was nothing but a fraud!
A damn fraud.
A fraud who must fall.
Joshua centered his attention on the Fire Dragon in the skies. He zoomed in on the pulse of life floating on the very air. He blocked out every sound his ears registered. He only had eyes for the Guardian Candidate, and he wanted to make him pay.
The human struggled to stand. Broken bones creaked as he got to his feet, the rasp so disgustingly audible it took everything he had not to fall again, not to even go on his knees and vomit. Joshua Renalia raised his weapon: the business end of a hammer on the brink of splintering. In an effort to inhibit the pain flourishing all over his body like maggots eating him alive, the teenager spread his ego boundaries across the ground. He draped his own consciousness over everything within five paces.
Two hundred blades of grass.
An anthill squirming with thousands of ants.
Weeds scattered around the plains.
Centipedes and earthworms scampering about its surface, hidden from all.
Joshua Renalia did not hear Spyro the Dragon let out a horrified gasp. "That's impossible! How can he be—I don't see any Red Spirit Gems!"
Joshua Renalia watched the Fire Dragon swoop down fearlessly. "Amazing that you can still stand, Dark Servant!"
"Infernus, wait—
Arrogantly. "This ends here, you wretched ape!" The Guardian Candidate was upon him, taking a deep breath for a moment before releasing it as a massive deluge of azure flames. An advanced technique, one Spyro himself might not have even mastered.
The human defiantly stood his ground, a menacing scowl decorating his russet face. He had his eyes only on Infernus. If he was going down, then that bastard was going down with him. Joshua said nothing in reply, for his every thought—his every desire was transfixed on ending the pulse of life beyond his natural reach. So engrossed was the human, he did not realize everything within five steps of him had withered and died. Even the anthill had gone silent.
Nor did Joshua realize the Unknown Element finally appeared in its natural state.
A white screen appeared and impeded the great bonfire descending on him. Bluish tongues of fire licked at the barrier, the shield splitting the Fire Element apart long before it could inundate the human. Spyro couldn't believe his eyes. "W, what is that?"
Joshua did not hear the Purple Dragon. Instead he felt it. A strange sensation took root in his hands. Just like before, it was not as if his limbs became an empty cavity, channeling something through his arms, pooling them in his palm until he could hold it no longer, like a man on the brink of orgasmic ejaculation. Instead it was merely an urge.
An urge to swing the hammer towards Infernus.
Joshua still did not see.
He did not see the bright glow that coated his arms and his weapon in white.
He did not sense Spyro enter Dragon Time again, his pulse of life become an agitated bustle of activity.
Because 100% of his focus went into swinging the damn hammer at the fraud. "Take this, you f*cking son of a bitch!"
The Hero of the Dragon Realms tackled Joshua Renalia at the last moment, so consumed by panic and excessive caution he had pounced on the young man instead of gutting him open with Comet Dash.
A burst of orange fire singed Joshua where Infernus's flames could not. The human rapidly fell to the ground, with Spyro right on top of him, purple paws on both shoulders. But not before he completed the swing, and released a white, lachrymal sphere towards the airborne pulse of life.
It moved faster than the eye could blink. It penetrated the shield and continued, unimpeded. It shoved its way past the flood of fire. It emerged in the open air and, because of Spyro's last-second intervention, the white tear landed on Infernus's right flank instead of his head.
The white bead exploded into an array of unnatural, pallid lightning, spreading all across his rear legs, his tail. Then Infernus, Guardian Candidate, suddenly dropped from the sky. His body from the waist down turned black, gruesomely swollen from necrosis. Not even the internal organs were spared. Infernus lost his tail and two of his legs forever. His cloaca was just as useless, incapable of passing waste or even passionate fornication with a female dragoness.
A resounding crash announced his landing. Joshua snapped back to reality, while Spyro the Dragon froze, seconds away from pressing on. The Savior turned. "INFERNUS!" Agonizing roars boomed in reply, the vermillion dragon rendered incapable of speech. In minutes, Infernus would no longer have the strength to scream. He'd whimper instead, like a hatchling.
Spyro returned to Joshua, rage beginning to color his voice. "What did you do to—
The Purple Dragon was just in time to see the sledgehammer collide with his shoulder. Spyro fell over, rolling once—twice—giving Joshua Renalia precious time to recover. Why the Unknown Element failed to manifest this time, the gamer couldn't figure out, but he had no intentions of wasting time surrounded by a hostile people and an even angrier hero.
In a split-second, Joshua zeroed in on Kilat's pulse of life. She was still, her body left alone beyond the line of guards, beyond what remained of the bigoted retards ahead. Her life signature hummed softly to him, but even he could tell it'd only take a few more minutes for her to regain consciousness.
Joshua made the wrong call, going here. Now, they had to run. He had to flee from the Eastern Gates, but there was no way in Hell he planned on leaving the Electric dragon here. He promised himself he wouldn't abandon her. He swore the two of them would be together, through thick and thin. He was responsible for her; after all the failures he experienced since waking up in that forest, Joshua rejected all possibilities of failing even that.
Time to fall back on the original plan. The plan Joshua would have taken had he been alone, had he never met Kilat, or saved her from those hateful Apes. After a hasty retreat to the Autumn Plains, they would circle around towards the Avalar and enter the City of Dragons from the secret tunnel. There was no way Joshua Renalia wouldn't be able to find it, not when he'd played the game enough times to know the general landmarks. From there, they would emerge behind the walls, undetected. Sneak past the guards and citizens alike, aiming to surreptitiously infiltrate the Warfang Temple. Joshua didn't have a single clue how they could meet the Guardians in a civil manner, but perhaps if they rendezvoused with Cynder—
The Purple Dragon rose on all four paws. Joshua did not need to look back to confirm. He had to escape. He had to hide.
"He's getting away!" Someone from the crowd yelled.
"Where is he?" demanded the Savior.
"Right there!"
"He's right there!"
Shit! Joshua sprinted harder, sprinted faster. He couldn't fight Spyro. He couldn't hurt him.
Spyro bellowed, turning his head back and forth, "Where? I can't find him!"
Wait-wait-wait-wait—what! That's impossible! Joshua ran in plain sight. He made his getaway, fleeing in open space. Everyone else could see him, and Joshua didn't remember doing anything to Spyro with his Element. So why couldn't his hero see him? At a glance, he saw Spyro raise his head. He sniffed the air, mauve gaze panning the crowds around him. The Savior failed to sniff him out? But Joshua wasn't even that far!
Metal clinked in front of him and interrupted the young man's thoughts. Swords swished in the air, some ripped right out of the leather sheathes. Paws padded the grass, disturbed the gravel. The human boy pulled his gaze back to the front, where he saw multiple guards blocking his path. In the very center stood an atlawa. Imposing, he stood several inches taller than the teenager, a bastard sword clasped in both hands. "You may have bewitched the Purple Dragon, Ape, but you cannot fool us!"
"Why are you all gathered there?" Spyro's voice floated to the crowd in front of the stranded gamer, confusion filling his words. "What's—
The Atlawa guard raised his weapon and brought the massive bar of steel down on him.
Joshua Renalia pivoted and pushed himself laterally, parallel to the wall of guards. Element or no Element, that would have killed him even if he had a thousand HP Crystals in his grip. A mole thrust a spear at the teenager. "Whoa!" Joshua twisted out of the way. He felt the blade scrape the side, ripping part of his shirt and drawing blood.
Spyro called again. "What's going on? Who're you attacking? I don't see anyone!"
Joshua had no recourse but to slam the sledgehammer into the mole before he could pull the weapon back and cut him some more. It clouted the guard's snout, solid metal breaking the jaw from sheer momentum alone. His opponent fell and created an opening.
A wedge into the crowd of guards and civilians alike. Too close, too tightly packed for anyone to go at him with a sword or a spear.
For a moment, Joshua's attention passed over Spyro. He was still searching, still seeking him out. Yet as though God had mercy on him, somehow the Savior couldn't follow his scent, hear the young man, let alone see him. The commotion occurring before him had drawn his interest anyway, and he was alarmed to find the Purple Dragon strolling towards his position, cautious and wary.
Got to make everything count while it lasts!
Joshua Renalia plunged into the opening. He had no choice. He didn't know how much longer he'd remain "hidden" from Spyro. In the back of his mind, he knew this was the work of the Unknown Element. How it managed something like this perplexed him, yet for all the questions Joshua had regarding his inexplicable power, he knew this wasn't the time to count his blessings.
The teenager flung his youthful body at what little space was there. He brought up his scavenged sledgehammer, raised it in front of him. A bystander screamed from fright and scrambled back. A cheetah managed to make some wiggle room and moved to grip his arm.
"Damn it, no!" Joshua twisted his elbow away. Claws raked across his biceps, eliciting a hiss from the human. He elbowed the offending cheetah, who had little recourse but to let his snout eat the blow due to the sheer number of people surrounding them. He swiveled his weapon in an attempt to ward them off. It clanged on their armor. It clanged on their shields. The rattle of the weapon assaulted the sensitive ears of the moles and stunned them for a moment.
Enough time for Joshua to push himself out of the armored throng and into the larger circle of noncombatants watching the fiasco. "ARRRRGGHHGH!" the young man cried, expending all of his meager strength into this mad escape.
Evergreen eyes fell on the child slumped beneath the tree, away from the action, away from the danger. Her body sprawled on all fours, the neutral expression on her snout gave off a serene illusion of slumber. "Kilat," Renalia murmured. He almost imagined himself sleeping next to her, cradling the dragoness's muzzle as she snoozed on his lap. "I'm coming for you," he told himself—he told—no, he swore to her. "I'm getting you out of this hellhole. We'll—
Pulse of life, from above!
Joshua backpedaled in time to avoid getting himself crushed by an adolescent dragoness slightly smaller—slightly younger than Cynder. Her periwinkle scales replaced the marred but beautiful gold of the Electric prodigy. Wings as long as an adult human's broke apart and released a deafening pop. Teal membranes formed an impassable curtain before the young man. He almost froze at the sound of her rabid grumbles.
"You're not getting away!" she screamed at him, the Unknown Element letting its wielder know about the Ice Element traveling up her throat. "Servant of Malefor, you will—
Whatever she had to say, she could shove all those words up her ass. "Get the f*ck out of my way!"
He wheeled the sledgehammer around, swiveling it from the front and back 'til it rested on his shoulder, ready to meet whatever the dragoness had, even if it killed him. But Joshua did not anticipate a white orb as tiny as a tennis ball shoot out of his only weapon.
Neither did he expect this miniscule object to burst into mist on her snout. A white, translucent fog, spreading swiftly among the crowd. More screams raped his ears, yet the dragoness's own roars dwarfed them, molested them as though someone had gotten a thick earbud and jammed it up his ear canal.
"BY THE ANCESTORS!" Her head whipped around. "Everything's gone black! I can't hear anyth—I can't hear my voice! What's, what's happening?"
"Help!" clamored another person behind him. "Help! Someone help! I can't see. I"—the sound of a body crashing into a guard's armor.—"OW! What's that? What did—n-n-no. Who, w-who—URK!"
"You damned Ape!" one of the guards hollered. She swung her axe, swinging it in random directions. "Where are you? Show yourself? Spirits, curse your black magic! I can't see anything!" Two civilians fell to the enfeebled security, all three of them unable to see or even hear.
"What did you do?" boomed the Ice Dragoness, her nose sniffing the air. Her muzzle turned directly towards Joshua. "What did you do to me—
Joshua stabbed two of his fingers into her nose, cringing at the fluid he felt inside. She lifted up her muzzle, yelped like a child, and staggered from the alien feeling. The adolescent, periwinkle dragoness dropped sideways, falling on top of two unlucky citizens as she pawed at her two nostrils.
Flicking the slime off his fingers, he swerved around the noisy bodies, relieved he didn't need to do anything. He didn't want to harm another dragon, and he certainly didn't want to hurt anyone else. Infernus had truly been the only person he wanted to kill, because that bastard deserved it. Joshua couldn't figure out what he did to that godf*cking fraud, but whatever made his life signature ripple, contract, and wobble from a cacophony of shrieks and agonized groans, he deserved all of it.
"Kilat!" Joshua shouted. The bystanders beyond the range of the mist avoided him now, struck dumb by fear of suffering the same fate as those who went before them. "KILAT!" he called again, probing the unconscious body with his Element. Christ, she's injured. I hope it's nothing serious. "Wake up! Damn it, wake up!"
Joshua crossed the dirt road. Concern undressed itself on the teenager's face. He grimaced, already worried he'd have to abandon his only reliable line of defense and carry the child—
The hairs on his neck prickled. Someone was staring.
From the direction of the massive tunnel under the Gate.
He spun towards this person and…
…and he blinked.
The Red Lady—the burgundy dragoness—ogled the human behind scores of civilians clamoring to escape further into the city. Joshua felt her pulse of life contract substantially, a tugging sensation that pulled inward. Earflaps wilted, her monotone muzzle wore a sad expression. The gamer saw the concern—the conflicted diffidence in her eyes. They made eye contact for a moment; insight flashed in Joshua's mind, and thereafter he understood the deep shame she felt, the ignominy of watching fellow citizens—her heroes—wrongfully judge a kind, amiable acquaintance before they had a chance to be friends with him.
Joshua Renalia turned back to his young, adorable charge. While a city guard came and ushered the Red Lady into the protection of the city, he jogged to Kilat, ditching the sledgehammer along the way. It would've been impossible to use it if the child happened to be dead weight.
The boy instantly regretted discarding his only weapon…
Because Dragon Time itched at Joshua's sixth sense once again. A sensation—another urge to move as soon as possible overwhelmed the human being. But rather than listening to his only Element, he risked a quick glance behind him.
A peek, barely noticeable.
It took a couple seconds to deny his natural instincts and briefly look back.
It took less than that for Spyro to reappear in front of him, plunging from the skies enshrouded in electricity.
"Got you!"
Joshua opened his mouth to scream, to curse, only for all his words to die as the dragon's golden horns skewered his stomach, a fierce blow that sent him careening into the ground. Electric currents ate away his wounded skin as it gushed throughout all the fluids in his body. The human became an uncontrollably twitching mess, turned into a living Airdancer, limbs flailing as he fell, unable to even squeal.
Blood pooled out of Joshua Renalia. All the kinetic energy stored and ready to use in this grand getaway drained with it, the lethargy accumulating at an upsetting rate. Had Joshua possessed the presence of mind to ponder on the recent past, his thoughts might have wandered back to the day he first met Kilat, a dragon he only knew from afar, practically falling into his lap bleeding, poisoned, the vivacious eyes he grew used to seeing blink and roll around energetically threatening to glaze over from the listlessness of death.
To think he found himself in the same boat several days later, with Kilat unable to help and his demise carried out by none other than the Purple Dragon he worshipped, his favorite character of all time. The irony of the situation wouldn't have been lost on Joshua.
A Red Spirit Gem twinkled just past the boy's peripheral vision. Got to… heal up… With his ability to stand, to run, to move, compromised by the double whammy of an electric chair and twin stakes rammed through his abdomen, Joshua could only crawl. Almost grovel, clambering those precious inches separating his hand from the cool, brittle surface of the Ancestors' blessing. The young man torqued his chest and started—
"It's over." Spyro the Dragon pounced on top of Joshua before he could roll over. The Hero of the Dragon Realms pinned the human's shoulders with his paws, depositing his entire weight on him.
"Spuh, Spyro…"
"I don't know what you did back there, but now I know Infernus is right. Your power has the mark of evil. I can really, feel it! I don't know why Cynder and Sparx are giving you the benefit of the doubt, but to me it's clear you're working for Malefor." He lifted his eyes, quickly scanning the scenery. "I won't let you hurt anyone else, Ape. You're not getting near that child again. She's free now."
Free?
Free from what?
From him?
No! He misunderstood the situation. All because of that f*cking fraud! Kilat wasn't a hostage. Kilat wasn't a brainwashed slave. She's a friend. A little girl he watched over. Someone he considered a younger sister.
Joshua Renalia would rather die than do anything to hurt her. "I didn't do anything to Kilat. Damn it, Spy, I love—
"And I'm making sure it stays that way." The Unknown Element detected a surge of power rising in the Savior's chest.
F*ck my life! He had to stop this. Somehow, someway! Goddammit all, he just had to throw away that hammer right before God decided to put him in a situation where he needed it. How idiotic was that? He should've done it when he had Kilat in his arms, not when she was still at least fifteen paces from her.
Hands scrambled, but the little wiggle room Spyro gave him was infinitesimal. He couldn't find anything within reach. There weren't any stones. There weren't any weapons—blades, hammers, axes—lying around, scattered during the frenzy. Nothing he could use to defend himself with. Not even a purse, a sling bag. Absolutely f*cking nothing!
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. He was running out of time. He needed to find something. ANYTHING! There's got to be something he could use. Jesus Christ, why wasn't his Element responding to him now? If he could just do the same thing he did to that crowd of guards and militant, civilian volunteers, all his problems would—
The temperature in Spyro's maw cooled below 32 degrees.
Out of time.
Crap! He was out of time.
Desperate, his right hand clenched the sandy dirt on the road, seized as much as it could. With what little impetus he could put into it, Joshua threw the entire handful of dirt at Spyro's snout.
Miraculously, Spyro did not see it coming. Attention focused completely on the young man's face, he neglected the arms after passing them off as effectively nonexistent. The foreign sensation of something striking his muzzle caused him to react instinctively, just as an Ice Spike blew out of his open mouth.
The few miniscule degrees Joshua's split decision added to the finisher reduced its accuracy just enough for the frozen barb to fly in a different direction. Rather than impaling him through the skull in one death-dealing strike, the Ice Spike launched and instead annihilated his left ear and cut a large gash across the temple.
"ARRRRGGGGHHHHH!" If the splitting pain of losing an ear wasn't enough, rotational forces slammed his head into a partial roll, instantly inflicting Grade I concussion. Joshua's pupils widened and narrowed unevenly. Suddenly he saw double, he felt nauseated. Dizzy.
A headache arose and the world seemed to spin around and around.
"Ancestors!" he barely heard Spyro grumble from frustration. "You don't give up, do you?"
The slimy sensation of saliva and a tongue as wide as his palm did not register in Joshua's head until the dragon's canines sunk into the hand clamped between his jaws. "GAAAHHH!" Bones snapped. Teeth gnashed and masticated the raw meat, mangling the digits, mutilating the entire thing.
"Stop!"
Spyro dug into the hand, ensuring he completely disabled its use.
"Jesus-Mary-Joseph! Stop!"
He spat out the bloody mess right before the point a doctor would have recommended amputation.
"Spyro, please, just give me a chan—
Joshua shuddered as the gaping, pink maw loomed over him, casting shadows over his viridian eyes, foul odors filling his nose. Its descent was marked and predictable. All the pathetic begging faded out when he followed its path, ending right at the neck.
.
.
.
The largest of the Death Hounds clamped its jaws around his neck, a second away from claiming the wayward gamer as food to last the night.
It ignored his anxious flailing.
It ignored his mindless screaming.
Indescribable terror consumed Joshua Renalia, every inch of his body rejecting the very concept of death. He wanted to live.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Everything else he could worry about later.
.
.
.
He twisted his neck back and forth. "Grrrr, no! No, no, no!"
Joshua struggled with all his might. "Get off get off get off get off!" This wasn't happening again. He couldn't be in this godforsaken situation again!
A white mist wafted out of Joshua's own mouth and enveloped the Purple Dragon's snout, disorienting the Savior enough to stop him from putting the human's neck between his teeth. Spyro's biggest fan never realized the Unknown Element manifested as an actual breath for the first time, too impaired by his concussion.
"GET THE F*CK OFF!"
Neither did Joshua realize his fist was encased in a bright, white light when his left hand struck the dragon's neck in a desperate move to push him away at the very last second.
Even after the immense weight on top vanished entirely as the Savior of the Dragon Realms fell to his side, Joshua Renalia's instincts compelled him to reach out for the HP crystal Spyro stopped him from using. He seized one of the many spikes jutting out of the road and tore it from its roots. Its healing energy rushed through him as it normally did, accelerating his natural regeneration by thousands of times during the short few seconds it remained active. It was a testament to Joshua's endurance that he did not scream from the enhanced healing.
Unfortunately, by now he had used far too many Spirit Gems too soon.
His disfigured right hand did not heal completely. The lacerations Spyro's teeth left behind were still fresh, bloody raw. And while the bones were fixed and his hand actually looked like a hand, motor movement was compromised. The punctures Spyro created when he slammed into the boy from the air had merely closed, the organs within his abdomen barely functioning at their best. Neither did all the symptoms of his concussion fully disappear, save for the double vision and his dizziness. The world still felt like it was going topsy-turvy, and the headache still had heft to its intermittent pounding. Even the desire to vomit still lingered.
Yet for all the amazing properties the HP Crystal granted to the Dragons, Joshua realized one of its major setbacks when he checked the status of his left earlobe. It simply wasn't there. He could still feel a chunk of his temple missing, right where the Ice Spike had gone through. Those were gone forever, it dawned on him.
Whispers and frightened murmurs of the crowd finally reached his ears.
"No. Ancestors, noooooo!"
"That monster!"
"Spirits help us. He's dead. He's DEAD!"
What?
Joshua Renalia turned around. A distressed, girlish squeak spilled out his lips when the teenager's gaze recognized the slump form of Spyro the Dragon, collapsed on his side, unmoving. Blood seeped out of all the orifices on his head.
Earholes.
Mouth.
Both nostrils.
Even the eyes!
A frightening amount leaked from the fallen Hero. "AHHHHHH!" the boy wailed. OH GOD WHY? HOW?
This was the worst he could've done. The last thing he wanted to do here.
This wasn't supposed to happen. He just wanted Spyro to get off him. He didn't want him dead! F*cking hell, he never intended to kill the dragon. He wanted to meet him, to be his dear friend.
Joshua went to what remained of the Red Spirit Gem and broke off another two spikes. He hurled it towards his childhood hero before the Unknown Element drained away all the vitality within. The human jogged to the fallen dragon, a sense of urgency filtering out all the suspicious, hateful muttering coming out of the crowd beginning to gather around him.
"Work, work, work, work," he begged the Almighty Father when he pushed the two Spirit Gem fragments towards Spyro, to the point one might have thought he was trying to force-feed him with both crystals. "Jesus, please make this work."
He pulled away his foot before even that absorbed the precious life-giving energy those fragments contained. Anxiously the human watched the dragon's muzzle, hoping to see something—anything that said Spyro would live.
But nothing happened.
Nothing f*cking happened.
Apparently the Dragons couldn't use any of their special crystals if they weren't conscious.
Damn it all! Why did all these things happen to him?
Joshua fell to his knees, tears pouring out of his eyes, his chest convulsing from the sheer magnitude of the sight before him. How could he do this to his greatest hero? To his sacred idol? What had he done? By God, what had he done!
Anthropomorphic beasts gathered past the solid, gilded gate. Literally a stone's throw away from Warfang, the City of Dragons. Upright llamas enjoyed the clear view thanks to their long, furry necks. Cheetahs observed the commotion from the treetops. Dragonflies fluttered to and fro, like mobile lanterns incapable of staying still. The occasional, adult dragon towered above them all, and it seemed the short, hairy moles and every other animal not blessed by height or acrobatics had little chance catching a good glimpse of the action.
All ignored the golden, one-winged dragoness slumped unconscious on a nearby tree. They'd much rather watch—stare at the human kneeling in the middle of the crowd, his flannel trousers and navy blue V-neck covered in blood.
Viridian eyes ogled the purple dragon. "S, shit," he cursed. "Oh shit, oh shit, oh f*cking shit!"
Joshua Renalia, the only human being in this entire spectacle, crawled forward. Dread consumed him, rendered the boy incapable of acknowledging the body lying in front of his eyes. "Oh my f*cking God!" He hyperventilated even as he cried, even as he felt like screaming. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I, I-I-I, I didn't mean—I didn't know—
Both hands found the purple scales somehow, despite the human's panic. Smooth and ridged. To his surprise, they were still warm to the touch. He was alive! ALIVE! Yet the strong, rippling muscles inside were rigid, trembling from something he could only describe as shock. Plus, he couldn't discount all the blood pooling around purple head. At least he didn't sport the same black flesh the Alpha did several days ago. Spyro could still be saved!
But the Hero's life signature was shrinking closer and closer to death. The fact he was still alive may not even matter at all, not without Joshua repeating the moment he healed Kilat of every wound on her body. And with his control over his Element nonexistent, what were his chances of doing that again, right? Damn it, he thought. This wasn't supposed to happen. This should've gone so much smoother. If only that stupid fraud didn't corrupt the Hero with his unjustified suspicion. "What did I do?" he muttered, confused. "What did I do? What did I do what did I do what did I f*cking—
Flashes of the Alpha Death Hound, snout drowning in glistening crimson, assaulted his mind relentlessly. He remembered the black, unsightly flesh coloring its torso and the disgusting smell of rotting death overpowering him. The teenager could even recall the other Death Hound, engulfed in white clouds that left it still and glassy-eyed, leaving nothing behind as though Harry Potter had cast Avada Kedavra on it.
Joshua fought the increasing urge to vomit. He fought the a much stronger urge to drop dead, to run, to do nothing but gape. "No. No, no, no." The human choked. He choked. He cupped his mouth, but it barely suppressed the cry tearing itself out of his lungs. Nervously he moved over to the dragon's head, not caring if the blood on his clothes mixed with Spyro's. He brought his quaking hands to his muzzle and pulled it away from the pool. He felt the shallow, thin wisps of air flowing in and out of his nostrils, and thankfully his efforts prevented the Hero from drowning unconsciously. It was the least he could do. "I, I couldn't… no, I couldn't have, that's… that's not what I—
"NO! SPYRO!"
A gunshot rang out in his ears.
"Oh crap!" The human turned and saw a pair of magenta wings flaring ominously. Spyro's mate bared her fangs at him. Two emeralds glared back into his eyes, and he instantly saw the desire to protect a loved one shimmering inside.
"Get away from him, ape!" Cynder snarled, forgetting the peaceful conversation they've had earlier. Understandable. In the bigger picture, he didn't matter to her. Spyro did.
Joshua nearly shrunk at the blades glinting on his assailant's tail and wings. And those horns. All six of those sharp, menacing horns. They never looked so dangerous in the video game. "Cynder, wait!" He raised his hands, as far up as he could. "Look, I can fix this. I can fix this! I swear!" He motioned towards the only other unconscious dragon in sight. He just needed to get his Element to heal him. That's the only recourse he had left. Either that or get him to whatever passed for a medical professional in the Dragon Realms as soon as possible. "Remember what I did for Kilat—
Cynder charged. She ignored his pleas. Joshua backed away out of fright. He couldn't even stand up, let alone run. He watched the former Terror of the Skies open her muzzle. "Don't kill me! Please, just give me a—
"A one-way ticket to Ape hell!" roared an enraged, golden dragonfly.
Red orbs flew out and veered straight for the human, who could do nothing but flinch, cover his face with his arms, shut his eyes, and braced himself for Cynder's Phantom Fright.
This was not how Joshua thought he would meet the two most celebrated heroes of the Dragon Realms, his two favorite video game characters of all time.
And so the egg has hatched.
Author's notes:
Aaaaand there you have it.
With that, Aimless has gone full circle and we are now at the opening scene of the story… and also at the midpoint of the "Gates of Warfang" story arc. What will happen after Cynder attacks Joshua? Hehehe, wouldn't you want to know? XD
Anyway, I'm excited to end this story arc myself. All this excessive battling and life-threatening situations are starting to drain me. It's also making me think of my main story and that fills me with guilt. Nonetheless, I believe this is the right path for Aimless, given my ultimate objective for it. If, for some reason, you still don't know what that is, please go back to chapter one and reread the section between the opening scene and Joshua's awakening in the Dragon Realms.
See you all in the next chapter.
04/29/2019 EDIT: Tightened the Author's Note to remove spoilers.
02/17/2020 EDIT: Same as above.