— Interlude —

Ruvido

(rù·vi·do): rough; course

He wasn't going far, Kazon told himself. A hike of less than half a kilometer didn't faze the athletic apprentice, especially when he could still turn back and see the glow of the campfire. He had purposefully left his flashlight behind; he didn't need it for such a short distance. As he walked, he reached down to adjust his belt, snapping the strap that secured his pistol into its holster with a soft click. He straightened the many spare pouches circling the belt, ensuring they sat snugly against his armor.

The weapon was the one piece of gear he wouldn't have left behind under any circumstances—even if ordered to. Kazon's lips curled into a faint frown as he recalled Ouspi's frequent jokes about his attachment to the sidearm, teasing that Kazon would sleep with the thing if he could. The mocking didn't bother him as much as the bitter truth behind it. On too many of Ouspi's prime jobs across the Mycian system's rougher patches, Kazon had been left with no choice but to sleep clutching his gun. The alternative? Waking up to find himself short a few Kem—or worse.

As he moved farther from the camp, a cool but stagnant breeze brushed against his exposed cheeks, the only part of his tan skin uncovered by his armor. Occasionally, he glanced over his shoulder to gauge the distance back to the fire, its warm glow shrinking steadily as he walked. Eventually, the light dimmed so much that it no longer illuminated his path, leaving him surrounded by an endless, consuming darkness.

The lack of light didn't trouble Kazon. He welcomed the quiet, celebrating the thought of being alone in the stillness. Closing his eyes as he continued to walk, he found the difference negligible—he couldn't see anything either way. He had often used moments like this to train his senses, sharpening his skills for whatever challenges his future might hold. At the very least, it helped curb his boredom during mundane jobs.

His gloved hands stretched out in front of him and to his sides, calmly feeling for the infrequent obstacles the terrain offered. The skeletal trees, with their gnarled, dry branches, betrayed their presence through the faint rustle of wind pushing their brittle limbs together. The sound reminded Kazon of dry tumbleweeds on Myce scraping against each other on the current, a subtle cue he trained himself to recognize.

As he walked deeper into the darkness, the air grew more pungent, the loathsome stench thickening with each step. A familiar, sloppy sound and the slippery feel beneath his boot confirmed he had reached the outskirts of the swamp. Glancing back over his shoulder again, he noted the campfire was now little more than a faint, distant gleam on the horizon.

Kazon pressed onward into the bog, knowing he needed to venture farther. The smell of the air grew more and more loathsome as he traversed the darkness as the young hunter continued his little exercise for a few more paces. The edge of the swamp was easier to traverse, producing nothing more than patches of caked dirt, but to find standing water, he'd have to go deeper into the muck. He smirked faintly as he recalled Ouspi's earlier mishap when his mentor had sunk knee-deep into a sinkhole in the middle of the quagmire. The memory amused him enough to temper the foul smell and slippery footing as he continued his trek into the bog.

Once Kazon ventured farther into the wetland, he shifted his attention to the satchel Ouspi had handed him earlier, now tucked securely in one of the pouches on his belt. Unfastening the drawstring, he retrieved a small glass vial from within. He tapped the switch on his goggles, activating their soft, electric glow. The light wasn't enough to illuminate his path but provided just enough visibility for the delicate—and, in his mind, utterly pointless—task ahead.

He knelt carefully in the mire, the stench of decay thick in the air. Breathing shallowly, Kazon edged closer to the wretched ooze. Removing the vial's cap, he angled the container under the faint glow of his goggles, carefully skimming the surface of the mud in search of patches of standing water. Each movement was deliberate, his steady hands ensuring the vial collected only clear droplets. With every pass, he held his breath, examining the gathered liquid closely to avoid contaminating it with grime or debris.

He felt ridiculous.

"Science class work..." he spit disdainfully, corking the vial tightly. Securing the glass tube back in the satchel, Kazon scoffed, "Maybe they should buy Touka more lackeys than trying to buy us…"

As he tightened the drawstring on the bag, a sound reached his ears. It was faint, almost imperceptible, but enough to make him pause. His gloved hands slowed as the noise persisted—a short, steady whisper, soft yet constant. Kazon's green eyes narrowed as he turned his head slightly, listening intently. Kazon began to quickly tie the twine back around the hem of the bag's opening. As the young Hunter repeatedly wrapped the woven cord around the twisted end of the sack, he dismissed the sound as another gust of wind; Ouspi had warned the storm might return. But as the moments passed, doubt crept in. His mentor's weather predictions were notoriously unreliable, and the sound lacked the chaotic nature of a gales from their arrival.

Kazon tightened the string on the pouch, pulling it as securely as possible while muttering under his breath, "There's nothing out here." His green eyes dropped to examine the knot, more out of habit than necessity.

But just as his guard lowered, a sudden burst of red light flared from the corner of his vision, illuminating the bog around him before vanishing as quickly as it came. The bright flash was accompanied by a series of loud splashes in the mud. Instantly alert, Kazon turned sharply, his boots slipping slightly in the sludge as his gaze darted toward the source of the noise. His goggles' faint glow offered little clarity; the shadows remained inscrutable, and nothing stirred within his view.

"—the hell—?" he murmured, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. The droning hum persisted—a faint, steady noise that seemed to hang in the air. Pressing a finger to his ear, Kazon opened and closed the canal, testing if the sound was real or his imagination. The hum remained, undisturbed by his movements, as did the darkness that pressed in around him.

A second flash of red light burst through the dark, brighter and more disorienting than the first. This time, it was followed by a loud, forceful splatter as a massive, shadowy form tore past Kazon's flank with such speed and intensity that the sheer force of its proximity pushed him off balance. His boots slid on the slippery terrain, threatening to send him sprawling into the mud, but with a grunt, he managed to right himself.

It was no illusion. It wasn't wind. Someone—or something—was out there.

Kazon straightened, his teeth gritting as he steadied himself. His free hand instinctively snapped to the pistol at his hip. The splattering footsteps continued, faint but growing steadier. Slowly, Kazon crouched down into the mud, his knee sinking a few centimeters into the thick mire before finding solid ground. He set the pouch of water samples carefully beside him, freeing his hands as he reached for the goggles resting on his forehead. In a fluid motion, he pulled them over his eyes and pressed a button on their side. A soft mechanical whir signaled their activation, and the lenses glowed faintly red as the infrared scan engaged.

Scanning the bog, Kazon searched for any trace of heat that might reveal his pursuer. The display offered nothing—no warmth, no shape, no movement. Frustrated, he cycled through the visor's settings, switching to a greenish-white overlay that illuminated the environment with a stark brilliance. Still, the display remained empty.

"Nothing," he muttered, his voice taut with tension. The idle beeping of the goggles only served to heighten his frustration. His grip on his sidearm tightened as he reached into a pouch on his belt, retrieving a small green cylinder made from Mycian bamboo. Each end was capped with thick parchment. Kazon pushed the goggles back to his forehead, bit down on one end of the cylinder, and tore away the cap with his teeth, spitting the paper aside.

The footsteps persisted, their ominous rhythm echoing in the night. Kazon slapped the open end of the cylinder against the armored plate on his thigh. Instantly, a roaring column of flame erupted from the tube, hissing loudly as it cast brilliant light into the surrounding swamp.

As the flare ignited, the monotone hum abruptly retreated, and the splattering footsteps faded into silence. Kazon swung the torch from left to right, the flames illuminating the desolate wetland. The oppressive darkness seemed to shrink back from the light, but nothing emerged from the shadows. No figure, no movement—just empty space and the faint crackle of the flare in his hand.

The apprentice's usual blank expression shifted into one of bewilderment. He swept the burning torch back and forth, his sharp green eyes scanning the void, but there was nothing. The silence felt heavier now, and the sudden calm did little to ease his growing frustration. A thought crept into his mind, sardonic and biting: The torch would've been more practical from the start than walking around with my eyes closed.

Yet the disquiet remained. Whatever had been out there had vanished, but Kazon couldn't shake the feeling that it hadn't gone far. His grip on the flare tightened as a determination welled up within him. He wanted to know what had accosted him, if only to justify the job they'd been sent here to do. But experience tempered his resolve—he couldn't fight what he couldn't see, and hunting shadows in an unknown bog was a fool's errand.

"Playtime's over," he muttered, the words bitter on his tongue. If the thing was truly gone, the smart move was to return to camp and hope that the encounter remained a footnote in his report to Ouspi in the morning.

Cautiously, Kazon began to rise. His grip on the pistol loosened as he adjusted the fit of his chest armor with a sharp shake of his head. Bending down, he retrieved the satchel of water samples, the dull ache of irritation seeping into his expression. He had grown weary of this planet long before, but now, more than ever, he wanted to leave it behind.

"Fuck this place..." he muttered defiantly, turning back toward the distant glow of the campfire and trudging through the muck, the hiss of the torch his only companion.

As Kazon moved, the ambient light from the flare at his waist illuminated a glowing, ghostly white face no larger than a fist, hovering less than a meter away. The sudden sight consumed his entire view, and his eyes widened in shock. There was no campsite, no familiar terrain—just that small, pale blur staring at him with an unnerving stillness. A low, reverberating rumble emanated from the dark void beneath it.

Before he could react, the massive shadow lunged toward him. A brutal force struck Kazon square in the chest, sending him sliding backward. His grip on the flare and pouch slipped away as he tumbled through the air. The impact ripped his goggles loose from his hair, sending them skidding into the mud alongside him. His mouth hung open in silent agony as sharp, radiating pain coursed through his body. The chest plate of his armor absorbed some of the blow, but not enough to prevent the shock from rattling him to his core.

No one—not human or otherwise—had ever hit Kazon Locke with such force.

Gasping for air, Kazon grappled with the alloy collar of his armor, trying to relieve the suffocating pressure around his neck as he stabilized his footing. Each breath burned as he forced his legs steady beneath him, his defiant glare locking onto the direction of the attack.

The torch, now embedded in the mud, revealed the first glimpse of his assailant. Kazon's breath hitched as his eyes traced the monstrous figure. A dark, bio-organic foot stepped into the light, its grotesque proportions unsettling. The creature's legs were long and twisted, clad in tattered rags and ornate bronze armor. Above its hulking frame, broad shoulders were capped by large pauldrons covered in tufts of dark fur, unlike any pelt found on Myce. A flowing brown cape swayed in the breeze, its edges frayed and worn.

"Who—?!" Kazon shouted, his voice sharp between ragged gasps for air. He instinctively retreated as the beast stepped closer, the ground quaking slightly beneath its massive weight.

The creature gave no response, save for the low, guttural growl that seemed to vibrate the air. The flare's flickering light revealed more of its form as it approached. Its head was obscured by a brown wrapping, but a haunting detail emerged: atop its head sat a disk-like helmet, reminiscent of a farmer's sunhat but imbued with a sinister aura. At its center was that same ghostly white face—childlike, motionless, and pale as death. Rested above its unnerving smile were its serenely closed eyes as though in peaceful slumber, its brow adorned with two small black dots above them.

The sight froze Kazon for a moment, but the creature's next move snapped him back to action. It crushed the flare beneath its foot, snuffing out the light and plunging the scene into near-total darkness. The only illumination now came from the distant campfire, its faint glow barely outlining the monster's silhouette.

Kazon narrowed his eyes, his glare cold and resolute. He placed a hand behind his ear, preparing to act. Sensing his urgency, the beast suddenly surged forward, its speed otherworldly. A thin red line across its obscured face flared to life, glowing like a lens as it lunged at him.

Kazon Locke, resolute as always, focused his narrowed gaze on the monster. With a gentle flick of the apprentice's thumb, his tight bundle of hair beads flew backward and softly clicked against one another as he steeled his posture...

Reacting instinctively, Kazon sidestepped the charge while drawing his pistol. A large clawed hand snatched unsuccessfully at the teen as the game apprentice drew the slide of the weapon and aimed at the glowing red line. Kazon fired off a few rounds at pointblank range. The Hunter planted a foot firmly in the mud on a pivot, his agile saltation caused him to slide through the slippery bog as he collected himself again with expeditious grace. He leapt backwards and fired shot after shot into the creature's exposed back. The shots did little more than add new holes to the already tattered cloak the beast wore, the keen apprentice noted. Even in midst of the endless shadow the planet offered, he could gather from the brief muzzle flashes of his pistol and the awry trajectories of the molten, red slugs that ricocheted off into the darkness that his efforts were having no effect on the monster.

The young Hunter thought maybe the most he could do was to slow it down until he could get back to camp. As the monster regained its footing, Kazon emptied the remaining rounds from his pistol while maintaining his distance. "Ouspi!" he shouted, his voice carrying desperation as he retreated toward the camp.

With the magazine spent, Kazon twisted a lever on the pistol's barrel, snatching the ejected clip in midair with his free hand as he flipped in front of his face. The monster roared, its guttural cry deafening, as it struggled against the slimy terrain. Kazon pressed a small button on the clip, which emitted a loud beep. With a fluid motion, he hurled it like a skipping stone toward the creature. Kazon gripped the clip upside down in his hand and used his thumb to press a tiny button on its casing. It beeped loudly as the apprentice coiled his arm back and chucked the casing in a side-arm motion, scaling it like a flat pebble over a pond towards the monster. The creature vehemently threw his cape out of the way as it turned towards the Hunter just as the case landed at its feet. The projectile beeped once more before it exploded in a conflagrant rage of fire, smoke and kicked-up mud.

Kazon watched the vapor cloud intently, gripping his pistol as he backed away and reached for another magazine. He opened his mouth to call for his mentor again, but the words died in his throat as the eerie white face emerged from the smoke, its features twisted into a grotesque snarl. The once-childlike visage now bore jagged fangs, its mouth contorted into a squealing, feral expression. It lunged toward Kazon, propelled by a pink, fleshy stalk that extended with horrifying speed.

The creature's grotesque head struck, finding a vulnerable spot on the underside of Kazon's gun arm, one of the few sections of his gear not covered by protective alloy. Kazon could only watch as the pale, distorted face latched onto with its elongated mouth, its fangs clamping down on his inner bicep. He cried out, his progress toward the camp halting abruptly as the appendage coiled tightly around his arm, constricting like a serpent.

The sinewy stalk pulled taut, constricting and locking his muscles in place—and wrenching his pistol from his grasp. The weapon fell with a splash into the bog, but Kazon had no time to focus on it. He clenched his teeth and grimaced, his mind racing as he tried to wrest his arm free from the creature's relentless grip in unbelievable pain. The apprentice Hunter seethed as he tried to pry away the face with is free hand through his own bubbling blood.

Kazon began to smell something strange as he ineffectually battled the demonic face that threatened to bury itself in his limb. The type of sulfur-like odor of burnt ozone that a grenade would leave behind once it discharged….

Then it hit him—he was moving.

Mud churned beneath his boots as he felt himself pulled forward, inch by inch, toward the dissipating cloud of smoke left by his earlier attack. The faint haze revealed the glint of red light emanating from the creature's head, cutting through the gloom. Kazon's eyes locked onto the source, and he saw the fleshy tether connecting the grotesque face to the towering black figure.

The growl that resonated from the creature grew louder, a low, menacing rumble that reverberated in through the fleshy stalk and up his arm. Kazon's boots slipped and skidded in the mud as he fought to anchor himself, his movements frantic but offering no leverage.

The monstrous figure loomed closer, its enormous shadow closing the distance with relentless determination as Kazon struggled against the overwhelming pull.

"Ouspi!" Kazon called out again, his voice strained and weaker than before, the pain in his arm seeping into every syllable. "Ous—!" The cry was abruptly silenced as something massive emerged from the darkness. A clawed hand palm his entire mouth with ease, rendering the Hunter's muffled cries of little effect. Kazon struggled against the grip, his free hand clawing at the unyielding force, but the creature's strength was overwhelming.

The massive arm pulled him closer to the piercing red beam of light across it's featureless face. Kazon's dark green eyes widened in alarm as they locked onto its gaze, hollow and alien in its intensity. A shiver ran through him, but he pushed the thought aside, forcing himself to act.

This can't be the end.

Drawing on his remaining strength, Kazon clamped his pinned arm tightly against his chest, pressing the small parasite latched onto him against the protective plating of his armor. Pain surged through him as the pressure worked to dislodge the creature. Both Kazon and the parasite emitted muted cries—his from the strain, and the creature from its resistance. He gritted his teeth and forced one armored boot free from the sticky mud below, driving it upward into the beast's hip for a foothold.

The impact gave him enough leverage to shift his weight and push back against the creature, forcing a momentary separation. The small face detached with a reluctant release, but the mass of tissue coiled tighter, crawling further up his arm and wrapping around his armored shoulder. Kazon's struggles continued, though the relentless grip of the creature's hand over his mouth left him gasping for air.

The pale, grotesque face loomed into view, hovering inches from Kazon's own. Its once-smooth surface was smeared with streaks of crimson. The glowing red beam cast an eerie light across the creature's ivory visage, illuminating the hauntingly childlike expression as it twisted into something far more sinister.

Kazon's breath quickened as his furious, dilated eyes met the mocking stare of the white face. It inched closer, as though savoring the moment. The Hunter's chest burned with frustration and panic as the face seemed to sneer at his efforts.

It was laughing at him...

Kazon's eyes narrowed, his focus sharpening. He refused to let fear overtake him. Even as the face inched closer, as though measuring his resolve, he steadied his breath and searched for an opening.

He wasn't done fighting.

As Kazon pushed against the beast with the heel of his boot, the apprentice felt his other foot lift from the glue-like muck beneath him. The monster hoisted him off the ground as if he weighed nothing, its grip unyielding. The world tilted around him, leaving him disoriented. Suspended in the air, it felt as though he were floating in the weightless void of space, his body no longer under his control. He could sense movement but had no way of telling which way he faced or how high he had been lifted.

The seconds stretched endlessly as the creature toyed with him. Kazon's eyes darted frantically in every direction, searching for something to anchor himself to—anything that might give him a chance to regain control. But there was nothing. Just the endless, oppressive darkness surrounding him. Yet even as despair gnawed at the edges of his mind, Kazon refused to stop fighting. Not like this, he told himself, the flicker of defiance burning brighter.

Then it happened. The unseen force hurled him downward with a sudden, jarring momentum. In that split-second lunge, Kazon's sense of direction snapped back into place, bringing with it a visceral, gut-wrenching clarity. His dark eyes fluttered open briefly during the descent, catching a fleeting glimpse of the Hunter's campsite far in the distance. The soft glow of the distant fire flickered faintly, radiating a warmth that felt unbearably out of reach.

That faint, distant light stirred an ache deep within him—a hopelessness he hadn't felt in years. The fire seemed so close, its glow almost inviting, yet it might as well have been a world away. His fingers twitched instinctively, as though reaching for it might bridge the impossible gap. Anything to pull himself closer to its promise of safety. Anything but this.

But as the memory of their earlier skirmish surged through his mind, the ache grew sharper. The thought struck like a knife: his mentor's belief in him, already shaken, might now be lost for good—receding even farther into the void than the unreachable fire.

The creature's grip on his mouth loosened just enough to let Kazon draw a final, desperate breath. He inhaled deeply, the stale, heavy air burning in his lungs as he clung to what little time remained.

And then came the fall.