Titanic Panic (Last)

The savage aura finally escaped from Alban's body at this moment. Although the fight between Blackbeard and Nimral seemed primal, their wild movements were way too refined compared to Alban. Nimra was afraid of the fight between two highly trained leaders, but she could not forget the feral way Alban carried himself. It inspired something deep within her, an instinctual fear screaming at her psyche. There was no sadness, no emotion, nothing other than the strong sensation of wanting to get far, far away.

Still, it was much different than when they first met. This time, she was no longer the target of the hunter that could inspire fear to even the most advanced civilization. Although he was not powerful enough to be to truly conquer all, she had no doubt in her mind that he would eventually reach that point—no, surpass it! Maybe she was a little loopy from her emotional exhaustion, but it seemed valid to her at the moment.

Alban leapt up into the air higher than he ever had before. He was sure he couldn't afford to fall back towards the floor, as the nearest cyclops to Nimral would smush him flat before he would be able to perform a third lunge. He wasn't afraid at all though, quickly conjuring platforms of rock to jump off of. On the way he was charging all the mana he could afford to expend into a single point, the intense heat condensed into his rightmost palm.

"Oy, remember that you gotta do it in one clean sweep! I'll take care of the rest if you can do it buddy!"

"Yeah, I know...so don't worry. How about you make a little prophecy and check if you're so scared"

"It doesn't work like that, dude..."

Alban fought the urge to roll his eyes at Lark's justifications. He'd have plenty of time to grill him later, he just had to obliterate one cyclops's head. It didn't sound like much to him but he would be hard pressed to pull a stunt like this if those cyclopses were paying attention.

A blazing red arc was drawn along the sky as Alban arrived at his target. His hand smacked the cyclops's giant eyeball, burning a red hole deeply into their head. He then released a pure, unfiltered ray of fire so hot that it turned into plasma, before quickly compressing into a minute amount of electricity. The poor cyclops's head was instantly carbonized, and Alban fell in the direction of the nimms.

All the races present took in this harrowing sight, each with intense reactions. Chiyo barely had a face to speak of, but the smile on her lips spoke volumes. The gheckla leader fell onto his back, the odor of urine reaching far beyond his nose. Nimra and her people were staring with reverence so deep, it was like their founder themself came to save them. The falling boy was their savior. Nimra quickly moved to catch him, the wind seeming to guide Alban into her arms.

"Whew, good job. I think a simple tune will suffice? You're welcome for the little push, by the way." The charming and musical voice spoke with clear cheerfulness, the voice was so loud that it should've garnered the attention of everyone. But it was as if time had stopped...no, separated was much more likely. Alban could hear Lark, but it seemed no one else did.

A discordant string was plucked, ringing across space with no end in sight. To the listeners, it was like the cord stretched infinitely outwards; and infinitely inward. They felt the cacophony settling deep into their bones, forcing their inner emotions to come out to the light.

Some danced. Some prayed. Some cried, some fainted. But the loudest of all were certainly the cyclopses. Blackbeard jumped up as quick as a startled cat, causing Nimral to lose his footing and fall off the one-eyed giant.

"M-m-murderer! How can a puny thing kill us?! This wasn't w-what you said, Blackbeard!"

"How can I know everything, I've never seen that...savage before!"

"We need to leave, we can't possibly fight against that!"

Houses were flattened as the cyclopses beat a hasty retreat, their screams of terror disappearing into the distance. Lark reconnected himself with the current time after stopping his fingers that were dancing along his harp. Yet and still, no one could see him at all...he was just a nuisance like always. He saddled right up to Nimra, totally ignoring the girl herself and speaking to Alban.

"Woah, you look like shit friend. You should really recharge your mana, yeah?"

"Bah, I'll be fine. Pretty impressive for someone that keeps people up during the night." Alban had a languid smirk drawn on his face, happy that the whole thing worked out. He barely believed that Lark could even pull off the plan, noting that the so called prophet was certainly more than a mere scryer. Alban decided to question him a bit later, dropping his skepticism on the strange man.

"What are you even talking about, Lark? Did someone hit your head too hard or what? You didn't do a thing." Nimra was a little pissed off at the shabby annoying man taking credit for Alban's work, her emotions of gratitude and reverence also being amplified by Lark's harp. Lark smiled and backed off, winking at Alban and promptly walked back into Nimrod Village. It made Alban even more sure of what he saw, the split of time itself.

"Miss Nimra, I've gotta be pretty heavy. Would you please put me down?" Nimra came to her senses abruptly, quickly dropping Alban in embarrassment. Although she often scared skin-ship with her fellow townsfolk, they were all like family! The sensation of holding someone who wasn't nearly related to you was completely different. She turned and speedily ran right back into the village, wanting to crawl somewhere deep and hide.

Some of the nimm villagers extended knowing gazes towards each other, while some were caught up by the relief of safety. There were whistles and cheers colliding against each other under that deep red sky. Nimral walked up to his people, before turning around and facing the other races still at the sight of the bonfire.

"There's three sets of wood, and three tribes around the pit. It's still festival season, right? Then COME ON, LET'S PARTY!" The old man's voice was blaring and spritely, the vigor within it reminding that they were all very much alive. And that what happened was neither a dream, nor a nightmare. It was real life, and time moves on.

The monoya had brought wine, the gheckla, spices...and of course the nimm had the meat. The three tribes came together, all bringing their goods to the pit. Alban was asked to light the fire, to which he shot out a weak flare while ignoring the lively chanting that was heard all around.

Nimral sauntered up to Alban, patting him on the shoulder. "I don't know you at all," he said, "but I guess I was wrong."

"About what?"

"You can't be considered strong, you are so grossly trained that it makes me want to puke! All that mana and power and you're wasting it! Tomorrow, I'll teach you how a real man fights, alright?"

"Hey old man, do you even know my name? Huh???"

"Bahaha! We'll find out during your training. There are no secret left after two men sweat them all out!"

'Ugh, this creepy old man. I wanna go home...' The hunter that inspired primal fear was feeling his own kind of fear right now. Shaking his head, he put the creeping dread aside for the night, there was a festival happening right now!