Chapter 10: Fish meet Mini Yetis

Maxim internally scoffed at the arguably poor tentative intimidation of the barioth. 

'Oh so very scary. And thank you now your belly is exposed.', he thought, eyes glowing as he dashed in a straight line, aiming to ram into it. The wide-eyed barioth bewildered by the suddenness of it all could only slam its forelimbs and try to slam the fish into the ground.

Maxim, already having predicted this, dived into the thick layer of snow as if it was the surface of the sea, his speed barely decreasing as he attained the ice dozen of meters below. Literally swimming in it. 

Above the barioth turned around deep blue cat-like eyes scanning the area, back leg flexing ready to jump and scamper away. It perfectly understood that it was the prey here.

Feeling the movement through the snow and ice with his electromagnetic sense Maxim immediately darted through the layers separating him from his prey.

Maw wide open, his tusks easily penetrating the barioth's soft belly. Letting out a blood-curling roar of pure agony the ice wyvern body impossibly twisted, tail swishing erratically creating clouds of powdery snow. Its long neck in the same manner twisted and it ferociously bit at Maxim's exposed left side.

Alas, it was barely able to draw the fish's blue blood out of the superficial wound it made in its desperate struggle for survival.

Spring greens scale too hard to be pierced with usual means, themselves solidly anchored on a thick hide, below it a firm layer of fat similar to blubber lay, and then muscle fiber too compact and strong to be bitten through by nothing of the ice wyvern caliber.

Maxim is a hot-headed brute, a flying and swimming tank in all intent and purpose, and he knowingly took full advantage of this. 

He could have played it safe by doing hit-and-run tactics, slowly bleeding and wearing down the barioth to death but his pride, ego, and bloodlust wouldn't allow him to lower himself and use such methods. Maybe when he just reincarnated he would have but not now, never. 

'Ow poor kitty cat… That tickle.', he internally mocked the barioth, not taking the death fight seriously, not even a little bit. Tusks and teeth scraped against his scale, sending some flying away, and small barely noticeable scratches formed on his thick skin. 

His scales or dermal denticles, similar to the ones found on sharks in his old world, if a tad bit bigger, the size of a needle head to be exact. Better in every aspect and more.

Granting him better aerial, aquatic, and underground(ice and snow) movements with their aerodynamic property. They gave protection against pesky parasites, and they served as excellent natural armor. Capable of sensing minute changes in water/air currents, and temperature. He loved them, took pride in them, and took great care of them.

A short grunt followed by a growl promising untold violence escaped his throat, his eyes glowed intensely and in response the force behind his jaws exponentially increased, his hundreds of razor-sharp teeth carving an uneven hole through the thick white fluffy fur and then the hide, fat tissue and connective tissue being the abdominal muscles of the wyvern. 

Red warm and delicious liquid life poured down in abandon, painting his muzzle and the immaculate snow red as blood rained down.

Nostril flaring. The blood smearing on his snout excited him to an inhuman degree, yellow bestial-slitted eyes dilated, this incited him to eat the warm flesh, right here, right now. 

And so he did just that, tearing the piece of high-quality meat with fur still on it. He then proceeded to swallow it with gusto, behind In the pharynx, muscles were at work, letting his second set of jaws grind everything to paste. A very neat bodily function in his opinion.

The barioth, drunk in the adrenaline coursing through its veins, barely flinched at the grievous injury. Eyes reddening, mind clouded with irrational rage and hate, it reeled back its head to bite harder, drawing a tiny bit of blue blood this time.

Then the sabertooth wyvern started to viciously lacerate at Maxim's exposed back with the sharp claw on its forelimbs, or more like trying to because it at best made superficial wounds that would already have healed and completely disappeared in at most two days. Its claws were the ones getting more damaged than anything else.

The ice wyvern belly had a horrendous gash, with the intestines seeing the light of the day for the first time as they were ripped out from their confine.

The juvenile Elder Dragon promptly started to eat them with just as much enthusiasm, slurping the intestine like it was the best plate of spaghetti Bolognese in the world, the smell that would have made most reel back in disgust was very enticing to him. He ate the barioth alive, ignoring the latter ferociously biting and clawing at him.

Both let loose in an uncoordinated dance of death and blood, with no technique or intelligence. Only two monsters fighting to the death on pure instincts but from the start one was already the winner.

Suddenly the ice wyvern started to slow down, it made a whimper of pain and confusion, feeling suddenly lighter with its new disemboweled status but also heavy and lightheaded thanks to the unstoppable hemorrhage. Adrenalin could only do so much, it wasn't a magical solution. The body at a certain point would inevitably collapse.

The grips of its jaws started to loosen, and its forelimb clawing at its predator's back started to feel incredibly heavy, sluggish, and hard to move. For the first time in its life, it felt cold, so cold. The cold embrace of death. It was life. It is ephemeral, cold, chaotic, harsh, and cruel but that's what makes it so beautiful. 

The barioth left back leg was the first to fold under its own weight. Too weak to hold the body anymore it collapsed on this same side, exposing its eviscerated abdomen with Maxim until now mostly hidden, himself covered in blood, pieces of internal organs, and fur in front. Head deep into it. 

Happily eating with the squelching sound of flesh being ripped apart and bones cracking accompanying it. He didn't have the table manner.

The small tribes of Boaboa never left, they watched everything. Every muscle fiber of their being is frozen in shock and terror. 

'Oh… it's already dead… hmmmm no that was a she. Bah who cares. Not her for sure…', Maxim's pointed ears swiveled to the side as he finally remarked, slightly disappointed that the barioth drew its last breath. He hoped it would have been a bit more of a fight, oh well. What is done is done no use crying over spilled milk.

Taking in another mouth full of the still warm and bloody intestine he flexed his back flippers spreading them out as far as possible and put himself in a higher position with his pectoral flippers, just like a seal. Half of his body was now out of the snow. Casting an ominous shadow on the Boaboa tribesmen in front of him.

He raised his head high, then inhaled deeply through his nostrils, the heavy scent of blood filling the lone lung inside his body, an organ in his dorsal area used for buoyancy and stoking air and water, not to breathe. It was a strange mix between a gas bladder and a lung.

*ROAAAR!!*

He roared, a visceral deafening rumble vibrating the air and the bones of the Boaboas; it was accompanied by short rhythmic clack and low grunt. Still young and infantile to the ears of an Elder Dragon and the same goes for the higher ends of monsters, the Apex predator, such as certain pickles t-rex but terrifying to nearly everything else. 

It was a show of dominance and to make himself known to the surrounding lifeform, and also a warning. As simple as that. If some aren't happy about it they can peacefully 'talk' out with him in a fight. 

He was going to mark this area as his with his bio-energy signature but later. Luckily for his mental health, he didn't do it like wolves or lions but through biting things, the glands placed behind his tusk will do the rest.

He didn't know how rare these little balls of fluff were, for all he knew they may be the last remaining members of their species. Though if they showed clear signs of hostility or attacked him they would be as good as digested.

His minute-long roar ended. The Boaboa cheered until his scrutinizing gaze bore down on the small troop, they froze.

Silence.

A pending silence where the blowing wind only added to the growing pressure of the air. As realization dawned on them. Yes,  the fish thing killed the barioth, and now what. What if it decided to kill them all too? A predator protecting its kills can get quite violent and irrational if push comes to shove. This was the ongoing thought of most Boaboas that were still capable of coherent thought.

He folded his back flipper, while his yellow draconic eyes studied every movement their body unconsciously made and the heartbeat and twist of muscle with his electromagnetic sense.

'Now what are you? Little yetis…', the mutant fish thought, licking his chops of the excess blood, careful to not stab or cut himself with his teeth. It happens more often than he likes to admit. From the Boaboas point of view, it was quite the freakishly terrifying sight though.

One of them snapped out of it and limped in his direction, it was a female.

A staff made out of bone, half circle at the top with crudely made copper bells, and skulls of critters adorning it, held in her four black-grey claws of her paw-like hand that she used as a walking stick. Her fur was grey and coarse, in some places patches of it entirely missing, showing ugly burns scars. 

It was the chieftainess, the oldest of the tribe, who was in her mid-thirties. The years on this planet are relatively the same length as the Earth's one.

An impressive feat for her species, most didn't live past fifteen years of age because life here in this icy desert was unforgiving for the weak of body and mind. Only the strongest, smartest, and luckiest could hope to survive here.

Her name was Ahnah, she immediately recognized that this creature was one of them. An Elder Dragon, she didn't know what they were, but she knew they were greater… they were unmistakable, incomparable to others in her aged eyes, they were godly beings of extreme power to be revered, respected, and feared.

The oppressive air around them, the feeling of inferiority when gazing at them, the feeling of power they emitted. Their presence was unique. 

Though for her it was even more unmistakable, she was particularly sensitive to the bio-energy, but she thought it was Nature itself. With this, she could say with a certain degree of certitude the weather and how harsh the upcoming winter will likely be. Nothing spectacular but it made her invaluable.

When she was but an infant she saw one such monster outfitted in a crystalline armor of pure blue ice, and it froze all in its path. The bone-shaking roar of Maxim only confirmed it. She also noticed the similarities with one of the species they hunted, a species they immensely respected.

"Mother no! Come back, that's madness!", a shrill and terrified voice echoed from behind, full of concern and worry. To Maxim's ears, it very much was total and utter gibberish, he didn't have omnilingualism but from the body language, tone of voice, and smell he could tell that this one was a male and likely the child the old female he was curiously observing.

"Aguta, my son. No, I will not.", she taped her staff on the snow, the crude copper bells at the top chiming as she said, her voice while weak and soft carried the authority of a wise and experienced leader that will not hesitate to sacrifice a few, herself included for the survival and betterment of the tribe. 

She stopped a few meters in front of Maxim, an invisible pressure weighted down on her shoulder, and the atmosphere became increasingly heavier.

Maxim, pleasantly surprised by the ball of steel this frail lady yeti must have to approach him like this, he could only mentally applaud her. Or she was senile and insane. You don't know with old people aka the fossils.

Ahnah breathed in and out, mist escaping down the hole of her wood mask. A mask adorned with gemstones and sporting crude similarities to the head of a popo and a pigron. Each tribe of Boaboa has its own cultures and ancestral rules, in the same fashion humans do. So different masks with different meanings and symbolism.

Placing her cane on the bloody snow, she took off her mask. Her face was like the one of a chimp but it was half burned, her left eye completely white indicating its blindness, her left ear cut in half the other was mostly intact both vaguely remembering him of rabbit ears.

Shocking all of her tribesmen that were here while more and more started to come from the village of all ages. Most stared at Maxim, fear gripping their hearts and paralyzing their body.

'What are you doing?', he wondered, was she offering herself as a sacrifice to him? Well, she didn't seem particularly palatable and he already has food.  Or it was something else. He was pretty confused with all of this. He couldn't expect them to act like modern humans.

Her gaze met his and she couldn't help but notice the beast's intelligence through those predatory-yellow-slitted eyes, it was somewhat unnerving, knowing something this powerful was as if not more intelligent than them. Their only real advantage even if it wouldn't have mattered if the beast decided that their continued existence was unneeded.

He was eyeing everything with a hint of contempt, tremendous curiosity and a strange innocence deeply mixed in it greatly contrasting with his current bloody appearance and what he just occurred.

'Huh?', he dumbly thought. It came out as a grunt of confusion, head tilted to the right side, right ear slumping with movement.

The chieftainess made a chirping sound, snapping every small yet out of their fear-induced trance. She then prostrated herself at him in a prayer-like manner, eyes closed and forehead against the snow.

This was soon followed by the entire tribe mimicking her. Maxim blinked, one time, two times scanning the area. Understanding what just happened, he unconsciously made a pleasing growl with a snort. They submitted to him or something along those lines, and it pleased a not-so-small part of his ego.

Most escaping his nostril, gills flaring, he snapped his jaws shut making a loud snapping sound. His eyes and body language changed, a clear indicator that their time here was up and they needed to move if they didn't want to also be part of the menu. 

He was going to eat, the best part of life with sleeping. Which he was going to do after eating. He was free of all human day-to-day nonsense.

Not that living on his own in the wild was easy either, it wasn't extremely hard per se, he is an Elder Dragon, young but still an Elder Dragon nonetheless. He hit the jackpot for this one.

Anyway, he didn't have any modern conveniences. He needed to take care of himself, hunt his own food, take care of his territory, and the like. It's the price of freedom. A small price he was more than happy to pay.

There wasn't really any comparison to his human life.

Language barrier or not the message easily got across and the tribesmen scurried away, the chieftainess a bit slower than the rest a relieved smile on her face. She, in fact, did something very stupid and dangerous but it seems her tactical-suicidal choice has paid off.

'Funny little things. Wonder what other sapient humanoid species they are? I'm perplexed on how I should feel though l… small and weak as they may be, they can be a threat if left unattended… They should have a similar potential as humans. Is it good or bad things, I don't know.', wondered Maxim, his teeth bit through the ribs with minimal difficulty letting him have access to the liver.

And this is how this Elder Dragon's legend and myth started.