Escape

The Games We Play​

Escape​

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As was becoming a staple of my life, my plan was a work in progress. Thus far I had 'escape with my life' down as my end goal and a fair number of question marks between there and here, but I figured the important part was that I had all my priorities straight. Get out of here, get to Atlas, save the people, survive it all—I knew what I wanted to accomplish.

And all told, I'd say it was going pretty well. Using their reluctance to fire over the city against them had gotten me to the limits of Vale and then some strategic thinking and careful flying had shaken them off my tail and given me a chance to take them down. I wasn't worried about firing at them over Beacon, because I knew the people onboard the ships would be fine thanks to the Hunter passengers I'd confirmed with Observe and the crashed ships themselves were unlikely to do any harm to the Hunters-in-training down below. That had bought me a fair amount of time to fly into the Emerald Forest before anyone else came along to continue the chase.

At that point, well…bringing the Grimm into the equation had been a calculated risk. Beacon had been built on the edge of the Emerald Forest long ago, a defense for an early Vale against the hostile creatures that lurked within, which was also why it was situated so close to Forever Fall. That wasn't to say the other untamed places that surrounded Vale weren't dangerous—it was an untamed place on Remnant and therefore extremely hostile—but the worst breeds of Grimm had come from over what had long-since been nicknamed the Dread Mountains.

Since then, however, years of predation by hundreds of people training to be Hunters, as well as by the staff and alumni keeping things in order, had diminished the threat. Not enough to remove it by any means or even make it less than extremely dangerous to the unprepared, but in comparison to the beasts that had once stalked Vale's borders…

These were nothing but an annoyance.

Which is good, because an annoyance was exactly what I needed until I could get far enough to throw myself into horrific danger. I'd fired on the forest, carving a scar across it to disturb its inhuman inhabitants, and watched as the dark creatures had taken to the skies. It was often debated just how intelligent the Grimm were and no one could say for certain—sometimes they showed almost senselessly suicidal behavior, while others they seemed to organized extremely intelligent, simultaneous attacks on vulnerabilities.

Whatever the case, though, they were definitely predators. Different from any other kind, to be sure, with no fear of death or danger, but still predators—and as such, given a choice they would strike at the weakest link, the isolated, injured, small, and alone. They'd fearless strike at the powerful, too, but only if they didn't have something more fragile to devour first. Given that, I couldn't be certain how they'd react when I drew them to battle, because I was being chased. I was weak, too, compared to those who followed me.

But though they had Hunters aboard, the pursuing craft were vastly smaller than the White Whale and I had displayed my power by wreaking havoc on their home. Given that, I figured they'd consider them a smaller threat and sure enough, much of the dark flock directed its attention toward my hunters, buying me precious time to get further away.

And then I rose above the Darkened Peaks that separated Vale from the horrors beyond and got my first, true glimpse of a world still untouched by man. Not so much as a glimmer of industrialization, of things shaped by muscle or machine, I saw an almost impossibly long slope of pure white snow, until it gave way at last to land in the distance. My first thought as I flew beyond for the first time was that it was a beautiful, remote place.

But it wasn't empty.

As we came over the peaks with shrieks and fire, we drew the attention of the beasts that lurked beyond civilization. Tyrant Scales rose from the mountain sides at the noise, taking to the air around us—massive beasts, at least as big as Giant Nevermore and even more dangerous. I'd seen them before, but only in my parent's gallery, but these creatures had scales of pure white instead of black, some exhaling a mist-like fog that left ice forming in the air around it while others breathed fire. I felt luck for the fact that I didn't see any with multiple heads as I flew passed them as quickly as I could, hoping not to give them time to regain their bearings.

I admit it, my plan at this point was to just fly really fast so the monsters couldn't be bothered to wreck my shit. I didn't even use any tricks or stunts or anything, but simply flew straight with all the speed I could muster, trying to keep ahead. Not the bravest or most ingenious plan ever, but it seemed to work for the moment. I stayed out of the fighting and just kept on flying.

All the while, I watched my Map and kept an eye on my pursuers through my Elementals. Most of the ships on my tail had apparently decided to continue the chase a bit farther, with only a scarce few drawing back and away, withdrawing from the danger. I was a little disappointed, but not surprised—I'd expected to need to go deeper into the Badlands to escape from Hunters. I was lucky, at least, in that the creatures swarming about me still seemed to find them a more appetizing target and I drew out others with chaos and noise as I flew boldly onwards.

Between the passive bonuses of my flying skills and the boost from my Nature Affinity, I think I did pretty well, gliding over the snow covered fields while maintaining a steady distance from those chasing me. From here on out, so long as I aimed well and made sure any Grimm that rose did so closer to them than me, I should be okay, but I still needed to figure out a way to shake—

I paused mid-thought, looking at my Map carefully before looking back in front of me. Geological structures were etched accurately onto the screen, though the two-dimensional view wasn't ideal for three-dimensional flight. That was mainly just me being greedy, though, and I compensated for that weakness somewhat with Crocea Mors and Levant—it was undeniable that my Map was a godsend when it came to stuff like this. It let me keep track of how many people were chasing me, where roads were, kept track of landmarks and notable things; when I needed, it could even draw me the fastest route between my current location and a destination. It was extraordinarily useful and I trusted it.

Which left me a bit confused, because according to it, the mountain I was flying towards was a lot smaller then it appeared—half the size, if that. I'd looked up everything I could about the Badlands before this mission, had drawn on pictures and paintings and everything I possibly could concerning it, just in case. I was flying towards the Anzu Mountain and it looked the same now as it had in Leopold's drawing over a hundred years ago. There was nothing wrong with it, that I could see and I wouldn't have paid it any mind if not for the attention I'd paid to my Map.

I wondered for a moment if it was simply wrong—and immediately dismissed the thought. I'd gotten to the point that I trusted what my power told me above my own eyes or even a hundred years of history. Besides which, I was both nowhere near lucky enough and too Lucky for 'there was nothing wrong' to be a remotely plausible explanation to me anymore after noticing something was strange. Indeed, it seemed fairly safe to assume that if my power told me something didn't add up, it mean something bad for me.

I frowned down at my map for a moment, looking for any clues in the limited data it revealed to me. It didn't tell me anything about the structure itself—whether it was somehow an enemy unit, some kind of hologram, or what—but after a moment, I noticed that the Grimm which had once been harrying my pursuers were swiftly drawing way.

Suddenly shifting to flat-out worried, I ignored the ships that were now closing in and squinted at the mountain, Observing it. What returned to me was almost entirely hidden from my sight, but what little I could make out left my mouth slackened, my eyes wide.

No, I thought. Please no.

Lighting struck at my ship and hail rained down on it, jolts and impacts that briefly sent my heart hammered—not in fear of the attacks, though Levant and Crocea turned their focus to defense in my stead, but of what they might cause.

Please no, please no, please don't—

I heard thunder rumble as Levant deflected lightning bolts, heard explosions and gunfire and shrieks of air. I didn't turn my gaze away from the Mountain, already shifting my course as best I could without letting my pursuers gain too much on me, hoping that I wasn't this unlucky.

I was.

Stone suddenly cracked, a sound that dwarfed the thunder from before. Fields of snow fell loose as things shifted, an avalanche rushing abruptly down the mountain side. Or rather, down the side of what we'd thought for so long was a mountain.

Wings spread suddenly, flapping wide in an irritated stretch as we disturbed their owners slumber. Before, they'd been curled around an actual mountain, leaning against the massive structure in their sleep, but now I could see what had, for perhaps hundreds of years, been hidden. A beast of Grimm that I hadn't seen in my parent's gallery, but recognized nonetheless—a creature lost to the tides of history, recorded long ago but unseen for so long it was thought half a myth. Some thought that it must have at last been killed by some great warrior, a feat many had claimed but none had proven. Others thought it was an exaggeration, born of fear in the time before the War. Believers thought it might linger to the North, on the Fallen Continent where so many horrific creatures gathered.

In truth, it must have just been sleeping, right in front of our eyes.

???

LV???

Ziz

Ziz, the lord of all the things that fly. A beast that could stand with its feet in the sea and scratch the sky with its brow, whose breath ended nations, whose wings tore away forests. It stood before me now, a horrific amalgam of creatures—a head perhaps like a twisted Nevermore, the wings of Tyrant Scale writ impossibly large. Both features slid down into a body that was at once furred, scaled, and weathered, patterned white and black. Here, I could see a resemblance to the insect monsters to the West, from the Blood Flies to the Sky Weavers. There, a strange resemblance to a Nemean. But all of it was massive, dangerous, unbelievable.

I was looking at a reminder of how unforgiving the world we lived in truly was. I was looking at a creature that had once been worshiped as a messenger of God, carrying word from on-high. Just one word, really, or so the story goes—'Begone.'

It rose sluggishly from its mountain side, dwarfing it easily as it stretching its wings wider yet—and flapped them once. Just once.

And a tornado erupted in the midst of the plain. It wasn't aimed at me or my hunters or anything at all, really, but simply created. A terrifying cyclone of wind, a column of air that stretched from heaven to earth—and then it opened its mouth, fire erupting from its gullet to ignite the storm, such heat and light arising that I thought he'd set the sky aflame. I must have been nearly two kilometers away and I felt the heat, saw steam and smoke rise in torrents towards the sky.

I stared for a moment at that casual display of power from a beast that didn't even deign to fully rise from its resting place. I wondered if it was luck or Luck that had resulted in this meeting. In a certain light, I was bearing witness to something unseen for generations, a display of godlike power that beggared description from a monster out of myth and legend. I was unspeakably luck just to see it, from that perspective. In fact, just thinking about the probability…it was like I'd stumbled across a one in a million secret boss on my first trip outside the Kingdoms. I must have beat some pretty damn long odds for this to have occurred.

I considered that for a moment, marveled at how unlikely it must have been to encounter such a rare opponent on accident. Especially given my Grimm Quest—or perhaps that played a role in this meeting. It wasn't uncommon to find enemies that couldn't be encountered unless you'd activated a specific quest. Perhaps that was what this was, my power telling me to slay another specimen of Grimm and retrieve its mask.

"God no," I said, turning my ship to run like hell. Those perusing me evidently agreed and had given up the chase to flee as Ziz rose from its mountain throne.

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