Joy Pursuit: Steel Dragon [Sci-Fi Fantasy | Horror | Action]

Gira stared ahead, his eyes growing wide as a dark figure emerged through the horizon's haze. It loomed—massive and silent—a messy silhouette of brutal towers revealed by the creeping light of dawn. Krreat. A slumbering colossus of glass and steel, its towers interwoven like the bones of some sleeping giant, each skyscraper converging toward a single apex that faded from imposing black into a silver-white line. It split the sky, barely visible against the cavernous sprawl of clouds. The Ermacless Space Elevator shot into the heavens—a radiant artery stretching skyward—the city's lone connection to its Leviathan's Perch and the fossilized remnants of the Ordovis Translate.

Gira's excitement surged, yet the urge to talk was stifled before he could express himself. His heart was unsteady, swirling with Vire's lingering emotions. Threads of concern and anxiety polluted his mind, causing his emotions to flicker beyond his control, as all he could muster was a pleading stare at those looming towers.

Mera was equally lost in the echoes of the night, the encounter dredging memories that fueled her spiraling thoughts into a messy deluge of nostalgia and dread. Her tired eyes swept across the controls and the encroaching shadows of Krreat—she looked at Gira. Her heart tightening as she eased her hands off the controls, momentum wavering as the lowglider lulled to a smooth stop.

Gira turned toward her, confused. "Why are we stopping?"

Mera took a deep breath as she looked up at the endless blue her eyes lost in some memory of an equally endless gray sea. "Gira…" she whispered, still staring upward. Then she lowered her eyes, locking onto his. "I… Y-you know, when I first heard a Coarseblood had appeared—" she looked away. "I—I puked my guts out."

Gira tilted his head, his face awash with unease.

Mera looked away again, a painful crease forming between her brows. "I was afraid you'd be like… like the other Calamity Entities." Her voice trembled. "That your presence alone would drive everyone around you insane…"

Gira felt his heart sink.

"But then I met you," she said, her voice gentler now. "And you… were you." She shook her head, almost laughing at herself. "G-Gira, would you be willing to hear a meaningless story?" She shifted, leaning against the railing. " A very personal story about a speck of dust caught in a raging ocean."

Gira didn't hesitate. Vire's emotions flared within him—giving him the courage to answer with a sharp nod. "Yes. I'd love to."

Mera's eyes wandered back to the open sky, the blue stretching infinitely overhead. Her voice softened."This story starts with a lonely woman…"

A lonely woman in a tattered white dress wobbled at the edge of the metal hull of a shipwreck. Her hair was long and black, its wild strands wrapped tightly around the contours of her body as she struggled to stand. She staggered, the raging sea spitting salt into fading wounds that were nothing more but echoes.

Nameless maiden at the very edge—alone. Her tired eyes half-shut as she wobbled along. She had no more spirit, barely any love to spare or take. She was a Verrai—a ghost—a wraith. Her absent mind lulled by the Curved Sea, its harsh waves climbing up and to the side as they defied nature to scale the nowhere to no-heaven. She stared at the stormy gray water of the sea, the foamy surface promising a threat and its waves delivering. She held her stomach tenderly, hoping for an epiphany, for a memory of her beloved—

but unfortunately—

she'd already fallen for the sea.

.

.

.

A black claw impatiently traced the ornate, dragon-scaled armrest of a blackened throne. Cast in all-black, as absolute as the void of space, sat a monster. He lolled his head, resting the cheek of his long, dark snout on his knuckle, clawed feet tapping against the ornate rose-gold tapestries that spilled from above and onto the Starglider's bridge.

He had no eyes per se, but along his dark-scaled skull ran deep, thin cracks—fissures that implied a shattered gaze. He leaned back, nestling his scaled neck on the regal throne's pillowed back. His gaze drifted downward. Below his throne, on opposites side of the narrow dark-metal peninsula, was an expansive lower deck that revealed an array of starlit controls and screens, manned by mechanoids and men who murmured quietly as the Starglider sailed through the drowned Translate—the Crepusculata, the Curved Sea.

RUMBLE…

The Starglider shuddered to a stop, lights flickering as the quiet murmurs grew more intense. The black-scaled creature lazily raised his head.

His jaws parted slightly. "Petred," a low rumble threaded his words, resonant and sweet, yet unmistakably monstrous. "Why have we stopped again?"

A sheepish man with swirly white hair rushed up a flight of stairs and to his side, he wore a white uniform emblazoned with the mark of the House of 15. "F-forgive us for the delay, Lord Bayren. The local wildlife is acting unnaturally—showing no signs of self preservation. Completely disregarding danger and ignoring your presence. In all honesty… the whole thing is freaking out the crew" He squeaked in a panic.

Bayern Emperar, one of the eldest members of the House of 15, smiled. "Intriguing… Have you identified the aberrant organism?"

"Not yet… but based on the Kyyr scans and the damage to our outer Kyyr bulwark the offending creature is estimated to be roughly 200-300 meters long."

Bayren got up from his throne. His tall, dark figure completely enshrouded Petred in his shadow. Bayren was a family head of the House of 15, marked by his distinct crest: three pairs of sharp horns hanging down his snout in staggered intervals like vile stalactites. Each pair curled slightly forward, angling away from his jaws. His body was charcoal-black, broken only by blazing fissures that erupted from the creases of his joints and the edges of his fangs. A charred black robe draped over him, trailing behind his body like a tail, the fabric mysteriously untouched by the inferred inferno of his hissing scales.

He made his way across the bridge, stopping at the very edge of the metal peninsula. Through the wide viewport, the ocean churned far below the massive body of the Starglider. The sea stretched endlessly outward—but along the vessel's right flank, the waters surged upward, curving unnaturally, twisted by an unseen gravity.

Bayren followed the rising waves, his eyeless visage tilting as the gray-blue waters bent against logic. His shattered gaze narrowed toward the mist-blurred horizon, dimly lit by a phantom sun that bathed the contorted sea in bleak light.

Bayren stared into the waters, tapping his foot impatiently as he pulsed his deep, resonant Kyyr throughout the vessel and into the dark depths. The rhythmic hum threaded through steel ribs and luminous conduits before spilling into the ocean, where it coiled downward like a glowing net cast into the abyss. He fished the murky darkness, hoping to cross paths with the foul beast that had left his crew a nervous wreck—a Vai'tolant or perhaps a Metrasoma.

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He stopped tapping his foot. His shattered gaze cracked wide.

"Unbelievable…" His voice vibrated through the bones and mechanical joints of everyone onboard. "Prepare the lower deck. There's a castaway!"

The crew exchanged incredulous looks, but they knew better than to question Bayren.

Swallowing their questions, the crew followed the Calamity's orders. The Starglider heaved upward, its vast hull wrenching itself from the grip of the frigid sea. The metal skin groaned, shedding cascades of icy water as waves crashed relentlessly into its rising frame. Every impact sent shivers along the vessel's core, shaking rusted joints and ancient welds. The crew squirmed in terror as the resounding groan of the ocean echoed through the lower decks—an oppressive, thunderous roar—that deepened as the Kyyr Bulwark powered down with a final, ominous hiss.

Bayren strode calmly through the maze-like halls of the Starglider, though the shattering lines along his visage betrayed the tremble of excitement beneath his controlled steps. A grin stretched across his fractured mouth as bursts of deep Kyyr flared outward, bathing the corridor in eerie pulses. Each blast crawled over the sculpted walls and old banners, causing the newer crew members to hold their guts in unnatural fear as Bayren triangulated the castaway's fleeting presence. Down he marched—lower, deeper—his excitement swelling with every step, steadily eclipsing his thin, simmering irritation toward the supposed best-designed ship of the ORPA.

Reaching the lower levels, he made his way to one of the long-sealed chambers that led to the outside.

Engineers and mechanoids waited, bowing nervously as he arrived.

He stood before a dreary metal door that reeked of seawater and rust—salt-bitten, ancient, and trembling beneath the pressure on the other side.

"Open it," Bayren commanded.

His voice rolled through the chamber like a command etched into bone. The workers snapped to motion, anxiously rushing to the gate controls. One by one, the locks disengaged with a reluctant series of clanks, a circular valve twisted at the door's core as the massive metal slab groaned before it finally heaved open. A blast of cold water and howling winds surged inside, striking everyone present and filling the chamber with a rising mix of fear and awe at the sheer force of the Curved Sea.

"How could anyone be out there…?" a crew member whispered, clutching his coat tight.

"Is this another test?" another muttered under his breath.

"Holy—it's freezing!" an engineer yelped as the temperature plunged.

"By the Fifteen…" an upper-deck worker prayed softly, eyes glued to the churning void beyond the threshold.

Bayren walked past them, unmoved by the roar of clashing waves. The cold edge of the water hammered against his body in defiant bursts, each impact evaporating against his smoldering scales. The pressure of the Translate pressed in from all sides—an oppressive weight filled only with dark blue-gray and foamy white shades of violence.

He reached the rim where the Starglider ended and the deranged sea began. There, he pulsed his Kyyr once more. The energy rippled outward, cutting through the storm, and for a fleeting moment a faint essence of humanity flared amidst the gray. Bayren didn't hesitate. He nonchalantly stepped out, his figure disappearing into the maw gigantic wave.

The crew watched in frozen horror as Lord Bayren vanished into the sea. But they knew better. That if anything—it was the sea that should tremble, for calamity had chosen to bathe in its waters.

Bayren hovered in the dark embrace of the turbulent murk. Flaring his Kyyr receptors throughout the sea, he honed in on the fading trace of life—a fragile spark drifting away, sinking.

Bayren's jaws parted as Kyyr erupted through him. Black constructs burst from his body in violent coils, unfurling like the limbs of a deformed, all-black kraken that devoured the gray waters with his bubbling tendrils. Heat surged through him, boiling the surrounding sea into frantic currents. He angled his body toward the dwindling presence and unleashed a burst of Kyyr. And he shot forward like a void-streak of calamity. The ocean bowed to his passage, parting in a spear of force as he cleaved through the darkness.

"Found you…"

In the gray drifted a woman in a disheveled white dress, her body weightless as the spiraling currents carried her deeper into the abyss. Her long hair coiled around her like ink in water, and she remained blissfully unaware of the darkness of his ever-consuming constructs.

Bayren gracefully returned to the Starglider.Water cascaded off his body in steaming sheets as he stepped onto the metal rim, and in his arms lay the young woman—long black hair trailing, pale face dreamy-unconscious.

The crew had already gathered, breathless and anxious.

"I require doctors," he said—his voice softer than before, yet carrying enough gravity to silence the entire deck.

A team of men and mechanoids rushed to the scene as they surrounded Bayren. They unfolded a stretcher swiftly and eased the woman onto it. A specialized thermal blanket was wrapped around her—its inner fibers activating instantly, draining the excess moisture from her skin in thin streams of vapor.

Two medics checked her pulse while a mechanoid attached her to a portable life-support rig. A transparent respirator—shaped like a smooth, seamless mask—was fitted over her face as a flexible tube slid down her throat. The device hissed to life, and water bubbled through the filtration chamber as her lungs were relieved of the sea.

Injections followed—tiny mechanical needles blossomed from a Hollow delivering stabilizers, anti-shock agents, and neural protectants in rapid succession. Only once her vitals steadied did the lead medic bring out the final instrument: a compact cardiac stimulator. It clamped over her sternum and began pulsing rhythmically, massaging her heart with precise, gentle force.

Bayren watched with an unknowable expression as the doctors worked, their hands moving in a frantic but disciplined rhythm. Then, as the machines steadied and the woman's chest began to rise with soft, regular breaths, the medics' eyes lit up.

"She's stable!" one of the doctors exclaimed.

They subtly cheered as the woman's breathing grew steady and resonant.

Bayren flared his Kyyr, letting the deep resonance crawl through the stretcher, through the machines, through the woman herself. His visage cracked in astonishment.

"Incredible," he murmured.

One of the doctors glanced up. "What is it, your Lordship?"

Bayren gestured toward her stomach. "Those blessed with Kyyr Insight—look at her torso."

The doctor leaned in. His pupils flickered with Kyyr as he focused… then widened in shock. "By all that is gold…" he whispered. "Her survival was miracle enough, but this—this is…"

Nestled beneath the woman's soul were two others.

Tender, luminous, and impossibly alive.

Twin bi-colored souls glimmered in a gentle, glistening lull—two tiny flames sheltered beneath her fading spark.

She was pregnant.

Bayren leaned down and put a claw against the woman's pale cheeks, brushing her hair aside with surprising gentleness. "An intriguing find…" he murmured. He straightened, towering over the doctors, Kyyr flickering faintly along the fractures of his visage. "Guarantee me their lives for yours." he growled.

The medical crew stiffened—then sharply nodded, their voices tight with fear and resolve. "We guarantee their lives, your Lordship!" the head medic declared.

Bayren stared at him in silence. The crew took the hint immediately. They lifted the stretcher with renewed care, their movements precise as they hurried the woman toward the Starglider's Medbay.

Once they vanished into the halls, Bayren turned back to the sea, flaring his Kyyr in response to the encroaching heartbeat of something rising from the depths.

"The aberrant…" He hissed as he walked back to the edge. His Kyyr senses sharpened—and there, breaching the darkness, came the enormous maw of a full-grown Vai'tolant. A gigantic ring of teeth the size of collapsing buildings, black water streaming off its hide.

Bayren's visage cracked violently, lines splitting across his face like lightning. "I've seen this before…" he said, almost bored as his Kyyr spiked in a razor burst.

CCRRRRRRRRK!!!!??

FWOOM!

The sea turned red. The Vai'tolant's body erupted upward in meaty, torn-apart chunks, its corpse surfacing in ragged chunks that slapped against the Starglider's hull with sickening force.

Bayren sighed. "What a waste…"

With that, he turned and calmly walked away from the thrashing sea, leaving the blood-stained waves to further shred the flesh.