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

The Coarseblood's roar echoed through the night, a palpable surge of violent Kyyr radiating from his body. The sheer intensity of the energy drawing the attention of not only the rangers but also the Anomaly. The garbled monster was lost in the crimson visions; the sudden eruption of Kyyr gripped the fell abomination, giving Siegwick time to charge a special technique.

The Coarseblood's resounding roar mesmerized the Anomaly, drawing it in like a moth to a flame. With a slow, unnerving gait, it began to walk toward the hill, its attention transfixed on the rhythmic allure of the ravenous Kyyr.

Unamused by the Anomaly's disregard, Siegwick began to focus his Kyyr into words, "Past all enduring, frost and gold." A long, frozen blade materialized in his hands, an azure blaze wrapping around the base of the spear as he took aim. "Pierce the hide of blasphemies untold," he muttered, and he took a breath. "TWIST HOARFROST SPIRE!" he threw the icy spear. It ignited into a comet-like streak of light, ripping through the air and cleaving straight through the Anomaly's skull.

Thud…

The Anomaly unceremoniously dropped to the ground, the icy spear lodged in its head. Siegwick held his breath, watching carefully as the entity showed no signs of life. But then, a sinister gas began seeping from its body, the thick miasma pooling around its body. Cautious, Siegwick moved back, but the miasma seemed to sparkle in abyssal Kyyr as the Anomaly stood once again.

It turned to face Siegwick, letting out a bone-chilling screech.

On the southwest front, Serfet was doing his best to fend off the two Rak'da, aided by the ranged support of Calli and Morotov, who used their Kyyr combustion to burn the creatures as they slowly advanced. But upon hearing the screech, the Rak'da suddenly became more violent. Ignoring the blazing fire, the Fulgurjaw lunged at Serfet, forcing him to unleash his Vile Rive to counter the sudden assault.

Serfet's blade trembled as his slash cleaved into the Fulgurjaw. His muscles aching from the numbing lightning and weighty exhaustion. He felt his body grow heavier and heavier as the fight dragged on.

"Where'd the other one go?" Calli cried out, her voice edged with panic. The smaller split-jaw Rak'da had vanished behind the wall of flames.

"Everyone, stand your ground!" Carmela shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos.

"Shit, it must've gone inside!" Will shouted, trying to stand as he crawled towards the entrance.

Inside the station, Mika and Molt, the two nurses stationed in the Medical Wing, aimed their guns at the door, tense and ready. They could hear the sound of a struggle—screams and roars—just beyond the Med Wing's doors.

THUMP!

The door rattled violently, the mechanism inside shattering.

It hung loose; the white door began to open.

The two watched in horror as darkness greeted them, and with it the blood-soaked snout of the split-jaw Rak'da.

"MOLT! D-do something!" Mika shouted at the trembling young man beside her. Molt, barely managing to hold his gun steady, took aim. Unlike Mika, he had some level of Kyyr combat training, but the horrid visage of the Rak'da was overwhelming. They watched the Rak'da push its way further into the room, its twisted face still clinging to the grisly remains of another ranger, the jagged mess of its jaws dripping with fresh carnage.

BANG!

BANG!

BANG!

Molt screamed as he emptied his shotgun into the beast, each blast tearing into its face. Shrapnel shredded flesh and bone, peeling its features apart.The creature shrieked, reeling in agony as it stumbled back into the hallway—its wail echoing down the corridor, stretching far too long.

The nurses stood in stunned silence, listening as the sounds of a struggle echoed beyond the door.

Suddenly—the door swung open as the Rak'da's head crashed forward, half-dead. And though decapitated, its severed head still snapped violently at the air, futilely trying to attack. It thrashed about in a blind rage, bouncing around the floor, desperate for blood.

Suddenly, a bladed Kyyr crystal, glowing in a myriad of colors, streaked through the air and smashed into the head, silencing it.

From the shadows, Lena and Denver entered the room.

To their benefit, the makeshift regeneration of the two Rak'da had caused adverse effects on the smaller beast. And due to the botched process, the split-jaw Rak'da ended up with only a quarter of a brain and barely any abyssal condensation—a result that, all things considered, was a little depressing. Yet, even in its weakened state, it still held the same vile pride as the Fulgurjaw, snapping defiantly at the air, trying its best to bite at nothing.

But to its dismay, the split-jaw Rak'da had been dealt with.

"Is everyone okay?" Lena asked the shivering nurses. They both nodded, tears in their eyes. "Good, Denver, we're going to have to guard the Med Wing," she said.

"Right… What about Saul's corpse?" He asked somberly, looking back at the half-eaten Saul in the hallway behind them.

"We'll leave him there for the time being. We have to hang tight and hope and stand by for any injured."

Denver nodded as he stared down in disgust at the Rak'da head that was still snapping at the air. "What about this thing? Should we burn it?"

Lena stared at the writhing clump of teeth and suddenly had an idea. "We can test its blood!" she exclaimed, eyes lighting up.

"Ugh… By 'we' you mean me, right?" Denver groaned, clearly repulsed.

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"Oh, come on. Just take a look at it under a microscope." Lena urged with a hiss.

Denver sighed in defeat. "If I get infected with some weird disease, it's on you, Lena," he muttered, pulling out a needle from his first aid pack. "I'll get a sample from a part that can't bite. So give a minute." Leaving the room, he carefully stepped around Saul's remains and made his way over to the diced-up body in the other room, which had been crucified against the wall using Lena's prism beacons. With a grimace, he extracted a blood sample from the still-writhing body.

Outside on the northern front, the Anomaly howled in rage. In response, the Rak'da corpses and Fulgurjaw shivered as tendrils erupted from their bodies. But Shredder remained unaffected, ignoring the call. The mutated Pelamüs cracked its neck as it turned to face Gira, whose figure seemed to glow under the crimson sky, his crystal-like skin catching the light in a haunting display.

The Pelamüs and the Coarseblood circled each other, locked in a tense standoff, their movements deliberate as they sized each other up. Nearby, Lucas fought to remain conscious, his body growing weaker as the relentless bleeding blurred his vision with each agonizing heartbeat.

Shredder lunged at Gira, swift and deadly, like a viper in the dark. Each strike was precise, gliding past Gira, who dodged, grabbing onto Shredder's arm and yanking the monster closer with a single, brutal motion. Gira's maw widened as he revealed his bladed elbow, smashing it into Shredder's head, cracking it open with a single strike as he went in for a bite.

Though headless, Shredder somehow sensed Gira, dropping low and using the abyssal Kyyr in the air to accelerate its recovery. Its jaw partially regenerated, just enough to sink its teeth into Gira. With a growl, Gira shoved Shredder away, sliding back as he lowered his posture. Without hesitation, he dashed towards the staggered Pelamüs, claws extended and jaw open, aiming to tear into Shredder's legs.

The Pelamüs dodged by leaping into the air, using the momentum to slam its legs down onto Gira from above. Gira hit the ground hard, but his cracked visage grew more wild as crimson blades erupted around him, blossoming into a painful trap that cut into Shredder's legs.

Sliding out from beneath the assault, Gira swiftly followed up with a devastating uppercut to the wounded Pelamüs. The sheer force of the blow was so immense that Shredder's neck and head were cleanly blown off its body. The Pelamüs wobbled for a moment before it flopped flatly to the side, its lifeless form slowly rolling down the hill.

Turning back, Gira rushed to Lucas, his heart sinking at the horrific sight of his friend's mangled upper left torso, his arm nothing more than chewed flesh. Gently, he cradled Lucas in his arms, his movements deliberate despite the urgency. With a powerful leap, he jumped down the hill and over the fence, landing in front of the station. Without hesitation, Gira raised his arm and, in a single, forceful motion, tore through the wall, shielding Lucas as he pressed forward, desperate to find help.

Using his Kyyr, Gira's auricular organs could sense people nearby.

In the Medical Wing, Lena tensed, readying herself as the sounds of something big crashing through the building echoed.

"What is that?" Denver asked, turning away from the microscope.

"I don't know, but it sounds big," Lena replied, her voice tense.

Gira reached the place where he could vaguely sense people. He carefully cradled Lucas in his arms, his movements gentle despite his strength. Should I run in and leave him or? What if they freak out… He shook his head and softly placed Lucas down beside it, ensuring he was safe before continuing.

He peered inside, his crimson jaws glinting in the Med Wing's glow. Mika and Molt instantly noticed him—and screamed. Gira's monstrous appearance sent a wave of panic through the room, causing Lena to launch her prism blades at him. The blades bounced harmlessly off his armor. Gira, awkward but determined, pushed his way into the room.

"What the hell is that!?" Denver shouted, jumping up from his chair.

Gira put his hands up. His claws were coated in blood.

"Is that blood?" Denver asked, panicking as he began to pool Kyyr in his fists.

Gira bowed down, lowering his head and exposing his neck, trying to make himself appear as small and non-threatening as possible. Despite his efforts, Mika continued screaming like a maniac.

"Shut the fuck up, Mika!" Lena shouted as she cautiously inspected the bowing monster.

Gira crouched lower, desperately trying to think of a way to communicate. Can I de-transform? He asked in his mind.

Savagrios's voice echoed from the depths of his mind. "We could, but then we'd need another one of those little flask thingies… and we'd need to eat some more."

That's fine! How do I do it? Gira called out in his mind.

"There's also a 50/50 chance we'll bleed out immediately." Savagrios added nonchalantly.

Fine! I don't care; just tell me how!

"Focus on the memory of your reflection from before and let go of the Kyyr," Savagrios explained calmly. "Nice and smooth, like exhaling after holding your breath. That's all."

Gira focused on the memory of himself, trying to let go of the ravenous Kyyr coursing through him. His aura intensified, growing dangerously chaotic. Lena fell to her knees in terror as the Kyyr's mass eroded her own.

Slamming his claws into the ground, Gira roared in agony, the sound echoing across both fronts. His body convulsed, like a seizure, only held in place by his long claws. Crimson blades of blood erupted erratically from his body, like a bubbling cancer. The blades would quickly flower and then turn to fine dust, while his Coarseblood armor seemed to almost melt off.

From the crimson display, a naked Gira emerged, coughing weakly. The raging Kyyr once again eerily silent.

"Oh…cough… That sucked so much... cough," Gira muttered weakly before suddenly puking random red sludge. "Ugh—listen to me…cough." he groaned, wiping his mouth.

"By the symbols, that's the kid that was with my brother…" Lena gasped, her eyes wide as she stared at the bloody Gira.

Clearing the blood from his eyes Gira saw Lena on the ground trembling alongside an equally shaken-up Denver. Clearing his throat, he rasped faintly, "Hey Big D…and, uh, Miss Lone Wolf…cough… P-please help L-lucas," he stammered, weakly pointing at the door behind him.

"What?" Lena gasped.

"Some thing hurt him… so I blew its head open." Gira explained unnervingly calmly. "Please save him…" he added, collapsing to his hands and vomiting more red sludge.

"Where is he?!" Lena shouted, panic rising.

"Outside the door…" Gira croaked softly as blood poured out of his nose, eyes, and mouth.

"Denver, help him!" Lena exclaimed as she bolted out of the room.

The moment she saw her little brother, a pained wail escaped her. She tenderly gathered him into her arms, tears streaming down her face as she struggled to find the words under the fading lights of the dreary little blood-splattered hallway. Lena cradled her dying brother. His eyes were glazed over and his chest still.

Time became a blur as she carried him into the medical wing, her heart pounding. She screamed at the nurses, her voice breaking into incoherent sobs as they rushed to her side.

Gira lay on the ground, bleeding profusely as his body convulsed. Denver was tending to him while Mika and Molt rushed over to Lucas. Blood flowed like rushing rivers from the two boys, staining the Medical Wing in red. A wretched panic gripped the room as Lena frantically tried to contact anyone for help.

Gira, still conscious, reached for Denver's belt. His finger grazed his Kyyr booster, sparking an idea in Denver's mind. Denver was a combat medic not for his intellect or knowledge but purely because of his ability—Aesethora. It allowed him to create small pockets of perfect balance, homeostasis. Combined with Molt's metabolism acceleration, it could be the key to saving one of them.

Denver's mind raced, torn between tending to Gira or helping Lucas. Finally, he laid Gira down, trying to stabilize him. But Gira gently pushed him away, managing a feeble smile. With a weak gesture, he pointed toward his friend on the nearby table.

Denver hesitated but knew what he had to do. As he moved over to help with Lucas, he glanced back at Gira and saw a tear roll down his cheek. Whether it was from pain or brotherhood, Denver did not know.