Chapter 1: Chapter 1 Atlas

“What do you think there, boy?”

Looking more like a shaved yeti than your average human, a hairless giant of a man looked down at his growling dog. Skin blacker than night shone under the early sun making his hairlessness more apparent. Wearing only simple leathers and a small side pouch, Atlas looked the part of a hermit as he moved to calm his companion. Reaching into his pouch, he removed a small biscuit he made from dried meats and vegetables which then stole the dog’s attention.

“Sit.” Atlas ordered and he complied.

Atlas knelt and fed the dog his reward as he studied the wet blood splattered in gobbets around them.

Bane, Atlas’s animal companion was too small to be considered a medium sized dog and yet too large for a small dog. Though to the massive Atlas, he was a pocket-sized pup. Roughly thirty pounds and covered in jet black hair, Bane sat there looking and waiting for another treat. Atlas looked down at the dog’s perpetual goofy grin and overly large ears twitching here and there. He capitulated and fed him one more.

“No more.” Atlas said as he squished his ears with a head rub.

Atlas ventured outside the small compound he built up over the past few decades in order to investigate some very audible destruction he heard the night before. He survived a long time in the Wildlands by making smart decisions and rules to follow. One rule was to never go out at night unless absolutely necessary. He was able to remain isolated from society for so long by building his home in an incredibly potent magical forest that would prove to be deadly for anyone less powerful than he. Going out at night was another story all together and not due to his fear of the dark.

They found the results of the noise quite easily. Half a mile from their compound, Atlas spotted the first demolished tree. What he initially thought was a clearing, Atlas stood slack jawed staring down into ruination. Trees thick as Atlas was tall completely obliterated in an area fifteen feet wide and stretched far out of sight. Florescent green ichor Atlas recognized as common monster blood, splattered across a large area around them. Wildflowers sprouted around the blood whose only usefulness was their beauty, which Atlas could appreciate if not for the gore.

“I see it, the blood is causing the flowers to grow.” Atlas watched as more spouted at an accelerated rate. “That is a new one, isn’t it?” Atlas asked Bane.

Monster blood had many uses, but it first came down to the type of monster. While some could be used in crafting healing tonics, the same blood could be used to make poisons. Most could be valuable in any of a hundred different recipes whether it be the primary ingredient or not. He had never come across monster blood that made the land around it grow, they were mostly creatures of destruction and death and only through corrupting the blood could it be used in something like healing.

Bane suddenly stood rigid with his nose poked out sniffing the air. His hears twitched around as he tried to pinpoint… something. Atlas could see his pet’s agitation growing with his quickening breaths and the hairs along his back pricking up. Bane was a smart dog and though he was goofy back home, outside the compound he was a serious spotter.

“What is it?”

Banes sudden barking startled Atlas, but for only a moment. He stood gesturing for Bane to back up when he was able to pick up something far off. It sounded terrible, it sounded like the world ending, but it was still far.

“Bane, back up…” he said while staring through the trees.

The forest was thick with tall branchless trees that ranged as thick as foot to as wide as a small house. The magic infused land played bedlam with the tree growth, as their girth varied, their heights were nearly identical. Despite the lack of branches, Atlas was unable to see very far into undestroyed part of the forest as that was where the source of the sound came from.

Bane was now wildly barking while hopping back and forth but never made any movement forward. Every few seconds, he would make eye contact with Atlas, as if waiting for permission to defend his master. Bane would never survive any encounter with a monster but that wouldn’t stop his little beast from trying; the honor of a dog was simple yet powerful.

The crashing grew louder as it drew closer.

“Quiet, back.” Atlas ordered leaving no question.

His barking halted at the order, and he moved to take his spot, leaning against Atlas’s right leg. He stood their docile but alert, still sniffing the hair.

He lowered his right hand towards the ground fingering a somatic incantation. Anyone with magical senses would be able to sense the power emanating as to Atlas, ethereal green energy shot from his palm stretching out to hundreds of precise locations around him. Like a python constricting its prey, the magical energy snatched pebbles, larger rocks and dirt which were then drawn from the ground and into his waiting palm. The debris piled onto itself looking like some miniature reverse landslide and after only a few moments, an earthly sword formed. As a sword master, the blade he created can only be referred to as the longsword among longswords.

The handle and pummel were formed by smaller bits of rock wrapped with a thick layer sand and dirt making for a firm, comfortable and more importantly, stable grip. The rest of the six-foot blade was edged with hundreds if not thousands with tiny bits of shale and obsidian. The blade magical properties made it unnaturally sharp as well as nearly weightless.

Butterflies danced in Atlas stomach; the devastation sounded so close and yet he still couldn’t see anything. Whatever was moving his way must be massive, and with another quick incantation, similar streams of green light flicked from around his body and into the ground. Large plated rocks were ripped from the earth and smacked around Atlas’s body creating thick layer of reinforced armor.

“Go!” he ordered Bane.

He and Bane began moving back as quickly as they could, but never turning from the danger drawing nearer. Atlas started hearing the pinging of debris dinging off his armor and snapping into the trees around him. He was protected, but Bane was not. So, he did the only thing he knew that would send the dog away.

“Bane, go home, get yourself a treat.”

Atlas smiled inwardly as the love and willingness to protect his master only went as far as him getting a treat. Bane’s ears perked up and sprinted off into the woods towards home. He was out of sight in only a moment, and that moments distraction cost Atlas.

What felt like a boulder came slamming into Atlas’s back. With crushing force, he was sent flying into the trees and blew through five of them before colliding with another halting his momentum. Atlas felt something wrong with his back when smacking into the tree at a bad angle. Panting, Atlas tried to stand up, but fell back to his knees and that was when he could see his quarry.

In front of Atlas was a trail of destruction and shattered tree trunks nearly twenty feet wide and went as far as the eye could see. Standing in the middle of it was a man, but Atlas recognized this creature, and it was no real man it was a Zetgast.

Standing near six feet, the creature stood stock still in front of him. He had long unkempt black hair and wore a tattered leather robe that could not have been comfortable. Where a man would have eyes, a Zetgast had nothing but bare skin. Where there was exposed skin, small crystal spikes protruded as white as snow.

“A Zetgast? Where is your master?”

A Zetgast was a summoned monster from another realm. They looked like many humanoid races but were entirely made up of dark magic; they had no hearts, no lungs and no minds of their own, only taking orders from the summoner. Only powerful sorcerers could summon such a monster and those sorcerers were usually owned by the most powerful of city states. What was one doing all the way out here?

“Earth user…” the Zetgast spoke.

Its mouth never moved but the voice of a Zetgast echoed through what remained of the forest around them. The voice of these creatures is not singular, it was deep, demonic, and resonated as if hundreds of voices were speaking at once. The animals that remained from the initial onslaught holding strong in their homes, finally scurried out and away after hearing the fiend.

“You are what I have been tracking…”

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“You are tracking me? What for?” Atlas asked.

The Zetgast’s tilted its head looking down at Atlas. He had the feeling the monster was questioning Atlas’s existence.

“You do not speak to me.”

Atlas snorted, but with his back injured, he needed to keep it speaking. As the creature was distracted, Atlas had been using the connection he had with the earth below to aid his recovery. He would need a few minutes to fully recover, but he knew he was not going to get that long.

Atlas could have stood back on his feet by now, but he thought that if he remained to appear weak, the Zetgast wouldn’t attack… yet. Hiding the magic soaking into his back, he was able to feel his vertebrae snapping back into place, the muscles reknitting themselves and bruising going away. In order to heal further, Atlas acted as if he were worse off; he spoke through clenched teeth, heavy breaths and grunts.

“Why are you tracking me?” Atlas asked again.

It tilted his head again and remained silent. The Zetgast sent chills through Atlas’s spine with that eyeless gaze, but Atlas was not going to complain with the lack of response.

“You dare to speak?” The voiced echoed.

“I do. Who sent you?” Atlas grunted.

Again, it paused not answering right away.

“You will pay for your insolence.” It replied.

“I am just a lone hermit, why do you come for me? Answer me!”

It was quiet and Atlas grinned. Though his grin was hidden behind the helmet, the Zetgast grew suspicious, and Atlas felt as if it could see through the armor even with no eyes.

The creature’s pale crystals began to glow a brillant radiant yellow. Suddenly, Atlas was unable to focus on the creature as it seemed to blur. It then disappeared and Atlas’s senses were able to pick up the magical pulse to his side before the popping noise that was common with the displaced air; a teleport. That was all the healing Atlas would get, but that was all he needed. The creature appeared ten feet to Atlas’s right with a flood of energy invisible to anyone unattuned to the magical forces. There was the loud POP! And Atlas’s hearing went out.

Though Atlas has spent many years as a hermit in these woods, the decades of training and war had honed his muscles as much if not more than his mind. He reacted before he could process what was happening; ready for an attack. He was like a bent twig, ready to snap at an instant and with his training flooding back, he acted.

Atlas launched into a dive then to a roll that took him back to his feet. Just as Atlas had been hiding the healing behind his back, the Zetgast had hidden hundreds dagger sized splinters hovering behind him. As it teleported besides Atlas, the shrapnel had remained behind and in a fraction of a second, shot towards Atlas faster than an eye could see. Atlas could hear pinging noises as the splinters careened off the back of his armor; they were trees to his avalanche and had no effect on him armor or himself.

Atlas knew how long his blade was, even though he had intended it for a much larger monster, he was able to make it work. He body had calculated the angle just right, for when he came to his feet, he was already swinging the blade. Atlas was not looking back at the creature yet, but he felt the wet slap that was his blade cutting through the magical body of a monster.

Atlas grinned and turned slowly. The Zetgast was still standing there facing him with its eyeless gaze. Its head then slipped along the throat and plopped on the grass below squirting with green blood. Atlas dropped his blade, when fell apart in dispersing energy and stone, Atlas allowed himself to take a deep breath.

As soon as the blade was gone and couldn’t be resummoned as quickly, the headless Zetgast, in which he thought was dead, flew at Atlas in a blink. It was a foot off the ground and its body remained upright, not hindered by drag despite the incredible speed in which it moved. Its right hand clamped around Atlas’s throat which was thankfully protected by the armor. Its palms had grown the white crystals which were pressed by his jugular, only protected by a thin layer of magically enforced stone. It lifted Atlas and they hovered a few feet from the ground. Atlas could hear the stone begin to crack under its incredible grip strength.

Even though he could still breath just fine, he found himself reflexively grunting and clawing at the arm as if he couldn’t. Atlas forcibly calmed himself and began to resummon his blade. The headless Zetgast somehow saw his hands whipping in a wordless incantation and with its other hand grabbed his fist. Atlas was much larger than the creature, but he was not stronger by any means. This was made apparent with its hand only half the size of Atlas’s, holding his in an uncomfortable fist with overwhelming strength. It squeezed and squeezed, and Atlas knew that if his hearing had returned by now, he would have heard the snapping and popping from the stone gauntlet and then the bones grinding and shattering in his hand.

Atlas roared out in pain as he felt the crushed stone stabbing into his mangled hand. The stone protecting his neck then gave way and it began to choak Atlas. A Zetgast’s fed from pain and misery, but mostly fear. It had retracted the crystals in its palms as to not cut Atlas’s throat open and bleed out. It loosened its grip just enough so that his throat wasn’t crushed outright, but Atlas thought he could feel the sides of his esophagus grinding against itself.

Atlas could not hear it, but he could see a heavy thudding as the trees shook in an inatural rhythm.

“Now what?” Atlas thought to himself as his vision grew darker and darker.

Atlas was unable to think straight. He thought he could hear her singing; he could hear her voice clear as day even through his deafened ears and even through the decades since her death. The memories never faded, but hadn’t they? Atlas drew into seclusion but deep down he just wanted to die. More than once he wished to put himself down, but he knew she would never forgive him for that. The last time that had crossed his mind was the morning before he found Bane.

Atlas’s eyes refocused on the Zetgast. Bane… that was his boy, and he would never survive out here without Atlas. So many times, Atlas would take him for granted but he never really thought about just how much that little dog had saved him. He could not let him down not now and not ever.

Atlas attempted a growl, but it was being blocked by the creature. He dropped his left hand from supporting himself on the Zetgast’s arm and quickly summoned his blade, but only a short dagger. The creature had dropped Atlas’s mangled hand and tried to reach for his other one but the awkward angle left it flailing in the air.

Green tendrils of earth magic whipped down and grasped the needed materials to form the blade. As it was, the dagger form was quicker to construct; only a second or two, while a larger sword could take up to five seconds. The blade required the allotted time to be summoned as the reinforcement magic wouldn’t be complete until the very end of the incantation.

The trees shook harder and despite the shot of adrenaline keeping him inline rather than passing out, he was beginning to slump and move slower, growing more lethargic. Atlas was still cognizant though and, in a moment, he made a choice. The obvious choice was to cut the hand at his throat. Atlas could barely see, but the Zetgast’s other arm was stretching for the blade making an easy target, while he one at his throat would still remain unmoving. With that in mind Atlas’s hand flashed. He was slow and was barely able to dodge the hand from grasping his blade hand, but he was able to hold it back by pinning his bad arm into its armpit.

A wonderful time for his hearing to return, Atlas heard his arm snap, and through a hazy mind Atlas was annoyed. It was costly, but it worked as his dagger slipped under the hand and up, severing the arm halfway between the shoulder and elbow.

The Zetgast’s body language made as if it were looking at his missing arm even though it was missing its head. Atlas did not pause and quickly cut the arm choking him. Unlike the other arm, this one did not fall limp, rather it continued to strangle him with near the same strength while still hovering. Atlas quickly flicked the blade at his own throat perfectly severing the fingers without nicking himself.

Once the severed hand lost its fingers, he fell on legs unable to support him. Feeling something snapping in his knee he fell to the ground. He had gone to breathe but erupted in a fit of coughing, only making his eyes growing even dimmer. He fell on his back and took a blessed breath, then coughed some more. Blood covered his hands; that wasn’t good, but he was alive.

Atlas attempted to lean up, but his head began to spin. He could see the Zetgast’s body still floating there a foot above the ground. Atlas attempted to move, but only fell back; he was spent. A few things happened at that moment. First, the Zetgast made a move towards Atlas, and he clenched his body preparing for the inevitable. Second, an enormous golden foot made of gears and plating came from somewhere above and crushed the monster under foot. And third, Atlas fell unconscious.

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