The New World is fraught with danger and filled with monsters both thinking and feral. It is a land where humans struggle to survive and coexist with forces far greater than themselves. Hence why the massive monsters that call this place home have taken it upon themselves to guard and guide them. To teach and train them and see to it these frail and imperfect beings have all that they need to survive if not one day thrive in these inhospitable lands.

...Which are only growing more so. The New World is changing and so must the men and monsters that inhabit it.

Thumbnail comes courtesy of  blackfoxguts!

FIRST, PREVIOUS, -

---

“Is she gone?” asked a blob of darkness shifting in and out among the shadows.

“For now,” mumbled Brook as she uneasily swished her hand before her at the rustling brush and thrush.

Meandering aimlessly about the undergrowth of the Ancient Forest, the thick canopies above choking out the still waking sun, Jet looked about for his well hidden girlfriend. “Who even is 'she'?” asked the Hunter.

“...Our boss,” Taras and Nell groaned in unison.

Brows furrowed and squinting in disbelief Jet and Brook exchanged incomprehensible expressions. “You have one of those?” asked the Huntress.

Taras' blood red eyes, cutting through the haze, peered down at the humans from on high. “Yesssss. She'sss known as the Trainer of Trainersss!” The Tobi-Kadachi's spark illuminated form slowly clambered down from the tree tops. As he coiled down the trunk of a tree his clawed fingers and toes dug into and tore apart bark in sheets while he skittered down in electric spurts.

“Or Lady Nyx for short,” groused Nell as she phased free from the shadows. Sneaking up behind the knee high humans she smirked when they startled away from her. “She was the very first Trainer. The one who got this whole system started.”

“And presssidesss over it to thisss day!” Taras clarified as he knocked free the chucks of wood stuck to his hands and paws with a twiddle of his fingers and toes.

Jet expectantly looked to Brook. Rubbing at the back of her head, hand playing with her ponytail, the Huntress cocked her head to the side. “...How come we never heard about this?” she asked.

“The Commander seemed to know her,” Jet mused aloud. “And... was going behind her back as much as we were his.”

Tongue blepped, Taras ehehed as he tapped his clawed fingers together. “Well. You sssee...”

“So are we,” Nell confessed with a mumble grumble.

“Ah,” Jet and Brook replied.

The Huntress hummed as her eyes wandered over the Nargacuga and her attire. “Wouldn't she have noticed by now with what you've been uhh... wearing?”

“Pshhhhh,” raspberried Nell. “Not likely. We're not exactly the first to flout the rules.” Hand held out before her, she started counting off on her fingers. “Orissa, Yunifi... I can already think of a few Trainers off the top of my head walking around wearing scraps.”

“Really?” Jet huhed.

“Really!” beamed the Tobi-Kadachi. “We're not the only onesss who like humansss you know!”

“We're just the most... enthusiastic about it,” Nell chirped with a blush.

Shuffling his paws over one another, and wringing his hands, Taras weakly laughed. “Per the Trainer of Trainersss our relationssshipsss with our Huntersss are sssupposssed to remain professssssional.”

“We're not supposed to accept your food, your clothing, your gifts...” the Nargacuga rattled off.

Lips pulled flat, Jet and Brook hrmmmed. “Sure didn't sound like Lady Nyx was practicing what she preached,” groused the Hunter.

“More like the Commander refused to indulge her,” the Huntress pbbbted back. “I bet that cranky old thing is just jealous and can't stand the thought of anyone else having what she can't.”

“That sssaid,” Taras ahemed as he steepled his fingers. “You didn't tell her anything... did you?”

“No, Taras. We didn't rat you out,” Jet snorted. “Neither did the Commander.”

Both monsters slouched forward in relief as they heaved long held breaths. Nell nevertheless grit her teeth and worriedly clacked her beak. “Still can't help but worry she'll want to make an example out of us if she ever finds out...”

Leaning into her leg, Jet lovingly brushed at the Nargacuga's calves. “Who cares what she thinks though? We're the ones who live in Astera! And we say you're welcome any time.”

“Jet...” sniffled the bat cat.

A happy, if not soothing, growl rumbled within Taras' throat when Brook, not to be outdone by Jet's affections, piled on with her own. “Even ssso! We can't let her know! After all... we can't keep being Trainersss without Lady Nyx'sss sssay ssso.”

The thought alone was enough to make Jet's stomach knot. He couldn't, he wouldn't, entertain the thought of accepting the his Master Rank from anyone else. Nell would always be his Trainer. Always.

“Why wasss ssshe even here though?” Taras worriedly hissed. “Lady Nyxxx never ssstraysss from the Ancient Foressst!”

Nell tapped her paw as she pensively growled. “You don't think it has anything to do with the Silk Seer? Do you?”

“Maybe,” whined the Tobi-Kadachi. “If whatever he hasss to sssay isss important enough to gather up all of usss Trainersss...”

“Then it's important enough for Nyx to pass it along to the Commander,” Brook hummed.

Mooshing the side of his face against Nell's leg, rubbing his cheek against her tree trunk shaming limb, Jet's shoulders sagged. “Just. Be careful. Alright?” he worriedly asked of her.

“...I promise,” purred the Nargacuga. Turning to Taras, Nell puffed out a cheek. “Weeeeeee should probably keep a low profile. Until the summons at least.”

“Us too,” Brook mumbled through clenched teeth as she warily gestured to Jet. “Let's not give Nyx any more leads than she needs.”

“Agreed,” gulped the Hunter. As soon as he wrapped up the last of his training with Alma he'd make himself scarce. Looking over the size-mismatched crew... Jet couldn't help but smile. With the way they were coordinating amongst themselves it almost felt like they were a proper hunting party. “Until then!” he said with a wave as the humans and monsters alike dispersed.

FWUMP

Until they didn't.

“...We. I mean we do have a couple hours to kill until Lady Nyx's summons,” Nell mumbled as she all but pounced on Jet's heels.

“Annnd we can't exsssactly ssslum around Assstera,” pouted Taras.

Bouncing up into the air to the tune of their arrhythmic footfalls Jet incredulously arched his brows. “I. I mean. I guessssss Alma won't mind?” Jet uneasily committed. “Will you?

---

“Trainer turned Hunter...” Alma smirked to herself. “I dare say it suits you, Taras! I must confess you wear it well,” the Anjanath playfully rumbled.

“Don't I?” eeheed the Tobi-Kadachi. Clad in his sleeveless vest the lithe snake squirrel eagerly strut his stuff across the stamped flat and ash caked clearing.

Scaly brows arched, Alma hummed. “A gift from Ser Jet, I take it?”

“And Brook!” Taras proudly clarified.

“And Ser Brook,” she chuckled.

Unable to resist flaunting his wares to any and all who would pay him the time of day, Taras eagerly inserted himself into what was supposed to have been Alma's final training session. Shamelessly did the snake squirrel schmooze and parade himself about even-

“Ahem,” Nell pronouncedly chirped from the edge of the clearing.

Even as prior, and pressing at that, commitments started to come calling.

“Careful you do not become the envy of all the Trainers!” Alma teased. The Tobi-Kadachi, one of the few Wyverns within the Ancient Forest to openly associate with her, had always struck her as a lonely sort. Desperate for anyone to recognize or pay him mind he had, foolishly in her opinion, forced his company upon her. Even in spite of her stature and strength, in spite of the burden she placed upon the very Ancient Forest itself, in spite of how all anything anyone remembered her for were her failures, however few, to let Ferals slip through... he still kept at it.

Yet to see that lonely little Tobi-Kadachi, surrounded by friends who loved him so, and replete with the selfsame time and treasures that Ser Jet had gifted her...

A jaw straining smile spread wide across the Anjanath's maw.

Taras bashfully ehehed as he errantly sparked. Drawing his blunted weapon with pride, beads of static congealing atop its glowing iron tips, the Wyvern excitedly tilted his head back to gaze up at Alma. “I could sssay the sssame for you!”

With a roll of her amber eyes, Alma pat at her newly acquired accessory. Chains of iron, wrapped and knotted form fittingly around her waist, sported matching anchors at each end. Notched into the flutes of each hung her Sword and Shield respectively. “I'll confess. Human... fashion has grown on me.”

“Mmhmm!” Taras excitedly nodded as his tail puffed out behind him. “You look great!”

Flopped back against a tree, legs kicked out before him, Jet let his eyes rest as his titanic Trainees gushed amongst themselves.

“Ser Jet comes highly recommended I must say!” Alma rumbled with an understated blush. “I'll confess that I'm... conflicted if not morose to know my time with him has come to an end.”

Cheeks puffed out, and tamping a scaly paw against the clearing, Nell angrily swished her tail. Even if she could tolerate her human, her Jet, associating with the Slayer... she bristled at the thought of that brutish behemoth sweet talking him. “Taras.”

“Awh Alma...” Taras blepped. “Truth be told... that'sss how I felt when Brook earned her Rookie Rank from me. I wasss ssso ssscared that would be the lassst we sssaw each other.”

The Anjanth's expression softened as her amber eyes drifted towards Ser Jet's minute form lost within the shade. “But... that's not what happened. Is it?”

“Taras,” Nell repeated once more. Their training was done. There was no need to drag this out any longer than it needed to be.

“Nope!” the Tobi-Kadachi happily hissed. “And I'm sssure it'll be the sssame for you!”

Jet wordlessly lifted his helmeted head and turned to Alma.

“I...” Chest puffed out, the Anjanath uneasily held tight to an unfamiliar optimism welling within her breast. “I suppose we'll see.”

“TARAS!”

The Tobi-Kadachi crackled to attention with a panicked blep. “Until nexxxt time, Alma!” hissed the snake squirrel. “We're off to sssee the Sssilk Ssseer! The Trainer of Trainers hasss sssummoned usss all for an audienssse with him!”

“Oh?” Alma asked with a quizzical cock of her ridged brow. “Whatever for?”

Taras emphatically shrugged as Nell all but stomped over to him and began to drag him off. “We'll find out! Bessst of luck with your training, Alma!”

“And with yours as well!” the Anjanath roared with a smile and a wave before he and Nell both scurried off. Breathing easily, and lazily turning her gaze towards Jet, her eyes weighed heavily upon him as they both lounged at their leisure and quietly savored one another's company. “...Shall we then, Ser Jet? One last bout of training together?”

“I suppose I could be persuaded,” Jet smirked as he rose to his feet. Brandishing his hand-me-down Sword and Shield, pocked with rust and chipping away, he looked to the Anjanath and flicked at his helmet's visor. “Ready, Alma?”

Standing to attention, twirling her Sword about her wrist with a flourish as she ripped her Shield free from its moorings, plumes of embers billowed forth from Alma's nostrils as she straightened her shoulders. “Ready, Ser Jet.”

---

“And that's... everything! Everything I know anyway,” Jet panted as he sheathed his weapons. Glistening with sweat, Alma mimicked his gestures and breathed a sigh of relief.

With a clap of his hands the Hunter proudly gestured to the Anjanath whose ankles he failed to even clear. “With that I can confidently claim your training's complete, Alma!” Bags formed under his eyes as quietly thanked the Sapphire Star he didn't have to challenge her to a spar to prove as such.

Alma bowed her head in thanks. Dipping to her knees, courteously trying to narrow the impossible gap in size lest he strain his neck any more than needed, the Anjanath planted her hands upon the parched earth. Fissures radiating out from between the Slayer's fingers, the land itself compacted and cracked apart beneath her, Alma prostrated herself before him. “Forevermore you have mine thanks, Ser Jet.”

“N-n-none of that now,” Jet meeped while he recoiled from the show of subservience. “All I've taught you is barest of bare bones!” As flattering as it was that she thought of him as some preeminent expert in his field... he couldn't even claim to be as such with his tried and true Hammer. He awkwardly bid her rise while he gathered himself. “If anything... from here on out it's up to you to figure and find out your own style. Your own techniques! That's...” Jet winced as he felt pangs of discomfort from lecturing a warrior of her caliber much less her size. “That's what being a Hunter is all about. Adapting and improvising and putting your tools to work in ways only you could have thought of! Your Sword and Shield are an extension of you. As is anything and everything else you can get your hands on. Use them how YOU see fit. Not how I would.”

“Wise words indeed, Ser Jet. I would expect nothing less of my mentor,” she reverently rumbled.

“Alma-”

“I jest, Ser Jet. I jest,” she laughed as her expression softened. Amber eyes pressing against the sides of their sockets, Alma reluctantly pushed herself back up to a kneel. Hands clasped together she idly thumbed at her knuckles. “Though I... I suppose this where we part ways.”

“It... it doesn't have to be," Jet offered. "But even if it is... I can think of a better way than this to say our goodbyes.” Ambling off into the brush that encircled their training grounds the Hunter rummaged together some supplies tucked against the gnarled roots of a tree. Fetching out some supports, and a dragging out a Mosswine covered in salt enough to suffuse the very ocean, Jet set up a spit-roast and an open flame. Scraping away the protective layer of preservatives, and sprinkling on honey and herbs in their place, Jet set to work on a celebratory meal for the sizable Slayer.

Hunched forward, forearms resting on her thighs, Alma gently wafted the aromatic air rising towards her. Sword buried into the earth beside her, and Shield propped up alongside it, the Anjanath eagerly hung on Jet's every word.

“It's nothing to get excited over! Honest!” Jet pshed. Kicking over a log to serve as a stool, the Hunter planted himself upon it as he turned the stuck pig about on its spit. Now and again he reached above the flames to sprinkle pepper, paprika, and a handful of rub upon its crackling skin. “This will barely be a mouthful to you!”

“I must insist otherwise...” the Anjanath happily demurred as she continued to excitedly sniff and snuff at the air. Delighted growls rattled within her throat every time unfamiliar smells prickled at her nostrils. How they tumbled down along the back of her throat, and kissed at the back of her tongue, was nothing short of magical. At length she began to pester him of what spices were, where they hailed from, how they were harvested, and what purpose they served. Ravenously did she drink in anything and everything he had to share about human culture and its fabled cuisine.

“Hopefully this is worth the wait,” Jet tiredly trailed off after talking himself hoarse. Knowing full well that he couldn't invite her to the Canteen, Astera all but assured to rattle apart by virtue of her footfalls, he instead opted to bring the Canteen to her as a celebration of sorts.

DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

The Hunter yelped, and bounced in place, when a boulder sized bead of saliva crashed down behind him. In its wake a craterous, and sopping wet, indent bowed in the very earth.

“M-M-Mine apologies, Ser Jet!” Alma gasped with a shameful slurp. Eyes gone wide she fearfully peered down towards the tiny campsite tucked between her thighs.

Cheeks straining, Jet couldn't help but grin from ear to ear as he laughed. “You're worse than Nell,” he snickered to himself.

Blood rushing to her face, and mortified beyond belief, the Anjanath tucked her chin against her shoulder and turned away. Her bassy and booming growls, and the shameful roaring of her stomach, shook apart the surrounding trees as she felt herself on the verge of spontaneously combusting out of embarrassment. Even while smoke trailed from between her clamped shut lips, and her heart pounded in her ears, Alma's gaze timidly swung back to Ser Jet after his attention turned elsewhere.

Even now she struggled to put into words just what it was she cherished about his company so. His presence alone always sent her spirits soaring. The mere thought of him was enough to put a smile on her face. The dour thoughts and grim tidings that hung heavily upon her shoulders always retreated upon his arrival and, as of late, they took longer and longer to roll back in as these training sessions became standardized. No wonder Taras spoke of him, and Ser Brook, with such unabashed affection. That he was able to experience as such every day was...

Well. She wouldn't deny she felt a twinge of jealousy. Unbecoming as it was for a Slayer of her standing.

HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Alma's amber eyes excitedly latched on to the sight of sweetly scented plumes of smoke rising from the now ashen campfire. The gray and wispy tendrils of the fading flames caressed at the Mosswine's spice soaked frame.

“Bon appetit!” Jet beamed as he motioned to Alma to dig in.

Reaching towards the sputtering embers, her calloused and thick scaled fingers utterly indifferent to the smoldering heat, she rolled the Mosswine and the wooden spit it rested upon into her palm. No thicker, and no taller, than her fingers it would barely last all of a single chew. Yet, all the same, she ecstatically regarded her latest and most gracious gift from Ser Jet with rapt awe.

AHHHHHHHHHHH

Jaw parted, the Anjanath allowed her broad tongue to slide past the jagged gates of teeth lining her gums. The enormous mass of muscle, rough and purple in color, threatened to instantly compact the Mosswine into a molten slurry upon impact. As Alma lifted her hand, streams of boiled blood and stray juices coursing through the wrinkles that lined her palm, she gingerly cupped the miniscule meal to her lips. Deeply did she drink, did she uncouthly slurp, of the smokey scented entrails and crispy chucks of skin that melted away atop her tastebuds.

Eyes half-lidded, and nearly gasping, Alma curled her toes in unbridled delight. The flesh was so supple it pulled apart along her tongue. Its scent so heavy, so delicious, she sucked her teeth nigh pearly white just to savor what memory remained of it. Day in and day out she scraped the Ancient Forest clean just to sustain herself but this... this...

This was ambrosia. This was heavenly. This was torment.

“Ser Jet! I...” Something approximating an embarrassed and snaggletoothed smile creased her lips. “I... know you have insisted you have nothing more to teach me, to share with me, but I doth protest otherwise!”

“That good, huh?” he teased.

“...Surely you agree that it is uncouth, cruel even, to afford me but a single morsel of what you Hunters call a meal before we part ways,” she sheepishly laughed. “If I am to be humanity's Protector it would behoove me to better understand them. Their values. Their beliefs. Their-”

“Their diets?” Jet snorted.

“That too,” she shamelessly smiled. Humming happily to herself, tail whapping behind her with tectonic force, the ever present anxiety that hung over her began to melt away.

“So this... isn't goodbye then?” asked the Hunter.

“I...” Alma forced down a nervous swallow. Most of her anxiety anyway. Even though Ser Jet insisted his gifts were freely given she couldn't help but feel they were not deserved. “I hope it isn't,” she whispered. “Forgive me, Ser Jet, but even having said that it feels so...” Jagged teeth peeking out from her lips, Alma awkwardly gestured with her scarred hands.

“Hmm?”

The Anjanath wilted before the human that struggled to stretch past her toes. “You have done so much and more for me, Ser Jet. Your treasures. Your time. Your company. Your cuisine!”

Jet limply shrugged. “Yeah? And?”

“And...” Alma's shoulders sagged, and her gaze softened, as her words flowed freely and without thinking. “I-I-I must insist! Please, Ser Jet, allow me to repay your boundless charity!”

Shuffling dirt onto the open campfire, and stamping it silent for good measure, Jet turned to face her. Head tilted back as far as he was able he still struggled to peer past Alma's breasts and meet her gaze. “Alma. You know I didn't do go through with this to rack up debts or favors. Right?”

A playful grunt, soul shaking in intensity, escaped the wumbo Wyvern's pursed lips. She relished how the Hunter allowed, if not encouraged, her to be so open and vulnerable. Just what was it about humans, so fragile and weak, that drew her in and gave her the courage to act the same? When was the last time she had engaged in banter and bickering with such harmless stakes? “Even so. If not as a debt to be repaid then...” Alma allowed a toothy smile to crease her lips. “Won't you, at the very least, allow me to show my thanks?”

Raspberrying, Jet crossed his arms about his chest and arched his brows. “Well I can't very well say no to that can I?”

Booming and bassy laughter tumbled free from the Anjanath's chest as a smile, menacing albeit bereft of malice, spread wide across her scarred and scaly maw. “You'll find I'm quite the capable combatant. Comfortable wielding weapons and words alike!” she boasted.

The Hunter couldn't help but snort seeing the otherwise imposing Anjanath indulge in shameless bouts of whimsy. She was as bad as Taras too! “I am... defeated!” Jet dramatically aughed as he twirled about in place and fell back onto a log as he feigned the vapors. “What hope did I ever have against a warrior of your caliber?”

Hand cupped to her maw, Alma stifled a very visible blush. “Come now, Ser Jet! S-s-such effusive praise ill suits you!”

Jet playfully rolled his eyes as he cackled to himself. “Alright, alright. What did you have in mind then?”

THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

Palms cupped together, Alma lowered her hands to the earth. “Well... never have I forgotten the awe with which you regarded my window into the world. It is not much, I confess, but I would ask you walk with me. To see the whole of the Ancient Forest and, mayhaps, the realms beyond that eagerly await you come the completion of your own training.”

Jet's jaw went slack. To gaze upon the Wildspire Wastes, much less the Coral Highlands, from afar? He'd heard, he'd read about them at length, but to see even a glimmer of them with his own lying eyes? To safely observe them from afar so that, when the time came, he would be as prepared as could be when he ventured forth? Given the dangers they posed s-s-surely the wiser choice was to accept Alma's gracious offer!

“We... we won't actually go into there though. Right?” Jet asked. Trembling, he climbed onto fingers that effortlessly rivaled if not dwarfed him in size.

Alma emphatically shook her head. “You are no Master Rank Hunter yet, Ser Jet! Nor would I wish to imperil you. But...” Digits curled around him, she brought the Hunter close to her breast. Her frightening visage regarded him with warmth and undeniable affection. “Surely there's no harm to be had in acclimating you to what inevitably awaits from afar. No?”

Cupped against the wreath of feathers wrapped around her shoulders, Jet settled in among the crook of her neck and held tight. “You won't see me complaining,” he rationalized along with her.

Earth rending creaks and groans sounded out from Alma's imposing frame as she rose to her feet. As she shuffled forward balled up roots and sheets of dirt exploded up from between her toes. The sharp crack of limbs snapping apart against her thighs rang out like Heavy Bowgun shots with her every seismic step.

THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

In silence Jet reverently drank in the sea of treetops. Streaks of sunlight danced along the canopy like white caps rolling with the wind.

“...Ser Jet?”

“Hmm?”

Alma's jaw repeatedly opened and closed as she chewed on her words. “Forgive my intrusion but... with the completion of my training...”

Holding tight to her neck, Jet squeezed at her feathers to assure her he was an active and present listener.

Alma happily hummed. “What will you do now?”

“Well...” Head dipped low, the Hunter idly knocked his feet against her shoulder blades. “Taras is next on the to-dos. He's been waiting for a while now.”

“Oh? Taras too seeks your esteemed tutelage?”

“Stop that,” Jet grimaced.

Hand cupped to her maw, Alma couldn't help but giggle as her amber eyes settled upon him.

“Then once he's taken care of...” the Hunter repeatedly clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “All that's left is... is...”

Alma thoughtfully growled while she awaited his answer.

Jet uneasily gestured to the Ancient Forest's canopy stretching out as far as the eye could see. “You. You know.” He bitterly sighed as he nestled against her neck. “All that's left is my training. Nell's training. It's just... I was so focused for so long on nothing but that it was all I defined myself by. Measured myself by. If I couldn't cut it as a Master Rank Hunter then what good was I?”

The Anjanath's gait slowed as Jet's word rang truer than he would ever know.

“But... all these distractions. All these detours. Or at least that's what I used to think of them,” the human tiredly acknowledged. “They kept me busy. They kept my mind too preoccupied to think about what a failure of a Hunter I was.”

Even as a pause hung heavily in the air Alma kept her thoughts to herself. She but quietly continued to digest them alongside Ser Jet as he spoke them aloud.

“And...” Jet clenched at a fistful of feathers. It would feel sacrosanct to voice as such to Nell, Taras, or Brook. But Alma, being removed as she was from the day to day of trivialities of Trainers and Hunters, it felt like he could speak to her without judgment or reservation. “I guess. Now that I've finally stepped back from it? And looked at the bigger picture? I haven't felt much of a rush to chase back after it. Don't get me wrong, I still want my Master Rank! Just...”

“Just what?” Alma quizzically inquired.

Jet dragged on a weary and soul shuddering sigh. “It isn't everything I made it out to be. There's a part of me that's ashamed that I haven't cinched it yet. Even knowing there's so many things I would have had to sacrifice to claim it.”

The Anjanath's eyelids hung heavy as she forced down a nervous swallow. “You feel your time was wasted?”

“...Anything but,” the Hunter assured her. “But even with how bad it makes me feel, even if I had the chance to do it all over again... I don't think I'd have done anything differently. I still have so much to show Nell. So much to teach Taras. And...”

Hand cupped against the top of his visor, the Hunter gasped at the mountainous crags creeping over the curvature of the horizon. Flickering in and out of focus he at first brushed them off as mere mirages. Yet they persisted. Subtly did they grow in size, and clarity, as Alma continued to wander.

The Anjanath flashed a subtle smile at Ser Jet's stunned silence.

A soupy sea of clouds swirled between the pointed cliffs jutting from the land like teeth. Here and there, cutting through the atmospheric haze, Jet spied brilliant flashes of blue and pink. No doubt the fabled and namesake corals that blanketed the Highlands.

“And?” Alma gently rumbled as she nudged him back to attention.

Jet turned away from the Slayer's snoot with a blush. “And even when I do earn my Master Rank... I won't be in a rush to leave this place behind.” With a subdued smirk he rubbed at his armor plated shoulders. “I thought that was what I wanted, more than anything, for so long. But... but that won't be what makes it worthwhile. You all will be.”

“Ser Jet,” the Anjanath softly rumbled.

“If I have to leave behind so many of my friends to chase what I thought was my dream then... then maybe I should find a new one.” Jet shyly followed up. “One I can share with you all.”

Back and forth Alma's jaw flapped as an unfamiliar knot caught in her throat. “Ser Jet?” she asked barely above a whisper.

“Hum?”

“Do you...” Lips pulled flat, her amber eyes uneasily bounced around in their sockets. “Do you truly think of me as your friend? Am I not just the Slayer to you? Or P-p-protector even?”

The Hunter casually shrugged. “You can be both can't you? Protector and friend?”

Plumes of smoke trailed out of Alma's nostrils as she sheepishly rubbed a hand along her forearm. “You would still seek out my company? Even upon the conclusion of our cooperation?”

“Should I not? I get that you're busy but-”

“N-n-no! I mean. Yes!” Hand cupped to the side of her head she turned away in shame from diminutive human. “Forgive me, Ser Jet. I am ill accustomed to those seeking me out not for my capabilities and capacity for violence but for my... wanting company.”

“Well... maybe I should answer your question with a question,” the Hunter hehed. “Do you think of me as your friend?”

“...Of course I do,” she bashfully rumbled.

“Are you sure? Am I not just some Hunter to you? Not just some human selfishly passing along our tools and trades so you can keep us all the safer?”

Alma playfully snorted. “You can be both. You can be some Hunter...” Tucking her head close to her shoulder she, with great trepidation, booped Jet. “And my dear friend.” A wondrous warmth filled her chest at the utterance.

“Well there's your answer,” Jet laughed as he nudged her back.

Banking to her side, the jagged peaks sliding back beneath the grassy green horizon, Alma slowly advanced towards the shimmering sands that lie beyond the Ancient Forest. A dopey smile spread wide across her face as her feather and spine covered tail happily swished behind her.

Once more she relished Ser Jet's gobsmacked silence as he gazed upon the painted dunes rippling beneath the sky. Layers of sand and silt came together like brush strokes to weave muted but brilliant mosaics across the barren expanse.

“Youuu... said Taras sought out your tutelage,” Alma ahemed when she dared to break the admittedly pleasant pause. “No?”

Jet nod nodded as he continued to take in the scenery.

“Would you... would you be opposed to...” she trailed off into indistinct mumbles.

“Huh?"

Flames rolling along her tongue, Alma forced out an anxious exhale. “Would you be opposed to mine attendance?” she spat out. “Taras was allowed to observe mine own endeavors and I would... very much like to bear witness to his too.”

Snrk. She really was, in her own awkward and endearing way, just as bad as the rest. “We'd love to have you, Alma,” Jet psshed. “Besides! You know Taras looks up to you!”

“He really shouldn't,” she tched under her breath. Even if she did think any and all who idolized her size and strength were grievously misguided Alma always did appreciate Taras' thanks and kind words. It only felt right that she encourage him in turn. That and...

She would entertain any excuse, however flimsy, to spend more time with Ser Jet. “Mine thanks,” boomed the Slayer.

FWISHHHHHHH

Unseen silken strings, straddled along the forest floor and canopy like trip wire, unknowingly snapped apart in rapid fire fashion when Alma lumbered past.

Leaning forward, his stomach churning every time he was foolish enough to glance down, Jet wildly watched the heady loam of the forest floor slowly give way to clay and the trees spread further and further apart.

Mohawked head held high, Alma continued to side eye and sneak peeks at the happy Hunter. Clawed hand resting on the grip of her Sword, the Anjanath nosed at the sun kissed sands slowly unfurling before them. The shifting sands had long since swallowed up her latest fallen foe. “While it is nothing to boast about, much less celebrate, I can confess...”

The Slayer brushed a hand against the fresh scrapes in her Shield. “Your training has served me well.” With a flex of her arms, few if any scabs pocking their chiseled scaly surface, she flashed Ser Jet a toothy smile. “Numerous Ferals have I fought and felled since our lessons began and I have scant new scars to show for it. Much like I aspire to protect you... know that you have done much the same for me.”

“I-i-it's nothing,” Jet said with a sheepish shrug. With a sigh as he shuffled into what little shade Alma afforded him. “I'm glad it's kept you safe.”

FWOOOOOOOOOOSH

“Less so that you've already had to use it,” he morbidly thought to himself as scalding winds, carrying with them grains of sand, whisked past. As he blinked and thumbed away the fine spray his eyes warily watched as the increasingly infrequent thicket of trees began to wobble in place. The horizon itself began to blur as the increasingly oppressive heat warped his very perception of the world around him. “Say... Alma?”

“Yes, Ser Jet?”

“Have you ever been beyond the Ancient Forest?”

Brow cocked, Alma allowed a thoughtful growl to rev in her throat. She had all but forgotten that, before she willingly took on the burden of Slayer, she had lived an altogether alien life to the one she did now. “I... have. Many moons ago I wandered the Wastes.”

“Yeah?” Jet perked up. “What's it like?”

Nostrils flared, and eyes half-lidded, the Slayer regarded the clouds of sand filling the horizon with a mixture of love and loathing. “It is a cruel and unforgiving place beautiful in its desolation. Yet from those harsh environs its people, oases in and of themselves, flourish.” A bittersweet smile strained at Alma's cheeks. “...That's what I'd like to say anyway. For as often as that land encourages its inhabitants to come together to eke out what existences they can... it's just as likely to sand them down until they are just as cruel and unforgiving as it is.”

“I have...” Teeth clenched, the Anjanath sharply exhaled. “I had a friend, a native of the Wastes, who allowed the land to change him as such.”

Jet sharply inhaled. “Oh. I-I-I didn't mean to-”

Alma rubbed her fingers through the streak of fur and feathers running down her neck. “You need not apologize, Ser Jet. Seeing him stripped raw of everything I admired about him was... it taught me much and more about the company I kept. About just what kind of person I was at risk of becoming. And what kind of person I truly wanted to be.”

Biting down on her lower lip, and tail tucked between her legs, Alma sighed. “Forgive me, Ser Jet. I speak... I speak over much.”

“Sharing is caring, Alma,” Jet weakly retorted. “It's what friends do.”

The Anjanath bunched her shoulders and forced a smile. “So it is, Ser Jet. So it is.”

THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM

With every earth shattering step the Wildspire Wastes drew closer and closer still even as it faded further out of focus. “We're really getting close. Huh?” marveled the Hunter.

“Not too close now,” whistled a silky smooth voice.

“Worry not, Ser Jet. This is as far as we-” Looking over her shoulder, Alma's amber eyes swished about in confusion. “Go?”

“Hail, Good Slayer,” spoke a very sizable spider. Pulling himself up atop a tree smothered in silk, the Nerscylla's sextet of sapphire eyes regarded Alma and her passenger with rapt attention.

“Silk Seer!” Alma shouted with some surprise.

“Silk Seer?” Locking gazes with the Nerscylla's own, Jet found himself ogling the enormous Temnoceran. His crouched form, clad in a cloak of flayed skin, betrayed his sheer size.

“Forgive my intrusion into your spirited discussion,” he said with a bow. His hood, shrouding his face in shadow, fluttered silently in the wind. “But there is much and more I must needs relay to you.” His many eyes curiously wandered over Alma's weapons. “And inquire of you.”

“Me?”

“Yes you,” he playfully scoffed. Splaying his four spindly and spear like arms to his sides, orange chitin covering them from their pointed tips to the elbows, the Silk Seer kicked his legs over the side of his silken seat. “You and you alone.”

Lips peeling back, Alma unconsciously bared her clenched teeth. “Is aught amiss?”

“At ease, Slayer,” he said with a dismissive swish of his lengthy limbs. “The Ancient Forest is not in danger. Not anymore than it already is at any rate,” he grunted as he wildly gestured at everything. “No, I would speak to you of tidings, ill I am afraid, from lands beyond our own.” Shoulders slouched he decidedly pointed at Jet who tried, and failed, to hide among her wreath of feathers. “Though again I must reiterate I would appreciate confiding as such to you... in private.”

“Forgive me, Silk Seer, but-”

“Before we speak of such though,” the Nerscylla interrupted. Propping a leg upon his knee, his lower limbs clad in what looked to be a set of chitin greaves spanning from his cloven feet to his thighs, the spider's brows furrowed. “I would ask what do you think you are doing.”

The Anjanath's eyes swiveled towards the human tucked close against her neck. “I... was escorting this Hunter. It is mine duty to safeguard any and all within the Ancient Forest after all and, as such, I was actively shepherding them safety.”

“And here I thought that was my responsibility!” sassed the spider. His mandibles, clasped over the lower half of his head like a mask, curiously clacked together. “It was my understanding the human hive known as Astera could be found bordering upon the seas. Not the sands.”

“I thought to take... the scenic route,” Alma mumbled.

The Nerscylla's eyes dimmed. “Then allow me to take the direct one.”

Strands of silk erupted from the tips of his pointed arms and latched against Jet's chest plate, pauldrons, and knees with pinpoint accuracy. With a simple yoink the Hunter found himself hurtling through the air. Wildly spinning about he yelped as the Nerscylla cocooned him up to his neck.

“Ser Jet!”

“Worry not, Slayer,” whistled the Silk Seer. “I will swiftly-”

“UNHAND HIM. NOW,” roared the Anjanath. Pupils contracting into barely perceptible slits, and embers intermingled with her spittle, waves of sound and fury washed over the Nerscylla and stripped the branches he was perched upon bare.

“...See him to safety in your stead,” he weakly coughed as soot trailed off the fraying edges of his cloak. Jet, his bundled form dangling from one of the Silk Seer's many pointed limbs, violently swung back and forth.

Alma immediately shrank in on herself. “I. Ah. What I mean to say is... I appreciate your offer, Silk Seer. But I am more than capable of carrying out the task at hand. I-I-I will return with great haste upon-”

As the stunned Nerscylla sputtered back to life, his hearing and bearings returning to him in fits and spurts, he angrily turned towards the Slayer. Brows pulled flat, and eyes twitching with contempt, the Silk Seer grit his teeth and spoke purposefully and plainly. “...Slayer. What again is your role in the Ancient Forest?”

The Anjanath hurriedly prostrated herself and bowed her head in shame. “M-m-mine apologies, Silk Seer. Truly, I meant no offense or ill will. I simply-”

“I didn't ask for an apology!” The Silk Seer's soothing and almost sing-song whistle gave way to a raspy growl. “It was my understanding that your role, irreplaceable and laudable as it is, was to fell the Feral threat. While I, good Slayer, am expected to safeguard and shepherd humans. To guide those worthy Hunters to lands beyond and to keep all others sequestered safe and sound within the Ancient Forest's bosom.”

“A... a task you perform admirably, Silk Seer,” the Anjanath meekly acknowledged.

“Do you see me interfering with your role, Slayer?” he asked of her while exasperation seeped into his every syllable. “Do you see overstepping my bounds and pretending to be something I am not?”

“...No,” Alma guiltily mumbled. “But Ser-”

“Then I would appreciate it if you extended to me the same courtesy,” the Nerscylla flatly cut her off.

Arms hanging limply at her sides, Alma winced. “Good Silk Seer,” she began. “I beg your pardon but that isn't just any Hunter-”

With a roll of his eyes the spider glared at the Anjanath. “Better yet, come to think of it, perhaps I should take my own advice! It is not my responsibility, it is not my role, to share with you whispers of the worlds beyond now is it?” Mandibles parted he all but spat at Alma as his thorax menacingly wiggled behind him. “I should simply let you find out for yourself what awaits us. Clearly you'd prefer that.”

Head still spinning as he twirled about in place, Jet listlessly groaned. “She only came this way because I asked her to!” he grumbled in her defense. “And she said she was sorry! Didn't she?”

“Ser Jet!” gasped the Anjanath.

His eyes nearly squinting shut the Silk Seer dragged the tip of a pointed limb along Jet's cocoon. Thread by thread the spider carved him free... only to throttle the Hunter with one limb and forcefully tilt his head up with another.

“HURK.”

“Good Hunter,” whistled the Nerscylla. Tracing the tip of a limb along Jet's neck the spider surgically plucked free the pendants wrapped around it. “Do you mean to tell me you wished to broach the Wildspire Waste's borders?”

The Hunter wheezed as an arm thicker than he was pressed in against his wind pipe. “W-w-who me? Never!”

“...Without the proof of your Master Rank?”

“It was just a peek,” Jet squeaked.

Back and forth the irritated and all too tired spider let his disapproving glare swivel between the human in hand and Anjanth looming above him. “...Is this true, Slayer? Did this Hunter lead you astray?”

Eyes swiveling along the bottom of their sockets, Alma sighed. “...Nay. Twas I who suggested as such. I... I wished to show him what awaited him upon the completion of his Master Rank training.”

The Slayer? Befriending a... human? Whuh. Hwuh? Ehh. Feh. Questions for later. “You should know better than to offer as such,” he groused. “What if a Feral came along? How would you protect him then? Hum?”

Alma stammered at length. “He was under my watch! My protection!” she unconvincingly rumbled. Teeth clenched, and smoke trickling out from between her lips, she quietly smoldered in anger. While she wished to do nothing more than thrust her hand into the Silk Seer's grasp and rip Jet free from his snare... she trusted not her aim much less her grip. An intrusive thought of Ser Jet, crushed apart into a bloody pulp between her fingers, made her limbs go limp as a nauseous bile rose in her throat.

Dammit all. Some Protector she turned out to be.

“And you,” the Nerscylla hissed at the Hunter. “You should know better than to accept.”

Jet, his nerves bundled with anxiety, actively dissociated as the sizable spider tapped the tip of a hard shelled limb against his helmet. Brain rattling in his skull the Hunter could feel the metal plates dimpling in with every blow.

“I could, and should, relieve you of your Rookie and Advanced Rank pendants right here. Right now,” the spider elaborated at length. Pronounced clicks sounded out as the Temnoceran ground his mandibles together. “...Yet as much as I would like to voice, much less act on, my frustrations it would accomplish nothing. Nor would leaving you, Slayer, in the dark. The safety of the Ancient Forest and its inhabitants is a shared responsibility after all.”

“For-forgive me for raising my voice at you, Silk Seer,” Alma huffed. Hands clasped together, she struggled to keep her composure. “Ser Jet is... he is...”

The spider curiously cocked his head to the side as his anger and irritation slowly began to wane. “I... do not believe your worry was misplaced. That you are so protective of him is laudable,” he likewise acknowledged. “But there are far safer scenic routes, well away from the Wildspire Wastes borders, that you could have tread. That would give you less cause for pause? No?” Holding Jet before him, he gently shook the Hunter side to side.

Jet swallowed down a whine. To her credit, Brook HAD warned him.

Many eyes pressing against the sides of his sockets, the Silk Seer sighed. “We will soon be working together, closer than ever at that, Slayer. And in the spirit of cooperation it would not behoove me to hold your ill manners, well intentioned as they were, against you.” Tapping his free limbs together, steepling them as best he could, the Temnoceran narrowed his gaze. “I will accept your apology... on one condition.”

Her nose scrunched, Alma tiredly glared at the shoulder height spider. His lithe and limber form contrasted sharply with her brutish and bulky and scar pocked self. “That being?”

“I would be willing to overlook this lapse in judgment on both your parts... for a favor.” His silky voice echoed through the mask like mandibles clasped over his flat face. “One come courtesy of our humble Hunter.” The Nerscylla's eyes drifted towards Jet with unknown intent.

Jaw agape, the Anjanath bit down on her lip as Jet sadly lifted his head to meet her forlorn gaze. “Deal,” he defeatedly acknowledged. There was simply too much at stake for the both of them.

“Ser Jet...”

“What choice do I have?” he mumbled. “And... besides,” he stated as he forced a brave face. “It's a favor for a friend.”

“A friend I'm all too undeserving of,” Alma impotently snarled.

“Wonderful!” the Silk Seer clapped. “Worry not, Slayer. I promise to safely see your Ser Jet to Astera upon the completion of this to-do.” His expression softened as he locked eyes with Alma. “We will reconvene soon after to discuss the matters at hand. Until then though!”

FWISHHHHH

Retreating beneath the Ancient Forest's canopy, pulled backwards by unseen silken threads, the Nerscylla deftly navigated through boughs and branches. The whip of the wind, and rustling of leaves, filled Jet's ears as the spider tethered himself to and lurched between one tree and the next at a neck breaking pace. “Now as for you, Good Hunter!” he delightedly eeheed.

Jingling Jet side to side the Silk Seer gently slapped him against his torso as he wove the equivalent of a harness around him. Mandibles parted, and speaking freely of what was expected of him, Jet's forehead slid over his eyes as the spider elaborated at length about just what he had in mind.

“...You can't be serious,” the Hunter grimaced.

“If you'd rather I can always drop you back off at Astera's gates...” he whistled with a jingle of Jet's pendants.

“Honghhhhhhh...”

---

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