Chapter 9
At an alarming speed, gray mist abounds and zips past as far as the eye can see. That is if normal eyes could see.
A gargantuan black bird jets through a cumulus as it picks up even more speed throughout the endless dull ocean of ashen clouds. Between its purple, razor sharp talons, it carries a shaky basket big enough for a handful of humans to fit inside.
The final stretch of KFC's training begins.
Thirty minutes after the start of this particular morning, Bill spends his time shrunken into a ball of fluff along with the bag carrying the supplies for the trip. All four claws clasp the unsteady slanted surface below. He’s been cursing under his breath and wanting to vomit ever since the sudden altitude plugged his ears. Accompanying him are the legs of the two other beings inside the basket:
“Everything fine down there, pup?” KFC’s voice rings out loud enough to become audible through the roaring currents. Though in his usual deadpan, his tone is betrayed by the slightest of grins in his beak.
“PEACHY!” Bill yells, his paws not relenting in their grasp. Around his torso is a brown exploration pouch that Gill called adorable.
“And I take it you’re also doing fine?” the combusken asks the other traveler, casually keeping his arms crossed on the edge of the speeding basket.
“Better than someone else!” Gill screams, seemingly having the time of his life. He holds onto the ride for dear life with both forepaws, having his uncovered muzzle blown off by the mighty winds. “Even if I’m still really, really scared of whatever or wherever you’re going with this!”
“Ah, really?” KFC replies.
“Unfortunately I’m not looking as cute as the puppy down here!”
“Give me a BREAK, you moron!” the orange growlithe on the floor cries out as he raises his head in protest.
“What’s THAT?!” Gill responds over the loud winds, not taking his squinted eyes off of the heavens. “I think you’re gonna have to be a LITTLE LOUDER THAN THAT!”
For the second time during this journey, KFC watches as Gill teases his brother.
“Do you have a death wish or something?”
The concerned blue otter speaks his mind to Bill before taking a sip off of his clay cup with his white arm. His cute and freckled animal face bearing resemblance to that of a disgruntled white collar worker completes the whole picture.
Mornings were kinder to the siblings as the days went by. Sunlight shoots down into the big, open mess hall as people go about their messy daily routines. Some stand up, others wolf down their food in a haste, and Porygon quickly flies away over everyone’s heads using his seemingly different pathfinding command. No matter the day, the diverse environment was never one to bore Bill. One of guildmates, a despondent sauropod too big to fit inside the guild without becoming an inconvenience, eats his specially prepared meal in silence through the window. Bill notices how their smell, overwhelming and crass as it once was before, becomes increasingly familiar and even welcoming as time goes by. It helps that the food’s uncanny human quality was not a strange fluke. It’s hard to believe that the cook was not a human before.
Bill quickly swallows his baguette bite covered with margarine, suppressing the desire to lick his lips indecently. “Who knows, at this point I might be asking for it.”
“I’m being serious, Bill,” Gus replies, leaving his cup on the table. “It’s one thing to get pointers from KFC on how to be a weird animal thing. Getting his full ‘aura-based’ course is something else altogether.”
“I’m going to meet Uxie no matter what. I keep being told that Fogbound Lake…” the canine continues as he stacks one of the empty plates with both forelegs. He’s getting more deft without hands by the day. “...is as dangerous and remote as they come. I’d rather be well prepared if I’m to go there as soon as possible.”
Phanpy interjects, cleaning his mouth with his trunk: “We’re just… concerned about you. That bird was run roughshod by monsters way, way out of our league and he somehow pulled through. He’s not exactly known for half-measures either. I can’t even imagine what ‘intensive’ looks like in his mind if that was his word choice. You haven’t even been in a real fight yet.”
Bill keeps his brow furrowed at his own cup as he takes in Phanpy’s words. How did everyone else learn how to fight and be of use in dungeons? Usually crash-coursing right into them. From the looks of it, having a lot of guts or being particularly obstinate was half of the equation. Any other normal native appeared too afraid or too helpless at even the mention of one. In this strange world, however, Bill had decided to take things slowly if he could help it.
If he really was stuck in a video game or cartoon world of some sort, then it made sense to get his bearings and become stronger by using the game’s rules to his advantage. He and Gill definitely agreed. No matter how hellish the outcome, so long as it assured them an easier path forward, there was no need to rush at a brisk pace. As much as he didn’t want to.
That bird is the path forward, he is sure of it.
Week one.
KFC’s training is yet to start.
“BILLY! I got the trick figured out!” Gill informs as he sidesteps the merciless jet of flames directed straight at him. “Snap out of it for a moment!”
On the other side of the massive grassy battlefield, Bill’s manic, battle-lusted grin comes to a stop as he shakes his head, spitting some residual heat off of his smoking maw. It certainly costs him a bit of effort to relax his tense posture into something more friendly. His newly-found disposition towards violence is still hard to swallow.
“Ah… y-you mean sprinting?” Bill opines as he trots his legs towards Gill.
“Yeah. No offense, but you look really silly when you try to move fast. You haven’t picked it up yet, have you?”
“Be my guest,” Bill asks, his serious expression now completely relaxed.
Gill faces his body towards the open grassy landscape beyond Capim Town. He readies his legs by placing them slightly forward. “Come on, let’s try this together, it’s new to me as well.”
Both twins get into the same position, now facing the horizon. Said position is not too dissimilar to that of a canine about to chase after something. And said thought makes Bill feel extremely foolish.
“So… you launch yourself forward,” Gill starts explaining as confidently as he can, even if he himself feels unsure about it. “Two forelegs on the front, then two hindlegs on the front. Two-two, then two-two. Do what you’re already doing when moving fast, but be more deliberate about it.”
“I was about to trip and roll when I tried that,” Bill comments, feeling even sillier by trying to argue with his head lowered to the ground like this.
“It’s like a bike, just be confident about it first and the rest will be easier!”
“Wait… let me—HEY!”
Bill hurriedly lunges himself forward as he sees the red canine’s silver tail shrinking into the distance.
“Two-two, then two-two…!”Bill repeats in his mind for the first fraction of a second…
…before zooming.
He is actually sprinting. Two limbs on the front, the other set of limbs afterwards, two limbs, two limbs…
“GAAH! Too fast, TOO FAST!” Bill screams, his paws starting to move on their own accord as he keeps his rhythm, not wanting to tumble over. The ground below becomes a green blur.
The speed at which his body is moving is mind-boggling. Bill feels like he’s just shifted gears into a dash that would outrun speeding traffic. The air itself appears to become his enemy as friction rubs his thick pelt continuously with each impossibly fast leap forward from his hindlegs.
“NOW WE’RE TALKING!” Gill yells as he keeps up his extreme pace.
Bill’s heart races faster than his own sprint. And yet… he suddenly finds himself wishing to go even faster.
And so he does.
“WOAH, WOAH, WAIT, WAIT!” Gill reacts as the orange blur beside him overtakes his trajectory.
Every relentless hit on the grassy field with his feet appears to become lighter. His ruffled coat no longer feels like the wind is its adversary. His eyes sting less from the air friction. All that matters now is the unconquered lands visible outside of his immediate blurry periphery. Among them the unmoving mountains, the unchanging sky, the forests moving in the distance. A world big enough to swallow him, yet one he’s now confident to traverse. He’s not getting any tired.
His heart soars.
There’s cloudy darkness all around before sunlight illuminates the basket.
“Wow…”
The sudden light combined with the decreasing sense of turbulence makes Bill curious. Begrudgingly, he stands up on the unsteady angled floor and leaps his forelegs up to the basket’s rim. His head pokes out.
From their perspective, the world is entirely composed of clouds. Were it not for the constant noise of air drag, not sound would’ve been able to pierce the serenity. Gradients of golden and blue mesh together in a massive firmament. Out in the distance to the left, a warm white gleam rises from the velvety sea of blue and gold. In front of them, a titanic gray mass modestly pokes out. Streaks of gold paint its landscape as the gleam continues its ascent.
“Stalwart Prominence,” KFC notes to the twins, unenthused so far. “That’s our final stop before I get bored of watching over you two. Not as far as Fogbound, and as far as Corviknight can take us. I trust you’ll be ready.”
Flying around the majestic peak, behind it is a previously unseen black glob flashing white intermittently. If it weren’t for its bizarre placement and exceptionally tiny size, one would be tempted to call it a thunderstorm. Glowing pulsing particles surround it like fireflies.
“Why’s that part glowing?” Gill asks as his head tilts.
“That's a rift,” KFC explains.
One of the glowing yellow dots coming out of the distant cloudy spot slowly departs it… revealing itself as a bird for half a second before it violently zooms past the basket like a vicious projectile.
Both twins shriek and fall inside the basket as Corviknight’s basket hurriedly swerves a second too late. The only one unaffected is KFC.
“Rifts are a relatively recent phenomenon,” the combusken elaborates. “They’re invisible portals to other worlds associated with weird alien junk coming out of them. These gates warp reality around them in unpredictable manners, which is to say they’re trouble and need to be sealed. Humans at the guild often recognize the junk they produce, so I’m assuming some of it comes from their world.”
Heart racing, Bill gets up and puts his paws on the rim again, alert for any new developments. Hearing what KFC just said… could it be? “Portals to other worlds... you mean ours? So…”
“Don’t get too excited. They’re one-way as far as I know and that way is out here, not in there,” KFC interrupts, as if he had read his mind. “Not that you’d want to screw around with something that might toss you to an unknown world instead, correct?”
“And… w-we’re going inside that storm?” Gill asks, even him sounding unsure.
A glowing ball buzzes to life around KFC’s hands before he deftly chucks it at another bird jetting towards them. It noisily explodes dead center, momentarily covering the crew with wispy mist.
“Of course not. I just felt like having some fancy sightseeing to do a poem and a painting. We’re going in to seal the rift, growlithes, I won't remind you your exploration pointers a third time.”
Week two.
KFC’s training has managed to drain the life out of the twins.
“On your way to the sixth lap, right?” KFC tells a strained, heavily panting and disheveled Bill bearing a stone weight on his back, wrapping around his flanks. The combusken is comfortably seated in a stump, arms crossed. “Make it faster this time, you’re slipping. Tell your brother the same if you see him.”
Bill dares not reply. Having crossed the entire perimeter of the miles-wide city five times before noon, the limits of his absurdly powerful legs are showing. Thigh muscles burn and ache. Body is heavier than ever. And it’s just now it’s, in fact, the first time he feels the urge to embarrassingly let his floppy tongue loll about. The cold wind on it has an impossibly soothing effect on him. It used to feel similar on his paws after the sensation wore off in novelty during the second lap.
“What? Is it lack of exercise as a human again? ONWARD!” KFC yells as he notices Bill’s gait hadn’t quite turned into a sprint yet.
Previously peppy Gill would fare no better.
The black tempest near the rift rages all around. Wattrel swirl as if about to salvage carrion. Erratic bolts rain down all around the growlithes. Blasts of fire illuminate the black clouds. The gravelly earth beneath is meters away from feeling too steep to comfortably stand on, let alone fight. Already after five minutes, Bill’s throat feels just a bit worn from the constant heat it is being exposed to. Gill bears the misfortune of being the first to get zapped by one of the lightning arcs from the endless barrage of attackers. He is left stunned and confused after his scream.
For their first time dealing with ferals, KFC made sure the twins would forever remember it.
“GUILLE!” Bill screeches, ramming his head into his stumbling brother, making both narrowly avoid a sharp beak a millisecond too early.
“Only trained aura users can see the rift!” KFC instructs in a high volume amidst the cacophony of birds and thunderstorm. Throwing glowing disks of light, he too fends off any approaching feral. “It shouldn’t matter though, anyone should be able to spot it!”
“How come, again?!” Bill impatiently yells before getting up from his brother’s body and blasting another fiery jet from his mouth at a bird.
KFC turns to face Bill from afar: “The objects associated with them stick out more than you think! If you want to find a rift, find the item that does not belong!”
Week three.
Bill has yet to graze KFC. Last time it felt like an Ember connected it felt like a fluke. In any case, the actual challenge was to bite him…
Soon he realized several types of harder-to-attain gut feelings seemingly related to the wellspring of fire he produces—the different “types” that the bird had taught him about. Among which was a flavor of strong, “bitter” energy that excited his more manic side. As soon as he tapped into this kind of energy, his mouth momentarily flared up with said bitterness. The urge to sink his fangs into something then became unbearable… which was not helped by the fact that each ferocious lunge of his body did not manage to connect with KFC’s limbs in any way.
Another involved a nondescript flavor unable to place in any part of his anatomy. With guidance, he could somehow feel his willpower sap into a target. In this situation, that would’ve meant his brother…
“Nice one, Billy!” a mysteriously glowing Gill thanks after flipping backwards from KFC’s attack recoil. “Let’s DO THIS!”
“Ember, Bite, Helping Hand,” KFC lists off as he side steps several foot-wide blasts from Gill. “Feral pups would know about these. Show me a more impressive move and I’ll be satisfied.”
“How are we… supposed to figure that out?” a panting GIll asks.
“Didn’t you say you were a rock-type? Work that one out yourself, I can’t help you any more than that other than what I’m doing. Same goes for you Bill.”
After exhaling and relaxing, Bill responds: “I’m… not a rock-type though—”
Bill leaps and rolls out of the way as KFC, in the blink of an eye, lunges forward with no previous momentum into a devastating Aerial Ace that loudly ruptures the atmosphere.
“At this stage, all I can do is cultivate your strength. Take it or leave it,” KFC nonchalantly continues after his assault. He uncharacteristically relaxes his body right afterwards, crossing his arms and looking at both panting growlithes. “...not even going to try to hit me today!? I’m starting to have second thoughts about your potential!”
With a yell, KFC charges and drives a claw into Gill, who cries out in pain.
Worse still, Bill knows full well that they’re not yet to exhaust their energy for the day.
Still, Bill’s newly developed sixth sense could swear he felt a strange pink flavor while dodging that attack…
“KFC! HERE IT IS, I FOUND IT!” Gill triumphantly announces before picking up a gaudy, heart-shaped Genève chocolate box with his muzzle. Even though his fur is slightly toasted, his tail still wags. The backlash from seing a recognizable name from the real world distracts Bill momentarily. Is that what an "item that does not belong" is supposed to look like? And there are more strewn around this world like this?
After mercilessly striking five birds in a row,the combusken quickly turns around towards Gill. His eyes squint as if he’s looking at something no one else can: “Got it!”
He reaches for the bag of supplies, jumps and spikes a small flask into a rock near the growlithe. It crashes into a barely visible mist that floats upwards.
“Mission accomplished, now get the hell out!” he orders as he both sprints and dodges several bolts. “To Corvinight’s spot!”
Bill breathes a sigh of relief after panting. The thought of getting out of this inferno of electric birds makes him the slightest bit more relaxed. And as he becomes aware of his thumping, decelerating heartbeats, he feels the strange pink “flavor” coming from withi—
A bolt struck. His entire body flares up in a violent buzz.
In a single flash, his blood appears to scream. He feels the most disgusting twitch wrack his being with pain unlike any other, seared on his back from the lightning.
He stumbles on his weak legs and falls with a thud. Sliding down the steep incline fast. And faster…
“BILLY! NO!”, he hears, the voice coming from his brother. But his four stunned paws are too shocked to move, let alone find purchase on the steep surface. He descends more and more… until blinding light from the horizon illuminates him all around. Outside of the slowly dissipating, localized thunderstorm. And down below, below… below…
…his back had mercifully hit a rock. Trembling, he puts his paws on the ground, looking back to see…
…the whole flock after him. Tens of ferals after their prey.
He hasn’t recovered from the attack.
But…
“YOU’RE NOT GETTING NEAR HIM!” Gill screams, halting his sprint to a brake besides his stunned brother and protectively putting a paw on him.
For a second, Gill’s white tail appears to visibly bend light. Then sparks of white around it reveal a set of floating, glowing rocks orbiting rocks that float all around the hisuian growlithe.
With a roar, the mysterious floating stones are shot one after the other.
As though from an automatic machine gun, they audibly rip through the air.
And one after the other, the birds are shot down with severely pained squawks. The salvo does not relent; Gill’s roar is prolonged. Five down. Ten down. Fifteen down.
Followed by silence.
…
Comforted by the abrupt lack of noise. Bill lays his head low to the ground. He sees the sea of clouds extending below, sun ever rising. Watching the deep blue of the heavens, the cool breeze hits his exposed belly and legs, breathing life into him.
He feels safe.
“...Heheh… looks like I got a new move. And Billy...? Thanks for the save earlier.”
Week five.
Gill and a crowd of onlookers from the guild watch as Bill sidesteps a swipe from KFC so loud their heart skips a beat.
Hindpaw got lightly scraped. Pad stings with blood, but doesn’t break his ferocious lunge.
…which misses KFC.
Many gruelling trials had come to pass. Four weeks and a trip to the wild had changed Bill in ways he couldn’t imagine. His inner scientist had compared the results with other interested individuals trapped in this world. His strength when arriving to this world was not only much greater than he was as a human, but with enough effort and traction on his legs, he was certain that he would’ve been able to start uprooting a small tree. Would that be in the realm of thousands of pounds of force? Most would say yes. Now? The musculature in his legs had become rock solid. Five laps around Capim sounded like a light jog. And with time, gravity had felt less than the unchangeable constant it was meant to be. Leaping to the guild’s building is a cinch now. 20 feet tall landings powerfully reverberate through his body, but never actually leave any lasting impact on his feet.
From getting winded every ten hardy blasts of fire, the twins had gone for twenty, and wider at that. Moving from a standstill on four legs had become so easy that from an outside perspective, they almost looked like hummingbirds.
All this to say that against KFC, it’s far from enough.
Bill’s mind explodes in agony as his left side is stabbed by three claws as unyielding as stone.
His hubris had gotten the best of him, thinking a quick feint would’ve outsmarted the combusken.
The impact of the attack is somehow kinetic enough to send his body reeling away instead of outright impaling him. He weakly gets up on unsteady legs:
“Didn’t you say… you were going to go easy on me?” Bill asks coughing, feeling a burn inside his ribcage that is worryingly enduring.
“I’m not afraid of messing up your hair anymore. That’s what fighting against you means,” KFC dryly states, grinding his claws together in a single swipe as though wielding knives. “You’re getting roughed up unless you come up with a new trick, like it or not.”
New trick, new trick… whatever it is, he needs more time to work it out. The pain alone is already clouding his mind…
“What?! Got somewhere to be?!” KFC yells angrily as he sees Bill seemingly making a run for it at full sprint. Concerned murmurs from the impromptu crowd become louder. ("I know it’s KFC, but still…”, “Kinda reaping what he sows, though…”, “That wound looks serious…”). “Taking a BREAK?!”
"Yes… yes I am…"
Bill runs… until he spins in place to face his opponent once more, sliding his feet to a halt.
“About 30 yards, maybe? Let’s hope this is enough distance between us... I think I’m about to finally get a grasp on it…”
What triggered the new “flavor” of energy before? It had to have been the fact that his heart had begun to decelerate. A fact that his Intimidate “ability” made hard to accomplish. Right now he wanted to tear KFC asunder… sink claws, teeth, anything into his flesh…
His eyes start to get watery from his open wound. He can barely stand. His heart beats as fast as his adrenaline-fueled body needs him to be.
But all he needs to do now is relax.
“Relax?”, the brown reptilian head coming in outside from the window asks.
“You seem to have been stressing over your situation in the past, no?” Bill answers with another question.
The next therapy patient, “Tropius”, presented a couple of unique difficulties for Bill: this former human had transformed into a quadrupedal sauropod, his new size not being the best fit for their current living situation. Unfortunately this meant special accommodations for food and sleep. Fortunately, size wouldn't get in the way--his long neck and willingness to stay still for several minutes on end meant an inconspicuous, if awkward therapy session through the office’s window. Not that Bill had any compunctions about simply coming down to talk to him—it was Tropius himself who had requested this arrangement. That’s because the patient didn’t want too many people to know about his condition.
Were it because of his species or otherwise, Tropius had been experiencing severe mood swings depending on the weather ever since his transformation. Whenever it had been sunny, Tropius would’ve become incurably hyper and excitable. Dreary, overcast days would see his disposition turn dour and moody. The way Tropius had been describing this phenomenon during the session, it would make anyone believe he would turn into a completely different person at a moment’s notice. Weirder things have happened in the past with other patients, Bill thought.
“It is true that I’ve been stressing over it, but… I don't think a breathing exercise is going to help much” the big head admits shyly.
“Listen… your situation is obviously new for me as well, so how about we take it one step at a time and figure it out together? If we can focus on your behavior and try to help you calm down on your own, that would make for a good first step, I think. So, try to practice the stuff we discussed and remember the 4-7-8 breathing exercise.”
“What is that and how would it work, again?”
“Think of it as a way to reset your heartbeats.” Bill says as he awkwardly tries to reach for his chest with a paw. “The short of it is: if you tell your mind to focus on the act of inhaling and exhaling, you also tell your mind to regulate your heart. Four seconds to inhale, seven seconds to hold, eight seconds to exhale. It works wonders during stressful situations.”
“I mean, that’s fine and all, but wouldn’t that only be the case for humans?” Tropius asks, very much unsure. “Wouldn’t my 'ability', current anatomy or whatever… not apply to this situation?
“If you're talking about your size, we can do some rule of three maths until we get the proportions right," Bill answers, wagging his tail. “Come on, we won’t know unless you try it out for yourself.”
“Have you, though?”
Inhaling. Countdown from four… three… two… one…
“Ah… I see… readying yourself are you?!” KFC yells from afar. Bill forces himself to block out the taunt from his mind, keeping his eyes closed and not focusing on the pain…
Having held his breath starting with seven, what’s left is five…
…four...
…three…
…two…
“...unlucky for you, I’m running out of patience.”
…one… exhale, countdown from eight… seven...
The sound and feel of KFC’s talons stomping the ground, ominously reaching him start to perturb Bill.
…seven…
…six…
Combusken claws tear the air menacingly.
…five…
…four…
The audience gasps.
…three…
…two…
…one…
…
The sudden silence makes Bill’s sensitive ears ring. It’s as if the world had come to a stop.
Bill notices that his eyelids had mysteriously become extremely heavy when opening them up. He sees the most peculiar thing meet his gaze:
KFC is running towards him, claws bared and poised to strike at his skull. A couple of yards away, his expression shows anything but hesitation. One instant later, he would surely cut Bill down to size.
If so, then why hasn’t it happened yet? Time hadn’t stopped, had it?
…no, things were simply taking longer than usual. Bill even notices with equal parts amazement and annoyance that his own pupils are taking their time lugging themselves to another side. Bill then sees the audience. He sees Gill’s concern in his face. He sees Gus faceplanting, trying to avert his eyes from the cruel sight. He sees Phanpy looking back at Cyndaquil, annoyed by the latter for whatever inane reason.
Bill feels the slow wind softly grazing the aching wound on his left side and on his tail. His heart is yet to beat again.
The grass is slightly rustling.
He’ll use this chance to seize the moment.
Bill leaps forward towards KFC, dodges the delayed attack… looks at his exposed arm, and finally…!
"Take… THIS!"
Bill’s wispy fangs find their target and sink hard. For the first time since he met him, KFC grunts in pain.
Bill’s heart accelerates again the moment he lifts the bird’s entire body off the ground and spikes it at an angle, slamming him into the ground. The body bounces away like a ragdoll, thud after thud.
The previously unnoticed pink haze starts to fade, his all-seeing clarity along with it.
KFC is left face-down on the grass to a small crowd of stupefied onlookers.
…
The combusken finds purchase on the ground with one of his claws, though trembling slightly due to the injury caused by the Bite. He grunts slightly as he gets up on one knee, no one daring to speak over someone in the guild having managed to touch KFC in a fight. Bill’s previously still heart thumps maddeningly at the prospect of having to keep this up…
“Hah… enough for now. Consider this a win. That’s Agility, isn’t it?” KFC calmly asks, grasping onto his arm with his other claw. Barely worn down, he is not about to keel over like Bill seems to be. “...you’re something else, Growlithe.”
The small audience spectating the event had increased in size. No matter who it was, hardly anyone could believe that KFC had been tagged, much less harmed by a human from the guild in an actual fight. Togetic, initially watching from afar, had his shyness evaporate while giving Bill the usual ramble of a lifetime (“stat modifiers”, “buff blitz”, among some terms that were difficult to decipher). Others like the giant purple scorpion had congratulated him on performing such a feat, anxiously waiting to fight him sometime. In spite of himself, the crazed, fighting-obsessed side of Bill unfortunately had trouble refusing.
KFC did not appear to mind at all that he had seemingly been defeated. Of course, even though not everyone was there to witness it, there was the implicit notion that he must’ve been holding back against the growlithe. Something that seemed to have somehow only escaped Cyndaquil as he got a little too excited at the prospect of defeating KFC himself to gain respect. The latter dryly reminded him of the facts in something that could be construed as a threat.
“No really, you should’ve seen yourself,” Gill recounts to his brother, both still surrounded by a lively crowd of creatures. “You suddenly, like... became a blur and trashed him in the blink of an eye. It barely even looked real! If anyone messes with us, we’re destroying them!”
“I-I don’t think you should get too excited,” Bill stutters, tingling from the Heal Pulse in his ribcage coming from the nearby audino. The feeling is very chilly, coming with a decreasing acute pain. “Doing whatever I did was a fluke, my heart goes too fast when I’m in ‘battle mode’ with Intimidate. I could only do it after forcing myself to suppress the adrenaline rush.”
“Too right you are”, KFC interjects. “Adding to that, I wasn’t even boosting my speed for this. You’re not going to be afforded half the time you were given. In other words, I was screwing around for too long in the fight for this to be applicable in a real do-or-die situation... but you did manage to trigger Agility, as your brother did before you with Rock Slide. You are both to be commended on your progress. Not bad for a couple of alleged humans.”
“So, do you think we’re ready to travel to Fogbound Lake then?” Gill asks.
“Perhaps I went a little overboard with your training. I have made you two leagues above the average fighter in the guild and you will find most ferals to be a non-issue—in theory, you could have a decent chance going to Fogbound and back in a matter of days.”
KFC nods before slightly smirking. “Congratulations.”
The twins exchange a look of triumph.
“Things are looking up. Whoever this Uxie is, I bet he’s going to be a big help.”
“Ah, marvelous! Marvelous indeed!”
They turn to look at the guildmaster heading toward them. His black garb and blue tails float in the wind, ever mesmerizing.
“Guildmaster!” Gill greets him. “Anything up?”
“Well yes, yes!”
Lliam crosses his arms, relaxing his stance before announcing:
“...you two are available these days, aren’t you? If you are to test your mettle and be recognized a potential exploration team (and all the perks that come with that)...
…then I am sure you won't mind performing a task for me?”