"It's a Basilisk!" yelled the commander of the Luulax army in fear as it swooped down and snatched two well-trained Luulax soldiers from Fort Grenlock into the air.
Fort Grenlock, situated south of the Luulax Kingdom near the borders of Kurkizaan, was not as massive as the major forts in Luulax, but it was substantial. Recently, Fort Grenlock had been equipped with new catapults and spearguns positioned atop its towers. However, the gargoyles were absent; they had been deployed to another fort two weeks earlier to combat cyclopes.
The Basilisk had emerged unexpectedly from the nearby hills. Ever since the Mutants had come into existence through the malevolent Alchemist Jericho Swinhud, "normal" monsters had become increasingly aggressive toward ordinary people. This Basilisk was no exception. Either larger monster or mutant had encroached upon its territory, forcing it to Fort Grenlock. Basilisks had a tendency to create nests in high places. It arrived at dawn when only 420 soldiers were stationed there, and the new weapons were the first casualties claimed by the Basilisk.
This Basilisk was not an ordinary giant snake Basilisk; it was a Sun Basilisk, larger and heavier than ten horses. These creatures had snake-like bodies, rooster heads, falcon-like hands, and eagle-like wings. They could grow as large as stables and possessed the ability to breathe poison. Their distinctive feature was their orange coloration and winged appearance, and even their claws could penetrate armor. That's exactly what it was doing in Fort Grenlock.
"Spear units, archers, riders. I want that Basilisk down!" yelled the commander, even as the Basilisk dropped two men to the ground, killing them.
Its skin was impervious to arrows from the sides. To harm it, you needed to strike its neck or wings. But it would require more than just "an arrow." It breathed a dark, green-looking poison over the top of the wall while flying, causing excruciating pain to anyone exposed for too long.
Commander Edwing Turner struggled to get all the men in the courtyard to follow his commands. The Luulax army seemed utterly indifferent, showing no respect for him. They believed his achievements were not earned but bought, and the soldiers were well aware of it. His brown hair and mustache had turned almost red from the effort of screaming orders at his men. After this Basilisk was dead, he planned to have them all answer to the new Paladin Caleb for not following orders.
"I am giving orders here!" he yelled, but no one seemed to be paying attention; the Basilisk's fury had consumed their focus.
"Commander Edwing," a young voice said from behind him.
The human man wore dark red armor adorned with a logo on his shoulder patches depicting a human brandishing a spear. He was a member of the Red Elite, warriors specialized in spear tactics for the Luulax Kingdom. While not as widely renowned as the Linebreakers, those in the know held them in high regard. As the name suggested, they wielded sharp and effective-looking spears, with the handle painted in dark red.
The soldier opted not to wear a helmet, revealing his shiny white hair, deep blue eyes, and a youthful face devoid of stubble. Fearlessly, he strode toward the Commander, even as troops around him scattered like headless chickens. Edwing recognized him, believing he had already left in the morning.
"Lieutenant Topher Fuelgo, I have the situation under control. I WANT THOSE ARCHERS BY THE WELL!" Edwing yelled, attempting to assert his command.
"The Basilisk is tearing through our soldiers, and they're not heeding your orders. I am now in charge," Topher declared with unwavering determination.
"You are still a Lieutenant, and I am the Commander. I outrank you, and, in fact, I should be leading you," Edwing retorted, his frustration growing as he kept a wary eye on the Basilisk, which was ominously swirling in the air, gathering strength.
"I am of the Red Elite, granted authority by the Paladin and my King. Red Elite can remove commanders if it deems it necessary. So, I relieve you of your duties, Edwing Turner, and demote you to the position of my adjutant. Your new orders are to support the horse riders until the Basilisk is vanquished."
He then walked past the furious Commander, who stood there defeated but understood that rules were rules. Fuelgo scanned the fort for the other lieutenants who were stationed there: the cavalry, archer, and foot soldiers' lieutenants. He found all of them busy attending to the wounded soldiers and those keeping a watchful eye on the Basilisk, some attempting to shoot it with crossbows and bows.
All three of these lieutenants were human and clad in full knight's armor. The only distinguishing feature about them was the logos painted on their shoulders.
"Attention! Red Elite is assuming command from Commander Edwing. Now, you will take orders from me. Understood?" Fuelgo announced, getting straight to the point without any formal greetings.
They turned to face their overseer and stood at attention in front of their respective troops before addressing Fuelgo.
"Yes, sir," they all said in unison.
"Excellent. I want the archers on the east side of the fort, awaiting my signal. They are not to attack until I give the signal. Aim for the wings," Fuelgo instructed.
"Right away, sir."
"I want the cavalry outside of the fort with horses that have no armor. Select only the fastest and healthiest horses. The Basilisk tends to target moving targets. I want them outside within 12-13 minutes and running for about 5 minutes."
"Yes, sir."
"Lastly, get the soldiers out of the field. They are currently useless. Have them barricade inside a building away from the opening and certainly not near any windows. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"And fetch me two soldiers, regardless of their training or rank."
The middle knight muttered something that Fuelgo didn't hear clearly, but two individuals emerged from the archer lines. One was a troll, and the other appeared to be a druid-like woman. The troll was small, like others in the Innerworld. He had forest troll features with greenish skin, no hair, long ears, one giant fang, and calm eyes. He wore brown leather armor with some parts replaced with white-painted steel, though they were scaled down for trolls
The woman had a light green ponytail of hair, pointy ears, and very bluish skin. Druids could have a wide range of skin tones, and she exhibited one of the less common shades. Her lips were puffy and kissable, but her eyes carried a stern and determined look. She wore clothing similar to a troll but tailored for human sizes.
"Recruit Malonk and Efian. At your...LOOK OUT!" yelled the Archer lieutenant.
Fuelgo swiftly turned around to witness the Basilisk launching an attack on them, ready to strike them all down. It landed atop the wall where the archers were stationed. Some were quick enough to dodge the attack in the nick of time, but four others were not as fortunate. Instinctively, Fuelgo grabbed the spears from his back and hurled them at the Basilisk. The Basilisk, using its tail, swung the spears back towards the wall, narrowly missing Fuelgo but causing one of the spears to crash into the barracks door behind him.
The Basilisk had been ready to unleash its toxic breath, but the knights behind it, armed with swords, drove it back into the air, causing it to attack other sections of the fort. Fuelgo retrieved his spear from the oak door where it had embedded itself.
"Come with me, recruits. Quickly!" Fuelgo commanded and then gestured to the lieutenants. "Give the orders." With that, he ran back to the courtyard with the recruits, leaving the lieutenants to issue commands to the troops.
Commander Edwing was no longer in sight. Perhaps he had gone to be useful elsewhere, but that didn't concern Fuelgo at the moment. The soldiers in the courtyard, yelling and screaming, were far more useful in the current situation. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, which was why he had called upon the recruits.
"Recruits! I order you to take me to the basement," commanded Fuelgo.
"Of course, sir," replied the troll. He and the druid woman together led Fuelgo to a tower that was located at the opposite end of where they were.
They ran quickly, knowing that time was of the essence. With each passing second, the Basilisk caused more harm. Fuelgo understood that sacrifices were necessary, but losing was not an option. The troll opened the basement door, and they rushed down the moldy stairs with the recruits in tow. In the wide basement, they found an abundance of supplies, including food, water, and medical provisions. There were also barrels of Pow-Steel, which the Luulax army had started to use as catapult ammunition. The recruits began to carry some of the barrels outside of the basement, but Topher stopped them immediately.
"We are not going to blow up the fort. Look for rodents—mice, rats, or Swamp gerbils. There should be some sacks. Gather as many as you can," Lieutenant Topher instructed.
He emptied one apple sack to use the apples as bait. The recruits were puzzled, but after they set the barrel down, they began searching. After a while, the druid woman spoke up.
"Why are we looking for rodents, sir?"
"Basilisks loves rodents, my soldiers. We will use them as lures," Fuelgo explained.
"We are rodent-free, sir," the troll said. "We haven't seen rats or..." He trailed off, noticing rats approaching to investigate the fresh apples.
Tiny and cute mice gathered around, eager to eat the apples. They looked hungry and didn't fear people as they nibbled on the fruit. With their tall tails, black fur, and squeaking, they were a sight to behold. Now, they needed to use them.
"Hold them gently. Show them you're a friend, not an enemy," Red Elite instructed as he gently picked up one rat and placed it in a sack.
"I don't understand. Why are there suddenly so many rats and mice?" the troll asked in confusion as he caught rats for the private's sack.
"Even small animals know to hide from the Basilisk," Fuelgo explained.
They continued to gather rodents, some of which attempted to escape. When the Basilisk roared in anger, it was clear that it wanted the Luulax army to vacate the area, presumably to protect its supposed nest. However, the Luulax army was not willing to yield even an inch to their adversaries. The Basilisk's roar might have also indicated that it had set its sights on the horses. Still, the soldiers focused on gathering mice quickly.
The druid hit the trapdoor, an emergency exit, and voiced her concern. "Should we evacuate the fort, sir?"
The question unintentionally came across as an insult to Fuelgo.
"The great Fuelgo family never gives orders to retreat. You either die as a hero of Luulax or live as a legend. Retreat is never an option. As long as I'm in charge, everyone stays alive," Fuelgo declared with determination, though his words carried a hint of annoyance at the implied suggestion of retreat.
The druid felt a little apprehensive about what she had said, while the troll focused on a different aspect of the conversation - Fuelgo's name.
"Are you Topher Fuelgo? Like the noble House Fuelgo? Rumored to be the next king if Barkleus III doesn't leave an heir," the troll inquired.
"I think we have enough rats," the lieutenant replied, shaking the sack full of rodents and ignoring the troll's question. "To the courtyard, Marsh!" he commanded, walking toward the entrance they had come from.
Back in the courtyard, Fuelgo was relieved to see that the Basilisk was no longer perched on top of the fort. The foot soldiers had retreated to the barracks and towers, no longer running in panic. The fort was now under some semblance of control, thanks to Fuelgo's orders.
"Stand back. I'm about to do something very dangerous, but don't interfere, recruits. That's an order," Fuelgo said with a commanding tone. He extended his left arm, which held the sack full of mice.
Topher didn't hesitate as he tossed the sack of rodents to the ground and retrieved a spear from his back. Without remorse, he impaled sack with his spear, causing blood to spill onto the ground, while the rats screamed in pain. It was a brutal act.
He ran his two fingers along the bloodied edge of his spear and smeared rodent blood on his forehead, cheeks, and armor, though not in excessive amounts, enough to be noticeable.
The Basilisk roared in the distance, having caught the scent of the blood. It was coming for its favorite food. Topher took a determined stance, stretching out his arms and holding the spear with both hands. He was ready to face it, confident in his Red Elite training. He was prepared to bring down his first Basilisk.
"My name is Topher Fuelgo. Son of Renvick Fuelgo, and so long as my family stands..." he said quietly to himself, keeping a vigilant eye on the sky.
He noticed the Basilisk approaching on the horizon, flying toward him at an alarming speed. It was so fast that you could only count to 5 before it would be right beside you. It drew nearer, its mouth wide open, ready to devour him whole. The recruits looked troubled, but Fuelgo, he was smiling.
"...the enemy of Luulax shall never win. FIRE!" Fuelgo yelled with all his strength.
The soldiers stationed on the east wall, not too far away, heard his command. It was the signal they had been waiting for. Arrows rained down upon the Basilisk, striking its wings and back. The sheer pain caused the Basilisk to crash down right in front of the lieutenant, destroying the ground beneath him. Stunned, confused, and in agony, the Basilisk was unable to fly any longer. Its wings were severely damaged and bleeding profusely.
Fuelgo stood just meters away from the monster, ready to hurl a spear at its head and end the threat once and for all.
But no, the Commander had a different plan.
He suddenly appeared behind Topher and forcefully pushed him to the ground. Fuelgo was shocked and seething with anger as he tried to recover from the fall. From his vantage point on the ground, he saw Edwing with a crossbow, taking aim at the confused Basilisk. Edwing smirked at Fuelgo
"Nothing personal, but I earn the respect of the soldiers," he said to Fuelgo, wearing a triumphant expression. His attention was fixed on Fuelgo rather than the Basilisk. If only he had kept his eyes on the monster.
In an instant, the Basilisk was no longer stunned. It struck swiftly with its beak, biting the commander in half, even though he was wearing the traditional Luulax reinforced steel armor. There was no sound, just a geyser of blood and guts that splattered in every direction. Fuelgo, standing nearby, found himself covered in the gruesome aftermath. The commander's fate was a stark reminder of the peril they faced.
The Basilisk roared in anger as Fuelgo quickly tried to stand up from the ground, but before he could launch another attack, the monstrous creature tail-swiped him back down with incredible force. It felt like a hammer striking wood, and the tiny spikes on the Basilisk's tail slashed open Topher's face, causing blood to gush from the wound. Topher, determined and fueled by sheer willpower, fought through the pain and attempted to rise again. However, he realized something crucial—he was no longer holding his spear.
The Basilisk charged forward in a furious frenzy, driven by pain and anger. But before the lieutenant could become its next victim, the recruits began to shoot arrows at the Basilisk with their bows, creating a distraction. They were not alone in this endeavor; archers from the east side joined in, sending a new wave of arrows raining down upon the Basilisk, causing further harm. Distracted by the assault, the Basilisk was momentarily weakened.
Fuelgo spotted his spear lying on the ground next to the commander's destroyed body. In a swift move, he somersaulted towards it and retrieved his trusty weapon, now back in his hands. With determination burning in his eyes, Fuelgo finally launched his attack.
He crept from beside the beast and drove his spear through one of the Basilisk's eyes, the force behind the blow driving it straight through to the other eye, leaving the creature blind and writhing in agony. The monster had lost its eyes, its wings, and had bled profusely. It lay there, waiting for something to finish it off, which turned out to be another volley of arrows.
The Basilisk was dead.
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"I am sorry, my healing magic cannot erase the scar that the Basilisk left on your face," said Fang, a wolf person from a different universe who served as the fort's healer. Her fur was a mixture of brown with yellow stripe tattoos, and she was dressed in a white tunic and pants.
She handed a mirror to their savior, Topher, who, instead of displaying any sign of anger or disappointment, looked more pleased and impressed. The scar was very linear, small but noticeable. Fang had put forth her full power to heal it. Topher, now out of his armor, which was being repaired by the fort's smiths as a token of gratitude for his leadership during the battle, was dressed in his blue shirt and brown pants.
"Thank you, healer. And, to be honest, I like it. My first scar," Topher responded with a hint of pride.
Fuelgo was seated on a bed in the barracks, surrounded by wounded soldiers in various states of recovery. Some, like him, had survived with injuries, while others were not as fortunate. Before he could continue the conversation with the healer, one of the lieutenants approached them, prompting Fang to politely bow and give them some privacy.
The lieutenant then removed his helmet, revealing a man with exceptionally long white hair and a striking appearance, accentuated by his caramel skin tone.
"Topher Fuelgo, from House Fuelgo, Central's one of the famous houses, right behind Dela-Leshi," he said with a smile. The lieutenant took a seat on the empty bed next to Topher's.
"I am honored and thankful for saving us. Jacqui Imar, at your service," he introduced himself.
"We are actually from Merhy, but thank you, Lieutenant. The honor is mine. The report, please," Topher requested, getting straight to the situation.
"Our towers are badly damaged, long-range weapons all destroyed, 23 honorable soldiers died, and one son of a bitch. Some soldiers are already helping rebuild the fort and skinning the Basilisk. Leather from it will help us update our archers' outfits, and the meat will sustain us through the next winter," Jacqui reported.
"Thank you, Mister Imar. I shall rest a bit before continuing my travel to Central. My father will certainly appreciate this story," Topher said as he carefully lay down on the bed, his back sore. "A good thing I left late. Without me, the commander would have killed you all."
"If I may ask for guidance for a moment from Red Elite, who should we promote as our commander now? And could we chat for a little bit? You didn't have a chance when you came in the morning to check the fort and were outside of the fort right before the attack," Jacqui inquired.
"Well, from the three lieutenants, you and your colleagues can figure it out. And what do you want to chat about? Red Elites, my house, or about my training" Topher responded.
"First and foremost, why did you stop here before the attack, and where are you going?" asked Jacqui, his smile vanishing.
"Am I under suspicion, Mister Imar?" Fuelgo asked, opening his left eye.
"It depends on where you are coming from," Jacqui replied.
Fuelgo was understandably irritated, but he understood that soldiers needed to question their higher-ups and colleagues to ensure no spies were among them.
"I was training in Training House Clifcost. You can ask there about my name. And I received a letter from my mother regarding noble house business. But, to ease your concern, it's about Madam Luc—sorry, Lady Tyra, and Willa Merryheart asking our house to keep a promise and stand with them against another troubling noble house. To honor that pledge, every member needs to be present. Am I clear?" explained Fuelgo.
"For now," Jacqui responded as he rose from the bed, not entirely satisfied. Before leaving, he had one more question.
"There are rumors about you being the next king if the Barkleus line dies. Why is that?"
Fuelgo smiled, closing his eyes again and trying to relax.
"I don't know."
It was a lie.