The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Bogart panted and trembled, looking down at the small Arakis Beast in front of him. It hissed in distaste but just scowled with its small face. It did not even attempt to bite him; it wouldn’t, not now. His hand lay upon its side, covered in scar tissue from its bites, but this time without a single wound.

After struggling for almost a week, he had caught all three of the beasts. He had passed the Nether King’s test.

“You should train more,” Bogart found himself saying. The Arakis Beast’s hissing grew louder and more threatening so he let go of its body and stumbled back. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, still stunned he had managed it. He had relied on them being distracted watching the Nether King, all three times, but he still managed to sneak up on them and seize them. He had rubbed himself with mud and crawled through the dirt to ambush them, but he had done it.

Aside from changing their color, the Arakis Beasts hadn’t been improving much over the last week. This, the last to be caught, had become a dusky grey color. One of the others was now emerald kiss by flecks of gold and the final was black with a shimmering purple along it when it caught the light. And in that space of aesthetic shifts, Bogart was able to accomplish the Nether King’s tests.

“I did it,” Bogart told himself, tightening his hand into his fists. He hopped to his feet and spun around. From the area back by the windy Ara Fruit canyon, he sprinted all the way back to the front of the farm. “Grandfather, I-”

His jaw dropped as he skidded to a stop. Obviously, he had expected the farmhouse itself to look more presentable, while that guy Armel continued to tinker and add more space. However, what Bogart hadn’t expected was that in his twelve hours of absence chasing Arakis Beasts that the yard exploded into a veritable jungle.

Yet somehow, a presentable jungle?

The apple trees planted by the Nether King now towered at almost ten meters high, with a thick bushy canopy of leaves. They had grown so large that the top half of the trees shook almost constantly, rustled by the winds that remained even in the mild season here. Fat, gleaming apples fell from the constant jostling, ripe and ready to be eaten.

Even more demanding of attention were the dull thumps of massive tails slapping against the dirt. The creatures the Nether King called land walruses, strange, sluglike creatures that weighed half a ton and dragged themselves along with powerful forelegs, had somehow doubled in size almost overnight. There was a particularly domineering specimen lounging in the back of the pen, large enough that it could roll sideways and demolish the flimsy fence keeping it in place and then the entire farmhouse behind it in a single fit of laziness.

That wasn’t the end of the changes. The Nether King had seen fit to completely level the rolling hills that had been West of the farmhouse and install two sloped hills ending in a shallow V, to block the worst of the elements from what now sat within. Grazing within these areas, eating small fist-shaped cabbages growing out of the ground, were Mistsilk Sheep. Yet beyond even that addition what grabbed Bogart's attention were the half dozen animals circling the flock and keeping any from straying.

One perked up and glanced across the wide distance from the grazing field to the farmhouse and met Bogart’s eyes. A smoldering and smoking tongue lolled out of its mouth for a second. Sapphire flames surged around its exposed skull. Apparently, the Nether King had found and domesticated some of the bloodthirsty Bluefire Hellhounds known to roam the surrounding area. From preying on weak travelers, they had become common sheep hounds.

He shivered, but then Bogart focused. This is exactly why I want to be apprenticed to him. To be so powerful to subdue all these violent animals in such a short amount of time… I need that. That way, Grandfather will no longer need to live in shame, out here in these lands of Aether…

He stalked over to the Nether King and his grandfather, who were standing underneath one of the apple trees and examining some of the fallen fruit.

“The idea is to squeeze out the juice and then leave the sugar to ferment for a while. I’ll sculpt some of the lumber cucumbers into barrels for the actual fermentation process.” The Nether King was saying. He frowned. “I think my aura should have some effect on how quickly it happens, but I can’t really tell-”

“Ah, to make a certain sort of alcohol?” Demetrius nodded. He picked up an apple and took a crunch of a bite. He licked his lips contemplatively and tossed the fruit over to the land walrus pen. “However, will it not be too sweet for alcohol?”

“It becomes a matter of taste then. Some will like it, others won’t.” The Nether King shrugged. “The bigger problem is squeezing out them all and cleaning up the pulp. If I have to do it by hand I will, but I’d prefer we find a process more automated.”

“Or more cheap labor,” Demetrius chuckled.

Bogart kept his back straight as he walked forward. Neither of the figures acknowledged him. In fact, the only acknowledgment he received was from a beast he hadn’t seen. A horse-sized Bluefire Hellhound with two heads got up from where it was lounging and padded out to meet Bogart. It offered a low snarl of warning.

“Easy, Duo,” The Nether King finally looked up. His emerald eyes scrutinized Bogart as the hellhound went back to laze around in the sun. “Yes?”

Bogart licked his lips. “I caught the three miniature Arakis Beasts. I… I’m ready to receive your teachings.”

The two older men exchanged a glance. The Nether King tossed the apple he was holding back and one of the hellhound’s heads shot up and snatched the fruit out of the air. It loudly devoured the apple while the Nether King walked toward him. “So you have. You move pretty quickly. Okay, well then, let’s figure out what I can do for you. Follow me.”

The Nether King led Bogart back past the Ara Fruit mounds and the specially made canyon beyond. Bogart grimaced and leaned forward as he traversed it, resisting the constant shove of the wind. At the bottom, the canyon opened up into a wide and round area where the air was entirely still: the perfect sort of location for training.

The Arakis Beast the Nether King had subdued earlier raised its head as the duo walked down, but began reclining almost immediately when it noticed who it was. Bogart couldn’t help but notice several smaller adult Arakis Beasts loitering in the nearby area, sporting fresh wounds probably inflicted by the Ara Fruits guardian. Behind them, the three juvenile Arakis Beasts chittered and glared at Bogart, hoping to watch him suffer.

“So, what do you want me to teach you?” The Nether King walked to the center of the arena and pivoted on his heel. He spread his arms wide, grey flames springing up across his body. Just looking at him made Bogart’s teeth ache. “You seek power. But power can be a lot of things and we do not have a lot of time. So, do you wish for ways to increase your Nether Weight? My method of condensing a Nether Core? Ways to increase your Stats?”

“I want…” Bogart sucked in a breath. “To learn to fight like you.”

The Nether King tilted his head to the side. His emerald eyes glittered. “Fight like me?”

“Physically, the way you move.” The ache from looking at the Nether King spread from Bogart’s jaw to his neck and then his head, but he forced himself not to look away. He needed to prove he was worthy of instruction. “I understand some individuals are part of schools of fighting styles in the Aether world. If you have a fighting style… teach it to me.”

“Oh. Ha.” The Nether King released the pressure and scratched his cheek. “That’s certainly something I can do. Do you… use a spear?”

“No. And I don’t plan on picking up any weapons.” Bogart looked down at his clenched fists. “My father fought with just his hands. So I will too.”

“Hm.”

Bogart froze at that small noise. He clenched his fists tighter and kept his head down. He understood what he was asking was unreasonable; the Nether King clearly used the living spear tied around his waist to fight, although he hadn’t yet demonstrated his capability with it. To both ask to learn his style of fighting while refusing to fight in the same manner was a marked show of disrespect. Yet at the same time.

“Well, I’m not great at teaching, but I think I can manage to show you the spirit of it,” The Nether King eventually said, interrupting Bogart’s reverie and causing his head to whip up. The Nether King gestured. “First though, I need to get a baseline. Do a few laps around the area. Some jumping jacks throw a few punches.”

Confused but just glad he agreed, Bogart did so. By the end of the requested exercises, the Nether King nodded. “Alright, I basically get your limits. For the sparring, I’ll suppress my Stats down to match yours. Take a fighting stance; I’ll demonstrate to your body directly how to fight as the Spear Phantom.”

His skin tingling with nerves, Bogart raised his guard. He narrowed his eyes and watched the Nether King, who stood unnaturally still opposite him. Yet despite the danger, he felt his blood beginning to pump. If they had to rely on the same Stats to fight-

Groaning, Bogart opened his eyes. The Nether King stood above him with an apologetic expression on his face. “Sorry about that, not super useful as a lesson, huh? I forgot I’m working with evolved Stats across the board. Let’s try this again: I’ll suppress myself to about 80% of your Stats.”

Bogart’s heart fluttered as he forced himself to his feet. Did he really… knock me out without me noticing, with my Stats?!?!

He took another fighting stance, his confidence shaken. The Nether King went still once more and this time Bogart’s instincts screamed of danger. Without really even knowing why he scrambled backward, the movement so desperate that he fell off balance as he retreated.

“Ha! Good instincts.” The Nether King was right in front of him. His hand shot forward, toward Bogart’s exposed chest.

Bogart planted his feet and brought his guard up; if they were working with similar Stats, at least he didn’t need to fear a direct confrontation. But while his arms were up, no blow landed upon him. Bogart went cold just as the Nether King’s hand knifed into his side.

“What a familiar fighting style,” The Nether King whispered, stepping back almost a half-second before Bogart’s clumsy, retaliatory swipe. His eyes glittered while the rest of him blurred, sidestepping and seeming to fade from existing. “If you persist in wanting to learn this fighting method, you will find your own Spear Phantom. Mine has grown a lot since I first discovered it… but originally, it was focused on finding perfect timing and distance. And to seize those from your opponent, you follow their breath. Right now, Bogart…”

The blurry Nether King vanished. Bogart wheeled around just in time to take a roundhouse kick to the thigh. As he stumbled backward, the Nether King with gleaming eyes was somehow right in front of him again. Reaching through Bogart’s guard, he rapped his knuckles against the split in the ribcage where the diaphragm was located.

“Right now, I control your breath. Which means you lose.”

This time, Bogart at least saw the blow that knocked him out.

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