The human’s face paled, beads of sweat forming on his brow as he fumbled over his words. "I… I didn’t mean any offense," he stammered, voice cracking. His fear was tangible, an acrid scent in the air that Arthur found somewhat amusing. The man tried to steady his breathing, his gaze flickering between Arthur’s blood-red horns and the razor-sharp claws flexing against the rocky ground.
Arthur observed him with mild curiosity, far more than he’d afforded to most creatures in the Scorching Badlands. There was something faintly interesting about this human—a trace of energy unfamiliar yet not completely foreign. It wasn’t the raw, primal essence he’d sensed from other creatures he’d devoured, but it was there nonetheless, stirring some buried instinct within him.
Arthur’s gaze remained fixed on the trembling human before him, his massive frame casting a dark shadow over the figure. The red glow of his horns pulsed rhythmically, a warning heartbeat in the oppressive silence.
The human swallowed, gathering his courage. "Y-you’re strong… too strong to just roam these lands aimlessly." He hesitated, his voice wavering. "If you’re here, then perhaps it’s… it’s fate that brought us together."
Arthur snorted, a low rumbling sound that made the ground quiver. "Fate," he echoed, his voice thick with disdain. "You overestimate your importance, little mouse. Tell me, what do you want?"
The human flinched at the moniker but forced himself to speak. "Volcranax. You know of him, don’t you? He’s the scourge of these lands, the monster that reduced my people to ashes. He’s not just any beast. He’s a calamity… a tyrant." His eyes sparked with a desperate fire, though his voice betrayed his fear. "I’ve heard rumors… ancient lore, really, that there exists a weapon—a relic called the Cursed Crown—capable of containing Volcranax’s fury. Only with it could we hope to stand a chance."
Arthur’s eyes narrowed, a deep rumble escaping his throat. "And you think I care? Volcranax’s strength sounds… intriguing."
The human’s eyes widened, caught between awe and terror. "No… no, you don’t understand." He took a cautious step closer, his hands trembling as he gestured toward the dark horizon. "Without that Crown, no one stands a chance against Volcranax. Not even you. Legends say that the Cursed Crown holds the strength of my people’s ancestors—the last hope they forged to protect themselves."
Arthur let the words sink in, his expression unreadable. Finally, he tilted his massive head, the glow of his horns intensifying. "So you think this Crown could give you a chance against Volcranax… and you expect me to help you?"
The human nodded, his jaw set, though his body quivered. "Yes. If you help me, we could retrieve it together. You… you must have some purpose here beyond aimlessly killing, right?"
Arthur’s rumbling growl turned into something resembling a chuckle. "My purpose? And what makes you think a mouse like you could give it meaning?"
"I—I have knowledge!" the human stammered, forcing himself to hold Arthur’s gaze. "I know where to find the Crown. It’s hidden deep within these ruins, where only the chosen could tread. I… I can lead you to it."
The monster tilted his head, red eyes glinting with amusement. "Chosen?" he sneered. "You sound like the desperate fool you are."
The human clenched his fists, frustration burning in his eyes. "Call it what you want, but I know these lands better than anyone. The ancient tribes guarded the Crown, creating barriers that only one of our bloodline can cross. You need me if you want to find it."
Arthur regarded him for a moment, as if weighing the worth of this mouse’s claim. After a long pause, he rumbled, "Fine. Lead on, little mouse. But make no mistake—you’re only alive because I’m allowing it. Try to deceive me, and I will crush you without hesitation."
The human’s face lit up with a mixture of fear and gratitude, and he quickly nodded. "I understand. Just… just follow me. I’ll get us there."
Arthur observed him with mild curiosity, far more than he’d afforded to most creatures in the Scorching Badlands. There was something faintly interesting about this human—a trace of energy unfamiliar yet not completely foreign. It wasn’t the raw, primal essence he’d sensed from other creatures he’d devoured, but it was there nonetheless, stirring some buried instinct within him.
"Lead on, Mouse," he rumbled, letting the human think that he might actually be guiding their path through the ruins.
The human—clearly uncomfortable with the nickname but too terrified to protest—nodded hastily and started toward the ruins’ heart. As they moved through the crumbling remnants of what had once been a village or city, Arthur noticed the scattered remains of tools, pottery, and faint carvings on charred stones. These ruins told stories of a people who had once called this land home, who had built, fought, and fallen beneath its oppressive heat.
Arthur feigned interest in the human’s whispered explanations, though he let only half the words sink in. The man spoke of warriors who had sacrificed themselves to appease Volcranax, hoping to control the beast that had ruled over them. They had offered their strongest, only to be betrayed in return. Those sacrifices had, apparently, once satisfied Volcranax, keeping the dragon’s wrath at bay. But now, the ruins around them were littered with evidence of a darker truth.
"Many of us… we’re gone now," the human whispered, his voice tinged with sorrow. "Reduced to ashes, bones, and memories. The Cursed Crown was said to be our only hope. Some believed it could control the beasts, but no one ever found it. Only legends remain." He looked up at Arthur, a hint of hope flickering in his gaze. "But if I could just…"
Arthur’s amusement grew as he watched the human’s ambition flare up in desperation. It was pitiful, really, yet he allowed the human’s hopes to simmer for the moment. "Is that so?" Arthur’s voice was deep, like distant thunder, layered with sarcasm as he let his gaze wander to the cracked pillars and the symbols that seemed to pulse faintly with age-old energy. He could crush this human anytime he chose, yet something inside told him to let the mouse indulge his fantasies for now.
The human took Arthur’s apparent interest as encouragement and continued to chatter, all the while glancing over his shoulder as if to make sure Arthur was still paying attention.
Arthur followed, his own thoughts dark and brewing, half-listening as his gaze lingered on the strange, charred symbols that coated the stone.
As they ventured deeper, Arthur noticed an unusual pillar, taller than the rest and covered in intricate carvings. He felt a sudden surge of psychic energy, a force that pulled him in, and his vision swam. In an instant, he was not here in the Badlands but somewhere else entirely—somewhere bright and foreign. A city, aglow with lights, its towers piercing the sky. There was laughter, the sound of a voice… someone familiar. And then a knife—a figure behind him, a flash of betrayal that seared through his soul.
The vision jarred him back to reality, leaving his mind clouded with bitterness and rage. His claws dug into the earth, leaving deep furrows as he struggled to shake off the sensation. He could still feel the weight of that betrayal, a wound cut so deep that even now, in this monstrous form, it bled through. It was as if the memory had always been there, festering, waiting for the right moment to surface.
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Lost in the haze of his emotions, Arthur barely registered the human creeping closer to the pedestal at the center of the ruins. His eyes focused on the object that lay there—the Cursed Crown, its dark aura pulsating with a faint but potent energy. In his distraction, he hadn’t noticed the human reaching out, fingers inches from the artifact.
The betrayal struck him again, this time in real-time. The human thought he could outsmart him, thought he could seize the power of the Crown right from under Arthur’s nose. It was laughable, and infuriating. Something primal in Arthur’s mind snapped.
Arthur’s head snapped up, the haze of his memory dissolving in an instant. Rage surged through him, fueled by the bitter memory of betrayal. His horns blazed with psychic energy, and his voice filled the clearing like a thunderclap. "You dare… to deceive me?"
The human’s eyes widened in terror, his bravado crumbling as he realized the enormity of his mistake. He stammered, "Wait—I… I didn’t mean—"
But Arthur’s patience had snapped. In a single, brutal motion, he lunged forward, his massive jaws closing around the human with a sickening crunch. The Cursed Crown tumbled from the man’s lifeless fingers, clattering to the ground.
"Disgusting." Arthur turned towards the cursed crown, already forgetting about the tiny little mouse that tried to deceive him.
"Now, what exactly are you?"
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Thank you for joining Arthur’s journey through the Scorching Badlands! Your support and enthusiasm mean everything as we dive deeper into this world of monstrous battles, mysteries, and evolution. Every chapter is a step closer to unlocking Arthur’s true potential. Here’s to more epic moments ahead—thank you for reading!