CHAPTER 41

  SAVANNAH MONSTER

  Mark and Triska galloped across the endless expanse of snowy plains, their horses' hooves crunching against the frosted ground. Overhead, an eagle soared majestically, circling once before drifting away. Moments later, the distant rhythm of another horse’s gallop reached their ears. Turning, they saw a rider approaching swiftly, the eagle now gliding above the stranger’s horse.

  The rider closed the distance quickly, reining in his steed a few strides away. He was tall, wrapped in a fur coat that shielded him from the cold. His face was sharp and handsome, adorned with a thick, well-groomed mustache.

  “Mark,” the man said. “I’m Zou He. The Imperial Court of Archon Hanying sent me to find you.”

  Mark’s hand drifted instinctively to the hilt of his sword as he smirked. “Impressive, finding me out here in this frozen wasteland. Let me guess—it’s about me killing your Chancellor?”

  Zou He shook his head. “You’re not wrong to suspect that, but no. I’m not here to arrest you. Archon Innokentios and his Greys are obliterating us. Despite our numbers, we’re being slaughtered. General Liao Cheng convinced Archon Hanying that you might be the key to stopping them.”

  Mark’s eyes narrowed. “Not my problem. Why the fuck would I risk my neck for your war? I’m just one guy, and I’m sure as hell not taking on an army of monsters alone.”

  Zou He’s lips curled into a knowing smile. “Because we’re offering you full amnesty for your... indiscretions against Archon Hanying’s realm. And one hundred thousand gold coins.”

  Mark let out a low whistle. “Now you’ve got my attention. So, what? You’re here to drag me back to the Imperial Court?”

  “No. Time is short. Traveling all the way back to the Court would waste months. My job is to brief you here, if you agree.”

  Mark glanced at Triska, who gave a subtle nod. He turned back to Zou He. “Alright, I’m in. Spill it.”

  “There’s an ancient artifact from a civilization older than the Dragons. If we find it, we might have a chance against the Greys.”

  “And this artifact just popped up out of nowhere?”

  “Not exactly. After Archon Innokentios uncovered the Dragon Emperor’s artifact, every Archon—including His Imperial Majesty—sent expeditions to hunt for relics that could counter its power. Three months ago, one team found a scroll. It described this artifact and pinpointed where it might be hidden.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In the jungle near Kofovrongo, in Archon Zva’s realm.”

  Mark folded his arms. “Then why waste time chasing me down? Couldn’t you send someone local to get it?”

  “They tried. None of the men Archon Zva sent returned. General Liao Cheng convinced Archon Hanying—and His Imperial Majesty swayed the other Archons—that you’re the only one capable of succeeding. You’ve slain an Elder Dragon, Mark. Your feats are legendary. Monsters, bandits, sorcerers—you’ve bested them all.”

  “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  Mark and Triska turned west, their horses pressing onward across the icy domain of Archon Vlad. The bitter winds and endless snowdrifts tested their resolve for nearly three weeks until, at last, the frozen landscape gave way to the golden savannahs of Archon Zva’s realm.

  The air grew warmer, filled with the faint scent of dry grass and blooming wildflowers. The tall golden blades of grass swayed gently in the breeze, dotted here and there with clusters of acacia trees that offered scant shade. Herds of elephants lumbered peacefully in the distance, their massive forms casting long shadows under the glaring sun. Closer to the road, nimble gazelles darted between patches of grass, their sleek bodies blending seamlessly with the landscape. Birds with vibrant feathers fluttered above, their calls filling the air with a lively melody.

  As they galloped through this stunning expanse, they came upon a small settlement nestled at the heart of the savannah. The village consisted of humble mud-brick houses painted in earthy browns and reds. The structures seemed to blend naturally with the surrounding environment, their colors echoing the tones of the soil. The villagers, clad in brightly colored gowns that shone under the sun, moved about their tasks with an easy rhythm. Their dark skin glistened in the heat, their laughter and chatter carrying across the settlement like music.

  Mark and Triska guided their horses to a stable, where a young boy eagerly took the reins and offered them water for their mounts. After a quick thank-you, the two headed toward the village inn, a modest building with a straw roof and open-air veranda. Inside, the spacious room was lively, filled with the scent of spices and roasted meat. Wooden tables were scattered around, and villagers drank from clay mugs, their laughter mixing with the sound of clinking dishes. The signature dish of the inn—a steaming plate of lamb marinated with spices and onions—seemed to be on nearly every table.

  Mark and Triska found an empty spot and sat down. Without hesitation, they ordered the lamb and a bottle of wine. The innkeeper, a bald man in his thirties with chocolate-brown skin and a calm demeanor, soon arrived at their table. He wore a simple but colorful tunic.

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  “Welcome, strangers,” he said, setting the steaming plates in front of them. “My name is Olofunke. This is our little settlement of Oyosaba. I see you’re a warrior.”

  Mark took a hearty bite of the lamb, the bold spices igniting his senses. He washed it down with a sip of wine and nodded. “I am. Good dish, by the way—spicy, just how I like it. But why ask if I’m a warrior?”

  Olofunke leaned closer, lowering his voice slightly. “Normally, we wouldn’t bother strangers. But with most of our armed men off fighting Archon Innokentios and the Greys, we could use some help.”

  Mark raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t seem like anyone here’s too worried. Everyone looks like they’re having a good time.”

  Olofunke gave a small smile. “Oh, the village is safe enough. It’s the road south, the one the trade caravans use, that’s the problem. Without safe trade, Oyosaba will suffer.”

  Triska paused mid-bite, glancing at the innkeeper. “What’s the trouble?”

  “An Obia,” Olofunke said gravely. “A monstrous beast. It’s been ambushing caravans, tearing through guards, and leaving nothing but destruction in its wake.”

  Mark sighed, setting down his fork. “Look, I’ve got bigger problems. I’m on an urgent mission to Kofovrongo. Why should I give a fuck about your monster?”

  “The road to Kofovrongo passes right through where the Obia hunts. You’ll be dealing with it whether you want to or not. But here’s an incentive—I’ll pay you a hundred gold coins to take care of it.”

  Mark smirked and leaned back. “Well, when you put it that way... you’ve got yourself a deal.”

  Olofunke nodded, leaving them to enjoy their meal. The lamb was tender and bursting with flavor, the spices perfectly balanced by the sweetness of the onion. The wine was smooth and rich. After finishing their meals, Mark and Triska left the inn, stepping into the warm savannah air. They mounted their horses and set off, galloping down the dusty road that stretched south of the settlement. The road cut through the endless golden grasslands, kicking up clouds of dirt behind them and sending startled gazelles bounding away.

  Suddenly, the ground began to tremble. A deep, rhythmic stomping echoed across the savannah, growing louder with each beat. Mark squinted at the horizon and froze. A hulking figure loomed in the distance, growing clearer as they rode closer.

  The Obia emerged—a towering beast over four meters tall, its dark fur glistening with sweat under the sun. Its glowing red eyes burned like embers, and its mouth revealed rows of sharp, jagged teeth. Long, razor-sharp claws adorned its muscular arms, and its hunched posture made it look even more menacing.

  Mark and Triska dismounted their horses without hesitation. Mark unsheathed his sword, its blade gleaming in the sunlight, while Triska summoned an orb of fire that pulsed with heat in her palm.

  With a deafening roar, the Obia charged at them, its massive frame barreling forward on two legs with the speed of a wild lion. Triska hurled the fireball, but the beast dodged with shocking agility, closing the gap between them in seconds.

  “Watch out!” Mark shouted, shoving Triska aside just as the monster lunged. He rolled to the side, barely avoiding the Obia’s swipe, and landed behind it. Seizing the moment, he slashed his blade across its back. The strike barely left a scratch—the creature’s thick fur absorbed most of the blow.

  Triska conjured shards of ice, sharp as daggers, and launched them at the beast. They struck its hide but only managed to draw thin trails of blood. The Obia howled in fury, pounding its chest with its fists like a frenzied gorilla, then lunged at Mark.

  Dodging the beast’s massive fists, Mark darted toward its legs, driving his sword into its right knee. The blade pierced the fur, but the monster’s dense muscles made it nearly impossible to push deeper. Sensing danger, Mark yanked the sword free and leapt backward just as the Obia’s clawed hand swiped at him.

  Triska acted fast, conjuring twin bolts of fire and hurling them at the beast. The flames caught its fur, igniting it in a fiery blaze. The Obia screamed, its cries shaking the air, and dropped to the ground, rolling desperately to extinguish the flames. As it writhed, it exposed its vulnerable groin—the only part of its body not covered in thick fur.

  “Now’s our chance!” Mark shouted, charging forward. With a precise thrust, he drove his blade deep into the creature’s exposed flesh. Blood gushed from the wound as the Obia let out an ear-splitting scream.

  Finally putting out the fire, the monster staggered back to its feet, its movements now sluggish. It slammed a massive fist into the ground, aiming to crush Mark beneath it. He rolled aside just in time, the impact sending tremors through the earth. As the Obia prepared another attack, Triska launched more ice shards—this time aimed directly at its glowing eyes.

  Both shards hit their mark, and the beast roared in agony, blood streaming from its eyes. Blinded and thrashing wildly, it pounded its chest in a desperate display of dominance.

  Seizing the opportunity, Mark sprinted toward the beast and leapt onto its massive arm, using its muscles as footholds to climb. Reaching the top of its head, he gripped his sword tightly and drove it downward with all his strength. The blade met resistance as it pierced the beast’s skull. Mark gritted his teeth and pushed harder, his muscles straining.

  With a final roar, the Obia collapsed, its enormous body crashing to the ground with a thunderous impact. The earth shook, and a cloud of dust rose around them. Breathing heavily, Mark planted his boot on the beast’s head and wrenched his blade free. He wiped the sweat from his brow. “Time to get our proof.”

  Mark crouched over the lifeless Obia, methodically working to sever its massive head. The creature’s thick fur and tough hide made the task grueling, each slice of his blade a battle in itself. Sweat dripped from his brow, but he pressed on, his determination unwavering. After what felt like an eternity, he finally freed the head. With Triska’s help, they dragged the grotesque trophy to his horse, tying it securely to the saddle.

  Mounting their horses, Mark and Triska set off, galloping back toward Oyosaba. The enormous head of the Obia dragged behind Mark’s horse, leaving a dusty trail in their wake and scattering curious gazelles on the savannah.

  As they entered the village, the townsfolk froze, their expressions shifting from terror to awe as they caught sight of the monstrous head. Gasps and murmurs rippled through the crowd.

  Mark and Triska rode straight to the stable, where the same young boy from before hurried to greet them. He untied the head from the horse with wide-eyed wonder and, Mark together with Triska, they hauled it into the inn. With a resounding thud, they dropped it onto the floor.

  “The head of the Obia!” Olofunke exclaimed. “I cannot believe it! You actually killed the beast!”

  “Yeah, we did,” Mark said, brushing dirt from his hands. “Now, about that reward…”

  “Of course, of course!” Olofunke said, tossing a hefty pouch of coins into Mark’s hand. “Anything else you need?”

  “Yeah,” Mark replied, cracking a grin. “Bring us more wine, another one of those lamb dishes, and a room for the night.”

  “Right away!” Olofunke said, hurrying off.

  The evening was filled with laughter, wine, and the mouthwatering spice of lamb. The villagers celebrated their heroes, but Mark and Triska eventually retreated to their room for the night, making love. Triska’s moans filled the inn.

  By dawn, they were back on the road, galloping south with the golden savannah stretching endlessly before them. Behind them, Oyosaba faded into the horizon. Ahead lay the urgent mission that could change the fate of the entire continent. For that is the life of a wandering swordsman, to always be on the move.