CHAPTER 2 - The Imperial Tithe (Patreon)

The beast was terrifying.

Three meters tall at the shoulder, with four reverse-jointed legs. Dozens of red, beady eyes covered its head. The brown body was coated in stiff hair interspersed with spiky protrusions long enough to impale clear through a grown man.

By far, the most nightmare-inducing quality was its maw. Big enough to easily swallow Jiran whole, coated in hundreds of teeth; there wasn’t even a tongue, just rows and rows of teeth. Like two beds of nails.

Jiran gulped the saliva that rapidly built in his mouth. He couldn't help but imagine how a single bite would turn him into an easily swallowed stew.

Eyes locked on the beast, Jiran didn’t notice Skandor until another explosion blasted the monster in the side, sending it stumbling. The creature regained its footing quickly as Skandor’s attack was not nearly powerful enough to knock it down.

Skandor floated in the air, green gusts of wind shimmered around his lower body propelling him in any direction at a moment's notice.

He dodged to the side as the creature lunged at him.

Jiran refused to blink as he watched Skandor loose an arrow coated in red flames. It exploded upon contact with the monster's flank, leaving a small scorch on its scales.

Their deadly game of catch continued for what felt like hours to Jiran. He was so absorbed by the beast and hunter that he almost failed to notice when Micah arrived at the top of the wall.

Jiran had never seen his uncle fight. He had only heard stories from his parents and some of the villagers. Jiran was filled with equal parts dread and excitement at the opportunity to finally see his idol in action.

However, even Jiran knew his uncle would be no more than a momentary distraction for the ferocious fourth tier beast.

Micah didn’t jump down from the wall right away. He crouched low in his leather armor, spear held before him in a steady grip. Its point never veered from the beast's heart.

A blue crackling sheen spread across his body, it began in the center of his chest and spread outward until he was covered from head to toe. Then all at once, the coating was absorbed into his spear which now shone as bright blue as First Mother in the sky.

With a deep bellow, Micah leaped from the wall, spearhead glowing brighter and brighter as he dropped.

Just as the beast landed from another failed lunge at Skandor, Micah thrust the point of his spear toward the far-off monster.

A blast of blue lightning covered the distance in half the blink of an eye. It pierced straight through the beast. Steam rose from the gaping hole that had been torn straight through its body.

The huge beast howled in pain and rage as its head swiveled toward Micah. He stood in front of the rampart wall panting and heaving as if he’d just run for a week straight. The butt of his spear was in the ground as he used it to support his body. Steam rose from the tip that pointed toward the skies.

Jiran knew in his gut that his uncle was about to die. There was no way he could dodge the incredibly fast lunge that was surely coming. Micah wasn’t like Skandor in the fourth tier, who had far more mana available to throw himself through the air on currents of wind.

True to Jiran’s fears, the beast dove, closing the distance in the time it took a heart to beat twice. Time slowed as Jiran’s adrenaline spiked. He could see everything happen in slow motion, the beast closing in with maw wide, hundreds of teeth leading the charge.

Yet just as the mouth slammed shut, Micah simply vanished, as if he ceased to exist.

The beast shot forward with all its considerable momentum. It slammed into the rampart wall causing a rumbling crash.

Jiran lost his grip on the sentry tower scaffolding. He fell down a rung before managing to wrap his legs around the wooden beam beneath him. He clutched even more tightly to his perch, the hair on his body standing up straight from the panic of nearly falling to the ground far below.

Meanwhile, the beast had been completely stunned from its head-on collision with the incredibly sturdy imperial barricade. Its rear was planted in the dirt while it shook its head slowly from side to side.

Skandor had not been idle during the distraction bought by Micah. His body shone with a pale fiery light as he landed next to the beast.

The glow shifted from his body to his bow, then from bow to knocked arrow, and finally, just the arrowhead shone with a blazing red light. The arrow was loosed directly into the hole in its side. It flew into the center of the beast's chest where it disappeared from sight.

A moment of stillness followed the vanishing arrow before a loud, dull thump preceded a fountain of blood and gore gushing out of both sides of the beast’s torso.

The severe wound caused by Micah had been rapidly closing before Skandor’s attack. Now the flesh around it was blackened and leaked thick, red, steaming blood.

Yet somehow, even with its life force gushing out like two sanguine waterfalls, the beast fought on, refusing to die.

The beast kicked off from its squatting position and shoulder-slammed into the recovering Skandor. A scuffle too fast for Jiran to follow ensued as the impossibly quick creature tried to pin him to the ground with its spikes.

Jiran couldn’t breathe as he tried desperately to follow the blurring figures.

If the beast gets his teeth around Skandor, then we are all dead.

Through luck or skill, Skandor came out on top. He once more flew into the air surrounded by the green winds. He was not unscathed, one of the spikes on the monster's body had left a nasty-looking wound through his chest.

Skandor’s barrage of exploding arrows resumed. With the beast wounded, it was unable to keep up with him. It wasn’t long before it collapsed to the ground.

Jiran finally realized he had stopped breathing and inhaled a huge breath of air. His brain kicked back into action, causing the colors and sounds of the world around him to resume. As he came back to awareness, the first thing he noticed was the screaming.

Looking around, a full third of the village was present atop the wall cheering for Skandor. The man stood near his kill, hands on knees, chest heaving.

Standing tall, he threw a fist into the air and yelled right back, matching their display of raw emotion. Every person present was coming to grips with the knowledge they would get to live another day.

Jiran clung to his precarious position on the scaffolding and joined right in with the screaming.

He had been told time and again that beasts of a higher tier were something you ran from, never fought, and he now knew why.

The difference in speed, endurance, and deadliness of a higher tier beast was not a gap that could be bridged. Death was the only outcome for those who tried.

His uncle walked up to the base of Jiran’s perch and motioned him down.

Dropping the few meters to the ground, Jiran clumsily landed next to Micah and immediately leapt to hug the giant man.

“I thought you were going to die, how did you escape? You were so fast I couldn’t see.”

With a light chuckle, Micah responded “I thought I was a goner too. I didn’t expect the beast to be so fast, or that bolt to wipe out my mana so thoroughly. Just as I gave up, the elders combined castings and pulled me out.

"Enough about me, now is your turn, Jiran.”

“Um, what? My turn for what?.”

Then it struck him, it was his birthing day and by imperial law, he was due the right of claiming a cut of the day's kill. Except, how could he possibly go out there in front of two-thirds of the village and claim the tithe from that insane beast?

A tier two he would be fine with, a tier three would be asking too much. Did Micah truly expect him to go up to the wounded Skandor and demand the Imperial tithe? The anticipation made his small body tremble.

“Oh no, you can’t be serious, Uncle.”

“Of course I’m serious, now c’mon let’s go”

Not giving Jiran a chance to weasel out of the situation, Micah placed a huge steady hand on his shoulder and practically dragged him through the gate and out onto the field.

The smell of blood assaulted Jiran’s senses. There was so much of it, everywhere he looked was a sea of red. Skandor stood proud in front of his kill, watching every step Jiran took, measuring his worth to claim a portion of his kill.

Everyone knew.

They all watched as Jiran and Micah came to a stand in front of the hunter. Jiran was so nervous his small body was shaking like a leaf in the wind.

He opened his mouth to speak but no sound came out. Embarrassment shot through his body, he could feel his face heating up as he blushed a dark crimson.

Gathering courage from the hand on his shoulder, Jiran took a deep breath. He clenched his little fists and screamed the words his father forced him to memorize over the last Moon.

“By imperial decree, I hereby declare my right to the Fifth, I swear to uphold my obligations to the emperors, the Finlest Empire, and my fellow imperialists. Let my pledge of two years be heard by all, under the five emperors' grace, may we all thrive!”

“May we all thrive!” Came the return salute from the villagers on the wall. Even Skandor mumbled along.

Apparently content with Jiran’s performance, he moved to one of the beast's legs. Drawing a large serrated knife from his belt, he cut off a chunk of meat the size of Jiran’s head. Once cut free, Skandor tossed the meat at Jiran who barely managed to catch it without falling.

With a dismissive nod of his head, Skandor mumbled a sarcastic “May we thrive,” before going back to his grisly task.

“Thank you, sir, I won’t disappoint you,” Jiran spoke as bravely as he could before walking back toward the village with Micah.

They passed Skandor’s apprentices after a short distance. Two of them glowered at him with clear hate in their eyes. Jiran understood why they were unhappy with his choice of claiming the Fifth on today of all days.

He was unhappy as well. He had never heard a single story of a child claiming tithe on a fourth tier beast. He felt disgusting and dirty, like a thief.

The previous fourth tier kill was three whole seasons ago, certainly, no child had dared to claim a portion of that beast. Why had his uncle forced him into this? Looking up at the man as they walked, Jiran pondered what Micah must have been thinking, dragging him out there.

Jiran had felt so guilty standing before Skandor and the village, he had even doubled his oath of service to two years. Not even a year old yet himself, and he would have to serve two years in the army. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he trudged along behind Micah, toward home.