The beast roared, showing its lethal teeth, as its scaly skin was punctured. The beast was huge, nearly ten metres from head to tail, covered in near impenetrable scales. To Akira, however, the Basilisk was small prey, it’s scales easily destroyed by the blades of bone the hardness of steel that protruded from his wrists and curved up to his elbow. These were the gift of the Gods to his family, along with strength, speed, and perception above those of the other People. They were the hunters of the People, and Akira was one of the best of them. The only beast he could not kill alone was the massive Behemoth, but they rarely descended from the mountains.

He jumped away from the creature’s bite and dodged its claws with ease before charging at it again. The Basilisk roared and lifted its head. Exactly what he had been waiting for. He ducked under the beast’s massive head and slashed once, deep and precise, at it’s neck before diving out from under it before it fell.

Blood pooled on the grass as Akira observed his kill. He carefully wiped his blades on a clean part of the Basilisk’s hide and looked around. The rust-coloured grass extended in all directions, but small hills prevented him seeing very far from his current position. He could see the mountains looming in the South, territory of Behemoth and beasts even more fearsome than they. The People did not venture near the mountains, not even Akira or other Hunters.

Akira walked away from the dead Basilisk. Other People would come and carry it off to the village soon enough, but a Hunter worked alone unless absolutely necessary. It would be unhonorable to do otherwise. He climbed up a hill but, as usual, did not see anything special from up there. The beasts of the grasslands could hide themselves better than that. He kept on searching, hunting for hours, until he noticed he was far away from the People’s hunting grounds, farther from the village than he had ever been. He was not worried, though, he could easily sleep out in the grasslands, and no beast presented a danger to him. Yet he knew he was getting uncomfortably close to Korla, one of the two Cities of the Elders that stood around the People’s village. Even seeing the city on the horizon could incur the wrath of the Gods.

He was about to change direction when he glimpsed something on a nearby hill. He quickly ducked down, hiding in the long grass, and peered out at it. It almost looked like one of the People’s women, but it was smaller, less strong. When he adjusted his sight to see across the long distance, and saw that she was dressed in a robe of a strange white material, and that strange light glowed around her, he knew immeadetly what she was. She was a Steel Goddess.

She wasn’t looking at him, thankfully, he could just crawl away, unseen, and avoid her wrath at being seen so close to the blasfemous city of Korla. Yet he didn’t. He stayed there, hidden. He had never actually seen a Goddess before, and was determined to see this one’s face before leaving. He knew he was completely defying common sense and the laws of the Gods and the People by spying on her, but he did, nevertheless. When she turned towards him he almost panicked, but then realized she wasn’t looking at him, but beyond, to the mountains. He focused on her face. She was paler than any other he had ever seen, like the sun had never touched her skin, and her hair hung down to her shoulders in perfect lines. Everything about her was perfect, her features were perfectly defined, perfectly symmetrical. Her clothes were perfectly clean, perfectly uncreased. As he looked at those emerald green eyes, he realized he would never consider anything else beautiful, for it would be nothing in comparison with her. When she turned and walked northwards, he followed.