Don’t even think about hitting it. Just don’t. If you accidentally hit it, just swim away as fast as you can. I was out hunting for ammonites (I didn’t know what they did back then) on my basilosaurus. I saw one and hit it. I watched in horror as the whole ocean came swimming at me. I swam back to the surface, only to realise, a Tutsi was chasing me. It knocked me off my basilo and it tried to kill it. Luckily I had scuba gear. I got the gear on, whistled passive and put it to follow. The stupid tuso chased me around the whole map and now it is right next to my base. My basilo is stuck on the other side of the island. All because I hit an ammonite.

Greetings and Salutations everyone!!! This is PrimalApex, and I’d like to say thank you for reaching this far with me on my journey of writing Ultimus. Two and half years is a bit crazy for what it should have been. But I’m glad I’ve decided to dedicate my time to this project. Especially since it’ll be occurring for many more years to come.

So, since we’ve reached the end of Ultimus on Aquatic, where do we go from here? Well, I think I’m gonna continue within the Bosses category next (which, I will skip Moeder since I already did her before in Aquatics.), and this time starting Beyla.

Again, thank you for reading so far!!! And I hope you enjoy the rest of the story to come!!! Also, if you have any questions, please feel free to leave them in Achatina!!!

I saw one of these guys in the ocean floor while riding my ichthy and I was like "ya know I wanna see the ocean go mad and i attacked the ammonite..Then i swimmed to the surface with my ichthy and i see armies of mantas megalodons basilos cnidarias and even a leedsichythis wanted to kill me.I went to the surface and saw pteranodons and pelagornise's trying to kill me and my ichthy.After that the rage thing was over and everything wasn't angy and I was like "let's do that again with a basilosaurus!!!!!!"I mounted on my basilo and attacked the ammonite in the ocean floor went up to the surface and wow.Everything came to kill me and my basilo it was crazy!!! I even saw a mosa coming into the fight. Good thing my basilo was strong enough to kill them all.Soo many xp anyways that's all bye🤣

𝘙𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘷𝘰𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳

Ultimus Chapter Thirty-Four: Woes of the Living

Andrew and Erica finally made it to Delta Tower. It was a large building that was partially underground, overlooking the Sulphur Fields. He had been here a couple of times before with Reuben, but he had never done too much exploring since most of his time had been spent looking through Sanctuary and the Military Base. He knew it was pretty docile for the most part, as he had never really seemed to have come across any of the corrupted creatures up here. But the treks to it were extremely dangerous with the larger and more dangerous dinosaurs and corrupted creatures around the facility, making it not worth the risk for exploring and gathering gear.

It took a few minutes to find the others and where they had gone. But they did eventually find them at the top platform beneath the tower itself. Jonathan was setting up a small camp, while Paul was tending to Freya once again. Erica and Andrew saw that they had left Grace and Angrboda on the far side of the tower overlooking the Sulphur Fields and the dome in the far distance. So Andrew brought Knight Sky and Erica’s Saber to the same spot.

“Paul!! How is she doing?” Erica shouted as she ran over. Andrew followed wanting to hear what he had to say. He turned and looked relieved to see them, muttering something under his breath.

“Aren’t ya two a sight for sore eyes!! Yer half mad ta go out there and deal with them alone like that!” Paul said almost ignoring the question Erica asked as they both ran over.

“Paul, how is she doing?” Erica asked again as they reached him. Andrew looked at Freya who was lying on a leather sleeping bag with a pelt interior. She still had her armor on, though her fur coat was deeply damaged, to the point of being irreparable. Her flak leggings were deeply corroded. She had some sort of salve all over her face and hands. She lay on the bag with her eyes open, looking out of the corner of her eye as she held her hand on her stomach. She then lifted herself up, seething from the mouth as she did so, and looked at Erica.

“Jeg har det bra, Erica. Trenger bare litt hvile. Men jeg kommer meg på beina igjen for å hjelpe meg tilbake til basen.” Freya stated. Her eyes were still red from the acid burning her, but they were less so than earlier. Paul turned to face her and scowled.

“Freya, ya can’t be moving for a bit. Ya gotta lay back down and stay still. I don’t want ya smearing off the salve or causing those burns to get infected or bleed. Now please, lay back down.” Paul said firmly. She gave an irritated look. But Paul wasn’t backing down.

“Don’t make me force ya back down lass. I will use sedatives on ya. Now lie down and stay still.” He rebutted. She still gave him a look, but she obliged and lay back down on the bag. He looked back at Erica and Andrew. His face was less excited to them than it was moments before.

“She’s mostly covered in second-degree burns from what I can see, but guessing from how much cover she wore, and how soon she got outta there, she’s probably covered in minimal second-degree, or first-degree burns under the armor. But, she has deep burns on her hands and arms. She might have some trouble using them for a time as they heal. But they should fully heal with the treatment I have.” He said. He sighed deeply as he closed his eyes, and turned back to look at Freya for a moment. Before returning his attention to Andrew and Erica. “Parts of her face do have deep third-degree burns, and there is some scarring in her eyes. I’m… my data is inconclusive on whether they’ll ever properly heal from those burns without scarring occurring. But I’m most afraid of her organs inside. Even though ya got her out very swiftly Andrew. The time she spent in there breathing the toxic air could be fatal, even now. So I want to keep her under close watch until I know she’s not in that danger. I do think if Erica hadn’t given her her own medical brew. She probably wouldn’t be here at all.” Paul finished. Erica seemed deeply shocked and worried. Andrew was almost deaf to what was said next. He was beyond devastated by what he heard. He didn’t know what to say or how to respond. All he could do was walk away and think. And all he could think was that this was all his fault.

Andrew looked around at everything, taking in the damage that he caused. Both Jonathan’s and Sylas’s horses were missing. Phil and Sylas were-… Freya was burned almost to death, her Rex seemed to be mildly burnt too. Paul’s Ceratosaurus was pressed to exhaustion and Knight Sky and Erica’s Sabertooth were on edge. And that wasn’t mentioning how Erica, Jonathan, and Paul must have been doing; or what of their supplies they had squandered on killing all of those animals. Everything had gone horribly wrong on this adventure, and it was all of his fault. He just wanted to curl up in a ball, beg for forgiveness for what he had caused.

As he reached the tames, Andrew felt something grab his shoulder and yank him around. He got shoved into the wall of the building and gasped to see Jonathan tower over him as he held a buck knife in his one hand. His eyes were filled with anger and disgust.

“C'est quoi ce bordel, toi?! Espèce de fils de chèvre sans mère!!” Jonathan spat as he held the blade against Andrew’s throat. “Je vais t'éventrer comme le porc que tu es!! Tes dernières paroles?”

~

Paul was with Erica as they continued talking about Freya’s condition and how long it could take for her to heal. Andrew had left them alone a few minutes before. He hadn’t said it, but Paul and Erica had both agreed that a thanks was needed. If it weren’t for Andrew, Freya wouldn’t be alive, and they wouldn’t have made it without him either.

As for all of the medical questions. Paul’s thoughts were all over the place. He was shell-shocked at what all had happened. Much of what occurred was lost in what had happened back there. All he knew, was that they were safe for now. But they needed to figure out what to do next.

“So, what’s our next plan?” Paul asked. Erica looked over at him in shock.

“What?”

“What’s yer plan? This attempt at getting Element ta regather ourselves and build a more suitable army hasn’t worked. What’s yer thoughts on our next move? Are we bringing down the Ark?” Paul asked. Erica remained silent. She lost all expression on her face.

“We can’t…” Paul didn’t understand what she meant.

“What do ya mean we can’t? Of course w—” “Sylas is dead, he was our best and only shot at bringing the Ark down. It’s gonna be locked behind a system, and I needed his expertise to breach that system. No Sylas, no Ark, and no Ark. Means no saving Earth.” Erica explained. Paul's shoulders slumped at this. He was in complete shock at hearing this. He wished he had a chair to sit in and rest, or a cigar to ease his nerves and his stress. He didn’t think about that, that without Sylas, they had no chance at this.

“I told you this was a bad idea, Paul. I told you, and now, we lose. Humanity loses… because we had to play it ‘safe’, you had to listen to the devil of botany and his stupid plan of ‘getting stronger’ instead of just going to Mount Brecken and bringing it down, I hope you're happy. Cause now we’re stuck here, and we have no way to bring our allies and friends down.” Erica said softly, though her emotions were not as soft, she was furious, but most of all upset. Their whole mission was wrecked. He looked at Erica who still seemed shell-shocked about what she had realized. Then he looked at Freya on the sleeping bag, she was too out of it, and too far away from the conversation to hear what Erica had said. This news would be horrific for her, and the others to hear. And he didn’t want that type of guilt thrown onto Andrew one bit.

“Don’t tell the others, not yet.” Paul said. Erica looked at him as though he was crazy.

“Are you kidding? You thought I would tell them? And cause that type of despair or any violence? Yeah right…” Erica said. Paul closed his eyes in relief. This still wasn’t an easy thing to take in, but it would be easier if it was only two of them, and not everyone. There was a moment of silence as they both sat there.

“I’m sorry lass. This is all my fault.” Paul said with a frail, genuine voice. “I was a fool for not prioritizing yer plan, and instead doing Jonathan’s, not only that. I talked Andrew ta taking us to his home ta give us his Element for our own gain, less so than his. If we’d gone and done with yer plan, we’d have the Ark down and have many more hands ta help us. Forgive me lass, I’m at fault for lettin’ everyone down and destroying our chances, but most of all. I’m the one at fault for losin’ our friend… and not Andrew for Sylas’s death.” Paul said. He looked at her, and she immediately picked up on what he was saying.

“Oh come on Paul, I’m not that quick to—” she said before pausing and thinking of what she was saying. “—He has no reason to have Sylas’s death blamed on him.” Erica stated.

“He doesn’t?” Paul said back. Taken aback by what she just said. Erica shook his head.

“No. None of us knew that would happen, Andrew especially wouldn’t know. He doesn’t have an implant, he can walk that path just fine, how was he supposed to know… It would all crash and burn in a split second.” Erica said. Paul looked at her.

“This ain’t sounding like yer normal self. Usually you blame exactly who’s fault it is.” Paul said. Erica looked back. Her eyes

“Watching something that gives you safety and comfort crumble in front of you is bad enough, Paul. Having needless blame thrown on top of that can push you over the edge, in more ways than one.” Erica answered back. “It wasn’t his fault, h@**! It wasn’t even your fault, you just wanted to keep us safe when we brought down the Ark.” Erica said with a large sigh. “I’m not doing okay with any of this, Paul, I’m beyond upset with Sylas being dead, and I’m devastated that Freya is in intensive care. But I shouldn’t shame or blame you for something you are already blaming/shaming yourself for.” Paul was genuinely surprised at what she was saying. She wasn’t one to apologize like this, ever.

“The only one I would put remote blame on is Jona-… where’s Jonathan?” Erica said standing up and looking around at the unbuilt camp. Paul’s eyes started searching for him too. He couldn’t see him in the camp area. He had given him orders to set up a few tents so they could rest before heading back to the main base camp the next day or so.

“He shouldn’t have gone off too far, why’re lookin’ for him, Erica?” Paul said.

“Because I got a bad feeling about what he’s doing! Where’s And- ah s%^&!!” She said as she started running toward where the tames were left. He looked and saw what Erica saw. Jonathan was beating the crap out of Andrew.

~

Andrew stared at Jonathan, feeling the cold metal blade touch his throat. He didn’t dare resist in case he was willing to commit to what he was threatening. Though he didn’t know why he cared, survival he guessed.

“Do you have anything to say you retarded imbecile!!” Jonathan hissed.

“I didn’t, didn’t mean to kill—” Andrew felt the butt of the knife handle hit him in the head.

“Shut up, I don’t care for your pity plea. You murdered Sylas, you killed his pet, you had nearly all of us killed, me in that equation!! For what? Fun, Pleasure, a Sadistic Fetish?” Jonathan spat as he dropped his knife. As Andrew started getting up, he got hit again, again, and again.

“You’re a monster!! A sick, cruel thing. You don’t deserve anything!! You don’t deserve the trust or respect of anyone here!!” Jonathan growled as he threw another punch.

“And what about that grave? You killed them too?” Jonathan whimpered. As he beat Andrew. He just knelt there. Andrew just let it happen, getting pummeled over and over. He understood the pain. And, feeling he deserved it.

“Did you lure them into a trap? Did they say something that got you angry? Did the idea just tickle your sick mind?” Jonathan said as he stopped hitting him. Andrew didn’t say anything, which Jonathan kicked him in the gut for. Andrew quickly felt Jonathan grab his scalp and stare into his eyes.

“Answer me you piece of s—” “I couldn’t save him!! I was a coward, I watched him save me, and die right in front of me. Is that what you want me to hear? That I was a coward. There you got it. I’m a coward. I couldn’t save my best friend because I was a coward. And I couldn’t save Sylas because I didn’t try hard enough. I wish I tried harder.” Andrew said in broken defeat. He could feel blood dripping down his chin. Jonathan gave a huff.

“Do you think I’ll believe that? The only part I believe is that you’re a coward. A pathetic coward, who doesn’t deserve the privileges you have.” Jonathan said.

“JONATHAN!!” A voice cried out. Andrew looked past Jonathan to see Erica shouting as she ran over. Jonathan gave a smug look as she was running over.

“Ah, look who else came over to give you a run for your—” Jonathan was saying before getting a right haymaker to the jaw from Erica. Making him fall to the ground.

“What are you doing?!?!” Erica shouted. Jonathan cussed as he held his jaw.

“What am I doing? What are you doing?! Why on green earth would you hit me!!” Jonathan howled. Erica looked at him with a stone-cold glare.

“I’m making sure you aren’t killing someone who helped save us.” Erica growled. Jonathan cackled

“SAVE US?!? HE KILLED SYLAS!!! AND NEARLY KILLED US ALL!!! AND YOU'RE GOING TO SIDE WITH HIM!!” He howled.

“He didn’t kill Sylas. The was… Sylas’s death was an accident.” Erica said.

“Is that what you're telling yourself? That it was an accident? That he had nothing to do with his death, or that grave in the ground wasn’t his actions?” Jonathan hissed. Andrew clenched his fists, he was right though. Which is what made it worse, that he was right to call him a murderer. And it just left him in a state of paralysis. He lived through both of them over and over again. Thinking of what he could have done to change the outcomes. As he sat there, he saw Erica getting angrier. She clenched her fist for a moment before opening it up again and walked closer to Jonathan.

~

“You know what, you’re right. I don’t think it was an accident. I blame YOU, Jonathan. You are the one who insisted that we should wait to bring the Ark down, you were the one who caused this mission to be necessary. You were the one who I blame for Sylas’s death. Not Paul, not Andrew. You, because I told you that this could end with somebody’s blood spilt. But you had to let your ambitions drive you. You just need to be ‘The One’ who describes these animals?! Well, I hope it was worth it. You not only killed Sylas, but you caused us to waste supplies, kill tames, and— pushed our timetable further behind than we should be.” Erica said as she shoved Jonathan. He gave a big sneer as she shoved him.

“Oh, please shut up!!” He shouted. “You and I both know he was the one who killed Sylas and was the one to blame for everything that happened.” Jonathan spat as he walked back up to Erica. She glared up at him as she clenched her fist.

“You still gonna side with the murderer? You stupid moron.” He said before spitting in her face. She sat there for a moment with the spit rolling down her face. She wiped it off with her hand while putting her tongue in her cheek.

“You know, I may not have as many degrees as you, but I do know a few more things than you, like this—” Erica said as she jabbed a closed fist into Jonathan’s nose. He grabbed his nose. Letting out a cry of anguish as his glasses fell from his face.

“You. You broke my nose!!” Jonathan wailed. He bent forward as he held his nose, Erica smirked at her achievement.

“You deserved it for months you insufferable French prick!”

In a split second everything went into pandemonium as Jonathan whipped his head back up hitting Erica in the lower jaw. She grabbed her jaw as she wailed but was interrupted when Jonathan tackled her to the ground.

“That’s the pot calling the kettle black.” Jonathan growled as he started wailing on Erica. The dust flew bitterly as Erica was dazed on the ground. Jonathan continued to throw punches nonetheless. But everything felt slow as she felt each punch hit her. She looked over at Andrew, his battered and bruised face looking at the ground. He didn’t look at anything occurring, his expression dulled and his eyes glazed over as he sat there. His face expressed something she knew quite well. She refocused on the hits she had taken and let Jonathan’s victory live short. Erica quickly shoved her fingers into his broken nose. Jonathan started to yell as Erica shoved him off of her.

“Fighting dirty doesn’t suit you.” She said as she started getting off the ground and dusting herself off. Jonathan was kneeling on the ground as she steadied her stance and kneed him in the head.

“Well, I never picked you for an artist, what with how brutish you are. But here we are.” Jonathan groaned as he got back up and got back into a fighting stance. Erica scowled as she got into her stance.

Jonathan went for a one/two punch, but Erica quickly blocked both and countered it with a shove back. As Jonathan stumbled back, Erica led the assault further. She started doing several jabs as she continued to push Jonathan back in dodges. She did this until she seemingly slipped, lowering her guard as she continued to push him. He took this as an opportunity and threw a punch as he charged. However, Erica quickly raised her guard and blocked. She had set the trap, and he fell for it. She switched her stance and threw a left roundhouse kick to his ribs. As he groaned and backed up from her, she took two swings into his upper chest. And almost as soon as Jonathan got out of her grasp, he crumpled to the ground and started gasping for air.

“You should know your anatomy, Jonathan… so now you know what a good kick to the liver can do. I’m surprised you even stayed up for how long you did.” Erica retorted. Jonathan gasped with a hint of hostility. He raised his head for a moment looking for something. And soon started dragging himself in the direction of Andrew. Erica was confused about what Jonathan was up to. She watched for a moment before she realized what he was doing. Jonathan had been searching for a knife lying on the yellowish rusted Earth. He grasped it in his hand and got back to his feet. Erica didn’t seem bothered.

“Do you think that’s gonna give you an edge in another fight?” Erica heckled as she went back into her fighting stance.

“Why stand for this man?! A killer, a liar, and a traitor?! He doesn’t deserve it. All he deserves is death.” Jonathan spat.

“He didn’t kill Sylas, and I doubt he killed whoever is in that grave.”

“But how-” “Because I saw someone who was broken from the loss of someone they cared about up there at the towers, not a murderer— I now know I saw someone who felt guilt for something outside of their control when we left the grave. I saw someone filled with guilt and pain, not lust— or blood thirst.” Erica stated.

“Pah— How would you know-” “BECAUSE I KNOW HOW IT FEELS LOSING THOSE YOU LOVED AND NOT BEING ABLE TO STOP IT FROM HAPPENING!! NOT BEING ABLE TO SAVE THEM AND JUST HAVE TO WATCH!!!” Erica shouted. Jonathan paused at this for a moment, his face relaxing for a moment before going into a scowling smile.

“That’s where you're getting your base assumption that he’s a man who is the salt of the Earth? On your own, faulty, broken, emotional trauma? Please, you're a scientist, you should not let your own experiences stand between you and the facts. The fact is, he was left alone with Sylas, and Sylas is dead, OUR ALLY. The fact is, he didn’t tell us what happened to the person in that grave, they’re dead, and he confessed it was his doing. From what I see, he is nothing but a murderer, and a traitor. Not trustworthy enough to be alive.” Jonathan said as he held his knife to Andrew.

“I won’t let you touch him.”

“Then I’ll make sure you can’t stop me.”

~

For this whole time, Andrew had been in his own thoughts, lost in his guilt and failures. Not even noticing what was happening in front of him. But Andrew had snapped out of it when Erica shouted. And when he heard the last part of the conversation, Andrew wasn’t going to stand for what Jonathan had threatened Erica with.

He got up, bolting into a sprint and quickly flung himself into Jonathan, leading him to drop the knife as they hit the dirt. Jonathan seemed surprised, but that soon turned into him swinging his fist into Andrew’s gut and howling in pain. He gritted his teeth and elbowed Andrew in the head repeatedly. Andrew tried to hold on for a while, but he couldn’t take the repeated blows to the head and had to let go. Jonathan scrambled to his feet as Andrew was dazed and grabbed the knife he had dropped earlier while Andrew got to his feet.

“Don’t move…” Jonathan hissed as he held the blade towards Andrew as he walked up to him.

“Enjoy what you did, it will be your last—” Jonathan was about to finish before gunfire went off. Three shots went off in a row. Jonathan’s eyes widened as he checked his chest to see nothing.

“ENOUGH!!” Paul shouted. “WE JUST FACED THE GATES OF HELL, THIS IS NO TIME TA GO AT EACH OTHER'S THROATS LIKE RABID DOGS!!!” He continued.

“But he—” “Did nothin’ wrong, in fact, he saved us, several times out there. He’s a hero if anything.” Paul answered.

“No one is fully responsible for anyone’s death. We all carry that burden, we all made actions that led Sylas ta his death. We all made choices for self-gain, and now we’ve ta live with the consequences of those choices. And we cannot blame one man for all of those choices.” Paul continued. Jonathan scoffed at these words.

“So you're gonna let this man walk away? With zero consequences to what he-”

“Jonathan, stop.”

“No! You did this with Sylas when he would fall short of completing what he needed to do. Now you're going to do it to this murderer and just get away with being a murderer?”

“Jonathan—” “HE CONFESSED!!! This insignificant rat confessed to killing that man, Reuben. He murdered him, he murdered Sylas. What more do you need?! He should be hanged, or I can just slit his throat now.” Jonathan suggested. Andrew stayed silent and kept his eyes down to the ground as Jonathan spewed his lies. It didn’t matter to him. Because he believed them to be true.

“PAUL SAID ENOUGH!!!” Erica snapped.

“That poor man probably meant nothing to him…” Jonathan said with a sneer. Andrew looked up at Jonathan’s eyes with a burning fury… and snapped.

“he wasn’t a man…” he said with a trembling, uneasily soft voice. His hands shook as he clenched his fists. His wrist moved uncontrollably, and slowly his whole arm twitched as he held his anger and emotions in. Everything built up into this. Jonathan looked over at him with an arrogant and confused smug look.

“What was that?” He asked flamboyantly, before his face dropped into a cold stare at Andrew. Andrew knew he wasn’t hiding his anger. He knew he wasn’t hiding any of the emotions he was feeling anymore. And he couldn’t hold any of it back anymore.

“I said… he wasn’t human… I never said what he was, but if you must dehumanize me for his sake. You should know that Reuben was a dog, a four-legged, tail-wagging dog. He walked by my side for TWELVE YEARS. AND I LOVED HIM MORE THAN ANYTHING ON THIS DEAD PLANET!!!” Andrew said, screaming the last part in Jonathan’s face as tears ran down his eyes.

“And you're right, I did murder him, I brought him to this hellhole daily, to that military barracks. And in one moment we got stuck in there by those creatures. I got trapped trying to kill them, and he saved me when I was hiding and thinking I was going to die. And I watched him die right after that in front of my eyes to a Raptor.— so I had to bury my best friend LESS THAN A WEEK AGO... he was all I had left to those I cared about before, and now he’s gone.” Andrew said simmering. Jonathan just stood there frozen. Paul looked distraught at Andrew.

“Andrew… yo—” “I’m not done, and I’ll say when I am done. Because you, Jonathan, say I’m the bad guy who murdered your ally. When YOU CAN’T CALL SYLAS A FRIEND!!! I knew him for only a couple of days and HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO FELT LIKE A TRUE FRIEND AND I COULD OPEN UP WILLINGLY TO ABOUT RUEBEN!!! HE TOLD ME HIS OWN SECRETS!! All because he wanted to show he wanted to be a friend and I could trust me, yet all you say he was to you was an ‘ally’. Shows how much you care for anyone here. Now I’m done with you, and I’m done here.” Andrew said sneering. But for a moment, Jonathan stopped him, holding his knife blade out in front of Andrew.

“Hold it—” “No, I don’t think so.” Andrew spat as he grabbed the blade of the knife and yanked it out of Jonathan’s grasp.

“For the record. Think about how you want to threaten a person wearing Tek Armor. Cause a knife does jack to the armor.” Andrew said as he threw the knife into the ground and stormed away.

~

Andrew needed to cool off, and he needed to rest. His head ached, he was still very shaky and he felt like he was going to pass out from the heat and his emotions being frayed. He wished he had packed a tent with him to help cool down and have some privacy. But, he’d just have to find cover. He remembered from his last time out here that the entrance was in an underpass going through the ridge. He walked a distance away from where the others had set up and found the entrance. The old road going through the pass was mostly covered by the dust and earth. On the other side, he could see a strange device that he had recognized, having seen dozens of them in the city. But he had no idea what they did or were.

As Andrew got under the cover. He felt the small difference in heat as the blaring sun no longer cooked his head. But it was still way too hot. He wondered why for a brief moment before realizing that the Sulphur Fields were all around them still, and the temperature was always boiling here and he would never be able to cool down. Even with the armor trying to regulate his temp to a natural temperature. He was too angry about Jonathan and upset with everything that he had caused to calm down and keep his body temp cool.

He walked over to the wall opposite the entrance and immediately started switching off the armor and taking it off, exposing the ratty clothes he was wearing underneath in a dire attempt to cool down. Plus he needed to breathe, and his armor wasn’t helping any with that. He started taking off the deactivated gloves and boot rings and piling them up next to him, doing the same with the belt for his leggings, but as he took off his vest for his chest piece, he dragged his hand across his torso. Hitting a small spot that hurt, making him wince in pain. He paused taking it off the vest as he lifted his shirt to see what was going on. But all he saw was a small, black spot that looked like a scab. He thought a small rock got into his suit when he fell down the hillside back there, it would explain it, his whole face was scuffed and scabbed up by now. He touched it for a moment and it didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. Then, he tried to pick it off, this was a force of habit he accidentally made a while ago, but it started hurting again making him groan and wince. It wasn’t ready.

For a small moment, the scab helped him forget his anger against Jonathan and everything else eating him alive. But only for a moment. He took off the vest and stacked it with the others as he sat against the wall looking at the entrance to Delta Tower. He just needed to be alone, alone to let his mind settle and let his emotions release, which didn’t take long. Tears started to run down his face and he started to cry quietly for the loss of another friend, and for the pain he had caused these people. He was nothing more than a living curse to all those around him.

~{Dwellings}~ chapter 2

The digging continued for what felt to Destiny like hours,

But he knew it was only going for a few minutes, then they heard slamming footsteps, and a Horrifying screech that traveled for miles,

a few more minutes passed before nova let out a long sigh,

"Nova we need to talk-"

But Nova cut him off "Destiny i don’t want to talk about it.." Destiny glared at her “it’s not about you or what you ‘Want’ to talk about Nova! Whatever you found in that cave is putting us both in danger.”

“Fine.. I found an artifact, a Real one.”

-BoXXy

If you like compys mysteries, go to the beta Nunatak trophy, you will find a place where I will share hints on the next chapter!- chicken nugget council

Dodo tales (s1 ep3) thank you for the support 😀 BTW I am -NOT- the same person as the guy making journey to the Aberration trench.

The other creatures ran off one by one, and he heard a voice say "those Raptors almost killed you, you're lucky to be alive" then he realized that his bird was gone. He immediately ask his savior if he had seen it. His answer was exactly what he hoped it wouldn't be. "As good as dead, they took it. Don't worry though, it was just a Dodo."

"A Dodo?"

"Yeah, it's total garbage, maybe it's better off dead"

"Are you gonna kill me?"

"Dude, you can't even take care of a Dodo, you're not exactly a threat. Follow me, I'll show you my house." He decided to come with him

On the way he asked "what's your name? Is there anything I can do to repay you?"

"I'll tell my name after I get to know you.

And yes, there is something you can do for me......." he replied

Next episode will be in the section of the next dino in alphabetical order

The Terrible Demise Of Tortuga

Chapter three: Where we’re from…there’s no sun

-By SunnyFox57

(Originally released sometime in January, 2024. Now rewritten and reposted December 27th, 2025)

Aaron’s words linger like an offensive odor inside Aragorn’s head as he lay awake in bed that night. He hadn’t thought they’d be safe here, hadn’t expected it to be at all, and yet the sheer amount of rules and regulations from the mayors was a little bit staggering. This wasn’t just some city where people were simply wary, no they actually LOOKED for trouble. Pushed and prodded until someone reared their ugly head. And then they’d be punished.

And goodness knew that his family was definitely not..the most normal. It was only a matter of time before they were caught, right? What was he supposed to do? He had to protect them. Somehow and someway. Would it seem suspicious to just suddenly leave the town? Would his wife even agree to it? Somehow Arianna liked the town, she thought it would be some sort of..fresh start for them. A blank slate. Somehow he sincerely doubted that his would be so easy to clear. Blood could only be repaid by blood.

“J-Aragorn.” Arianna’s whispering voice beside him suddenly broke into his thoughts. He shifts his head to face his wife.

“Hm?” He hums.

“I can practically feel the wheels turning in your brain right now, hon. What’s wrong?” She rolls onto her side to face him, a slim hand reaching out to press against his cheek, brushing a dark lock of hair away from his eye. He considers his response for a second before responding. He doubted that lying and saying he was fine would persuade her to drop it, she knew him way to well for that. Honestly she probably already knew the answer to her own question.

“I’m worried.” He finally admits. She waits, hand still caressing his face, waiting for him to continue.

“What if..what if something happens? Like what happened before? I can’t lose you, or the kids. I shouldn’t feel like it..but I feel like I’m nothing, even to you, Arianna. Just a smidge of dirt. Worthless. What if fail you all and it’s all my fault? Everything so far, the entire reason we’re here..is because of me. What if he was right? What if..I’m just like…him?” He swallowed, choking a bit on the last words.

Arianna scooted closer to him. “Hey, hey, hey, okay, look, listen to me. You’re not like him, alright? You’re a good man. A wonderful loving husband and father. None of this is your fault, you hear me?”

Unbidden, a lone tear tracked its way down the side of his cheek. A momentary moment of weakness. What a coward he was. A worthless coward. You shouldn’t make promises you don’t keep.

“But..I could have done something. I could have tried. I could have fixed it—it is my fault, Arianna. All of it..”

Arianna moves forward again pressing her forehead against his, her warm breath brushing across his face as she does so. “No. None of this is your fault. You couldn’t have stopped it if you tried okay? They all chose their path and you tried to help. It’s not your fault that they didn’t choose to accept the truth. We’re moving on. A fresh start. Our new life, right? Sure, we may have to work to make some people trust us, but what’s life without difficulty? We’re going to be okay. We’re safe. Nothing’s gonna happen to us.”

Aragorn closes his eyes, in an attempt to keep any other unwelcome tears from escaping.

“You promise?” He asks, unable to stop the ridiculous childish cowardly question that escapes from his lips.

Arianna leans back and kisses his forehead gently, hand still resting against his face.

“I promise.”

~~

Not many people knew how to find the home of the most beloved of the peacekeepers, Paul, even in the small city of Tortuga. Well..”beloved” was a bit of a overstatement. None of the peacekeepers were really that likable much less beloved, but of all of them Paul was definitely the most tolerable.

For Aaron Buckleshoot however, finding the dear peacekeeper wasn’t that hard. He knew where the man’s house sat, nestled snugly close to the lighthouse, and he knew what exact hours of the day that the man would be there. After all, he’d been there many many times. They had a history of sorts, one that went way beyond this small city.

Finally he arrived at the tiny yellow bricked building, raising his hand and knocking loudly on the front door, not caring if any neighbors nearby hear it. “It’s me, Aaron!” He calls. It was a quiet part of town anyway, even when it wasn’t in the early hours of the morning like right now. Every brick house was painted a pale pastel yellow color, with the same crooked uneven steps in front of the wooden front doors. Every house had the same small “garden” that was really just a patch of dirt and plastic fake flowers. If it was anyone except Aaron or one of the inhabitants in any of the neighboring houses, finding Paul’s house among the rest would prove to be incredibly challenging.

After knocking, the inside of the house was silent for a few moments but then the sound of soft footsteps thumping toward the door could be heard if you strained your ears enough, and then the door inched open. Paul’s tired eyes peered out at him.

“Yes. I know it’s you. You’re the only person who comes around here, making such a racket. Especially in the wee hours of the morning.” The man complains, pushing the door open wider. “Well, whatever are you waiting for? Make yourself at home as you’ll do anyways whether I want it or not. Mi casa, tu casa. Or whatever that saying is.”

Aaron obliges, needing no further invitation to step inside. He walks past Paul into the living room. It looks the same as always. The grey overhead fan swishing through the non-air conditioned room. The furniture in the living room, like all the furniture in the other parts of the house, was..ancient. Or at least antique. The couches were a checkered lime green, the carpet a pale runny maroon color from being washed too often, and all hard surfaces like the table, cabinets and bookshelves were made of battered stained black wood. The familiar smell of pipe smoke lingers in the air. Instead of hanging on the walls as they usually did, all of the peacekeeper’s guns were broken into pieces and lined out on the table beside a blackened rag and a jar of some type of black liquid, which Aaron suspected was because his friend had been in the middle of cleaning them.

Paul walks in right behind Aaron after shutting the front door once again and engaging the deadbolt. His grey eyes travel briefly over the living room thoroughly for a moment, as if searching to see if Aaron had touched anything in the five seconds that the peacekeeper had his back turned. It was a habit that Aaron had picked up on after many times of entering new places with the man. It was instinctual, he guessed. The man was surveying the room, making sure he had every object and furniture mapped out, and every exit plotted. Just in case he had to make a quick escape.

They both take a seat, Paul in the couch and Aaron in the armchair.

“What, no tea or anything for your company?” Aaron asks teasingly. He knows that Paul didn’t like that specific type of drink at all. He “prefers his liquid bitter”, or at least that’s just what Paul says. Aaron always reckoned that it was some sort of past experience with the drink that made him despise it. After all, he’d seen plenty of different types of bitter teas before.

Paul gives Aaron a look, lips twitching slightly at the edges but he manages to maintain a look of disapproval at his friend. “If you want anything go make it yourself. I have a lot better things to do than serve old geezers like yourself who pop into my domicile at random times.” He says dully, jabbing one finger towards the kitchen. He picks up a part of a gun and begins running the rag across it to scrape any grime or grease off it.

Aaron chuckles and raises his hands in a mock show of exasperation. “Goodness, if I’d known how much of a “old geezer” I was I wouldn’t have gone and started tackling my senile old Sarco in a attempt to get it back in its cage after it somehow got away!”

Paul rolls his eyes at that, but there’s a twinkle in his eye. “Oh please, I’m sure it wasn’t that hard. I could have done that in a heartbeat, and we’re nearly the same age.”

Aaron snorts. “Sure. And what was it you said when we went fishing last week? ‘Oh, my back! My poor cramping back!’.”

Paul can’t hold back his amusement anymore and suddenly throws his head back at that, letting out a loud laugh, a harsh unused booming sound that always surprises Aaron no matter how many times he hears it.

“That was you, you buffoon!”

Aaron chuckles along with his friend.

“So it was, so it was.”

Eventually their laughter dies down after a few seconds and Paul wipes the tears of laughter from his eyes and leans forward, still cleaning the guns’ pieces.

“So, what brings you here today? Certainly it wasn’t just to talk about your aching back. You don’t need me to help catch one of your little escapees again, right? As a peacekeeper, I’ve been re-informed that that behavior is not “responsible” and to shoot any “dangerous” creatures on sight.” Paul asks, rolling his eyes a bit at the Mayors’ opinions on all of Aaron’s…”pets”.

Aaron snorts and shakes his head, running his hands through his hair repeatedly, fingers seemingly trying to organize his quickly greying locks. “No, no. Ive been keeping them under lock and key. Last thing I need is getting word that..one of them had been deceased.” His face darkened at the thought. “No, I came to talk about the..new family. You were there when they arrived, right?”

Paul has finished up cleaning the guns’ pieces and now was putting them all together slowly, glancing up at Aaron’s question, brow raising slightly. “Yes..yes I was..why do you ask?”

“I was simply wondering what you thought of them.” Aaron leans forward in the armchair casually.

Paul raises his eyebrows further. If his dark hair wasn’t shaved high on all sides of his head, a military cut that hardened his square face, then they probably would have disappeared into his almost inexistent hairline. “So, in another words…you want to know what the mayors think of them?”

“I didn’t say that.”

Paul shakes his head in exasperation. “Yes, but that’s what you meant. Also, for your information, they seemed very wary to ME, specifically the father. They certainly are… strange. Any sane person can see that. Just how strange are they, is the question.”

“And what did the mayors think?”

“They don’t like them. To be fair, they don’t like anyone, but these people…..they REALLY don’t like them. They were constantly pushing and trying to get under the people’s nerves the entire time.” He leans back in his chair. “In fact, I think it probably worked. I wouldn’t expect them to stay long and if they do…goodness knows what the mayors are planning to make them endure. I wouldn’t get too close to them either, just for your own safety. I know how attached you get to..things and people, but these people—“ Paul trails off, shaking his head as he sets another finished gun done.

Aaron shifts in his chair, eyeing the guns like he wants to help but knowing that Paul probably wouldn’t like it. “Well..I may or may not have already visited them..”

Paul didn’t look up from the new gun he was piecing together but he sighed once again in exasperation, as he often did when he was around Aaron. “Aaron..you-you know if something happens to them or even you, I can no longer help you. This is my job here. I cannot help those who are condemned by the mayors.”

“Not even for a old friend?”

A sharp look from Paul’s grey eyes is enough to answer his question. Aaron sighs.

“Yeah, yeah I know. Don’t worry, I was only informing them of some of…the mayors’ more important roles. Just the basics. I wasn’t “scheming” with them to overrun the city, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s good. Just-just stay away from them, okay? We don’t know much about about them yet so we need to be wary. What is it we always say? Better safe than sorry…”

~~

“Stop moving, please. Sir. Sir, I’m almost done just stay still, okay?”

He flinches as the knife digs into his skin once more. Well, it wasn’t into his skin. It was digging into the edge of one of the many small black spikes sticking from his hands and chest. He lifts his right hand, biting down a little bit on a fingernail, to muffle any unholy sound that might threaten to escape. Another spike comes free with a wet snap, dropping into the waiting burlap sack with a soft clatter. The maid, who was the one doing the terrible task, continues murmuring under her breath as she works, comforting words, he thinks, though they blur together, muffled by the thick fog creeping through his head. Every time one of the spikes is removed, the ache lingers, the absence hurting just as much as the thing itself. Like always, he’s surprised at how little she was afraid to speak much less touch him. She was the only one.

The maid. Her name refuses to surface no matter how much he pushes for it in his mind. The pain has buried it somewhere deep. It happened constantly, taking facts that he should know and hiding them just out of reach.

Moonlight dances through the room from the open balcony door, invasively beaming down on his skin. It catches on the silhouettes of the spikes jutting from his arms and chest, making crooked shadows appear along the walls. Showing what was buried. underneath. The spikes are longer than they were last time. Thicker. Some of them have split his skin completely, forcing their way through red, inflamed flesh, black edges glistening faintly.

Originally they’d used tweezers to pull the thorny things out. He could vaguely remember the day that the thin metal bent uselessly, and the way the skin around the spikes pulled inward instead of giving, as if clutching at it because it wanted to keep them. They’d no choice but to switch to knives after that.

“Do they hurt?” The maid suddenly says, not even looking up at him as she does so, still focused on her massacring of the spikes inhibiting his skin. He knew that she didn’t expect him to answer. He didn’t have to. He was the master here. Plus, he barely spoke at all. Her asking him a question was simply an invitation to answer if he wanted to. He ran his tongue slowly over his teeth, trying to pull the answer from wherever it was hiding in his brain at the moment.

“Whenever they come in.” He rolls his head over to the side slightly as if to see her reaction to his next question. “Do they hurt you? To look at them?” He asks slowly, voice low and hoarse.

She finally glances up at him, her round innocent eyes searching his for a second briefly as she finishes up with his back. She walks round him and settles down on the stool in front of his chair, taking his left hand gently into her own, to begin working on the arm and aforementioned hand. “No. It doesn’t hurt me to look at you, maestro.” She says. Her native language slips in accidentally on the last word, through the cracks of her English. She digs the blade into the base of one of the spikes, making him tense slightly as it makes a sharp scratching noise. “You’re not disgusting to me. It does make me sad, though. Of everything you’ve had to endure. ”

The irritation crawls under his skin at her pointed answer, deeper than the spikes ever reach. They’ve had this conversation before. He’s certain of it. So he only let a small hum in response, letting them settle back into the stiff silence. He distracted himself from the constant jabs of pain by focusing on her face as she worked on cutting of the black thorny pieces of skin. Her face held a relatively calm expression despite the task she was working on, brows furrowed in quiet concentration above her blue eyes. Her blonde bangs stick slightly onto her forehead from sweat, the only sign at all that she might be feeling nervous.

He wasn’t sure if the spikes would ever stop coming back. Every time they were cut off, they grew back twice as long and sharp. It was more painful when they came in then when they were pulled out. Every time the black things poked up from his skin, his mind grew more foggy as the pain settled in, burying everything except for his gloomy thoughts.

The knife suddenly slips momentarily, cutting down on his finger at a angle. He flinches, teeth automatically finding his tongue. He bites down hard, until the bitter familiar taste of blood fills the entirety of his mouth. A flash. Falling. Water. Endless waves. But above all…blood. Blood everywhere.

On instinct he pushes back, gasping slightly as he tries to wipe away the memories, clenching his now injured hand into a tight fist, to avoid looking at the liquid. The maid is already scrambling to her feet, apologizing frantically but he doesn’t care anymore.

“Master, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—“

The rest of her words fall on deaf ears, as the crushing feeling of fogginess begins filling his ears. The taste of blood and bile floods his mouth, practically choking him.

“Get out.” He finally manages to snap through clenched teeth, interrupting her apologies.

“But-“

“GET OUT!!!” He rises to his feet, sending his chair against the wall with a crash in his rising rage. “GET OUT!!!”

The maid wisely does as he says, letting the knife fall to the floor with a clang and rushing out the door. She gives him one last look before letting it shut behind her. He knows that look. She wasn’t afraid of him, no. Instead, pity laced her gaze, practically oozing out of her pores toward him like cold water. How dare she. How dare she pity him. How dare she pity a snarling disgusting piece of filth like him.

Unable to stop himself he snatches the now empty stool in a fit of rage and slams it into the wall. Over and over until it completely falls apart.

“You, stupid, stupid, stupid—“ The words dissolve into a hoarse, broken, unintelligible sound as he clamps his hands over his ears and begins to scream. And scream. Until his voice gives out completely.

When his temper finally calms down he staggers to the sink in the corner of the room and retches violently. A mixture of blood and a bit of vomit spills from his mouth, splattering against the porcelain. His hands shake violently as he grips the edges of the sink, vision swimming at the sight of it. If there was one thing he hated, it was the sight of blood. The irony wasn’t lost on him. There was just something about it now that filled his gut with the feeling that he was dying. All over again.

Eventually the heaving subsides and he straightens, hands still on the sink edges as he stares at himself in the mirror. He doesn’t know this face that looks back at him. Black sclera met against yellow irises. Moonlight illuminates the thin skin stretching taunt over the bones on his face, showing every crack and crevice on it. His nose was barely there, the thin strip that was supposed to divide his nostrils was completely inexistent and his lips had sunk in along with his skin, leaving every inch of his teeth and jaw line showing quite clearly. Dark bags of exhaustion hang underneath his sunken eyes. His once favorite feature, his dark colored hair, that he’d used to loved to style now was greying and hung unevenly around his face, butchered. But the most striking feature of all of them was the two giant curved crooked black horns growing out of his head. It was the face of a monster. A face that not even a mother would love. Certainly not his mother.

Usually he wore a mask, a black thing that covered his entire face except for his eyes, almost like a gas mask. It was more for other people’s benefit that his own. Nobody wanted to look at such a hideous creature. Nobody had seen his face in years, especially not this ghastly butchered one. Well, nobody alive anyways. Except for the maid of course. It’d been more of a accident actually, whenever she first caught sight of it. He’d been meditating, with the suffocating mask off and she’d walked in without knocking to deliver something and had accidentally caught sight of his face. She’d flinched and started apologizing frantically in Spanish. Not because of his face though, just from the fear of being reprimanded. She was the only one. His only friend. Wait, no, not his friend. That was ridiculous. She was a maid, and he was her master. He was nothing but a chore for her, a job. And she was nothing but a maid to him. This wasn’t some foolish fairy tale. There was no beauty here. Only rot.

He glances down at his hands again finally. The bleeding from the cut had finally stopped. It hadn’t been that much anyways. It was a small cut. He shouldn’t have yelled at her for such a small accident. The spike was still there though, sticking up at him stubbornly. Without a second thought he lifts it to his mouth, buries his teeth into the bottom edge of it and grips it between them his teeth. The texture is sharp, brittle and warm all at once. He grits his teeth and harshly yanks it out, spitting it into the sink. He returns to looking at his appearance in the mirror, one hand raising unconsciously to press against his bony face. He was wrong, it was his face. There was no difference between him and the reflection. There never was. It had been foretold long ago. He was nothing. Just a disgusting rotting corpse of a man.

The sound of a knock on the door, interrupts his thoughts. He doesn’t answer aloud however, which is an answer in and of itself to speak.

“Sir, your ship is ready now to leave port.” The person on the other side says. When his master doesn’t respond, the sound of the person’s soft footsteps pattering off sounds and he turns back to the mirror once more, breathing a sigh of relief at the scout’s words.

His ship was ready. It was almost time. Hopefully his time here on this gloomy earth wouldn’t be for too much longer. Anwir had told them that she had finally found the right one. All they needed was two more. Just two more and he could be at peace. All the pain of past and present would we wiped away in a short while. And he would be free to finally go back to where he belonged. Hopefully. Unbidden, a shaky smile stretches across his thin face, and he begins to chuckle. His shoulders slowly began shaking, and black inky tears leak steadily down the crevices of his face as he laughs. Or cries. To any person hearing it, they wouldn’t know the difference. So he throws his head back and allows the hysterical sounds to flow out of his mouth, letting the inky tears fill his eyes and flow to the floor, until the world turns completely black.

~~

Author’s note:

Sorry, this chapter is a bit boring. A lot of needed dialogue plus needed filler.

Also, happy late Christmas everyone, and I hope you all have a merry New Year!

Sorry, have not posted in a while. I will post every monday (if possible). There has been a lot going on so I was so happy to come back and see that compys mysteries was getting some good feedback.

-chicken nugget council