There was an instant where a violent shudder went through the Monster, as though it was granted a split-second to process just what ungodly force went through it.
It let out the beginnings of a shriek.
It was quickly cut off as its nose flattened like a tin can.
Zane took a moment to appreciate the sight. He had something of a fondness for gross shows of force.
Then its entire form compressed, bowing out; there was a great deal of bulging, squelching, shattering, rupturing—then several tons of mashed Monster went flying, spiraling through the air—burning up in the atmosphere as it launched into deep space. In a blink it was gone.
The Rhino crashed through and brought itself to a halt, heaving in breaths that steamed thick in the air. Its horn still gleamed at the tip; the air around it still had that sucked-in effect. But the fearsome energy was going from its body. Its momentum was dispersing.
"Annihilation Charge," said the Barbarian Sage. "It puts a world's worth of pressure on the enemy. Then it concentrates all the Rhino's force into that horn, making it heavy as all hells—and each step of the charge only multiplies it! By the time it finishes, that horn's the weight of a damned planet. And the force packed in that thing…"
The Sage chuckled. "One of the Titan Rhino's Signature Sacred Bone Skills, that one. It's been ages since I last saw it. Who knows? When you get your own Bone you might just draw that one."
"Do you know the guy?" said Zane, nodding at the Rhino.
"Naw. It's been ages since I've last been here too—most of my cohort's long gone. But there's still a handful of old-timers sticking around, or so I hear. Well then! Let's get introduced, why don't we?"
The Sage hopped off the hill and strolled up, waving a hand. Zane followed.
"'Lo there!" he called.
The big Rhino looked over, blinking. Its eyes had gone from intense to calm pretty quickly. Zane saw a flicker of recognition there.
The Rhino bowed its head.
"Good day, Elder Jogo," said the Rhino. "This one's name is Ronk."
It spoke not with its mouth but with its mind. Some Skill conveyed its thoughts in a deep rumbling voice.
"Have we met?" said the Sage.
"Once, when last you were here. I was a youngling then."
Ronk touched his nose to the ground in a deep nod. "This Tribe owes you a great debt. The Rhinos never forget."
The Sage grinned. "Ah, scuff that—that's ages ago! What's come of the Horn from back then, come to think of it? Fane, and one-eyed Lon, and ol' Cloverhoof, the mad bastard?"
Ronk sagged a little; his horn drooped, and he seemed much older all of a sudden. "Gone to join the Ancestors."
A pause. The Sage's face fell.
"Ah. Well," he sighed. "That's the way of it, eh?"
"They went out fighting," said Ronk, which the Sage brightened at. "As they would have wanted… the Tribe has been in many a bruising war of late. We lost Fane against the Sun-Eater Lions. And Lon fell taking out four Mambas… It is not for me to say more. Whatever comes—"
Ronk turned up his horn proudly. His expression grew serious. "The Rhinos will hold, as we have since the dawn of the Wilds. Mountains rise and fall, but the Titan Rhinos endure."
"That's damned right," said the Barbarian Sage, and pounded his chest. "We've got a good crop to carry up that flame."
He ruffled Zane's head, and Ronk examined him.
"This is the youngling?"
"The very one. Zane?"
Zane gave the fellow a wave.
Ronk nodded.
"Come. The Chief waits."
The big Rhino led the way with a steady, sure gait. They went another couple hundred steps, circled around a Baobab, and Zane could feel the aura signatures growing stronger and stronger.
Soon they saw them.
A herd of something like a hundred Titan Rhinos, ranged all around a wide stretch of Plain. Zane was used to seeing Titan Rhinos alone—and even then they were rare. All those great beasts at once made for quite a sight.
The density of peak Godbeast powers in one strip of land… there were enough Minor Gods here to fill a Great Faction's Inner Sect.
There were Rhinos everywhere he looked, Rhinos of all sizes—huddles of little runts, baby Rhinos with little horn nubs, chunkier kid Rhinos with horns barely sharp enough to shine. Already Ascendants.
"Younglings!" said the Barbarian Sage.
There were bigger ones too, full-grown, and each was a sturdy beast. They made about two-thirds of the Rhinos he saw.
A few Blast Eagles looked on from the distance, and Cyclops Vultures circled high overhead. But none seemed to have any intention of going after the tribe.
"Out here, among the Great Tribes of the Wilds, the Titan Rhinos are the smallest, and by a hell of a margin," said the Sage. He'd gotten his cheer back. "Last I was here there was hardly two hundred—now it looks to be about half that. The Suneater Lions alone've got to number a thousand! But the Rhinos hold their ground for a simple reason—if you want to put down a Titan Rhino, you'd better bring an army of any other Godbeast. Stubborn bastards just won't go down!"
Ronk's tail gave a little swish—the only thing showing his pride. Otherwise his only reaction was, "The Suneaters are down to six hundred."
"Really, now?" The Sage blinked. "I swore they bred like damned rabbits!"
"They were close to a thousand a year ago, before the Monsters came."
He frowned. "Gotten that bad, has it?"
"There will be a War Council soon, Elder Jogo. You will see."
They met a few Rhinos at the edge of the camp—guarding the perimeter. Bigger, chunkier ones, mid- or peak-Minor Gods. They had white streaks under their eyes and white streaks at the base of their horns.
They perked up and made way as Ronk passed; Ronk nodded, and their tails swished in acknowledgment.
Then they looked at Zane with dark, curious eyes and gave him a sniff. They seemed a bit puzzled, but not in a bad way. They seemed to smell something familiar on him.
Like that, the three of them were through.
There were no tents in the camp—the Rhinos seemed at home with the voidgrass as their beds, resting under the stars. There was a raging bonfire at the center of camp, a stretch of muddy whirlpools off to one side, a spring-fed crystal-clear watering hole off to another. He saw a few Rhinos in a painted circle playing, trying to shove each other out; it reminded him of sumo wrestling.
As he passed by, lots of other curious Rhinos padded up to them. They seemed quite intrigued by the Barbarian Sage, and Zane in particular—a few of the younglings came up to sniff him; a few gave him a nuzzle, then a lick. With Great Sage Mind, he sensed a good deal of warmth.
"They like you!" chuckled the Barbarian Sage.
"He has a good smell," Ronk rumbled. "The Rhino's spirit is strong with him. He is an Ascendant, but he smells almost like True God."
"That's just what I told your Chief," said the Sage. "The lad takes well to the Bloodline—damn well better than any I've ever seen! It's part that Title of his, I figure. Part just who he is—if ever a man was meant for the powers of a Titan Rhino, it's him."
He gave Zane a hearty slap on the back for emphasis.
Ronk made a rumbling sound and gave him a wondering look.
The Sage himself got his fair share of sniffs as he passed, which delighted him. A few Rhinos even dipped their horns to the ground, a gesture of respect, Zane gathered.
They kept heading deeper into the Rhino camp, passing the bubbling mud whirlpools.
Up close, Zane saw they were churning pretty violently; the currents were dense, thick, and raging with enough force to drag most animals under.
But a number of Rhinos were lounging there bathing, eyes closed, floating right in the midst of the chaos. Perfectly at ease.
It took a lot to shake a Titan Rhino.
To the right there was a patch of dirt—a circle drawn with white chalk. There younglings jousted with their horns, trying to shove each other out—the sumo-wrestling game he'd seen. They stopped and glanced over at Zane and crew as they passed.
They passed the watering hole next, where a few Rhinos licked bugs off each other or lapped at crystal-clear waters. Others grazed voidgrass nearby, making slow steady chews.
The voidgrass in camp was some of the richest he'd seen this whole time—more jam-packed with essence than most of the treasures in Zane's pack. And those waters wouldn't lose out to the essence elixirs Reina had packed him.
A few more napped in the distance—big forms rising and falling, wafting light snores.
The Rhinos with white-streaked eyes and horns seemed to be warriors; he saw them patrolling the edges of camp. There were a few blue-streaked Rhinos returning to camp, backs laden with baskets stuffed full of gnarled roots and herbs and juicy pink berries.
A few Rhinos also lay off near the far end of camp, gruesome scars opened up down their sides—scars pitted deep with Corruption. Rhinos with silver-streaked horns tended them, smearing a paste over the wounds.
More and more Rhinos seemed to notice them as they passed; Ronk got a great deal more tail swishes, Zane and the Sage more sniffs.
These Rhinos struck Zane as quite a chilled-out folk—at least when they weren't fighting. They moved deliberately and slowly. The baby Rhinos were more lively, but nothing like hyperactive human kids could be. A few came up and headbutted Zane playfully as he went by.
He could see the big Rhinos were curious, but there wasn't much in the way of gossip either. They didn't seem a gossipy type.
Instead, they sniffed, and blinked at one another, and looked to the bonfire at the center of camp.
Soon they'd arrived.
The bonfire was lively, and roaring, and towered dozens of feet above an impressive heap of logs, but by now Zane knew his flames, and he knew this wasn't one meant for destroying.
It was a flame for warmth, and cooking, and the healing of wounds. A flame of lighter colors—playful whites and warm oranges and pleasant yellows.
There was quite a large, wrinkled Rhino tending to that bonfire; silver streaks went up her eyes, down her horn, in strange patterns. She was tossing in a branch of incense between her teeth when she clocked them.
She perked up when she saw the Barbarian Sage.
"Is that Jogo I see?" she wheezed. "You little rascal! Back to wreak your havoc, are you?"
"Guri!" laughed the Sage. "You're still alive!"
"That's Shaman Guri to you."
Then she noticed Zane, and cocked her head. "The fire-signs were true after all," she said. "I hope those cats weren't too mean to you, dear. Here—do have some stew. It's been warming up for you all day."
She nudged a bowl toward him.
He wasn't sure how she knew about the cats—maybe she'd been scrying him.
The stew smelled great, though a chunk of it looked suspiciously like caterpillar. He swallowed it in a few big gulps.
It tasted, somehow, like his favorite stew when he was young. It tasted like a warm hearth and a good snack and well wishes—there was something magical to it, he was sure. In any case—it was strong enough to give him a Level.
𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕦𝕡!
𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟜𝟠𝟙 -> 𝟜𝟠𝟚
"Hey thanks," said Zane, surprised.
"Mm." Shaman Guri's eyes wrinkled kindly. "If you'd like any more, do ask."
Then the old Rhino stood, yawned, and plodded over to another Rhino plopped right in front of the fire, back slowly rising and falling.
This Rhino had to be the biggest Rhino yet—and nearly as wrinkled-looking as Guri was.
She lowered her horn, charging up an attack. And charged straight into him.
Shaman Guri looked a bit beyond her years, but she still felt like a half-step True God to Zane—and though she lumbered awkwardly, she could still summon a hefty chunk of Bloodline and essence.
But all her power crashed to a halt. It barely budged the big fellow.
"Wake up, you fogey!" said Guri, straight into his ear. "An old friend's here!"
"Eh?" The Rhino stirred, then began slowly turning, the way a cruise ship turned. He blinked pale rheumy eyes at the two of them; it took a moment for the fellow to squint and focus. But slowly recognition settled in, and his eyes widened more and more, and joy lit up those weathered features.
"By the Ancestors," he rasped. "Jogo—is that you?"
"Nog!" roared the Barbarian Sage.
He bounded up and buried the big fellow in a hug.