“Excuse me.” Magog echoed in a mocking tone while shaking his hands near his face.

  “Ah, cut the shit, Aggy. You seriously thought you could hide chocolate from me? I want my share.” An outstretched hand, and an expectant look in his eye emphasized his increasingly predatory smirk.

  “I’m not playing this game. You know the moon hopper packs come out after dusk. We don't have time for this.” Agazoz showing the restraint of a hundred-year-old monk. contrasting the growing vein on his forehead.

  “Velvety with a hint of… spice? Come on man, at least give me a piece!” Magog's voice cracked with desperation.

  “I told you I'm not playi—" Agazoz's reply was cut short once he caught wind of it.

  Chocolate?

  But from where? The air grew heavy, cold as it crept up his spine.

  He quickly scanned the open field as dusk rolled in, only to see the camp in the distance and Magog’s dumbfounded face.

  Wait. What is Moggy looking at? Is the fool looking up?

  “TWOOO TOONNN GONNNNNNG!!!” Thundering throughout the plains answered him.

  Neither Agazoz nor Magog had time to fully process the barbaric scream before the hulking shadow crashed down between them. Magog’s glimpse of his descent afforded him a half step farther back from the impact.

  Agazoz was sent careening to their camp. His crash provided realization for the rest of the group that danger had found them.

  Four chest-straining heaves left Magog’s body before hearing it returned. Seven more before his vision cleared enough to see the rim of the crater he now lay at the bottom of. No time to wonder what that attack was.

  He had to breathe.

  He had to prepare for the fucker walking above him. As if the very air was nothing more than his personal set of stairs.

  “Augh” he stood slowly. The rage in his heart was louder than the reverb of his cracked bones throughout his body.

  No matter the pain, no matter the confusion, no matter what stands before him.

  Magog of the Valley Reavers will not die on his back!

  “Who the fuck are you?” He spat out between ragged breaths, the bear of a man stepping onto the scarred ground a few feet before him. No sound or weight to his presence.

  The only reply was that same expression he sauntered down with, those hollow eyes and that smile.

  That filthy fucking smile!

  Magog leapt!

  The wind didn't have an opportunity to whistle before he fell. His momentum was stripped away, replaced with another that slammed him to the ground, head at the tip of Jack’s feet.

  The weight of a mountain crushed his body and his spirit.

  “I expected a valley hopper to at least reach my waist.” Jack almost laughed, every word laced with utter disdain.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The force on Magog's upper body lessened just enough for him to be able to think.

  “Can you hear me now, valley hopper?” He dared Magog to correct him.

  Magog, a man that had spent his life up to this point listening to his instincts. They were what dragged him out of poverty and paved the way for him to gain power and a name known enough to be scouted by a great sect.

  They told him when to fight.

  When to lie.

  And, rarely, when to run.

  But for the first time in his life, they told him no such thing.

  There was no fight for survival—only a passing whim, and his senses knew it.

  He didn't want to listen; he wanted to scream in defiance and claw at the monster that stood over him, but he couldn't ignore it. His body refused to die so easily.

  The pressure on Magog’s lightened just a fraction. Not enough to be lifted higher but enough to understand.

  That was the final mercy.

  There was no choice.

  He couldn't die.

  “Yes… I hear you.”

  Magog, for the rest of his days, would never be able to say exactly how long he waited for judgment. Nor could he articulate the feeling of this power he could only recognize as divine.

  After what felt like an eternity, the pressure lifted. Not even a trace remained besides the damage already done. Magog knew he could have run. He was given the choice to die if he chose.

  He chose to live. Just as they both knew he would.

  “Good. Your people are here.”

  Jack allowed no room for a reply. Magog barely had time to register the feeling of a hand the size of his thigh wrapping around his right ankle and lower leg before his head fell. His body dangling in the giant’s hand as he looked down multiple meters to where he had just lain.

  “Put him down!”

  Rang out among the rustling of roughly forty Valley Reavers standing in the clearing.

  Magog couldn't tell which of his allies had shouted, torn between the pride of having comrades that would help in the face of—

  This thing.

  — And the knowledge that none of them can do anything. He wished he could have warned them to run before they ever entered his presence.

  “You have ten seconds.”

  Spoken almost in a whisper yet carrying a booming finality that assaulted Magog's ears before he was tossed with a flick of Jack's wrist.

  Like nothing.

  Magog ricocheted off the soil as if friction had no meaning. He never thanked Agazoz enough for being the one to catch him. So, no one else had to get hurt.

  Agazoz couldn't help but gasp, as if a boulder had crashed into him. Even accounting for his own injuries, Magog should not have felt this heavy to him.

  “Chee-he-he-heeeee!” Jack’s full belly laugh roared, shaking the surrounding air. His head was thrown back with no regard for the warriors before him, enjoying their struggle as the plains trembled.

  Magog coughed up blood onto Agazoz’s chest as his lieutenant set him onto the grass. Ready to fight to the end, as he had since the day they met. He had to stop him—he had to save his friend.

  The group's determination was clear. Their discipline held them in check, restraining themselves in the face of mockery, waiting for the second-in-command to give the word.

  “No!” Magog’s organs constricted; his chest burned hot as the fires of Igni’s domain. He forced the word out loud enough to make his friend understand.

  Stop.

  Agazoz had to hesitate. The yell snapped him back to the present. This thing had come from the sky and rended the ground,but even that. Even that wouldn't have made Magog react like this.

  The hesitation sent a ripple of worry through the group as they had time to realize the change in landscape and how they had found their lieutenant and leader. Still, they waited for the order. Quiet enough so Magog didn't have to strain himself as much to stammer out,

  “Banquet. Now.”

  A man slower than Agazoz would've taken a few seconds to understand, seconds they did not have.

  “A banquet for our guest!” he shouted as he prostrated himself and ordered everyone to set up a feast. Seven seconds from when Magog got thrown.

  Two more seconds passed from Agazoz’s order before the last member to move was on their way towards the camp. The unprecedented situation spurred their movement.

  Nine in total from Jack’s order to have only the leader and second-in-command in front of him. With a banquet on the way.

  “Acceptable,” Jack’s smile never wavered.

  “And make sure there is only fruit on my plate. We have much to discuss regarding your new assignment as a vassal to the esteemed Boundless Peak Sect.”