A ship-no, a floating vessel descended from the sky outside, its hull gleaming with runes and strange engines humming beneath. It hovered above the estate, casting a long shadow over the hall. Humans rushed to the windows, pointing and whispering.
The doors swung wide. The farm owner, Barnaby Clay, short, round-bellied, with a nervous sheen of sweat on his brow—stepped out first, smoothing his patched vest and glancing back as if to make sure everything was in order. He barely made it two steps before the real procession swept in.
A young man in regal clothes entered, his hair a striking silver-blue, eyes cold and sharp as winter. Flanking him was a striking mix of guards and attendants: a hulking man with a muscular build and a massive sword strapped across his back; a woman whose face was hidden beneath a delicate veil, a short dagger glinting at her waist; two figures in nun-like robes, their hands folded and their faces unreadable; and at the rear, an old man, stooped, with a mane of white hair, one eye closed as if in permanent suspicion.
The farm owner, Barnaby Clay, eyes widen. He dropped into a deep, hurried bow, cupping his hands in front of him. "Welcome, Your Highness! Prince Vayron, it is an honour beyond words. The estate is at your command, my prince." He launched into a string of compliments, each more desperate than the last, but the prince barely spared him a glance.
The farm owner, Barnaby Clay, straightened, sweat beading on his forehead. "Your Highness. I have prepared a selection of our finest. Some have already been on the path of evolving, and others show great promise. It is, ah, increasingly difficult to guard them, you see. The farm is understaffed, and—"
"Enough." Prince Vayron cut him off with a wave. "I know what happened. That's why I am here. Tell me, where is the doctor?"
"No idea, sire. He never says where he goes," Barnaby replied, voice thin.
Prince Vayron just nodded, as if he'd expected this. "Fine. Bring me the goats."
Barnaby nodded rapidly. "Please follow me, Your Highness." He pressed a hidden switch, and a section of wall slid aside, revealing a narrow door.
Yuji's eyes widened. So that's where they're keeping them.
Just as Prince Vayron and his entourage moved toward the door, one of the black-armored guards stiffened. He turned, scanning the shadows, right toward Yuji's pillar.
"Enemy attack!" the old man in white robes shouted, his voice echoing through the hall.
Prince Vayron spun, eyes narrowing. "Assassins? Which fool hired them?" In a flash, a shimmering shield enveloped him, runes flickering across its surface.
Chaos erupted. Guards rushed to the windows, raising rods and staves. A barrage of spells shot skyward, bolts of fire, arcs of lightning, spheres of crackling energy. The roof exploded in a shower of stone and glass as enemy spells slammed into the estate. Screams rang out as servants dove for cover.
The farm owner, Barnaby, fell to his knees, wailing in despair. "My tapestries! The crystal chandelier!"
Prince Vayron's lips curled in a cold smile, completely ignoring Barnaby. "Tier 2 mercenaries. Disposable tools for a coward." He nodded to his guards. "Leave no witnesses."
In a blur, the prince's entourage soared into the sky, but the old man in white robes remained grounded, chanting as violet chains erupted from the earth, ensnaring shadowy figures perched on the broken rafters. One assassin screamed as his platform shattered.
Above the shattered roof, the night became a battlefield. Hooded figures on levitating discs unleashed another volley of ice shards and acid orbs, raining down. The prince's guards moved like liquid shadow:
The veiled woman slashed runes that swallowed ice barrages. The muscle-bound swordsman deflected acid orbs in a whirlwind of steel. The two nuns chanted, reinforcing the prince's shimmering dome.
Prince Vayron adjusted his whirring flight belt, dodging a lightning bolt with mechanical stiffness. "Old Man Wen, stop them. I want at least one alive."
Yuji watched, frozen. The scale of the violence, spells tearing the sky, guards moving like ghosts, the estate collapsing, was beyond anything he'd imagined. Who wants him dead this badly? All he wanted was to save a harmless goat. Why do you have to be so lustful? You were just a child.
The farm owner crawled beneath a table, sobbing as his estate was torn apart. Servants scattered, some fleeing for the gardens, others huddling in corners, praying for it all to end.
Yuji's mind raced. Should I use the chaos to find Bojo? Or should I run while I still can? His legs trembled, torn between fear and determination.
[SYSTEM ALERT: DANGER LEVEL: CATASTROPHIC]
A chunk of stone crashed down nearby, sending dust swirling. Yuji coughed, blinking through the haze. He glanced at the hidden door, the one the farm owner had opened. It was still ajar, just a sliver of darkness behind the main chair.
Now or never, he thought.
He darted from behind the pillar, keeping low, weaving between toppled chairs and shattered glass. The sounds of battle roared above, but down here, in the chaos and confusion, no one noticed a single goat slipping through the shadows.
Yuji reached the door, heart hammering in his chest. He glanced back once at the sky ablaze with magic, and then slipped into the darkness beyond.
Yuji slipped through the hidden door, the heavy wood groaning shut behind him. The chaos of the estate faded, replaced by a muffled silence broken only by his own quick breaths. The passage was narrow and winding, carved from stone and packed earth. The air was thick with the smell of straw, animal musk, and something sour, fear, maybe, or the residue of old magic.
His hooves clicked on the stone floor as he crept forward, heart hammering. Every shadow twitched in the lantern glow; every distant crash from above sent a jolt through his nerves. Focus, Yuji, focus.
The chamber reeked of blood and chemicals. Lanterns flickered over jars packed with floating organs, blood-crusted tools, and puddles of strange, glimmering liquid. Along one wall, metal boxes with tiny air holes sat in a row. Goat skulls, dozens, were stacked on shelves, hollow eyes staring. Maybe it's because I'm a goat now, but this is worse than any horror movie.
Cages filled the room, bars glinting in the low light. Inside, dozens of goats, maybe more, lay still, unmoving. Yuji's gaze darted from cage to cage, frantic. In the far corner, half-hidden behind hay bales, he spotted him. Bojo. Curled up, sides barely rising and falling. Alive, but just.
Yuji hurried to the cage, pressing his nose to the bars. "Bojo! Hey, Bojo, wake up!" he whispered, panic scraping his throat. Bojo didn't move. Louder, desperate now: "Bojo!" Only a few tired glances from the other goats.