The beast had finally emerged from its shroud of shadows, no longer concealed but entirely committed to devouring the prey that now lay crumpled before it.
Its growl was low and guttural, an ominous vibration that seemed to warp the air itself, as it galloped forward with blistering velocity. Each paw scattered brittle leaves, scratching across the forest floor like knives across parchment.
Simma's thoughts had long abandoned clarity. As the motion neared, an instinct so raw and untamed, took command of him.
With unyielding force, he raised his sword, lightning crackling along the blade in chaotic bursts of scarlet light, his face distorted with wrath, and with a great affinity and cataclysmic force.
"Arrrgggghhh!"
He roared and slammed the blade into the ground.
'BOOM'
A crimson shockwave erupted outward, laced with arcs of red lightning that pulsed like veins of fury. It swallowed the air, the ground, the silence and everything.
The predator was hurled backwards as if by the hand of doom, crashing spine-first into a tree with a sickening crack. It slumped to the earth, breathless, limp and groaning deep pain.
All was conjured from Simma's rage and anger, and if he kept it up, he would start being burnt, as Zolomon and Cinzel had warned him.
Majestically and still in rage, he stood up, his head bent as his right hand, which had this scaly translucent red force around it, held the sword firmly.
Angrily, he raised his head, his eyes red and rageful as he cast a defying look towards the beast which now lay limp on the floor, growling in pain. Its pain was undeniable, but Simma was too far gone to see anything but defiance.
With a weak and evil movement, he scampered towards the animal like a zombie, like someone who had completely lost his brains.
Each step was weighty, unnatural, as though he were dragging the very wrath of his ancestors with him.
He has lost his brain, per se, since he was now occupied by rage, and the Umbrax entity was almost getting hold of him, wanting to turn him into a Nexer.
He reached to where the animal lay and then bent beside it, sword raised, as those words ran into his mind:
Something... no .... someone... spoke.
"Kill."
He hesitated. Shook his head violently, like a rabid wolf resisting a collar.
He was doing his best to fight that anger in him, not to kill, because once he does that, he might snap and become a slave to the Umbrax.
The voice went on, smooth, venomous and insidious.
"Look at your face..."
Simma froze.
"...do you even recognize yourself anymore?"
His blade trembled.
The translucent red aura writhed around him like a sentient serpent, hissing with volatile power. His veins throbbed beneath his skin, each beat of his heart echoing like a war drum, inciting him to destroy, to unleash the wrath that clawed at the walls of his sanity.
The voice went on, with the evil content to break him.
"No one will look at you now. Look at your life, agony, failure, shame. All caused by those who want to enslave you. Finish this. Let go of that anger... yes... let go of that pain."
He clenched his jaw. The sword sparked again.
The beast whimpered.
Its eyes, wide, glistening as if it pleaded. It didn't want to die. If it could speak, it would've begged. But all Simma could see was red. He raised his sword again, breath hitching.
But in that torrent of chaos, a memory flickered, fragile and distant, yet brighter than the storm that swirled within him.
Sonja.
Her smile, soft, unjudging, unbroken even in the face of torment.
'You're not a beast, Simma…'
her voice said, running chilly through his veins.
"you're more than the hate they buried inside you." The voice was like the calmness of a storm, like the smooth waves of a river and it carried something that Simma had lost.. LOVE..
But the Umbrax voice now rampant yelled in fury;
'Kill it.'
'KILL IT.'
"No..." Simma whispered.
Tears streamed from his eyes, hot and almost blinding. He shut them tight.
When they opened again, his irises had returned to their natural azure hue.
The sword vanished, dissipating into particles of harmless light.
"What have I done?"
he cried, looking at the animal that lay in his front. All this pain he caused this animal was because of anger, and to make things worse, there was another growl, more tender and more little.
Simma looked at the direction of the growl and saw a baby animal.
It was very beautiful, its golden skin and fur, had this black dots around its body, and it resembled that of the very one that lay injured beside him. Its fangs looked young and still, as though elastic, its eyes wide and filled with innocence..
When Simma saw it, a smile flickered to his face, but when he realised that it was the mother of this young creature that he had harmed, he couldn't forgive himself.
The beast he had nearly killed wasn't a monster, it was a mother, defending her child. That was all. Not minding the injuries it afflicted on him.
He rubbed his hand across the mother's hairs, trying to calm down its heavy breathing.
"Please … please don't die," he cried to the mother, voice cracking with grief.
To his astonishment, the leopard stirred. But slowly, painfully, she stood. Her breath laboured. But she was alive.
Then, impossibly, a tear fell from the corner of her eye.
Simma blinked in amazement.
The cub nuzzled close to its mother, and then, strangely, to him.
At this and from behind, a familiar voice spoke.
"The Verkhar leopard."
It was the man's voice. Where did he come from? He actually thought that maybe the predator preyed on him first before coming for him.
Simma spun around. The man stood beneath the trees, seemingly unfazed. As though he'd been there all along.
"If I were you," the man said calmly, "I'd collect those tears."
Simma winced.
"What for…?"
"Well, the tears of the Verkhar leopard" he replied, "are said to contain potent healing properties."
Simma was surprised, 'then why did he even want me to kill a creature with such an amazing miracle?' he pondered
He kept his hand below its eyes as two drops of tears landed into his palm.
"Drink it," the man said, as Simma licked the droplets.
The moment the tears touched his tongue, a surge of warmth bloomed inside him, and slowly the deep wounds across his face faded off, and the traces of blood that was there was just on healed skin.
Simma smiled as he looked down at the leopard and said with a now not-angry voice,
"Thank you."
The beast purred softly, nuzzling against his hand.
He turned to the man and now asked the question that seemed to have been disturbing him:
"Why?" he demanded. "Why ask me to kill her? She was just protecting her cub."
The man looked at Simma as though he wanted to say "You dumb kid," but rather replied,
"You think I don't know that?"
He smirked and continued,
"This wasn't a lesson in violence. It was a test, to see what you're made of. Whether the rage still controls you."
He walked forward, eyes locking with Simma's.
"Tell me, what kind of beast tamer kills a creature without understanding why it attacked?"
Simma felt his chest tighten.
He was right. He wasn't lying, and his voice carried clarity. Maybe this was what he meant by saying that they were going old school.
The man continued. "Though I am not an Azren, I'm a Lotus, and I know this: a true Azren doesn't kill mindlessly. They observe. Understand. Respond. They first of all identify the animal, know the reason why they attack them, and then figure out their next action."
He paused.
"And you passed. Barely. I truly thought you'd kill that leopard. But here you are, synced with it."
"Synced?" Simma echoed.
The man chuckled.
"The Mother Leopard only sheds tears for those it chooses to bond with. She's not just some predator. She's a Shadewalker, an ancient species that can vanish into the silhouettes of rocks, trees… even people."
Simma's eyes widened.
"No wonder I couldn't see it…"
"If you master the art of calling her from her shadow, you will have taken the first true step in summoning your beast, without rage. That is the old way. The right way."
The man cleared his throat and went on.
"And Simma, you didn't just do well, you did great. At least you saw through my words since you didn't kill it, and now you are a few steps away from learning how to tame the hardest creature."
Simma looked at him.
"How's that?"
"Don't worry kid, you will still realise it more as we go on."
Simma stared at the man. Something in him told him that he didn't just meet this man by fate, it was as if something was behind the reason why this man was training him, as if he knew him so well.
First, he says Simma must discover himself.
Now he talks about the anger in him, and also, let's not forget about the test he played on him with that whore.
Also, he says that Simma will realise it as they go on. 'Is this some trick?'
'Why hasn't the man even told me who he was? Well, whatever game he is playing, I will definitely find out.'
Simma looked at where the leopards were, but they were gone.
"Great…" he muttered, "back to the shadows…"
The man scoffed. "Now we move on, Simma."
Simma sighed, weary but curious.
"To where?"
"Two hundred push-ups. Two fifty sit-ups."
Simma recoiled.
"You've got to be kidding."
The man smirked.
"What do you need those for?" Simma asked.
He pointed at Simma's stomach.
"Lesson Five failed. You want to tame a dragon, you better start by taming that bloated belly."