A Touch Of Ice

--Artwork by Photonoko--

The clang of metal and the sputtering, sizzling fires of mechanical torches echoed through a large concrete chamber. The sound of tireless work filled the cavernous workshop. This well fortified lair was meant for only one task, taking the bodies of Dragons—nearly hunted to extinction within this budding industrial age—and making trophies from them for those who poached or bought them. They were merely another victim to a world growing ever more infatuated with technology, leaving the magic and mystics of the old world behind, using what remained to only strengthen their new tech and infuse with their machines. Magic had become a simple tool and the once feared and respected creatures such as Dragons and Wyverns nothing but sport.

The toiling, rugged looking, middle-aged craftsman Dupre was certain his latest creation would be one of his finest yet. It better be considering the rarity of creature he was given and the high sum being paid by the collector. The hum of his magic generator was certainly the loudest he had heard in years, shooting out sparks from the many wires shoved into its panels. The energies trapped within the Wyvern’s mere skull were enough to overwork it in its attempts at containing it. The heavy pipes that slithered around the walls and ceilings rattled with intensity as they filtered out magic from the Wyvern head Dupre was tinkering with, conductors sapping the force from within it and converting it into an icy-blue plasma that was dumped into a large vat nearby, some of it leaking from the piping and dripping into the grated walkways of his shop. He would collect much of the plasma later and add it to his collection of vials and serums he had stored on a nearby rack. Despite technology being tied heavily to his work, Dupre was an admirer of magic.

Working on these beautiful creatures up close and personal like he did, why there was no greater joy for him. The world was cruel to them and he knew they were struggling to hang on, but that was simply the way it was. This was his only way to be close to these creatures and so he seized it and never questioned his decision. The world didn’t care, why should he? He was steadfast in a belief that these fascinating marvels deserved to be immortalized before they were fully snuffed out.

“This may be the most potent and powerful beast you have brought me yet Tyran. This Ice Wyvern appears to have limitless magic held within that the head alone is proving troublesome.”

“Well, can you do it!?” The heavily armed man dressed in pouched clothing hounded.

“Make a mask for your buyer? Yes, I’m certain I can. I’ve already made a husk from the face, it shouldn’t be too much longer now.”

Dupre had been at work for many days now with little rest, his obsession with this particular Wyvern noticeable even to the usually distracted poacher Tyran. Dupre’s leather vest and work gloves were stained with blue blood and burn spots, his thick, gray undershirt soaking wet from the sweat of his muscular, tanned body. The man looked as if he hadn’t bathed in a while.

“You really throw yourself into your work don’t you Dupre? Though, you smell like ripe shit this time.” Tyran teased.

“As I’ve said, this one is troublesome. It demands my constant vigilance.” Dupre replied, his voice breathing fascination as he continued. “We wouldn't want to poison the air with miasma. Heh, impressive they are even after death. There is still so much we don’t know about them.”

“Sure… say, don’t they have tech for dealing with that sorta thing? Why do you keep your shop so old-gadge? You’re puttin’ yourself at an awful risk.”

Dupre chuckled then said, “I like the intimacy it provides me. I have to be more involved in the work. I like the touch and would rather not have machines do it all for me.”

“As long as it gets done. And you’ve always been the best, there’s no doubting that.”

Tyran took one last look around and noticed Dupre’s growing collection of glimmering bottles. It had almost doubled since the last time he was here. As beautiful as the blood-like substances appeared, glowing within the dim-lit corner of the room they resided, they gave off an ominous air.

“Well, I’ll be off. Be done in the next few days got it?” Tyran quickly said before taking one last look at the vials and then back towards Dupre who carried on working as if he hadn’t heard a word he just said. “And uh… if these corpses be as magically dangerous as you say, take care will you?”

He then left, leaving the possessed mask maker to his work.

***

Days later and Dupre leaned forward relieved on the counter top of his work bench. The task had been complete and it was by far his most heartfelt work. Using only the face of the Wyvern, he created a hardened mask from it, one that could be mounted upon any admirers wall. The ocean blue, scaled skin remained intact as did all the shimmering scales upon it’s surface—the same blue as the skin, but shining a brighter blue under the light as the masked shifted about beneath it. The forehead had icy, blue-colored spikes fashioned like sharp hair on top, bursting outward in an explosion of long, triangular icicles. It being a mask, the bottom jaw of the creature was missing, the top row of glowing, light turquoise teeth radiating, magic seemingly still flowing through their core. Dupre couldn't rid the mask of all its magic, but he had brought it down to what he believed, in his expert opinion, to be acceptable levels.

He stared longingly into the hollow eyes of the mask, picturing the icy cold stare of the Wyvern corpse when he had first seen it, the eyes then still glowing brightly as if it were alive. Dupre never had the chance to see these wonderful creatures in the wild though. All he knew were corpses. What he wouldn’t do to see one alive, to stand close as it hunted or took flight. To him these marvelous beings were freedom personified in their time, once the most powerful beasts on earth and keepers of immense amounts of the natural magics that resided within the environments they dwelled and were able to travel whenever they wished. They felt like the closest things to gods on earth and seemed more in-tune with the world and its workings than any other living being, even humans.

“All we do is slaughter you…” Dupre lamented. It was true he did feel guilt in his work, but it was his only means at happiness and satisfying his obsession. He was no hunter after all and wouldn’t ever dream of being the one who killed them. “Well, I’ll make sure your legends live on through my work. Your beautiful trophies will strike awe in all those who look at them. They will know the gravity of your existence, how magnificent you all were.”

With a satisfied smile, Dupre flipped over the mask and noticed the light sliding back and forth on the glossy finish within the backside. He would always place the mask on his own face after he’d finished them, giving him a moment of escapism. It was another manner in which he felt close to them, childishly imagining he could see through their eyes. So, like he had done many times before, he placed the mask, which was surprisingly cold to the touch, upon his face.

It fit better than he thought it would, the crown of it sticking snugly on the top of his head in the front, his black hair still spilling out the back. But that couldn’t be, as the Wyvern’s head was double his own’s size. The chilly touch of the mask against the skin of his forehead was becoming more noticeable, growing in intensity. He figured the residual magic must be affecting things so he quickly decided to take it off. The mask wouldn’t budge however, and instead he could feel it closing in around him! He pulled and pulled, but with no progress made. The mask was beginning to shrink to the specifications of his own head!

Dupre stumbled away from the desk and furiously kept pulling at the top of the mask, lifting with his hands underneath it as he could feel the mask starting to press against his cheeks. He had to release his hands so they wouldn't be crushed, the tightening mask sticking to his head everywhere above the nose, the snout of it still protruding outward. The icy touch of it against his skin was nauseating and making his head go numb. The brain freeze was the least of his worries though as he could feel his frostbitten skin being pulled against the underside of it, as if it was trying to force his face to fit its shape.

Screaming in pain, Dupre scrambled to find a tool or a torch, anything that could possibly help him destroy or remove the mask. His vision was blurred and in his dazed state he was finding it too difficult to find anything to assist with the removal quick enough, so he resorted back to trying to tug in vain with his hands. He could feel it in his chilled bones that he was running out of time, that the magic was spreading quickly and out of control. He tugged with all his might, but was met with only more pain as the mask held firm to the skin of his forehead and cheeks. It was like trying to tear off an adhesive binding that refused to budge.

Dupre’s face was completely at the mask’s mercy, pulling and contorting to better fit the inhuman shape. His eyes and nose were flattening upwards towards the eye holes and his cheekbones were being pulled out wider to match the broader shape of the Wyvern head. The sound of cartilage and bone popped and crackled within his ears, which were beginning to lengthen out and shove themselves upwards into the hollowed ear steams. They were being pulled into tube like shapes with the lower lobes spreading out into larger flaps like that of a lizard.

Even his hair was not left alone, lengthening into a very long, messy mane that was slowly dyed a bright, glittering, frost-blue tint. It felt like a cold wind was running out from the mask and through his locks as they changed. As it froze the color out of his hair, it continued to travel further out across his body, giving him strangely invigorating chills. It was concerning him that any part of this ordeal could fill him with vigor, but most concerning of all were the rough scales beginning to prickle and form across the skin of his face the more it transformed. It made it very clear to Dupre what was happening to him.

The damn thing was turning him into a Wyvern!

The freezing, windy touch of the magics caressing Dupre’s body began to focus mightily into his arms next that were still putting their all into removing the cursed mask. His nails became sharper and rounded and each finger bulked up into thicker digits. The nails grew larger and more like blades slipping out of thick fingers like a sword from a sheath. Each one was wicked long and wicked sharp. They would have surely sliced easily through his cheeks as he was tugging if it wasn’t for how armored with scales his face had become. Unfortunately the claws continued to grow in unison with the size of his hands, which were feeling heavy on his body. His forearms swelled as well, providing new strength to his grip on the mask, which he desperately hoped would help. He didn’t care if it meant he had to rip it violently off his face and take his skin with it, he would do it.

Dupre likely knew it already, that his efforts were futile. Yet, he had to try. The changes brought on by the Wyvern’s magic was well on its way, erupting at different points across his body, no longer simply spreading from the infection point. Wherever the changes struck, his body hair froze into icicles and shattered, and his skin turned ocean blue and dried out, the dead skin rising and reshaping into intricate scales. As his arms continued to be consumed he could feel an intense strength building within their musculature. His biceps flexed several times, bulging with new power. The tearing and slithering fibers were disorienting and excruciating, but felt somewhat numbed by the cold energies playing with them. For the moment Dupre embraced it like before, thinking the extra bulk would allow him to better tear off his attacker. As much as he hated to admit it, it was certainly a rush.

He soon felt like he was gaining the upper hand, the increased power definitely allowing him more pull on the mask. However, an even more chilling change and unsettling realization swiftly sapped all the wind from Dupre’s sails. Around his ass he could feel a sudden concentrated cold building up around his tailbones, bottom, and ball sack. The extreme rush of euphoria drained all the energy from his grip. He collapsed onto his hands and knees and was swept up by the frisky winds sliding between his inflating ass cheeks. It felt as if they were being engorged with new fat held tight within a muscular encasement. Like a stomach taking in too much food, it continued to grow and grow. Both cheeks were soon gluttonous growths sagging off his body, looking far too big for his proportions. This discrepancy was quickly eradicated however, as Dupre’s hips were pushed more outward, the bones shattering and reforming. With his wider hips came some thicker thighs as well, both undergoing a similar change to his butt. They flexed with powerful new slabs of muscle and were packed full of new fat that seemed to materialize from nowhere. They quickly became big enough to match the unruly shape of the ass above them, propping it up beautifully.

As the magic continued to do its work, the same blue skin and scales from before covered the surface of Dupre’s ass and moved down his fattening thighs. The wintery landscape spread to his backside as well, traveling on a path up his spine. The exact moment the cold touch mingled with his tail bone, Dupre felt an intense pain rattle it like an electrical shock to the tip. The bone may as well been a lightning rod constantly being struck. Each time it was, the bone wriggled and shoved its way away from the rest of the spine. It felt like it was trying to escape, but in reality as the tip fled, it left new vertebrae behind. His spine was growing longer and beginning to protrude out above his bountiful bottom. The skin was pulled taught along with the growing tail, muscle and fat building itself as a thick layer around the new appendage. The underside of the new corpulent nub of a tail was rough and bumpy and segmented like the underbelly of a snake. He could even feel sharp spikes piercing through the hard flesh at the top of it. Soon after, similar icy blue spikes began emerging up and down his backside along his spine. Their shape was reminiscent of spires of solid ice, not taking long to reach over a half a foot in length at their smallest near the tip of the tail—the further up his tail and backside you went the bigger.

The more the unsightly tail grew, the more Dupre could feel a direct connection to it. It wagged a bit as he got acclimated, before stiffening in fear in response to his emotions over what was happening to him. Dupre wept over his fading humanity, unable to even stand anymore due to the uneven weight of his disfiguring body. He was becoming more monstrous by the second and he had sadly lost all energy to fight, the sensations becoming far too overwhelming as they honed in on his most sensitive place.

The freezing winds of magic prancing about his body tickled Dupre’s small cock, shriveled due to the cold, which was fully exposed. His pants had begun to wriggle their way down his legs, his enormous thighs and ass forcing them down as if they were squeezing their way out of a tight package—Dupre’s undergarments long gone as they were torn off by his expanding butt cheeks. His suffering member throbbed and continued to recede, and his testicles began to shrink and flatten. He could tell this was more than simply the cold as he could feel his balls tucking into his body in a peculiar way. The sack stretched out and each testis pulled to a different side between his legs, eventually retreating fully inside him, deep inside, where he could feel them jostling about in unnatural ways and tucking themselves into new positions. They began to grow in size as well. Ever since the expansion of his hips, Dupre had felt a certain emptiness within his lower guts. This emptiness was quickly being filled by his enlarging inner eggs.

He couldn’t help but let out a shrill moan. The feeling was strangely exhilarating, like a sensitive cavern within him was being created, burrowing itself a path towards his cock. His body was relishing in it, evident by his cock twitching excitedly against his wishes. Whatever was coming though terrified Dupre. It was gnawing away at his mind like a rabid intuition, a sense that he was about to lose something just as integral to his being as his humanity. The way his dick nudged inward as if to indicate it was eager to follow his testes inside him brought on the ever creeping suspicion that whatever magic had taken the reigns to his body had no use for his manhood.

As his flattened scrotum began to puff up and peel apart at the middle, the tunneling force in his abdomen finally reached the surface. Dupre knew exactly what was coming next.

“Uhn! No, Don’t! Please nooo!!”

The icy covering to his skin painted a swollen pair of lower lips that had opened between his legs, a fresh, throbbing female pussy quivering to the chill of the air. Dupre’s pulsating dick hung out from the drooling mouth like a small, limp sausage, cum trickling slowly out from the head. His semen had a cool, crunchy texture to it as if it were snow. The same went for the clear liquid dripping out of his agitated vaginal lips. The fluids sparkled with a sort of frosty allure and bordered on icicles as they made, long, extended drips towards the floor. It became messier and more frequent as Dupre’s shriveling dick further tucked itself inside his womanly cavern. The building ecstasy felt like it was going to break him, he couldn’t believe the sensations he was feeling. He wanted it to stop. He couldn’t allow himself to cave in like the walls around his nub of a penis—the burning chill hugging it tighter and tighter. The squeeze sent electric shivers throughout his entire body. What was left of his dick felt like the sensitive head of a cock being stimulated ten fold and at a constant rhythm. It was driving Dupre mad.

“Oh gods! S-Something’s comi—A-AHHH!!”

Dupre gripped tightly to the mask and collapsed, his head pressing against the ground as he felt the quaking throes of a female orgasm, but one far beyond a typical barrage to a human woman. This one had enough intensity to knock over an elephant. There wasn’t a single centimeter of his body that wasn't numb with pleasure. His bloated, blue ass wiggled in the air in a thrusting motion as Dupre rocked back and forth in a daze on his knees. The icy fluids from his pussy were plentiful, looking like the juice from a fruit freshly crushed and gushing out. A sizable pool of his spooge formed in a puddle on the ground, the drip of it mixing with the drip of liquids already echoing through the workshop.

It was hard for Dupre to recover from his stupor, his awareness of his surroundings dim and his train of thought purely regulated to his mind. He had not the energy to speak beyond a mumble. Something peculiar was happening within him. Not only was the pleasure not stopping, but a permeating force was pounding away in the back of his mind and slowly drowning out his thoughts. They felt like many voices trying to speak to him, but they did not sound human or of any language he’d heard in his life. They were grunts and growls and yet they seemed to hold intent that was far from barbaric or beastly. There was purpose to what was being said, Dupre could feel it. As much as he knew there was more to worry about, he couldn’t help but be drawn into the droning sound of their call.

The voices that called out to Dupre were of a spiritual nature and wished to encourage the changes. To do so, many ghostly tendrils manifested out from the mask and began to wrap themselves around his body. Some constricted around his tail and pulled on it, yanking out more of its length, helping it grow fatter and longer. Another ghostly tentacle caressed a pair of budding breasts forming on Dupre’s chest. Starting supple and small, they quickly ballooned outward as the blue skin of his changing complexion overtook them. His nipples swelled to the size of jar lids and pushed out like large suckers at the tip. The ghost tendril cupped each one, slithering itself between the swollen, pillowy flesh as it did so. Impressive cleavage appeared as both breasts became large enough to squish firm against each other. They looked unrealistically big for a human body, but then Dupre looked far from human at this point, his proportions completely out of sorts.

“H-Huh, Huhn…?” Dupre moaned in confusion, his mouth hanging loose and his eyes whiting over while his mind was seized by a great power. He wasn’t sure what to make of things, this calm forming within the mind-numbing satisfaction.

He stayed in his stance as each breast exploded in size once again, ripping a path through his shirt and then dangling like gargantuan melons from his chest. The segmented, rough, ice-blue bottom that ran under his tail was beginning to form between his tits as well and slowly running its way down to his stomach. The segments were larger than those on his tail, almost looking like abs that ran across his entire front the way they packed themselves, a distinct line running down the middle of them on his core. They made his body look thick and sturdy despite the more feminine curve being brought out of him—his midsection gradually caving in towards the shape of a corset. His body’s silhouette was only made more extreme as the ghostly tendrils targeted his thighs as well, massaging them into even mightier slabs of meat.

Dupre’s body was an hourglass in human form and from the looks of his soaked slit and flustered face his time had run out. There was no escape from his fate. There was no escape from the rapture. But Dupre began to wonder… did he want to escape it?

The parading voices within his head were becoming clearer but also stronger, only adding to the confusion. They seemed to be encouraging Dupre, assuring him that what was happening was beautiful. He had to admit he didn’t find the form distasteful anymore. He was growing a fine Wyvern body indeed, similar to the ones he had admired from afar. He was becoming convinced by their kind words. Yes, this intense power and insane pleasure was his to relish in, a gift from the mighty beasts he now realized he misunderstood. Wyverns were far more intelligent and majestic than he could have imagined. He now understood it all, the carnal cries and whispers within his mind were the calls of those ancestors of the Wyverns deceased. They were a deeply bonded, almost psychically linked species that shared in the ancient energies of the world.

That deep-rooted connection to the worldly magics was awakening within him now… Drowning into the sea of voices, Dupre dove deeper into its embrace. As his mind mingled with the knowledge and essence of the Wyverns he had made trophies of, Dupre felt at peace and at home. All those years of wishing to be close to these creatures, this was as close as one could be, to literally bond with them body and mind!

It was in that moment his mind was seized by a powerful rush of magic, and his humanity was lost within the screams of many, as they all cried out in agonizing bliss. The rightful owner to the face that had been cut clean by human hands was reclaiming its existence. Born from a human, a new prideful Wyvern was emerging, one admiring its self-deemed sexy form.

The ancestors’ ghostly arms helped guide the transformation along, bringing upon the changes quicker than ever. They were the hands groping at his breasts as they enlarged even more. They were the vice like grip against his hips stretching them out wider, revealing his soaked lower lips to the cold air permeating off his body. They were the tentacles coiling around his thighs and legs as they beefed up in the calves and fattened in the thighs, the feet below crackling and shattering into new shapes—large, reptilian feet brandishing gigantic talons tearing through human flesh as they emerged. They were the tugging at his hair, brushing the strands longer and voluminous. They were the powerful, giant clawed hand gripping his tail and tugging its meaty girth out from his body. And they were the serpent wrapping his neck and tugging forward, stretching it out into a much longer, stronger, more flexible shape.

Dupre, well she didn’t really think herself that anymore—the name faded into obscurity—growled for the first time in her Wyvern voice as her face squashed up against the mask and mutated forward into it, lengthening into a draconic muzzle. Sharp, large teeth, each one colored a neon turquoise, fashioned themselves in plentiful rows within her mouth and brandished a carnivorous smile.

The Wyvern woman panted heavily as her arousal continued to climb. Her bulking arms and large, clawed fingers gripped into the metal ground of the workshop, steadied her growing body as it reached towering proportions. All her clothes from her human life had long been torn to shreds outside of her shirt, which was barely hanging on for dear life. It didn’t last long however, joining the tattered cloth on the ground as she felt the room around her growing smaller. She stumbled about trying to keep herself from pressing against any nearby walls. She couldn’t wait to just be free of this claustrophobic prison. She could feel the spines of her wings erecting from her bending, misshapen, more avian looking arms and rows of feathers sprouting along with them. The feathers ran down her spine as well all towards the tip of her tail. Just like her hair, the feathers sparkled like brilliant frost.

The changes were reaching their completion as the tendrils of the magic that had created the Wyvern began to rush directly inside of her and embed themselves within. As the energy slammed through the walls of her itching pussy and plowed through the gaping orifice of her mouth, it felt as if all the lineage of her dead Wyvern kin that had come before was warming her womb and icing her fast beating heart. She cried out once more with a thunder that rattled the very structure of the closing walls around her while slamming her massive tail against her dragon hole, the scaled ridges rubbing against her swollen slit causing her to cum and ripple with delight. The slathering slime from her sex spilled onto the steel workshop floor, fizzling in a massive puddle, with a chilly steam rising from it as well as from the wet scales between her legs.

Her face continued to contort and change to fit the mold of the mask until it matched perfectly to the shape of her beaked muzzle. The mask then fell of her face, its work long done.

There was still one need yet to be sated though. Her arms snapped like twigs and readjusted themselves once again, finally settling into clawed, muscular yet spindly arms holding large, brilliant leathery wings covered in feathers. The thought of flying once more brought unbridled excitement to her soul. Her eyes glowed with an icy blue passion. She felt a climax building within her yet again. She finally felt free of whatever bindings had contained her, though she couldn’t recall what they were.

“I’m Freeee!!” The Wyvern woman moaned as another cascade of slick fluids pumped out of her needy pussy and wet the skin between the cheeks of her reptilian rump. “Yes, yes! My power is returning!”

She stumbled some more about the room, her growth complete, but her body still needing to settle. As she was slowly taken out of her daze, she began to wonder why she was able to speak in human tongue. This was impossible within her kind. Whatever the humans had done to her must have cursed her with such a disgusting trait. Though, she found it more than easy to revert her manner of speaking to her usual vocalization. She continued to wonder what exactly had happened to her here. The lab certainly looked familiar though she didn’t know why. Then, she saw them.

The vials!

Flames built within her gut immediately at the sight of them, rows and rows of her kin’s magic condensed into liquid within many vials stacked on shelves. Is this what they had been reduced to, game and experimentation? No, she was a proud Wyvern woman of a great lineage that wouldn’t stand for such atrocities! She felt different than the others, as if she may have been chosen for something grand. She had an inane understanding of human matters and how they thought. She could use this to better eradicate them!

Looking at the vials once more in disgust she whipped her tail at them, sending them all crashing to the floor. Magic clouds rose from the mingling liquids on the ground, creating a hurricane within the air. The Wyvern woman stared captivated by it, hearing the many voices of the deceased as they gathered into a swirling tornado. They spoke of lending their power and begging her to save them. The Wyvern woman had no need to reply, she was ready. Suddenly, the swirling magical gust rushed towards her mouth and forced itself down her throat.

The Wyvern woman collapsed in her stance, weakened by the sudden rush of a generations worth of Wyvern and Dragonic magic fusing with her body. She cried out in agonizing bliss as she received the blessings of many, her body growing larger once more and exuding even greater energy, the walls and floors of the laboratory freezing from the radiation leaking out uncontrollably from her pores. The more she grew and the more powerful she became the more prideful a Wyvern was born. The minds of all those entering her merged with her own into a singular being, creating a Wyvern Queen one might say, one with purely the needs of her kin in mind and a mighty ego to boot. The most powerful Wyvern ever had been born and one so confident as to never fear humans. She was a beautiful, unrivaled being that no human would be able to slay.

“Pitiful humans!” The Wyvern laughed, a growl always carrying underneath her human speech whenever she used it. “In your tongue I declare… your species finished!”

The ruler of ice and fire then let loose a mixture of both in a tunneling discharge from her mouth up at the ceiling. A hole exploded in the roof and the entire structure began to crumble down around her. Once enough of the fresh air met her wings she quickly began to flap. It was wonderful feeling the freedom of flight once more, her massive body taking a while to lift off the ground. A wind strong enough to knock over carriages and steam-cars spread out from her taking to the skies.

She let out another ice-fire plume in celebration, streaking it across the sky. She drank in the sights, hovering mid air and scanning the world that she would reclaim for her kind. Suddenly, she spotted her first human, and the sight of him sent bubbling anger to the surface. She must have come across him before in another life, but she knew this human, this wicked poacher of her kind.

Tyran was on his way to collect the mask from Dupre when he heard explosions from afar and rushed back to the lab to find it in ruins. He then looked up and felt a paralyzing jolt of fear carry through him. Above him was the largest Wyvern he had ever seen, as big as three houses! It looked straight at him with a deadly glare that nearly stopped his heart.

“You insect of man. Heh heh.” The Wyvern mocked. “You shall be the first to die on my conquest of liberation.”

Tyran wanted to move so badly, but it was as if his body knew he was already a goner. For the first time looking upon his prey he did not feel excitement. He did not feel confident. He did not feel joyful. He did not feel like a hunter.

“No longer will you hunt my kind. We will rise from the ashes and reclaim this land! You lowly human scum! BRAAAGH!!”

Standing in a pool of his own piss, Tyran was incinerated by the Wyvern’s blast into nothing but dust carried by the gust of his demise.

The Wyvern growled happily over her first kill. What was a weakly human to perfection such as her? This would be easy.

Done relishing, her mind quickly turned to searching. She had to find if any more of her kind were still alive out there. She couldn’t believe their mighty race had been wiped to near extinction. Good thing she was here now to balance the scales back to where they belonged. A goddess for the most beautiful creatures in existence, she thought loftily, while flying majestically across the landscape.