Osamaru Ta
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(WLTK) B2 - Chapter 28: "All Those Who Wander."
🕑 Added 2025-08-01 07:04:30 +0000 UTCJeremiah moved through the deepening green, shoulders hunched beneath the weight of growing disappointment. The forest pressed in, its hush broken only by the soft crunch of his boots and the distant whirr of Billy’s bubble gliding overhead. They had been at this for over an hour, threading between trunks and over tangled roots, searching for some sign of a suitable companion. But, as last time, luck seemed to have abandoned him at the threshold of the woods.
He had tried everything he could think of. He’d slowed his pace, hunched low behind Billy’s drifting bubble, and practiced every trick he remembered from shelter work and field training — soft feet, still breath, the patience of a shadow. Yet the creatures of the Testing Grounds were wilder, cleverer, and, above all, more skittish than any he’d met in Nexus proper.
A buck had appeared, regal and startled, freezing just long enough for Jeremiah to catch its outline before it vanished into green twilight. A rabbit — just a flash of white and gray — had slipped away so quickly he questioned whether it had ever truly been there at all. And the hawk… Jeremiah shuddered. Its glare alone had been enough to let him know it would have no qualms about attacking him if he attempted even so much as an attunement.
Even if he was more durable as an F-Grade now, the vicious gleam of talons longer than his little finger had kept him from testing his luck.
He might have laughed if the sting of frustration weren’t quite so sharp. Even the forest seemed intent on taunting him. The terrain shifted underfoot, landmarks melting into one another like half-remembered dreams. Despite having headed out in the same direction as their previous trip, Jeremiah felt as if he’d stepped into a different forest entirely. Where he expected to find a hollowed tree a few dozen meters in, he found a moss-choked boulder instead, large enough to take shelter under from wind or storm. A brook that had promised fresh water earlier now existed only in memory. Even the trees seemed to be different species than he remembered, for what little he’d paid attention at the time.
He stopped in a shallow dip, chest heaving, and let out a long, silent sigh. “You know,” he muttered, half to himself, half to Billy, “I’m starting to think we’d be better off looking for more beetles. This is getting ridiculous.”
Billy, who had been spinning gentle loops above his head, halted mid-flight. He cocked his mantle in a way that a toddler might, then, without warning, zipped off into the tangle of trees.
“Billy!” Jeremiah’s heart lurched as he lunged after the little kraken, his voice snapping through the stillness. “Hey! Not so fast, wait up!”
Billy paused only long enough for Jeremiah to nearly catch up before flitting ahead once more, leading him deeper into the unfamiliar heart of the woods. The chase was a mad, stumbling blur — Jeremiah’s boots slipping on patches of damp moss, his breath catching as branches whipped against his jacket. Panic and exasperation warred in his chest. “Billy!” he hissed, desperate now. “This isn’t funny, this place is dangerous!”
But Billy was purposeful, darting through shafts of green light, pausing at intervals just long enough for Jeremiah to catch sight before vanishing again. After what felt like an eternity of ducking, weaving, and cursing under his breath, Jeremiah broke through a stand of clustered pines, nearly barreling into Billy’s waiting bubble.
Billy hovered motionless, eyes fixed on something just beyond the next thicket. Jeremiah slowed, ready to launch into a scolding about running off, when a strange sound reached him. He stilled, ears straining. There it was again — a sharp, deliberate clink, like metal on metal, echoing through the hush.
It didn’t belong. He crouched low, moving forward with practiced caution, every sense stretched taut. Billy’s eyes gleamed as Jeremiah joined him at the edge of the brush.
He peered through the leaves, heart pounding. At first, all he saw was the tangled undergrowth, the mottled light on old logs. Then, a sudden shower of sparks, brilliant against the gloom. Jeremiah’s gaze snapped to a fallen log, and his breath caught.
Two beetles, each nearly the size of his palm, squared off atop the mossy wood. They were like something conjured from a fever dream — massive, armored, with single, jagged horns jutting from their heads. But it was the horns themselves that commanded his attention: each one a strip of polished, razor-bright metal, gleaming blue and silver in the filtered light.
The beetles faced each other, mandibles twitching, antennae fanned wide. Then, with a concerted lunge, they reared up and brought their horns together in a clash that sent sparks cascading down the log. The sound — clear and rhythmic — rang like a blacksmith’s hammer.
Jeremiah stared, wide-eyed. He’d seen stag beetles in nature documentaries, but nothing like this. Another clash, a burst of sparks, a clattering dance, and then a pause, both beetles drawing back and readjusting.
He fumbled for the System interface, focusing on the nearest of the two and issuing a scan command. His HUD flickered as the overlay built itself, line by line.
——————✴——————
Ferrospark Beetle (Male)
Grade: G - 0.71
Mental: (G) 0.05
Physical: (G) 0.7
Supernatural: (G) 0.05
Rarity: Uncommon
Pedigree: ★★★
Ecology:
Ferrospark Beetles are a rare, burrowing species found in regions where the Wyrd leaches into forested ground. Males feed primarily on rotting wood, bark, and the mineral-rich loam beneath old trees, but display a marked preference for raw metal ore. Over their lifespan, these beetles consume and incorporate traces of iron, copper, and other metals into their exoskeletons and signature horns, resulting in gleaming, serrated weapons unique to each individual.
Males engage in elaborate duels for the right to mate, clashing their metallic horns atop fallen logs or exposed roots. The spectacle is as much a show of artistry as strength: females judge potential mates by the hardness, gloss, and sparking prowess of their horns, often choosing the beetle who can create the most dazzling cascade of sparks with each strike.
Once a mate is chosen, the male constructs a shallow nest of chewed wood and earth, then ignites it by striking his horn against embedded stones, creating a protective bed of ash where the female will lay her eggs. The resulting ash insulates the clutch, wards off pests and predators, and provides rich sustenance for the emerging larvae.
Ferrospark Beetles are territorial but not overtly aggressive toward larger creatures unless provoked. Their primary defense is their shell’s extraordinary resilience and the sudden, blinding sparks of their duels, which can startle even the most determined predator.
Warning: The horns of older specimens may become sharpened over a lifetime of duels, and such horns can be rather dangerous to the unsuspecting or underprepared.
——————✴——————
Jeremiah watched the duel with a fascination he could not deny. The spectacle was far more captivating than any mundane insect battle he had witnessed as a child. These beetles clashed with a kind of wild artistry, their sparks scattering against the mossy log like tiny blue fireworks. Still, a single question nagged at the back of his mind.
He glanced over at Billy, brow furrowed. “How did you even find them?”
Before Billy could react, a voice called out from behind. “Isn’t it obvious?”
Jeremiah jolted, spinning on his heel. For a moment, he saw nothing but tangled brush and shadow. Then the voice rang out again, lilting and amused, “Whoohoo!” — this time from above. Jeremiah craned his neck, and there, perched high in the leafy canopy, was a girl. Or rather, a teenager — no older than fourteen, judging by her frame, but with a glint in her eyes that seemed far older.
She grinned down at him with a foxlike mischief, swinging her legs as if the branch were a porch swing. Her hiking clothes looked both well-worn and expertly patched, padded in places with dark leather that blended into the tree’s bark. Her shoulder-length hair — deep brown streaked with lighter shades — fell in a wild tangle across her sharp, almost vulpine features.
But what truly rooted Jeremiah to the spot was the massive, bushy tail sweeping behind her, striped and vibrant, almost comically out of scale with her petite frame. The tail flicked once, catching a stray shaft of sunlight, and for a split second, Jeremiah wondered if he was still watching some Wyrd illusion.
The girl’s grin widened as she let go of the branch. Jeremiah’s heart lurched, certain she would plummet — but she twisted midair, tail fanning out, and landed with an effortless, theatrical flourish. On solid ground, she seemed even smaller than he had thought, standing barely above four feet.
She flashed him a cheeky smile. “Aren’t you going to ask what I meant?”
Jeremiah blinked, then let out a weary breath. “Fine. I’ll bite. What’s supposed to be obvious?”
She giggled, the sound bright as wind chimes. “Well, don’t you know where you are?” she teased, spreading her arms as she spun in a lazy circle.
Jeremiah started to answer, but the girl pressed on, her voice ringing with infectious energy. “This is the Wyrd Wilds! The place between dreams and potential.” She pivoted and pointed straight at Billy. “Your many-limbed buddy there just found what he was looking for.”
Jeremiah frowned. “What do you mean?”
She laughed again, dropping down to poke at Billy’s water bubble. “I mean, your friend asked, and the Wilds brought him to where he wanted to be.”
He shook his head, a stubborn knot forming in his chest. “Then why haven’t I found what I need?”
The girl let out an exaggerated sigh, rolling her eyes skyward. “You little lost law boys, always the same.”
She stepped close and tapped Jeremiah on the forehead, as if to reset a stubborn device. “You’re thinking too much,” she chided, before skipping over to Billy. She tapped the bubble, and Billy waved a tentacle in greeting, poking her back in a playful exchange.
Without looking at Jeremiah, the girl spoke in a softer tone. “Let me ask you this. When you dream, do you doubt where you are? Or are you always exactly where you need to be? When you want something in a dream, do you walk toward it? Or are you simply there?”
She finally turned to face him, gaze clear and unblinking. “The Wilds will always take you where you want to go and where you’re meant to be. But as long as you keep trying to tell the Wilds where that ‘there’ should be, you’ll never find it.”
Jeremiah frowned, struggling to untangle the thought. “Are you saying that as long as I try to reach for something, I’ll always fall short?”
The girl only shrugged. “Somewhere, something, someone.”
Jeremiah shook his head in frustration. “Then what am I supposed to do? Just wander around and hope I stumble on something? I’ve already been doing that.”
She smirked, tilting her head. “Not all those who wander are lost.” With a mischievous spin, she added, “But if you must have a story, think of it like this:
Once, a hunter found himself lost in an unfamiliar forest.
He laughed, confident in his skill, for he knew the tricks of sun and moss, the calls of birds, the marks of game. Every lesson from the woods of his childhood seemed to mark his way. He strode forward, sure that knowledge was his map.
But this forest was stranger than any he had ever walked. The sun twisted behind restless leaves, and moss crept up every side of the tree. The birds sang songs he had never heard, and every trail curled back on itself. Still, the hunter pressed on, reading signs that meant nothing here, trusting in paths not meant for him.
Hour after hour, he followed clever trails, never realizing that each choice — rooted in the certainty that they had always worked before — was drawing him further from his way. The more he insisted the world must fit his rules, the deeper he wandered into the wilds.
In the end, he circled and circled until, exhausted, he finally stopped. Only when he set down his expectations and let the forest simply be, not make it what he wished it to be, did he see the path that had always been there.”
She finished her tale with a sly gleam in her eyes. “So, Law Boy, are you here to prove what you know, or to find out where you are?”
Jeremiah started to answer, but stopped himself, the edges of her story lingering in his mind. He actually let himself consider her words.
After a moment, he looked up at her and asked quietly, “Are you saying I should stop fixating on what I think my goals ought to be, and instead try to learn what they really should be?”
The girl’s grin widened, approval dancing in her gaze. “There you go!”
Jeremiah sighed, but nodded in reluctant understanding. “I see… That makes a frustrating amount of sense, even if it feels like I’ve been wasting my time.” He met her eyes, his tone shifting to something warmer. “I suppose I should thank you, then, Ms…” He hesitated, realizing she’d never offered her name.
The girl blinked, as if surprised by his courtesy. “Oh! I’m sorry. Those who know me call me Hazel. And now, so may you.”
She cocked her head up at him. “And what about you, mister?” Her grin was infectious, bold, and childlike. “May I have your name?”
Comments
BlissForgotten
Oh boy. He's in for a lesson about Fae it seems.
