Lost in The End Parts 6-7

Part 7: Two Embers of Chaos

Tyran looked down, stunned and in awe of the titan of a tyrant he just witnessed; he could not let him leave, not without asking. The young dark-green feathered T.rex trilled loudly, causing small birds up in the trees to fly away in fear, as Tyran bolted off towards the Tyrant King—Tyrance. He made his way up to him, wind making those effervescent trees sway, as Tyran walked alongside the greatest animal to ever live—analyzing his every move. Tyrance lowered his head to look upon Tyran mid-trot; the Tyrant King and Tyran stared at each other, amber eyes meeting sapphire blue, as there seemed to be a familial resemblance. Tyrance stopped his trek, towering over Tyran, looking down upon him as the young rex stared up.

Everything stopped, the birds in the trees above, and the even the wind—as a picture-perfect scene unfolded; could you believe it? Few could; the most dangerous and regal predator alive stared at a beast half his size, and made no moves to intimidate—as the two stared at each-other, the sun shining golden fractals through the debris in the sky, of which pierced through the trees and the leaves to reach the forest these two stood within. Tyrance sensed something between him and Tyran, for that was the only thing keeping him from moving forward. The two spoke in tyrannosaur language, making inaudible vibrations, and various snarls and snorts.

Tyran was asking the Tyrant King a question, a question about his parents, relaying their description to Tyrance. The Tyrant King looked down and closed his amber eyes, using all the power in his avian brain to remember a time long passed. Something seemed to come to mind—a deep-pink colored female rex, and an emerald green colored male. Could they be? Tyrance thought of his youngest and only living sister, Tyrani, and her mate—Tyro. The Tyrant King opened his amber eyes and moved his feet within the mud, before chirping to Tyran to search North-East, towards a legendary place—the Golden-Land. Tyrance himself was headed there, and he trilled that if his parents were who the Tyrant King thought they were, they would be headed there as-well.

Tyran snorted in response, agreeing we can assume, but before Tyrance could relay anymore knowledge—the sound of a large predator wailing in pain filled his and Tyran’s ears. The Tyrant King furrowed his brow and bared his teeth with a deep growl, before turning around and bolting towards the sound—a demonic scent on the air. He released a deafening roar, asserting his presence and equally telling Tyran not to follow him, as the regal giant vanished into the shadows of a decrepit wood.

Tyran looked up, a gentle rainfall trickling down his cranium; he knew where he needed to go, and although a hint of doubt filled him at the thought of surviving to the Golden-Land, he knew well enough he had all the means to do so. The young Tyrant King breathed in with confidence, his nostrils flaring, and lips quivering from the raindrops. He turned to his right, ignoring the burned down forest Tyrance delved into, and made way towards a steep-hill. His massive theropod legs motioned towards the slide, as the footsteps made from the true Tyrant King echoed in the distance.

At the top of the hill where Tyran stood there was mostly massive patches of grass, with a few couplings of brown mushrooms to the right and left. The young rex bent over and lowered his head to see how far and what lied at the base of the slide. There was a medium-sized pond, of which some coelacanth swam within, but most importantly there was another—significantly larger and rigid—cliff to the far left. Tyran stepped back, before assuming a fast-paced gait down the cliff, maintaining balance with his tail held straight. Mud and dust kicked up with each step, as he thundered down the cliff and to the bottom with little trouble—twirling his tail around as he analyzed his new surroundings.

The land directly ahead of him seemed less and less vibrant, becoming more of a red-clay environment as the vegetation stopped directly at the pond in-front of him. To his right however, there was a chaparral, which led into more of the same forest and caves. Tyran placed his right foot in-front of him, and his dark-green fur-like feathers blew in the wind, as he lifted his neck up and breathed in deeply—tracking all scents. Fifty-miles away he could detail the scent of Triceratops, along with a strange scent, one he had never taken in before—although it reminded him of a Deinosuchus. A massive Quetzalcoatlus flew high above, casting a shadow across the land it soared, as Tyran decided to head north towards the flatter, rockier environment.

The ground was weak from continuous onslaughts of acid rain, and each footstep from the tyrannosaur left massive footprints in the rock. He briefly sipped from the pond’s waters, his massive mouth taking in four coelacanth along with the liquid. A small meal, not even enough to satisfy his hunger—but still something. He progressed up another hill, arriving significantly high across the land. Tyran turned his head back to take in his surroundings in the south-east; the high positioning on this flat, rocky plain allowed him to see the vast forests that ran for hundreds of miles to the south-east. He breathed in a sigh of relief, seeing with incredible vision that he had come a long away, and was indeed making progress.

The Tyrannosaur’s muscles began to ache him, having been used for days without end. Knowing he hadn’t slept in what must have been an eternity, the Tyrant King began to lower his stance towards the ground, unaware that he was out in the open—prime for a larger predator to ambush; yet, the powers that be were not going to allow this rex to die here, and he was awoken by a loud screeching bellow. Tyran hurled his head up, sapphire-eyes wide, as he turned his head to the south-west, and stood up to face that direction where the sound had come from. His eyes analyzed every inch of the terrain behind him, before seeing rocks tumble off of the burned down forest on the top of the cliff.

Tyran looked up in shock, as at the top of the cliff he saw two combatants; one filled the air with regality, whilst the other filled it with dread. Tyrance and Nequit Dominum were doing battle. Frame for frame, Tyran’s mind detailed the fight in its complexity.

The Demon looked at Tyrance psychotically, before biting the top of his neck, swinging him to the ground. Tyrance believed it to be the end, but no, he thought of all his pack members that had been killed by this murderer—he wasn’t going to be the next victim. Tyrance shook his body repeatedly, roaring bellows that echoed for miles, but this only tightened Nequit’s grip; Tyrance looked to his left, a tree was leaning over, about to fall—this was his last chance. Using what was left of his strength Tyrance swung his tail around, giving just enough force to knock the tree over. Nequit looked up only to be crushed on his back by the tree. The Demon yelled aloud as parts of his vertebrae broke, looking towards Tyrance.

Tyrance, although in incredible pain, stood up and looked at Dominum, who was lifting the tree off himself. Just behind Nequit, a cliff leading down to the plains lay, Tyrance knew what he had to do. Nequit Dominum lifted the tree from his body, dazed and in pain, he was put into even further anguish by Tyrance, who rammed into him with immeasurable force. Nequit Dominum could do nothing as Tyrance pushed him over the cliff, sending the demon falling straight into the pond from thirty feet up.

Tyran backed up in shock, trying to find a place to hide, although the flat plain failed to provide him much cover. Luckily, there was a small covering of fallen trees with leaves still attached to their branches; Tyran turned around and walked underneath the covering, and continued watching. His eyes moved up back to the cliff, and watched Tyrance. The Tyrant King was injured, four of his ribs having been broken in the fight, and it was visible; his walk now had a slight limp, but this did not stop Tyrance, who moved towards the edge of the cliff and released a deafening, all-encompassing bellow that not a soul could mistake.

He had done it, the Tyrant King of the Dinosaurs had killed the Unstoppable Lord. Tyran breathed a sigh of relief through his maw, closing his eyes for a moment at the thought that there was a chance for true peace at hand. He watched finally, as Tyrance turned around and delved deeper into the forest and towards the rocky plain—a level of triumph in his limp. For once, the world seemed at peace, before it all fell down. Tyran motioned to step out of the covering, but just as he did the watery grave where the Unstoppable Lord seemingly had died began to bubble and shake.

Tyran watched in a horror indescribable, as Nequit Dominum’s hand burst out from the deep pond. Two bones protruded from the wrist of Dominum before, as though they were sentient, syncing back into place as his whole broken-arm began to restructure itself. The dorsal-side of his four-fingered and thumbed all white-hand began to make a hole, revealing the interior muscle and bone of his palm. The scales, flesh and bone began to fall apart, making way for the essence of a nightmare; an eye, deep-red in color, with a black pupil, fluttered all the way from Dominum’s head, to his arm, and to the back of his hand, before looking out through the hole that was made and inspecting the land, making sure Tyrance was not around.

Dominum formed a fist with his hand, and the eye dilated, looking in circles as blood seeped out of it without end. Tyran struggled to withhold the contents of his stomach, as he ducked down low—avoiding detection. The eye looks around, forming a reptilian-slit, before rolling up, becoming all white, and falling down through the arm and back to the head. The hand reformed the flesh and bone, before with new knowledge of the surroundings, grabbed hold of the rock and grass next to the pond. The entity then began to lift itself up from the lake, its left arm coming into view and helping to pull itself up. Finally, the head of Nequit Dominum bursted out from the water, its left eye still missing as only a dark and empty skeletal-esque hole remained in its place. Tyran watched, as Dominum clambered to the ground and squirmed like a fish out of water, screeching quietly as its bones restructured.

Finally, the Demon seemed to regain its composure and balance, standing erect and looking around with its single eye. Finally, bubbling began to occur on the Demon’s shoulder, and neck, before the left eye returned to its socket—and the Unstoppable Lord was whole once more. The Demon staggered, recovering as though it had died and been reborn all in three minutes—but something else was happening. Nequit Dominum coughed up blood, slamming into the side of the cliff. Tyran rose his neck up with a look of fear and confusion on his eyes, as Nequit Dominum grabbed his stomach—reeling in unimaginable pain.

Tyran knew his time was running out here, and exited the covering before bolting down the rocky plain into the distance—he was not going to deal with this ‘thing’ again. The Demon’s neck began to expand, along with its head and mouth, before it coughed up an oval-shaped black and red object. It couldn’t have been any worse, but it was—Dominum had created a new offspring! He instantly began to recover from the event, and grabbed the egg with both hands. A dark cloud cover began to overlap the bleak sky, as Nequit analyzed his second oval-shaped creation. The being’s mangled and bone-exposed maw shook, before forming a more humanoid mouth. This was, unimaginable, but it was true; Nequit Dominum looked at the egg, before uttering a single word, “Ma…le..dic…tus”.

The blood-curdling words were spoken, and the child’s name was ushered into the air just as Dominum’s snout morphed back into a theropod’s, and he tossed it into the deep-pond. His broken body began to shake, as Dominum threw his head back and released a spine-chilling laugh—knowing in full that his legacy was secured. But, a color-changing egg had already burrowed deep beneath the Earth a while back—no, had Dominum laid two eggs?!

The fate of planet Earth seems juxtaposed with eternal chaos, as Nequit Dominum’s seeds lie within the planet. The Demon snorted, before staggering off towards the rocky plain, one goal on his brain—kill the One That Got Away.

Part 7 end.

Part 6:

It was the dead of night, and the chirping of nocturnal predators and insects filled all of a dark-green wet and mucky forest; an eerie ambience, but not for the young Tyrant King Tyran—who had just escaped a direct confrontation with Nequit Dominum. Tyran rested his body on the side of a rocky-cliff, of which protruded through a cluster of trees and peered out like a tower over most of the land—although the green-feathered tyrannosaur was at the base, and could only see the maze of foliage around him. He breathed a sigh of relief, rain from the dying storm overhead trickling down his skull and snout, drenching his feathers. Blood from the wounds on his back and legs were cleaned by the water, although the deep gashes from the sword-like teeth in Dominum’s jaw would be with Tyran for a long time.

Tyran began to get tunnel vision, and slowly fell unconscious by the cliffside; his knees buckled as he slid down to the forest floor, the leftover blood from his wounds painting the rocky wall red. Hours passed, and they felt like days, as Tyran lie unconscious amongst the mud and greenery with barely any sounds of life—only a drowned out heart beat, pulsating every second. The blotted out sun began to rise high in the auburn sky, awakening sleeping fauna and illuminating Tyran’s eyelids—forcing the rex to open his blue eyes. Acid rain poured down in spurts across the land, as volcanoes erupted, and earthquakes trembled the beasts of the land with no sign of when they would come or go.

This, endless struggle however, had no affect on Tyran—who began to rise up to his feet, determination flowing through his veins. The young rex blinked a few times, and shook his head, before continuing on his path—limping slightly. He trekked through the forest and down a hill, reaching a massive tunnel that crept down into the depths before rising up into an eerie wood. The fires caused by the natural disasters around the world have burned most lush forests to bare trunks, shells of their former perfection. Tyran hiked through nonetheless, his eyes barely open, as fatigue tried its hardest to overcome him—but was unable to. Hunger pangs pummeled the rex’s entire body, along with thirst, and his wounds—of which somehow were not infected.

Corpses were just everywhere, everywhere; dinosaurs that had fell victim to falling debris, acid rain, tornadoes, forest fires, any event possible. Tyran stomped over to a court of corpses, four Thescelosaurus. A meal’s a meal, and the rex immediately lowered his head, clamped onto the tails of two of them, and hurled them into his maw. Only one crunch was needed, before he swallowed them, and did the same to the other two. Lightning thundered in the distance, and Tyran could hear the drops of approaching rain nearly three miles away. Tyran’s endorphins pulsated through him, as he had alas achieved some sustenance—although they weren’t much for his titan of a body.

As Tyran progressed, following the scent of a familiar rex, he came into a particularly disturbing part of the woods. Burned and rotted-out trees followed a narrow path, that seemed to run eternally; these trees, almost looked like they had old, wrinkled, frowning faces on them. The faces though, seemed unnatural, as though someone or—something, had made them this way. A lightning bolt hit in the distance, visible like a flashlight, and as it hit—the entire land set on flame to Tyran’s eyes. The forest, the plains, the mountains, the woods, and even the water. Tyran began to hyperventilate, as around the fire, the image, a looming shadow of Nequit Dominum, began to rise and rise to incomprehensible heights.

The Demon grew, before splitting in two, one a charcoal black variant of Dominum—and the other, a platinum silver. Tyran threw his neck out and bellowed a loud roar at the shadows, but just as he did so his roar turned into a yell of anguish, as fifty-four serrated teeth were plunged into the rex’s neck. Tyran’s hallucination ended, and he was back in the forest, but he didn’t have time to comprehend as he was hurled to the ground by his nemesis—Acrone Acrano. The Acrocanthosaurus chirped over Tyran, stomping on his body and rubbing mud into his wounds. Tyran yelled aloud and tail-whipped Acrano before standing up and ramming his thick skull into the Acrocanthosaurus’s ribs, breaking three. The deep-orange feathered Acrano stumbled to his side, and stood at attention to face Tyran.

For what must have been sixty-seconds of a pure struggle, the two charged and clamped onto each-other’s snouts—twisting, yanking, and twirling one another around in an endless succession. Tyran would take two steps forward, but Acrano would push him back the same distance, as blood dripped from their jaws. Yet, Tyran had something over Acrano, something imbued in his bloodline—bite-force. The rex began to clamp down as hard as he could on the acro, and nearly broke his snout, before Acrano pulled away—Tyran’s teeth leaving permanent gashes on Acrano’s maw. Tyran charged the spined-lizard once more, and slammed his jaw down on his opponent’s, knocking out four teeth from the acro’s mouth; but Tyran began to get too arrogant, and charged Acrano with no strategy—a technique the high-spined lizard had mastered.

Acrano lifted his jaw up and smashed Tyran with the same attack he had used in their first bout, knocking the tyrannosaur back a few steps—and sending blood pouring like a geyser out of his throat. Tyran shook his head, which was aimed down to his left, and tried to regain composure—but Acrano wouldn’t let him, and charged. The young rex watched on as his nemesis prepared to clamp down on his throat, but before Acrano could—a loud booming of footsteps filled both combatants ears. The two theropods looked up to their right, but only one could recount what he saw—Tyran.

A colossal mouth opened wide, baring seventy dagger-sized teeth, of which all laid bare into the flesh of Acrano. The Acrocanthosaurus was lifted into the air by his hunchback, and thrown into a tree; Acrano barely survived the attack, and immediately bolted away from the forest as fast as he could. The being that stood before Tyran was, magnificent. Beige-scales met reddish-brown feathers, with no spots whatsoever. A titanic tree-trunk sized skull sloped down to a jaw, capable of crushing with a force that not even Tyran could comprehend. Amber scleras and irises, connected to black pupils, of which analyzed Tyran with a focused glare. He stood eighteen-feet tall, and was fifty-two feet long. A King, of the Dinosaurs, at the least.

Tyran recognized the scent of this tyrant as the one he had been following all along, and stood as tall as he could, chirping slightly to the rex. The sun cast a calming shadow on this decrepit forest, as the Tyrant King sniffed and trilled to Tyran—asking perhaps in dinosaur language what family he was from. Tyran did not know, but nonetheless the Tyrant King did not see him as a threat, and cooed his name—Tyrance. The Tyrant King of the Dinosaurs turned to his right and stomped off, each step like a car crashing into a brick wall at one-hundred miles an hour. His tail-swayed back and forth, as he vanished into the distant forest on a path only forged by destiny—to meet his foe in mortal combat, Nequit Dominum.

Part 6 end.