Chapter 27: The Fish Who Chose the Cage—Once Upon a Time, a Tiger, a Goat, and a Dragon Met…

  Primer floated in the void as he gazed down at the world he had made. It was not a scattering of islands, but one vast supercontinent linking north and south. Its shape resembled a crescent moon—or more precisely, the letter “C,” only far broader. To the east it met the Eastern Ocean, whose waters poured inland to form the Inner Sea at the continent’s heart. The sight was breathtaking and contemplative.

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t rush? I’ve yet to let this world grow and mature. Predicting its future evolution is almost impossible—unless I weave fate-spells… Very well. After I create my final beings, I will remain silent and refrain from meddling in my world’s affairs, except where absolutely necessary.”

  But is that right? I set out to craft a world free of flaws and suffering, not one that would rot from its own abundance…

  ---

  “Where am I? I feel so light and calm…

  But why are my eyelids so heavy?

  Why can’t I feel my arms or legs?… That’s terrifying…

  And yet… I feel no fear or anxiety.

  I want to open my eyes, but no matter how hard I try, nothing happens—as if I have no body at all.

  The last thing I remember… I lay in a hospital bed talking with my brother, then he left, and then… I heard a tremendous explosion…

  Am I… dead?… But… what about my brother?! What about Mother?! What happened to them?!

  Is anyone here? Someone help me! I… I must wake up… I must find Mother and my brother… I must… I must rescue them…”

  And so Nova’s awareness slipped once more into sleep.

  ---

  Primer descended onto land and took residence on an island in the Inner Sea. He filled it with fruit trees—apple, red and green grape vines, juicy peaches, ruby pomegranates, and dozens more enchanting, sweet fruits. He planted bushes of raspberries and other berries, then raised palaces of marble and gold more exquisite than anything mortal mind could imagine.

  Their walls shone with pristine beauty; their domes, kissed by sunlight, mirrored the sky’s blue. The palace grounds were paved in stone, with a great fountain-pool at the center, tiled in white, turquoise, and lapis. In its middle rose a magical jet of water, shooting skyward in a self-purifying cycle.

  Into this pool Primer placed three kinds of fish—ruby, gold, and emerald—each more stunning than the last, their scales gleaming brightly. Smiling, he sat by the edge and dipped his marble hand into the cool water.

  At the sight of their Creator’s hand, the fish glided over, encircled him, kissed his fingers, and praised him. Primer chuckled beneath his cloak and stroked them, lost in memory.

  “Once I cared for a red fish named Zari, kept in a tiny, dreary bowl.”

  One ruby fish lifted its head and said, “My Lord, if I deserve it, I would gladly be that fortunate fish and serve you—even in a small, confining bowl!”

  Primer privately smiled and patted the fish.

  “I loved Zari, but I knew she belonged in her true home, not in a tiny, lifeless bowl emptier than the hearts of despairing men. Yet I also knew releasing her into the wild was wrong, for that was not her home.

  Freedom there would have led either to her death or to the destruction of native species.

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  So I placed her in an aquarium beside a shark I cherished, too.

  At first, all expected the shark to devour my red fish—but to everyone’s astonishment, they lived in harmony.

  Adaptation to new environments is the key to survival in any world.

  Still, eventually both perished in those confined waters, leaving behind that lifeless tank.”

  “My fish, never wish for a cage, for one day you will lament your captivity. A cage may save you from hunger or predators, but it makes you beholden to your captor. When hunger strikes and there is no food, your master will see you as a meal.

  I made you for your beauty, your wisdom—and above all, your freedom—not to lock you away.”

  He paused, then asked, “So tell me: would you rather swim free in seas and rivers, or remain here with me in this broad pool?”

  In unison, the fish answered, “What greater blessing exists than being by our Lord’s side? By heaven and earth, nothing brings us more joy than your presence!”

  Primer withdrew his hand and spoke gravely, “And if I vanish so you cannot see me—will you still rejoice in this limited refuge?”

  The fish exchanged hesitant glances. Then a golden fish raised its head and said, “My Lord, what sweeter death than to die awaiting your return? Would you deem us unworthy of remaining near you, or too insignificant to share your greatness?”

  Amazed by its devotion, Primer stroked his chin, then shrugged. “Very well. If this is your true desire, how can I refuse?”

  The fish leapt in celebration and danced in the water.

  Primer raised his fist to reveal a white crystal. “This stone is bound to my essence. Whenever you call my name—Ilar—beside it, I will hear you. But misuse it not. Call me only when your lives are in peril, or I shall reclaim the stone.”

  The fish bowed and vowed their promise.

  ---

  Rizayres hid behind a boulder atop the mountain, watching a herd of Iron-Horn Goats. His siblings were deep in their evolutionary sleep, so Rizayres seized the chance to test his powers.

  He observed the herd for hours, waiting to separate a single goat. Why such caution? Rizayres clenched his teeth and watched the goats with vengeful intent.

  “Damn these wretched goats! If only not for their leader, they wouldn’t defend themselves so effectively. Last time I underestimated them—but not today.”

  Rizayres’s tone had flipped entirely—no hint of the respectful, dignified manner he used before Primer. This was his true face: savage, vengeful, merciless.

  The Iron-Horn Goats lived in tight-knit family groups, fiercely loyal to each other. Though called “Iron-Horn,” their horns were ordinary—but over generations, mana had infused them, hardening them ten times stronger than steel.

  At last, Rizayres saw a strong male goat stray from the herd.

  “Heh… my patience is rewarded!”

  With a wicked grin, he silently stalked the goat. When it reached the river to drink, Rizayres leapt from the cliff above, wings spread like a hunting hawk.

  The goat sensed the ambush and sprang away, fleeing with unpredictable bounds. It put distance between them—only to be ambushed in turn: a massive white tiger with ivory fangs leapt from the rocks and clawed at the goat’s back.

  Blessed with a panoramic field of vision, the goat was only briefly surprised. Narrowing its eyes, it coiled its hind legs and unleashed a devastating kick with its steel-hard hooves into the tiger’s chest. Yet the tiger’s claws ripped through the goat’s tough hide, carving deep, merciless wounds.

  They parted, but the goat paid dearly for its daring. The tiger, barely injured, leapt back and fixed its gaze first on the bleeding goat, then on Rizayres—only slightly larger than itself.

  Rizayres, mouth agape, watched in horrified fascination. Now, with the tiger eyeing him, he roared to assert his dominance over the kill. The white tiger growled back, baring its brass-colored fangs. Neither would yield.

  The goat, its back drenched in crimson, saw no escape. Standing on hind legs, it crashed forward with a defiant cry. Blood clouded its vision as it charged Rizayres with swinging horns.

  “You dare face me? Then taste my power, you wretched beast!”

  Rizayres inhaled deeply, mana filling his lungs, then unleashed a torrent of flame that engulfed the goat. But this was no ordinary prey: bound by oath to fight to its last breath, the goat staggered forward, burning yet undeterred. With one final, staggering lunge, its horns struck Rizayres’s front left leg—sending the great dragon to his knees.

  Horns buried deep, the goat collapsed and died in place.

  Rizayres, howling in pain and fury, tore the goat’s horns free and, in a frenzy of hate, flung the charred corpse to shreds.

  As his rage subsided, he looked up at the tiger, which now crept toward him with measured steps.

  “Heh heh, farewell, loser! Heh—”

  Rizayres prepared another blast of flame—but out of the corner of his eye he saw a massive boulder plunge toward him. He leapt aside; the stone smashed into the goat’s remains, crushing them into gore. Blood and fetid entrails splattered everywhere.

  Both Rizayres and the tiger looked up the mountain to the sight they feared most: the Iron-Horn herd’s leader, standing tall, eyes blazing with judgment. He reared up on hind legs and rallied a hundred goats, their iron-like hooves shaking loose earth as they thundered down the slope, their cries echoing with a thirst for vengeance.

  Rizayres shot the tiger a mocking grin. “Farewell, coward! Heh heh…”

  Then he spread his wings and soared away, leaving the battlefield behind.