Nexus – A World Ten Times Bigger than Earth
Where orcs, beastmen, vampires, elves, dwarves, witches—and worse—walk the streets.
Shiro (25) walked through Duskhaven Forest, wiping sweat from his brow, flexing his fingers inside his black wolf-gauntlets—the sharp iron claws clicking softly. The gauntlets were made from direwolf hide, old and scarred like him, smelling of leather, steel… and fresh boar blood.
A massive, dead giant boar lay slung over his shoulder.
"Man… why the hell did I take this route?" he muttered, throat dry as dust. "Hot as fuck out here… I need water or I'm gonna die of thirst."
His stomach growled like thunder.
"Damn. If I don't make it back soon… I might just bust down this boar and get my grub on right here."
Shiro was a strange one. A handsome, dark-skinned dude—grinning battle junkie—with two gold fangs long white dreads swinging like a lion's mane. Talked mad shit. Cracked skulls like walnuts. And out of nowhere? Could belt out smooth-ass R&B like an angel. Had the most disgust in the world for peanut butter.
As he checked his phone, the wind shifted.
Magic.
His instincts twitched. Sweet, thick perfume filled the air—honey, spice, and something old.
Then a voice floated down from the crooked willow tree ahead.
"Oyeee… hey there, handsome chocolate man… pretty hair… sharp claws… are you lost? Or just looking for me? Uwu~"
Shiro cringed. 😬
Oh no.
A witch. A fine one, too.
High above, perched lazy on a thick branch, a woman swayed her smooth, thick legs. Wild dark curls tumbled down her bare shoulders, purple lips curling into a slow smile. Silver eyes gleamed like moonlight. Her so-called 'dress' barely counted—held together by threads and magic.
Shiro's thoughts: Good Lawd.
On second thought… maybe the long way wasn't such a bad idea.
She licked her finger, grinning.
"Mmm… you smell wild. Like sweat… steel… anger. I like that."
Shiro tried not to be thirsty. Witches were tricky. Dangerous. And always, always up to something.
"Hey… Witch. You got anything to drink? Food? My throat's dry as hell," he said.
She smirked. "I do. But what'll you do for it… hmm?" Wink, wink.
Shiro sighed. Loud.
"Somebody's in a playful mood. Look—I don't have time for games. Gotta get this boar to the market—"
He turned—
Boof.
Something soft—way too soft—met his face.
Damn. Charmin Ultra Soft, he thought, leaping back.
The witch was there floating in front of him, laughing.
"Leaving so soon? You wound me, wild man. I just wanted to help…"
She snapped her fingers. Poof.
A conjured table appeared—carved dark wood, old as the forest—set with hot BBQ ribs, creamy macaroni, golden cornbread, and a cold glass of fresh juice.
Shiro stared, rubbing his hands like Birdman.
"Yessir…"
He sat down, tore into the food. Juicy, smoky, perfect. He almost shed a tear.
The witch smiled, chin in hand.
"Mama always said… the way to a man's heart is food."
When he finished, wiping his mouth, he eyed her.
"So… what's your name, witch?"
"Lena Cordash."
"Cute name."
Shiro stood, grabbing his boar, slinging it over his shoulder.
"Well, Lena Cordash… I gotta get this to market. Can't be late."
He turned to leave.
But her voice purred behind him.
"I really like you, wild man. Stay. Stay here forever. Guard my hut. Chop my wood. Warm my bed. Play rough…"
He chuckled low.
"Tempting. Real tempting. But I've got coin to make. Later, witch."
And before she could snap, cast, or charm him into her tangled web—he was gone, boots pounding the dirt path.
Behind him, Lena licked her lips, grinning wide.
"Mmm… I feel something from him… interesting… very interesting…"
Shiro cracked his neck as he strolled deeper into the woods, smiling, licking BBQ from his fingers.
Damn… I should've took shawty down after that meal… but naw. Witches be doing too much. Ain't got no time for that.
Shiro's senses were primal, animalistic, sharper than any mortal or beast.
His eyes pierced darkness and illusion, catching every flicker of movement, every twitch of intent. His ears picked up whispers from blocks away, the shifting of blades in sheaths, the breath of enemies hiding in crowds.
His nose separated sweat, metal, magic, and lies in a single breath—making him an unstoppable hunter, impossible to ambush.
His skin felt the tension in the air, muscle twitches, shifts in killing intent; even unseen danger stirred his flesh like wind before a storm.
Shiro's instincts were terrifying—raw, sharpened, untouchable.
Im glazing. Let me chill.
That being said—when he heard rustling to his left and saw a whole tree flying his way—
"WTF?!" he exclaimed.
With lightning reflexes, he punched the tree, changing its direction like it was a small toothpick. Splinters flew.
He sniffed the air.
Oh. An orc.
Just then, she stepped out.
Tall. Slim-thick. Tribal ponytail with shaved sides, tattoos, green skin… and an angry look on her face.
Shiro's inner thoughts: 😍 Woah.
"I am Grakka, Warlord of this territory. You're trespassing—and you've been hunting without permission," she growled, eyeing the boar.
Shiro dropped the boar. "Listen, lady. This is Duskhaven Forest—it's free game. Plenty to go around. You really gonna be mad about a boar?"
Grakka crossed her arms. "IDGAF. This here's where me and my people hunt. You're gonna respect that—or face the consequences, pretty boy."
Shiro grinned wide, gold fangs flashing. "And what's that, pretty lady…?"
She roared, charging him with a runed battle axe raised high.
Shiro felt the danger before the blade even swung.
With ease, he dodged.
BOOOOOOM!
The axe smashed the earth, sending dirt,trees and stone flying.