Chapter 37 Double Chapter: Wings Beneath the Skin / The Roar of Flesh
Kimblee arrived at the village at dawn, when the fog still clung to the dirt streets like a dying animal refusing to release its prey. He wore the Militia uniform—clean, recognizable, deliberate. He made no effort to hide it. He never did. Walking with that symbol was, for him, a form of honest provocation.
The looks came first. Then the murmurs. Then the words.
"Government dog…"
"Murderer…"
"Get out of here…"
The villagers stepped aside as he passed, as if he carried a contagious disease. Some spat on the ground; others clenched their fists. Kimblee did not react. He walked with his hands in his pockets, back straight, studying faces heavy with hatred he had seen far too many times in Ishval. Contempt was nothing new. It was familiar. Comforting, even.
That was when he saw them.
Two men who did not insult him.
One was middle-aged, slightly hunched, the weight of years bending his back more than it should. His eyes were small, watchful—too watchful. The other was shorter, almost insignificant, moving slowly, as if each step cost him more than usual. He looked fragile. Harmless.
Too harmless.
Kimblee slowed his pace. He watched them from the corner of his eye as he passed. There was no rage in their expressions. No fear. Only caution.
He smiled.
Turning around, he approached them calmly.
"How curious," he said mockingly. "Everyone here seems to hate me… except you two. Don't you find it strange to be here?"
Both men tensed.
"We don't know what you're talking about," the hunched one replied quickly. "We're just villagers."
Kimblee tilted his head.
"Of course you are."
They tried to leave. Kimblee took another step forward and fixed his gaze on the smaller one. Something about the way he moved… how he distributed his weight… wasn't human.
"You," he said suddenly. "Are you the armadillo?"
The air vibrated.
Kimblee brought his hands together.
The explosion wasn't large or chaotic. It was precise. The ground trembled just enough to break their balance and force them to react. They could no longer pretend.
The transformation was immediate—and grotesque.
The smaller man's clothes tore open from his back. Bones cracked, flesh ripped apart, and from beneath the skin burst enormous, taut wings covered in dark feathers. They were not elegant—they were functional. Being small, his body carried no excess weight. Flight came naturally. Necessarily.
The other screamed.
His face warped, his jaw widening, his skin hardening into irregular plates. His arms thickened, nails lengthened. He was not a perfect armadillo, but an incomplete version—partially deformed, as if the transmutation had been stopped halfway.
Kimblee watched them with genuine interest.
"You turned out horrible," he commented. "Truly horrible."
They stared at him with eyes full of hatred… and relief.
"Thank you," they said almost in unison.
Kimblee raised an eyebrow.
"Are those your last words?"
They didn't answer.
They attacked.
The armadillo charged first. His fists slammed with brutal force into Kimblee's torso. The impact was dry, crushing. Then another. And another. The alchemist didn't dodge. He took every hit head-on, feeling the air driven from his lungs.
The winged chimera dove at speed, striking him from the side. Kimblee crashed to the ground, his head hitting stone. For a moment, the world blurred.
When he refocused, it was already too late.
The two chimeras were fleeing.
"Tsk…" Kimblee spat, forcing himself upright.
Before he could react, Envy appeared beside him, emerging from the scattered crowd with a mocking smile.
"Well," Envy said, "looks like they were a bit much for you."
Kimblee wiped blood from his lip and stood.
"Those two aren't what they seem," he replied with dangerous calm.
He put his jacket back on, as if that gesture marked the true beginning of the fight, and broke into a run after them.
"Don't lose them," he added. "This isn't over."
Envy laughed and chased after the chimeras, slipping through the shadows with unnatural ease.
The village fell behind as the pursuit moved onto the rooftops. The winged chimera gained altitude, exploiting his advantage, while the armadillo tore through narrow streets, smashing barrels and walls with his weight.
Kimblee accelerated.
He vaulted over one wall, then another, using the village's architecture as an improvised staircase. He propelled himself onto a rooftop and, from there, dove downward.
He landed on the armadillo with brutal force.
They rolled across the ground. The armadillo roared and struck back, managing to break free. Kimblee rolled and stood—but had no time to react.
A shadow dropped from the sky.
The winged chimera—Halzon—crashed down on him like a living projectile. His claws sank deep into Kimblee's back. The pain was instant, searing.
"Damn chimeras!" Kimblee growled, teeth clenched.
Halzon shrieked, beating his wings to keep him pinned, while the armadillo rose, preparing to finish the job. Blood began to soak into the crimson uniform.
And yet…
Kimblee smiled.
"Now then," he murmured. "This is interesting."
He slammed his hands against the ground.
The explosion didn't send them flying. This wasn't that kind of alchemy. It was a focused shockwave that destabilized the exact point beneath them. The impact broke Halzon's grip and hurled him backward into a nearby roof.
The armadillo staggered back, startled.
Kimblee dropped to one knee, breathing hard, eyes gleaming with excitement.
"You run well," he said. "You fight better." He slowly rose. "But you still think like soldiers."
The armadillo snarled.
"We're not your enemies!" he roared. "We're what you made us!"
Kimblee tilted his head.
"Exactly."
Envy watched from above, utterly focused. Every movement. Every gesture. Searching for signs. Searching for the crimson glow he had felt before—something deeper. Something forbidden.
Kimblee ran again.
The armadillo charged. Kimblee leapt over him, touched the ground with one hand, and detonated just behind the chimera. The blast hurled the armadillo into a wall, shattering it to pieces.
Halzon took to the air again, bleeding but still functional.
"You can't catch us!" he shouted from above.
Kimblee looked up, drawing a deep breath.
"I don't need to catch you," he replied. "Just wear you down."
The chase continued, leaving the village behind and spilling into open terrain. The sun was already high. The world itself bore witness.
Envy descended beside Kimblee for a moment.
"Are you sure you don't want to use it?" he whispered provocatively.
Kimblee didn't look at him.
"Not yet."
But Envy smiled.
Because for a single second… he had felt it again.
And the hunt was far from over.
(End of Chapter)