The sorcerer, Wenceslaus, wiped his runny nose on his star-adorned robe. Garrik did his best to ignore the old man as he rode alongside him while the infantry slowly marched. King Severin had to part with a very nice sum of gold to get the geriatric to help them, something which did not sit well with Garrik. To serve one’s country was the highest calling.

  As the commander in charge of the punitive force, it fell to him to unite all the disparate troops clandestinely serving under Nazair’s banner. This was easier said than done, as only his own troops were willing to listen properly. The mercenaries and other scum recruited to bolster their numbers were much more problematic. As far as Garrik was concerned, the sorcerer fell under that description as well.

  Still, their march had been without issues so far. The Cintran part of the border had been deserted, and while Garrik did not know whether it was a coincidence or if the King had done something, he was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

  Marching onwards, into Erlenwald and deeper into Cintran territory had not been a difficult choice. Waiting in Marnadal would increase their chances of detection and would serve no strategic purpose, as the construction had yet to begin. If their enemies spotted them and decided to turn tail, they would likely return with reinforcements. Better to march forth and annihilate them while he could be sure of possessing a superior force.

  It was on one moonless night that their fortunes turned for the worse.

  “ALARM!” A shout echoed throughout their camp, waking Garrik from his sleep.

  His eyes snapping open, he jumped from his cot, lightly kicking his fumbling squire, ”Armour!” Garrik barked, “The breastplate, fool,” he corrected when he saw the squire reaching for his greaves, which they usually started with. Spreading his arms, he helped his squire fasten the plate over the gambeson he slept in, before quickly grabbing the helmet from his squire’s arms and throwing it on. The gauntlets cost him another few seconds. His newly armoured hands grabbed the offered greatsword, before he strode from his tent, with some reassuring words for his squire, “Stay close to me, boy.”

  The young man, Alard, offered a shaky nod.

  As they came outside, Garrik strove to ascertain the situation, but the chaos and darkness suffusing the camp made this a difficult task.

  “To me, sons of Nazair!” He shouted, rallying his troops.

  A panicked shout was all the warning he got.

  Garrik blinked dumbly as he gazed upon a demon. A gleaming white skull shined in the darkness. As the creature rushed forth, Garrik made out more details. The monster was larger than a horse, with sharp looking antlers growing from its head.

  It was also going directly for him.

  Many thoughts flitted through his mind then, though one was dominant - relief. This was not an enemy catching them with their pants down, merely bad luck. Bad luck, but he would make sure it ended here.

  Narrowing his eyes, he raised his sword and lowered his knees. When the beast came closer, he would execute a Right Ochs, slashing it across the neck, while side-stepping its charge. A basic technique he had practised tens of thousands of times.

  Things did not go to plan.

  When the beast came closer, Garrik shouted a war cry, readying himself to slay the beast.

  Instead of answering his challenge, it immediately turned, evading the knight completely and instead goring his backpedalling squire.

  The poor lad was impaled, yet the beast did not stop, instead speeding up, as if spooked, carrying the flailing squire on its antlers.

  Garrik grimaced at the screams of pain. What sort of monster was this?

  “A failure,” I muttered as I watched the enemy camp from the shadows, my eyes augmented through magic, while my mind ran fast with the icy clarity of my reflex enhancement. I dared not use my proper scouting spell, lest the enemy sorcerer discover me. We had ridden just behind the beasts, urging them forward and dealing with any forward scouts and sentries before they could alert their camp. We were not entirely successful in the latter, but their warning came too late to be of much use.

  The monstrous deer ran through the enemy camp as intended, but they were, well, deer. They avoided tents and people where able, chose the path of least resistance when not.

  My theory had borne fruit, as it seems their brains were mostly, if not entirely, intact. Yet the operation was largely a failure, for they did not cause nearly as much harm as I had hoped. Next time, the enemy would be more prepared. Our chance to strike a devastating blow was gone. Yet, it provided me with a clear direction for the project. Trying to completely isolate the brain from the spell had been a misstep on my part.

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  Alzur’s Double Cross was ultimately designed for complete transformations, to stop it from occurring in a body part was to go against the spell’s core nature. Certainly possible, but I would have had to rework large parts of it. The leshen had given me another idea. Instead of trying to stop the transformation entirely, I did my best to ensure it mostly preserved the brain’s functions and structure, if in a different form. This was not trivial either, but it was something the spell was technically designed for.

  Despite the failure on the part of my creations, they still threw the enemy camp into chaos, which did provide an opportunity to accomplish much more. Namely, finding out more about the supposed sorcerer and conducting sabotage.

  I kept special watch for the sorcerer and saw him annihilate one of the deer with a fireball the size of a small house, confirming his abilities and appearance. He looked as Isengrim had described, though he also had a wooden staff with a red gemstone mounted on top.

  How a self-respecting sorcerer could wear a blue robe with golden stars on it, I couldn't understand.

  Annoyingly, his silly attire was not at all indicative of his ability. The man was no pushover, nor an amateur. When I spotted him, he already sported a plethora of defensive spells. An arrow in the dark would have been the neatest way of removing him from the board, alas, I would have to find another way.

  “Faoiltiarna,” I spoke as the elf materialised from the darkness, “Good news?”

  He nodded, “There were guards. They will know that it was not the beasts.”

  I hummed, not really concerned. Ideally, their food stores would have been sabotaged in such a way that the deer could be blamed, but that was always an unrealistic dream. The chaos and motley nature of our opponents made slipping a small group of our people inside the camp easy enough. The information gathered by our new elven allies let them beeline it straight towards their food stores. Unfortunately, it appeared that the guards there were made of sterner stuff. Not that their diligence helped them in the end.

  “Let us go, before they gather their bearings,” I said. The elf did not respond, but followed.

  We barely made it a few steps when a giant conflagration lit up the night sky.

  I whipped my head around, spotting a glimpse of a truly massive amount of power gathering up in the burning sky.

  I grabbed Isengrim while muttering incantations.

  In the next second, I realised my mistake as the fire descended in our direction, scouring the forest. My protections barely held, but hold they did.

  As soon as it appeared, it was gone, darkness once more reclaiming the night, leaving behind only blackened trees. Much of the foliage was gone, leaving us rather exposed.

  “Retreat,” I whispered, sparing a glance at the scarred elf. His face was stone, but his eyes looked upon me with newfound respect.

  The two of us made our way to the gathering point. a small clearing, some distance from the enemy camp. I examined my troops briefly. A few of the men were missing, while others sported burns.

  More than acceptable, considering the level of damage we had just done. With their food supply diminished, the mercenary element would likely start wavering. A strike or two more, and we’d see desertions.

  The soldiers did not require any additional instructions, all aware of the plan. Soon, we were all saddled up. While the elven pathfinders spurred their horses, I examined the forest, my eyes scanning the direction of the enemy camp.

  It was when only a few stragglers were left that I spotted a ripple in the air.

  Narrowing my eyes, I focused on the spot. Something was disturbing the leaves on the ground there.

  “Aedd gynvael,” I whispered, creating five thin ice needles behind myself, making them as transparent as I could while I compacted more and more ice and sharpened their points, all the while my eyes did not stray from the forest.

  “Aespar,” I incanted, tilting my head in a hopefully natural-looking way. Three of the five constructs shot forward at great speed, near invisible in the darkness.

  Two embedded themselves harmlessly in the ground.

  The third hit a shield of flame. A second later, it winked out, and my two other needless shot forward while I pointed my staff at the now-revealed sorcerer, “Dhu,” I spat, and spurred my horse forward, darkness exploding from my body, obscuring my position. A quick use of simple mind magic let me calm the horse, while my previous sight-augmenting spells let me mostly see through the magical darkness.

  The needles hit, but merely caused the old man to grunt and take a step back. I saw no blood, the sorcerer apparently having additional protection.

  As my horse picked up speed, arrows started whistling through the air. Towards the sorcerer. It seemed that elves made for steadfast allies.

  The sorcerer swung his staff, the red gemstone flashing, and the arrows burned up mid-flight.

  He turned his head, looking over his shoulder.

  Then he disappeared.

  “Mir lohar gynvael a'baeth,” I incanted, causing silvery mist to instantly blanket my surroundings, revealing… nothing.

  After the fiasco in the throne room, I had taken care to develop a proper spell which would help me find out any hidden enemies, instead of the simple mist I had utilised. Mir lohar gynvael a'baeth, the truth revealing mist, while perhaps a tad complex, combined both magical effects with simple physics. Without foreknowledge, I did not think that even an Archmistress like Tissaia could hide from me.

  “Let’s go!” I barked, turning my horse.

  ? Beastforged Bond [Taming, Progression] ?

  by HideousGrain

  Too late to start. Too weak to matter. Too stubborn to quit.

  In a world where power is harnessed from binding beasts to one’s inner World, potential matters – and so does the size of the inner World.

  Adam has the smallest World on record, but unlike others, his World has no restrictions. No rules, no limitations…and no record of ever forming a bond. He has limitless potential, but it is trapped in a vessel too small to use it.

  Until his father returns with an egg. And when Adam bonds with it, something inside him shifts. For the first time, he feels ether. For the first time, he has a chance.

  With a bond and a Soulkin whose powers are as peculiar as they are promising, Adam has to train, grow, and evolve – both beast and master – or be left behind in a world that demands strength.

  Because something stirs beyond the horizon, and the boy with the smallest World might be the only one not bound by fate.