Beastforged Bond

The private room came with food and drinks, all of which were on the house. I didn’t know that, nor had I expected the staff to treat me this well after showing them the golden membership card. That was the first clue hinting at something bigger: the membership card was far from ordinary.

Alas, I did not have the capacity to think much about the membership card or Appraiser Zenovia’s intentions. I was busy spending hours telling the Caldera about my life after the Katrak. Some clearly didn’t care all that much about my life, but the Spiritcaller listened intently, and so did Orieath. The others only paid attention when they realized that the Fire Spirit’s Voice had bonded with me–that they had never lost the Elemental Phoenix to Raffael Torch.

Clearly, they couldn’t understand why the Voice would seek me out to hide in my World, and I could understand them. I never really understood why Volix came to me either, except that it made everything much easier for him. Resurrection and regaining his power took only a fraction of the time it would have taken him otherwise.

My life with the Fire Spirit’s Voice interested the Caldera more as time went on, and they grew excited when they heard about the death of Ruler Saphira, who had bonded with the Behemoth, the Voice of yet another Spirit. Their excitement shifted when they heard about Volca guiding me to a Devourer’s Spawn through the Elemental Phoenix. On the one hand, they were devout to the Spirits, yet my words rang wrong in their ears. I could see that, yet I didn’t stop. I proceeded to talk about my near-death experience and how I ended up in another realm– that I stepped into the World Tree’s fractured dimensions.

The young Calderas’ excitement grew once more, yet the Spiritcaller remained unmoving, his eyes locked onto me, the glimmer deep within them growing more intense the more I spoke.

His eyes widened and his lips parted when I mentioned the World Tree’s gift–her descendant for me to bind–but he regained his composure. It didn’t falter, even when I mentioned the Death Spirit’s Source in the Netherkins’ home, the Spawns I had killed with my friends before that, or the fight against Raffael Torch. He winced when Volix died, which was a weak reaction compared to the other Calderas’ outburst, yet he gasped, his eyes growing wide as saucers when I talked about my encounter with the Fire Spirit.

It didn’t feel all that special, but the Spiritcaller was stunned into silence. So were the other Caldera.

“You…met the Spirits?” Orieath called out when nobody said anything for several minutes.

“Two Spirits,” the Caldera beside him corrected calmly, all while looking shocked.

“And several sacred beasts,” a third Caldera, a young woman, called out.

Sacred beasts. That was a term I hadn’t heard for quite a while, but I still knew what it meant. To the Caldera, beasts like Aureus were sacred beasts. That included Sapsie as well as Volix, although Volix was much more to them. He was Volca’s Voice.

“And he killed several Spawns. He deserves our friendship,” another female Caldera called out. She turned to me with a faint, amiable smile and lowered her head a little. “Pyaera.”

“That’s my story.” I offered a faint smile, one that hid the pain and anguish I went through. “But what happened to you? How did you escape from the Elemental Spires?”

The Spiritcaller looked like he had many questions. He regarded me for a while, yet no word came from him. Instead, it was Orieath and the others who told me about their lives and how they spent the last few years.

That did include one particular fact: they never participated in the war against the Bastions. I was relieved when I heard that, yet Orieath also told me that many Caldera tribes had joined the war. It was just that the Fire Caldera of the Elemental Spires did not wish to go against the request made by Volca’s Voice. For it told them to honor their promises and to believe and trust their instincts. I wasn’t too sure what that meant, but the Fire Caldera decided unanimously that they would not attack the Bastions to seek vengeance.

Apparently, Volix helped the Caldera escape from the Elemental Spires, which was where he made that request. He brought them far away from the spires with his last burst of power. Then they returned to the main branch, where they were informed of the war mankind had initiated. The Glacier Behemoth was defeated and forced into a bond with an undeserving creature, which in turn drove the Glacica and Aquea Caldera tribes into action. Even if the Executor, a sacred beast and Volix’s sibling, had retrieved the Glacier Behemoth, the Caldera tribes were still enraged. They acted on that anger and stepped onto the battlefield, showing no fear of death.

Only the Fire Caldera stayed behind to protect those too young, sick, or old to protect themselves. But even then, they were shunned and told that their actions were dishonorable and a disgrace to the Primal Spirit. They did not think so, yet as the months passed, the Fire Caldera realized that they were no longer welcome. Some stayed back to protect the unified Caldera tribehold, while others left, following the Spirits’ guidance, led by the Spiritcaller and Zegrath.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

“Zegrath is here?” My heart skipped a beat. I still remembered her. She was powerful, one of the strongest Caldera I’d seen, and she had been nearly strong enough to fight the Rulers’ Scions even when she was still a Youngling Spirit-touched. She had only a few years as a Blessed under her belt, yet she defeated powerful Blessed like Daniel easily.

She was also beautiful. Even if that had nothing to do with her power, I couldn’t say that she hadn’t caught my attention. She was a beautiful, yet deadly Weaponmaster, and I couldn’t fathom how strong she had become. She was definitely a Master already… maybe even Grandmaster? I was curious to find out.

“Forget about Zegrath.” Orieath waved dismissively, his eyes burning with something I had seen one too many times among the Caldera. “Fight me, Pyaera!”

A spar? Now? I couldn’t fight. Not now, and certainly not someone like Orieath. Sure, I’d been stronger than him a few years ago, but that was another time. My well-being had been much better back then as well.

“Don’t even think about rejecting me.” Orieath, Blessed by Fire, leaped from his seat. “I promised you that I would defeat you the next time we met each other. That didn’t work out, but now I’m much stronger than I used to be! I can fight you head-on now, and I will!”

“But I’m weaker than I used to be.” I shook my head.

“Pyaera! You cannot reject my request like that!” Orieath’s eyes narrowed at me, yet rather than angry, he looked disappointed and… like a puppy that had been beaten.

“You misunderstand, Youling.” The Spiritcaller stepped in before I could say anything. “The Pyaera does not reject your request. He simply cannot fight you right now. Have I not trained you well enough to recognize a damaged soul? Am I such a horrible teacher?” He narrowed his eyes at Orieath, who turned back to stare at me.

“I know his soul is a little bit damaged, but I don’t think that–”

“A little bit?” The Spiritcaller raised his voice, which surprised everyone present, including me. “Look again. His soul is strong, very much so, but focus on it. Do not just glance at it; put your whole mind and spirit into it.”

That he did, and what the Caldera, blessed by Fire, saw horrified him enough to fall back onto his seat.

The Spiritcaller smiled at me without another word. It was a simple gesture, yet it warmed my heart, for it was a sign of trust and goodwill. That alone made me feel like a heavy weight had been lifted off my shoulders. It filled me with joy and made me do something I’d probably regret. Worst case, I was going to be beaten black and blue.

“Forget what I said earlier. We can spar.” I’d been itching for some action for quite a while now. Recovering was a slow, arduous, and way too boring ordeal. Sure, it was necessary, and I’d be foolish to even try using my traits or Soulfusion, but that didn’t mean I was entirely useless without them. I did not have to use my traits or Soulfusion, needlessly endangering my Soulkins, to fight. I still had my Gates, most of which were mostly full. The details hardly mattered, nor did the fact that my physique was nowhere near the threshold required to use my full strength. I was nowhere near my peak condition, yet I wanted to fight. Now more than anything.

After all, the Caldera had forgiven me. No… they never even hated me for what happened in the Elemental Spires, and that meant a lot more than anyone could understand. Also, I was happy to see that they were all alive.

“Just make sure you don’t kill me. I’m not in my best condition, if you haven’t noticed yet.” I got up, cracking my knuckles, a faint smile playing on my lips.

“Spirits’ no!” Orieath called out. “Forget what I said, and stop circulating ether through your body. I don’t want to get you killed!”

That was a quick turn, one that made me raise my eyebrows as I channeled more and more ether through my body.

“You should stop, Pyaera,” even the Spiritcaller called out, his voice laced with worry. “You can spar once your soul has recovered. Orieath will wait for you.”

“Yes, I will. I can wait. I am totally patient.”

He was not, and everyone present knew that much.

“You do know that I’m not pulling ether out of my core, right? This–” I moved some ether out of the Blazing Gates and gathered it in my palm, where it coalesced into a small orange-red ball. “–comes from my Gates. I don’t know if I ever mentioned that, but my Gates leak ether. They cannot be sealed and always lose ether. When I sleep, the leak is negligible, but every time I move or do something, my Gates lose some ether. It enters the weave, where it’s consumed to support my movements, and only some of it can be redirected back into the Gates.”

With a considerable amount of effort, I ignited the ball of fire-attuned ether. To do so, I had to compress the ether and create tiny explosions within it. The fire burned through the ether in my palm rapidly, much faster than phoenix fire would, but it was not like I had a Fire Aspect to regulate the flames, their temperature, purity, or any other parameter, anymore. The only thing I could do to regulate the flame burning in my palm was to adjust the ether within. Even then, the flame and its level were nowhere near what it had been before. I missed that. I missed Volix. But the Elemental Phoenix was not here anymore, and I had to use what I had. A ton of ether to test things.

“Your Gates are defective?” The Spiritcaller mused quietly to himself, yet I could barely hear him.

That was until Orieath jumped up excited.

“If that’s the case, I want to fight you!” he called out, earning a glare from just about everyone else in the private room. “What? He said he will be fine, and I trust him. He’s our Pyaera, after all! So if he says it doesn’t hurt his soul, I have to trust him!”

Nobody said it out loud, but everyone knew what he really wanted; Orieath wanted to fight. And he was not the only one. The others regarded me with a mixture of curiosity and excitement. They too wanted to know how they’d fare against me in combat.