Beastforged Bond

Dracos had many sparring grounds. Most were private, but it also had some open arenas for sparring. We found our way to one of them, only to see that we were far from the only ones.

The arena Orieath chose was not a grand place of legends. It was a structure built for close, visceral spectacles rather than overwhelming grandeur. Nonetheless, it was a place of spectacle, which many people from all over Dracos visited to watch fights.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I agreed to spar with Orieath, but it was certainly not an oval-shaped structure of weathered stone. The arena even had tiered seating rising just high enough to hold a few dozen, if not more than a hundred, spectators. But even the benches were worn smooth from decades of use. A simple entryway, reinforced with timber, welcomed us, and it wasn’t long before Orieath and I were separated from the rest.

The Spiritcaller and the young Caldera joined the other spectators in the elevated seating, while we waited for the other combatants to finish.

“Don’t be too surprised if a scout approaches you later. Someone is always watching our sparring sessions, and while they tend to be a bit annoying, they’re usually kind of nice.” Orieath warned, pulling my attention back to the spectators.

No more than a dozen people watched the sparring matches, half of which were young and watching the fights in awe. But the others either belonged to the parties sparring in the arena or they analyzed the fight with what could only be described as vast experience. Even though I watched them from far away, I could tell what they were doing; they were searching for new, promising talents.

“Why are they doing that?” It felt like a waste of time to go around arenas scouting promising talent, especially since joining the Hunters was fairly simple. And other than the Hunters, there was no–… Honestly, that wasn’t true. There were many private organizations, some of which had been founded by Spiritborne, others by private individuals.

“They need combatants. Everyone does.” Orieath shrugged. “The Mikoniv over there belongs to a merchant family. They tried to hire us to join their traveling caravan. They do not belong to the big organizations, but they pay well, which only makes sense, I guess. Don’t join them if you don’t want to see Dracos for a year or two…or for however long your contract with them lasts.”

He shuddered while I studied the tall, blue-skinned man. He had lanky legs covered in iridescent, shimmering scales and gills that heaved heavily as they opened and closed.

I had only heard about the Mikoniv from the new books I’d purchased. They were a maritime race that populated almost as quickly as Goblins. That, in and of itself, was no problem. If anything, it would have been dangerous for other races if the Mikoniv were a dangerous race…or a powerful one. Alas, only one in a hundred – possibly less – Mikoniv gained access to ether. They developed quickly, yet while the maritime race seemed to have found ways to live on land, they had yet to learn how to awaken more of their people.

Even worse, most of those that awakened hardly ever made it to the Master Rank. Hence their interest in the Caldera and other races with the power needed to guard their goods.

“I don’t plan to work for anyone.” I waved dismissively and thanked Orieath for his knowledge. The Fire-Blessed Caldera regarded me for a moment and smiled.

“Let’s have some fun.” He chuckled as soon as the sparring before ours ended. He stepped through the arch and entered the arena, resulting in thunderous applause from his people.

I followed suit, not expecting much, yet the Caldera cheered for me as well. That brought a smile to my lips, and I turned to look around. The arena floor was relatively compact. It was packed with sand and was just barely large enough for fighters to maneuver, but never truly escape one another. Still, for fighters of our Rank, that was more than enough.

Rolling my shoulders, I couldn’t help but enjoy the raw, grounded atmosphere permeating the arena. Dust hung in the air, and the echo of the Caldera’s cheers bounced off stone, leaving behind a lingering sense I couldn’t quite describe. It was just…pleasant. Nice to be back in combat.

“Unarmed?” I changed into a fighting stance as soon as we got into position.

“If that’s what you want. I’d prefer using a spear though. You can do whatever.” Orieath shrugged, looking a bit too smug for my liking.

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“Weapon combat it is.” I retrieved a small, enchanted shield and a longsword from the onyx ring. Fastening the shield properly took only a moment, during which Orieath retrieved a spear that looked like it had just emerged from the pits of Volca’s domain.

The spear didn’t look beautiful or anything. Honestly, it was a melting piece of something. I could barely make out a handle and its tip. And…that it was searing hot. There was a presence to the spear, yet I failed to place it. Weapons were not supposed to radiate such a presence.

“Look at that little baby, Pyaera!” Orieath exclaimed, swirling his weapon around effortlessly. He spun it around his body and moved it from one hand to the other without ever stopping.

Infusing a little ether into my eyes, I caught some movement in Orieath’s veins. His molten veins pulsated in rhythm with his momentum. It took me a few seconds; however, I finally recognized what was going on.

“Is that a soulbound armament? A custom weapon, restricted to Fire Caldera?” I whistled, impressed. “That’s crazy. Congratulations, Orieath!”

Orieath stopped showing off. His crimson orbs narrowed a little, clearly not satisfied with my lack of awe.

Sorry, buddy, but I just learned about Void Masks. Armaments made out of humans, be it flesh, soul, or hatred, were leagues more impressive than soulbound armaments. Sure, his spear was impressive and all, but the Void Mask had been terrifying.

“Ready?” I asked, which Orieath used as his cue to advance.

He propelled forward with surprising speed, flames licking his feet. Explosions ignited beneath his feet and he accelerated further, closing the distance to me in an instant. An armor of fire peeled off his body, coating him like a second skin one moment, and in the next he towered before me, his molten spear coming for my head.

I twisted to the side the moment I sensed the danger ahead, but without Predator I was too slow. Forced to push further, I lifted the enchanted shield, tilted it, and watched as the molten spear scraped across the shield’s surface. Orieath committed to the attack and closed in. He kicked me in the chest when his spear missed my head by a hair’s breadth, sending me flying.

So weak. I cursed my own body as I scrambled to my feet. Orieath was already upon me, his spear coming for me once more.

Pushing the leaked ether through my body, I regained just enough speed to roll to the side; however, my opponent was ready once more. Cursing myself some more, I pulled ether out of one of my Earthen Gates. I compressed the ether and shoved it straight into the ground, creating a fragile and hideous imitation of an earthen spike.

It was nothing like I wanted it to be, but without access to any of my traits it was the best I could muster. And it did work, somewhat. Orieath, sensing the danger coming for him, pulled back before the makeshift spike burst from the arena floor. He didn’t look surprised in the slightest and dashed around the spike to come at me again.

This time I was more prepared. Ether pumped through the weave, filling my body with as much power as I could handle. Probably more than that, actually. My body creaked and groaned as I shot toward Orieath. Without Predator, Nullblade, and all the other traits that I’d somehow ended up relying on, I was so much weaker than I used to be. I was helpless, and that made me angry.

So I replicated Predator, somehow. Predicting Orieath’s next move, I wove around his spear thrust and attacked. Alas, the Caldera flicked his spear sideways the moment I closed in. The spear’s long handle hammered against my head before I was once again kicked. The spear was a surprise, yet the kick wasn’t. Ignoring the pain, earthen-attuned ether poured out of my feet, creating yet another spike – behind Orieath.

I twisted my way out of the incoming kick. That required a diversion with the enchanted shield, but I was lucky enough to make it happen. A moment later, my swordarm lunged forward, the enchanted blade grazing Orieath.

It was nothing much. A small cut in the Caldera’s flaming armor. I wasn’t even sure if the blade reached Orieath’s body, let alone cutting deep enough to force him into submission, yet it was something. More than I could have hoped for with such a miserable physique.

Even better, every time I used ether, I was growing weaker. It wasn’t much, but I could feel it, and I hated it to the core.

So why did I feel so good? Why did it feel so nice to stand in the arena, getting pummeled without a chance at victory? I had no idea, yet I enjoyed myself more than I hated the loss of ether.

More. I want more! I shouted in my mind and pulled life-attuned ether from one of my Liferoot Gates. This time, the ether resisted a little bit more than I was used to, but I continued anyway. Pumping life ether through the weave, focusing on the areas near where I had been slapped by the spear, I recovered quickly. The pain diminished, and the strength granted by life ether flooded me with vitality.

Orieath stumbled backward after the first attack pierced his armor, and he walked straight into my earthen spike. It didn’t hurt him or anything, yet the spike blocked his path and distracted him. For a moment, he looked uncertain, but he quickly regained his demeanor and struck out again. A moment was enough for me, and I attacked him again, changing the tide of battle even if only temporarily.

Orieath was forced into retreat, and while the Fire-Blessed Caldera struck me more often now, I gained more momentum the longer the battle lasted. Alas, I grew weaker with every passing second, which was something I pointedly ignored as I pulled more and more ether out of my Gates.

Stupid, I know, but at this very moment I wanted nothing more than to win.