Raygen sat cross-legged in the small courtyard behind their temporary quarters in Urrakar, the early morning sun filtering through the canopy of woven vines overhead.
The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew-kissed grass and distant cookfires from the beastkin homes nearby.
He closed his eyes, focusing inward, where the wolf spirit resided like a quiet companion in his core. It had been a gift from the wolf-kin tribe—a bonding ritual performed after his arrival, sealing a fragment of their ancestral essence into him.
No voices, no commands; just an enhancement, a sharpening of what was already there.
He breathed deeply, letting his senses expand. The spirit amplified everything: the rustle of leaves became a symphony of individual whispers, each telling a story of wind direction and humidity.
He could hear the steady thump of a beastkin guard's heartbeat two streets away, the subtle shift in soil as an insect burrowed beneath his feet.
His muscles felt coiled, ready—not with raw power, but with precision, like a predator calculating the perfect pounce.
"Focus on the changes," he muttered to himself. The dungeon survival had left him altered, but the wolf spirit was a new layer. He needed to understand its limits, its gifts, before whatever lurked in the east forced his hand.
Standing slowly, he moved into a basic form—one of the stances Asa had taught him years ago, a flowing sequence meant for balance and awareness.
As he shifted weight from one foot to the other, the spirit responded. His vision sharpened; colors intensified, edges crisped.
He spotted a tiny crack in the courtyard wall he'd never noticed before, and with it came an instinctual knowledge: structural weakness, potential entry point for small creatures.
He pushed further, jogging in place, then sprinting a short lap around the space. His endurance felt endless—not superhuman, but efficient, like his body conserved energy better, recovering mid-stride.
Sweat beaded on his brow, but his breathing remained even. "Okay, stamina boost," he noted mentally. Useful for long hunts or escapes.
Next, senses. He picked up a fallen leaf, crushing it between his fingers. The scent exploded—earthy, with undertones of decay and faint mana residue from the enchanted soil of Urrakar.
The spirit parsed it: recent rain, no poison, trace of beastkin passage.
He tossed the fragments into the air and tracked them, his eyes following each one without effort, predicting trajectories based on wind patterns he now felt intuitively.
But it wasn't just physical.
There was an emotional undercurrent, a pack instinct. In the wolf-kin village, he'd felt connected, part of something larger.
Here, alone, it manifested as a heightened empathy—sensing moods, intentions.
He recalled the cicada zone: the insects' "measurement" had felt like a collective mind assessing threats, and the spirit had resonated, urging caution over aggression.
Raygen paused, wiping his face with his sleeve. "What else can you show me?" He sat again, meditating deeper. The spirit stirred, guiding his awareness to his mana channels—subtle flows he'd barely tapped before. With the enhancement, he could visualize them: threads of energy weaving through his body, stronger around his senses and limbs. He experimented, channeling a sliver of mana to his ears. Sounds amplified—the chatter of fox-kin merchants in the market square, a lion-kin guard's gruff laugh, even Asa's soft breathing from inside the quarters.
Satisfied for now, he stood and stretched. The training had cleared his mind, but questions lingered. The wolf spirit was a tool, not a miracle. It made him better, but not invincible. And with the eastern mystery brewing, he'd need every edge.
Asa emerged from the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed, trying to look casual. "Up early. Wolf stuff?"
"Yeah," Raygen said, grabbing a waterskin. "Figuring out what it does. Senses are sharper, reflexes too. Feels like I'm... tuned in."
She nodded, her expression neutral, but he caught the flicker—envy? Worry? The spirit picked up on it: subtle tension in her posture, a guarded scent. "Useful. Just don't go full beast mode on me."
He chuckled. "No worries. What about you? You've been quiet since the scout."
Asa shrugged, pushing off the wall. "I'm fine. Just thinking." She drew one of her daggers, twirling it absentmindedly—a habit from her days away. But Raygen noticed how she avoided any real demonstration, keeping her movements basic.
He pressed gently. "That power you mentioned—the destruction one. You haven't shown it since Valdris. We could train together."
Her twirl faltered for a split second. "Nah. It's not something to play with." Internally, Asa cringed. As an otaku reincarnated from Earth, she knew the tropes all too well: the overpowered ability that starts small but spirals into catastrophe. Think of those anime protagonists whose "ultimate technique" levels cities and kills allies by accident. No way was she risking that here, especially in a crowded city like Urrakar. "Cool" was her mask—act nonchalant, keep it locked down. But the power simmered inside, a void-like hunger that whispered for release. One slip, and boom—friends turned to dust.
Raygen eyed her. The spirit sensed her fear, masked as indifference. "You sure? If it's dangerous, better to control it now."
"I'm controlling it by not using it," she snapped lightly, sheathing the dagger. "Trust me, I've seen enough stories where that goes wrong." She caught herself—otaku slip—but played it off with a grin. "Anyway, breakfast? I smell something good from the stalls."
He let it drop, for now. Asa was tough, but everyone had cracks. As they headed out, he resolved to help her face it eventually. Hiding power in this world? It never ended well.
---
In the heart of Urrakar, the council chamber hummed with measured voices. Chief Thorian, the panther-kin leader, sat at the head of the oval table, his sleek form exuding calm authority. The setup was deliberate: representatives from each major beastkin group—wolf-kin, lion-kin, fox-kin, bear-kin, avian, and more—arranged in a circle to symbolize balance. No one voice dominated; it was a system of checks, where proposals were weighed, refined, and often tabled for further thought. Heated debates were rare; strategy prevailed over passion.
Thorian tapped a claw on the table, drawing attention. "The scouting report is clear: the insects maintain a zone, not expand aggressively. But their spread inches closer. We discuss options."
A wolf-kin elder, grizzled with age, spoke first. "Surveillance. Send avian scouts for aerial views, non-intrusive. Track patterns without engagement."
Nods rippled. A fox-kin diplomat, her tail swishing thoughtfully, added, "Alliances. Reach out to border tribes—share intel. If this affects the savanna, united observation strengthens us."
The lion-kin representative, a broad-shouldered female with a braided mane, leaned forward. "Preparation. Bolster wards on our eastern flank. If the zone destabilizes, we need defenses ready. Not attack, but readiness."
Thorian inclined his head. "Valid. But we lack understanding of the core threat. The earth-speaker's readings suggest containment— of what, we don't know."
A bear-kin strategist rumbled, "Research. Consult elders' archives. Patterns like this may echo old tales. No hasty action without context."
Discussions flowed: pros and cons debated calmly, ideas cross-checked. The avian elder proposed magical drones—subtle, low-risk. The fox-kin suggested subtle probes with illusion magic to test reactions. But as points circled, no consensus emerged. "We monitor and prepare," Thorian summarized, "but resolution requires more data. Adjourn for now; reconvene with updates."
The council dispersed without fanfare, each member carrying tasks. Thorian lingered, gazing at a map of the east. Balance was their strength, but indecision could be a weakness. Still, rushing had felled the Red Mane Pride. Patience, then.
---
High above, in a realm beyond mortal sight, Alac observed. The ancient entity, slumbering for a million years until stirred by Raygen's fall, now watched with ethereal eyes. It saw the boy training, the wolf spirit weaving into his essence—a minor echo of older powers. Asa, the reincarnated soul, her destruction affinity bottled like a storm in a jar. The council's careful deliberations, a dance of caution.
But Alac's gaze pierced deeper, delving into the earth beneath the fire-drained savanna. There, in a cavernous prison etched with ancient seals, a beast stirred. Chains of woven mana groaned as it shifted, its form colossal and shadowy, wreathed in flickering flames that the cicadas siphoned endlessly. Burning red eyes opened, glowing with primal fury—ready to break free, to consume and rebirth the world in fire.
Alac pondered. The pieces moved; the game unfolded.
---
Raygen and Asa sat at a street stall, bowls of spiced stew in hand. The city bustled around them, but his mind wandered to the east. "Something's coming," he said quietly.
Asa nodded, her cool facade intact. "Yeah. But we'll handle it."
Unseen, the wolf spirit agreed—a silent pulse of readiness.
End of Chapter 21