!!! info This rentry continues what the other one started, where I will post chapters of my story for any interested in reading ahead of RoyalRoad. The first rentry can be found here: https://rentry.org/TDATA

# The Dragon And The Author

##-> Chapter 16: Squall Squabble <-

Kinsoriel tried not to make a habit of issuing challenges. Even with it being the ordained way to resolve issues between two unbudging parties, restraint was needed. Throw them about, and you make an unsavory name for yourself. On top of that, you also ran the risk of potentially dying, given how fierce things could get. Only do so when you absolutely must. Why in the name of Valorian was he fighting for the sake of this deathbound then?

“Will there be any additional rules, or will this be a standard duel?” How sporting. It was nice to see younger dragons still cared for the finer aspects of a challenge.

“No harming the deathbound,” Kinsoriel said with a glance to the side, “that is all. Do you accept this?”

“I prefer my meat as intact as possible, so I see no reason to object. Human!” Seigill called over to the cage, “You shall countdown from three, starting now.”

“Three.” Benjamin announced as both combatants readied themselves. “Two.” Kinsoriel tensed up his muscles and dug into the ground beneath him, keeping his eyes on his foe. Seigill did the same. “One.” He stood completely still. “Zero.”

Immediately, the green dragon tossed up a huge cloud of dirt with his foreclaws. This blinded Kinsoriel’s eyes, forcing him to fan it away with his wings. He could hear Benjamin coughing in the background. Able to see once it had cleared out, he saw that where Seigill had once stood was a great mound. If he was fighting another color of dragon, he’d think that they had ducked around or taken to the air. But this was a green one afterall.

Flying up from the ground, he hovered far off to the side, watching. Within moments, the spot he was on exploded outwards with a pair of horns, ready to impale anything that was above. 

Out of the hole snaked a wary Seigill. If he really thought that would work, he was in for a painful awakening. 

Taking the opportunity that had presented itself, Kinsoriel started to create a spell. He couldn’t risk something too destructive with Benjamin nearby, and he didn’t want to kill him either. Instead, he opted for something more precise. Holding a hand up into the air, he began to conjure the image in his head. With the storm he had weathered shortly before, it came to him easily. Bringing form to the mana, he declared **“Lightning!”** before pointing a claw at his foe. A blindingly bright bolt streaked towards its target, crackling with power.

He jerked out of the way before it struck. Seigill looked down at the smoldering spot, just as surprised. Was that intentional? He looked up at Kinsoriel, snickering.

“Off and to the air already? What a splendid idea! I think I’ll join you!” With a bounding start, the green dragon leapt from the edge and sped towards Kinsoriel with claws raised. 

Unable to intercept from a standstill, Kinsoriel twisted himself out of the way. He didn’t react fast enough however, receiving a graze against his upper forearm. 
Grunting at the pain, he swiped out with his back legs at the passing dragon’s tail. He managed to make contact, giving a little wound of his own as he struck.

Both of them turned to face each other with a snarl. Without letting up, they both rushed at the other, interlocking their hands in a grab. Their wings were out of sync with an irregular rhythm as they both grappled, awkwardly keeping them in the air. Neither side had enough strength to overpower the other outright, each exerting more and more as they struggled. 

Kinsoriel tried to get his teeth around the neck bobbing in front of him. If it was clear he could land a fatal injury, his foe would have to concede. 

He stopped as his opponent took a deep breath. Claws dug painfully into his own in an attempt to hold him in place. Not at all eager to see what was to come, he speared his tail between them, straight into his jaw. Not a moment sooner, Seigill blew out thick black smoke through his now shut teeth.

It didn’t stop there however. Smoke continued spewing out of Seigill’s maw. The area around was soon shrouded in darkness. This wasn’t mere smoke from failed fire breath. It didn’t scratch his throat, but rather moisturized it like a cloud would. Realization struck him as he remembered that sudden storm from earlier. Even having been smacked right under his mouth, Seigill smirked at him.

Redoubling his efforts, Kinsoriel twisted his arms around and beat his wings in the opposite direction. The green dragon lost his grip and spiraled off into the darkness. He didn’t celebrate this. After how secure he had been held, that was far too easy. This was exactly what his opponent had wanted, he was sure of it. He readied himself as best as he was able, not letting his guard down for a second.

While he was prepared for an ambush, he wasn’t prepared for the ear splitting boom of the clouds around him. Reeling, he closed his eyes and raised his hands to his ear frills in reflex. In that crucial moment, he felt a burst of wind pass him. A cut across his lower torso was made as it did. The sharp and sudden pain made his wings nearly buckle, but he persisted.

So that’s how it was going to be. More than fine by him, he had tricks of his own. 

To ensure he didn’t create an opening like that again, he had to protect himself against the thunder. Envisioning a layer of sound blocking mana around his frills, he moved to make it happen, placing his hands up to his head. Spoken softly, he intoned the spell, **“Tranquil Bubble”**.

The nearly invisible bubbles came into being just in time. Thunder crashed over him just as the spell was finished. Dampening the sound didn’t stop his body from wincing entirely, but he was able to keep up his guard this time. As if on cue, the green dragon darted out from the dark for another hit and run. Seigill tried to rake his underbelly again. 

This time, he was thwarted by well placed arm scales. The sting was worth taking over another hit to his more vital areas. It also gave him the spacing he needed to attempt an attack of his own. He thrust out a claw, but struck at thin air. The green blur disappeared back into the clouds as quickly as he came.
 
Kinsoriel growled. Reaction alone would be a losing battle. He had to see him coming, have time to attack first.

Luckily, he had an idea. A craftier deathbound tried to steal away some of his tomes in his younger years. He used an array of smoke pellets and diversions to try and hide. No matter how sneaky, none could hide the heat of life.

Forming the shape of a circle with his middle and thumb claws, he started thinking of the warmth in everything, all in the space he formed. Pulling from his reserves, he cast the spell. **“Eye of Thermo.”** he said to himself as the mana leapt into action between his claws. A swathe of colors swirled around before settling. He brought the circle up to his left eye and began looking around. It would show him how hot and cold everything around him was. Blues and purples were in abundance up here. Then he spotted a large orange with a slight trail behind it. Found you.

He continued to follow the orange shape as it circled around, waiting for his next move. It stopped suddenly and started to rear back. As it did this, the storm roared out once again. It rocked him harder than it had even moments earlier, which meant it was intensifying. Without knowing how violent it could get, it was in his best interests to get out of here quickly.

He opened his hand and let his spell unravel. It wasn’t needed now, he was ready. He placed both of his hands to his ear frills and pretended to be in pain. Green popped out from the direction he had last seen. It rushed up to him with intent to attack again; the bait was taken. 

In a swift motion, Kinsoriel brought down his arms and caught Seigill’s head between them. Before he could realize what had happened, he also positioned himself onto his wings with his legs.  He took a few scratches from the now thrashing dragon, but he paid them no mind. Now in control of both of their movements, he dove backwards, careening towards the ground.

“What are you doing?!” Seigill yelled with a bit of a voice crack, “L-Let go of me!” Kinsoriel ignored the complaints and continued to hold on. Land came back into view as they left the clouds behind them.

“We’ll both die! Are you really going to kill us over a deathbound of all things?!” Kill them? Any dragon with their scales grown in could walk away from this. Whatever the reason, it seemed fear had gnawed its way into the previously proud dragon. Kinsoriel smiled wickedly.

“*You* might die.” he whispered, “I’ll be fine.” Seigill continued to struggle, but was gripped too securely to do anything significant. Each second that passed by brought them closer to the splintered wrecks beneath. “I wonder how far your remains will end up. I’d say a good few hundred feet. What do you think?”

Kinsoriel got ready to break off from this drop when he heard two magic words from beneath his arms: “I yield!” Now that’s what he wanted to hear.
 
Having no reason to continue, he released his hold on the green dragon. They both angled themselves away from the ship remnants, one far more frantically than the other. Kinsoriel managed to come to a complete stop before crashing into the white waters, landing with barely a tremor.

Seigill didn’t. The follower of Isdri plowed into the waters, creating a large wave. Hopefully he could appreciate not going headfirst at least.
 
From above, the once raging storm started to rain, as though it was crying for its creator. It began to thin out shortly after. Storm breath; now that’s something he hasn’t seen in a while. Kinsoriel should have predicted it with how he dodged his lightning, but wasn’t going to beat himself up over it.

Coming down from the heat of battle, the rain and lapping waves managed to agitate the injuries he sustained. He gritted his teeth as the salty droplets burned, but sucked it up all the same.

He trotted over to the now shuddering Seigill and extended a hand gracefully. “That was wonderfully fought. You have my thanks.” Once he was more coherent, Seigill reciprocated the gesture, getting himself hoisted up with a yank.

“Likewise Son of Ortremel.” He shook off the water briskly and produced a smile. “Though I still don’t agree with your reason for this challenge, I will not deny that.”

A gracious loser as well? This one has to have had a good upbringing. He’d certainly make his ancestors proud.

Praise aside, it was time to collect. “Now, if we are done here,” Kinsoriel said with a slight stretch, “I want my servant back.”

The positive expression Seigill had faded. “Yes, right. You’ve the right to him of course, and I won’t impede that anymore than I have already. If you would humor me though, I would like to know something before we part.”

Kinsoriel considered his request. Though he had given him some trouble, mistakes happen. There wasn’t any real reason to say no to such a request. “What is it?” he asked the green dragon.

“Why a deathbound? Any of Isdri’s creations would jump to serve you. Our lesser kin seek redemption in our care.” Seigill frowned. “Those pests have done nothing but darken our world with their evils. They will do whatever they can to usurp us. Our kind and theirs will forever be at odds. You know that don’t you?”

Kinsoriel, slightly taken aback at how much was put into that question, responded, “I do.”

In an almost pleading tone, Seigill asked again, “Then why take a deathbound as your servant?”

Despite hearing it a second time, the scholarly dragon found himself unable to say anything definitively. By all means, nothing he said was incorrect. He hated them much the same as any other dragon. He could have all the help he wanted from any other source if he wanted. If he was patient in finding a cure, he wouldn’t really need Benjamin either. He needed him more than he needed him. So why was this even a question? And more importantly, why was this so difficult for him to answer?

Thinking, Kinsoriel looked up to the cliffs where the little author would be, hearing the mortal cheering him on. That's it. “He's... not quite the same as others. His oddity always manages to surprise me, and I suppose I wanted to see how far it goes. That may not be the best reason,” he admitted with a sigh, “but he's my responsibility now regardless.”

##->  Chapter 17: Gain From Pain <-

Benjamin continued cheering from his cage with zeal, sure that Kinsoriel had won the fight. His hunch was confirmed as he saw them reappear while talking to each other, a satisfied look present on the black dragon’s face.

“-back for a chat sometime,” Seigill continued from another conversation. “I don’t often get to talk with others. You can even bring your servant.”

Kinsoriel chuckled with a rapport one might not expect so soon after a bloody duel. “Perhaps I’ll invite you over to my territory as well. I just need to take it back from that wretch first.”

“I’d be honored, elder one.”

Now with both of their attention on Ben, he waited patiently to be let out. The green dragon held down the floor of the cage while pulling the top portion up. It came apart in two pieces, the ease of which managed to frustrate the ex-Author.

“Go,” Seigill said with a head bob to the side. When Ben stepped away from it, the cage was snapped back together.

“May I please have my stuff back?” Benjamin asked as politely as possible.

The green dragon snorted and shrugged with his front limbs. “I don’t care to argue against that. I’ll be back shortly.”

Jumping off the cliff, Seigill flew towards the underside of the cliff, leaving him with his savior. He knew that his main character was going to come out on top, but was shocked as he finally saw how badly he’d been hurt. There were large slashes against his front arms and his torso, leaving dark purple stains where blood had dried.

“Oh my goodness, are you alright?” Ben asked with concern.

Kinsoriel looked down at his injuries and gave an amused laugh. “Worrying over me? Don’t be foolish, my pupil. These wounds are nothing to a dragon. I’ve had far worse.”

It was true that they wouldn’t last long-regeneration was another boon he’d given dragons after all-but Ben found this relaxed attitude very out of place. He nodded along and pretended to look away. Out of the corner of his vision, he saw something that left him feeling more worried: a flash of pain.

“I have returned,” Seigill announced as he landed next to the two of them. He dropped Benjamin’s pack without any care in front of him. Trying not to let the pettiness get to him, Ben picked it up, walking over to Kinsoriel once he did.

“May Isdri provide on your journey,” Seigill said with a bow of the head. After that, he flew away again.

“That’s enough distractions for today,” Kinsoriel said as he opened a hand for Benjamin, “let’s get going.”

Ben got onto his hand, bracing himself. They took off towards the southeast and were back on course.


An hour into the flight, he decided to look at those injuries again. The way he was held gave him a good view with a bit of head movement. They had closed up and looked a lot less raw, but they were undoubtedly painful. Especially that one on the torso; each flap had to be agitating it.

Benjamin frowned as he looked at them. For as difficult as the dragon was to get along with, he had still come to his rescue. He should be happy that his main character was growing, and yet, he wasn’t. Temporary or not, that damage was because of him.

“Hey, Master,” Benjamin shouted to get his attention. He was brought up to eyesight level.

“What is it, servant?” he said with a tinge of impatience. “I’m trying to make up for lost time here.”

“It’s starting to get a bit late. Do you think we could stop at the next landmass?”

The dragon looked back to the sun before returning his gaze to the front. “We still have daylight to burn, why would we stop now?”

“I wanted to learn healing magic for my next lesson,” Benjamin explained.

Kinsoriel’s eyes went down from Ben to his arm. With a labored sigh, he said, “Very well, I suppose now *would* be ample time for that.”

True to his word, Kinsoriel landed at the next landmass they came across. The place was devoid of much other than a patch of palm trees. It wasn’t particularly big either, but they weren’t staying longer than a night anyway.

They made camp, but unlike prior nights, there wasn’t anything for them to hunt other than fish. Rather than get his claws wet, Kinsoriel pulled out leftovers from his pocket spell. The portions felt as hot as when they were first cooked, even emitting thin trails of steam. He wasn’t sure which part surprised him more; the unexpected freshness of the food, or the fact that there were leftovers at all with how much the dragon ate. Ben made a mental note to ask about that at a later time.

Being leftovers, the food went by faster than normal, at least for the big eater. Once Benjamin had also finished his portion, he moved closer to his teacher.

“Healing then…” Kinsoriel started, sounding almost unsure of himself. “It requires knowledge of the target’s species. What works on a human wouldn’t work on a bird, for example.” Benjamin soaked it in, focusing completely on the dragon’s words.

“Do you remember magic principle two?”

“Wasn’t that ‘The mind is a muscle’?” Benjamin responded. Brains weren’t muscles, obviously. It meant that you could ‘exercise’ it through practice. A clearer mental image made for a faster cast.

“Correct, and when it comes to healing, this becomes more literal. Much like a muscle, you can improve not only your strength, but also your accuracy and control.” 

Raising an eyebrow, Ben waited for him to continue. “Unlike spells that create or alter, healing reverts. You must be able to envision what once was throughout.”

The gears in Benjamin’s head clicked into place as he heard this. “So I should think of what was there before a wound?”

Kinsoriel grumbled as he rolled his eyes. “That is dumbing it down to a degree, but yes, you could think of it like that.”

With a clap, Benjamin approached. Kinsoriel backed away one step.
 
“H-hold it!” The dragon uncharacteristically stammered. “You don’t know dragon anatomy, you’ll need to study first!” After saying this, he opened up his pocket spell again, pulling out a large tome. He held it in front of Benjamin like a cross to a vampire.

Benjamin pushed the tome aside and looked the dragon straight in the eyes. “I do, actually.” 

Kinsoriel stared back with a confused look. “You do?” He furrowed his brow, placing a hand on each side of his head. “Why? Why would you know about that of all things?!”

“It’s useful to know.” If Benjamin were to answer truthfully, he would say that dragons fell under the ‘dangerous monsters’ category in the knowledge list of his. He couldn’t just say something like that though. Of the many reactions he could anticipate, none of them were good. Before Kinsoriel could object or press it further, Benjamin diverted away from that. “Will you show me how I can cast it already?”

The dragon’s fiery eyes betrayed a nervousness not usually shown. Was the pain acting up now or something?

“Before I do that,” he said with a lower tone, “you must swear to never speak of what I am about to tell you to any other.”

Ben wondered what had his main character acting like this. “What is it?”

“Swear it!” the dragon demanded.

“Okay,” Ben said while holding up his hands defensively, “I swear I won’t tell anyone what you are about to tell me.”

Looking from one side to another, Kinsoriel moved his head next to Benjamin and whispered. “I’ve never actually cast a healing spell.”

Ben struggled to keep his face straight. This ‘revelation’ would make him double over in laughter in any other situation. Unfortunately, he had a feeling that would get him smashed by the second ha, regardless of any promises. After composing himself enough, he could speak without potentially insulting the dragon.

“I see… you still know how to do it, right?”

The giant head next to him made a noise of relief before backing away. “Yes, and I thank you for your discretion.”

Now sitting back on his haunches, Kinsoriel put his hands together in a praying pose. “The simplest of the healing spells is called ‘Vitalitize’. From what I have read, the spell releases tendrils of light from your palms that seek out the intended injuries. You keep your hands like this and channel the mana until you can feel a slithering feeling from them.”

Benjamin copied the hand pose as he followed along. “This spell is unsuited for combat in just about any situation. Supposedly, it takes at least a full minute to finish forming it, also requiring your attention until the target is healed. As we’ve discussed before, it is also very painful for the recipient.”
He gave Ben a dirty look. “For that reason, you will only use this when it is asked of you, and not a moment sooner. Understood?”

Agreeing, Benjamin nodded vigorously. Satisfied, his teacher continued.

“Now then,” the dragon said while holding up his arms, “cast the spell. I will prepare myself.”

Closing his eyes, the ex-Author began the process as instructed. He imagined what his main character looked like before his injuries. Even if he wasn’t included on the knowledge list, Ben had seen plenty of the dragon over these past days for this to be a snap. These tendrils will undo those wounds, erasing them from existence. They’ll scrub away anything that even implies such a thing. He just had to provide the energy to make it happen.

This portion wasn’t exaggerated. It took far longer for the mana to form than any of the other spells he had cast before. He didn’t know how long it was till he felt that slithering feeling in his hands; but, it was longer than a minute.

“Vitalitize!” he declared as he opened his hands in front of him. Luminous white tendrils raced out from his hands and towards their targets. Kinsoriel seemed to tense up before the spell had even reached him. Almost like snakes, the tendrils reared back their ‘heads’ before striking against the dragon’s arms. They coiled up and around the arms until they finally touched tender flesh. 

“Hruugh…” Kinsoriel painfully groaned. The tendrils constricted around the injuries tightly, their light now pulsing like a heartbeat. It was hard to make out, but Ben could see the edges of the cuts seem to shrink back under the spell. Within seconds, the snaking lights had unwound themselves and moved to his teacher’s torso. Though he had to keep up his concentration, Ben couldn't help but feel proud as he saw those arms in good shape.

The dragon’s tail thrashed around as his chest was mended. Just how painful was this? After the process had finished, the light broke away from Benjamin’s palms and dissipated in a shower of sparkles. He breathed deeply, finally free to relax his mind.

Kinsoriel looked over himself appraisingly. He held the faintest hint of a smile as he patted himself where the wounds once were.  “Ah, results worthy of my tutelage. Well done.”

He then focused his gaze on Ben. “However, I am inclined to ask why you insisted on learning this now.”

“It was important to know this sooner than later,” Ben said while moving back over to his bedroll. Surprisingly silent for a creature so large, Kinsoriel lifted the bedroll with barely a sound. When he looked back, Ben saw him dangling the roll over the fire with two claws.

“That may be one reason, but it isn’t *the* reason. You will tell me right now, or,” he bobbed the roll up and down, “this thing will be our kindling for the evening.”

Suppressing a nervous sweat, Benjamin thought about what he should say. “Because I-” he began, stopping shortly after. Those bright eyes squinted at him.

“You what?” Kinsoriel snapped impatiently.

He was going to have to say it. This dragon just had to intuit lies, and now he wasn’t giving any other out. Embarrassed to admit this to his own damn character, Benjamin said, “I felt guilty seeing you hurt.”

Kinsoriel raised a brow as he put the roll back on the ground. “Guilty? Guilty about what?”

“You got those wounds saving me, and I wanted to do something to fix that.”

The black dragon burst into laughter at Benjamin’s sincere answer, placing a hand over his muzzle. “Oh, you are something else!” Benjamin tuned out the grating noise as he retrieved his toasty bed roll, a bitter look on his face.

Once he had reigned himself in a little, Kinsoriel continued. “I got those of my own accord. It was my choice to fight for what is mine; fights over ownership aren’t the fault of the object.”

Not interested in continuing the conversation any further, Benjamin got ready for bed. “I’ll keep that in mind then,” he said flatly while nestling himself into the roll. After a day like this one, sleep was upon him in no time. Out for the count, he didn’t manage to hear the last of his master’s words. 

“Thank you.”

##->  Chapter 18: Red Sands <-

Agreeing to land at the next landmass they came across was a mistake. This pitiful little clump of an island felt cramped, offering next-to-nothing to shield his eyes from the morning sun. They were lucky it didn’t plunge into the ocean as they slept.

Grumbling as he was forced awake, Kinsoriel stretched out his limbs. His servant looked to be doing much the same, making pained noises.

“Oooohhh,” the deathbound whined while rubbing at his back, “did I sleep on a rock or something?”

He might have remarked on that if he wasn’t dealing with his own aches. Extending himself out, Kinsoriel rid himself of his kinks with the satisfying pops of a good stretch.

“Much better,” he purred to himself as his joints crackled one last time.

Once done, he focused more on the little author, who was still limbering up. He tapped an index claw incessantly as he waited. 

“Would you hurry up?” he said as his patience whittled down.

“Almost got it,” Benjamin gasped out as he leaned over his waist, both of his hands held in front of him.

Done with waiting any longer, Kinsoriel simply grabbed the mortal and took off. The farther that chunk of nothing was from him, the better.
“Hey!” he heard from beneath as he flew, “I wasn’t finished!”

Raising him high enough to give a glare, Kinsoriel replied, “Perhaps you won’t take so long next time.”

That silenced any further complaints. With the gentle breeze of the sea under his wings, Kinsoriel flew onwards.


A few hours later, once the sun was nearing its apex in the sky, he saw it. Land, real land. Not some island or volcano. Just genuine land.

There was no question that this was Dewn either. Although he didn’t know much about the other continents, he remembered a stand-out feature of the place; glowing, colorful sand that lined the edge. ‘Rind Coast’ he’d heard it called in trade manuals. So the story goes, it was named for its almost fruit-like appearance to far-off sailors. It didn’t look anything like that from the sky, but it certainly sounded like something a deathbound would come up with.

“We’re almost there!” the little author’s cheerful voice piped up.

That enthusiasm wasn’t misplaced. From here, they only needed to track down that helper Benjamin had mentioned. After that, Harax would pay for his disgustingly un-dragon ways. The thought of it was enough to make him hum in contentment.

This pleasant feeling evaporated in an instant as Benjamin yelled, “Wait!”

Actually getting startled by the sudden outburst, Kinsoriel looked down angrily at his servant.

“What?!” he snarled.

“Look down there,” the mortal said while pointing a finger to the side. Tracing the angle, Kinsoriel’s eyes spotted a wagon surrounded by deathbounds brandishing blades. Bandits. When he ignored the sight and tried to continue flying, he heard his servant again. 

“Aren’t you going to help them?” he asked, as though surprised.

“What pests do to one another is of no concern to us,” he explained to his student, “it is merely their nature at play.”

After a moment of thought, Benjamin posed another question. “So theft is perfectly fine when it’s happening to someone else? Is that what you’re saying?”

Frowning, he defended himself. “Don’t connect such an ugly statement to my words. This is hardly comparable.”

“You’re right,” the annoying little human said with crossed arms, “you could fight back. That person down there can’t.”

“I…you…” Kinsoriel was thrown for a loop. What gave his servant such gall to talk back to him like this? He had no duty to protect others, especially not deathbounds. The gods made no such demands of him or his kind, there was no obligation of any sort. Despite that, he found himself unable to say that for whatever reason.

“Let’s just leave then,” Benjamin interrupted, “after all, your standards need only apply to you. We’re only here to resolve your own theft, who cares wha-”

“ENOUGH ALREADY!” Kinsoriel roared. “I’ll punish those vermin down there because their behavior is sickening to me. I only do this for that reason and that reason alone. Got it?”

Covering his fleshy ears, Benjamin nodded quickly. With a resigned sigh, the dragon turned around, diving toward the ground.

The faces of the robbers were already terrified when they were more clearly in view. They likely heard his shout, but all the warnings in the world wouldn’t save them. With his free hand, he plucked a doomed bandit from the road, landing at the same time. 

“Look upon your comrade,” Kinsoriel said as he moved his hand around, “and witness the price you all shall pay.”

Clenching his hand like he would to make a fist, the bandit was split into two pieces. The sights and sounds of a visceral demise always did wonders for intimidation. Every squish and crunch played their part in breaking their wills. Heroes or otherwise made no difference. A pair of horses they had presumably taken from the wagon galloped away. They were all shaken now, ripe for a quick and easy slaughter.

Setting down his student to the side, Kinsoriel leapt upon his prey. Loose and disorganized as they were, they stood no chance. Blood drenched his claws with every kill. Their cloth armor may have protected them from their own kind, but they did nothing to halt his assault. One by one, he cut down their numbers until there was nobody left. 

Panting lightly, he looked at his handiwork. The glowing sand, though less pronounced this far in, contrasted beautifully against the gore. Ten bodies in total. A service unto the world, and done well if he said so himself.

Noticing a bit of movement, he saw Benjamin looking into the wagon. He was just able to hear what was being said.

“Are you alright? It’s over now.”

Hmm, so their victim is still alive. Fine. In that case, perhaps it was time to receive the thanks he was owed.

“That’s right,” he said while approaching, “your belongings, as well as your life, remain yours.” Smiling expectantly, he added, “Is there anything you’d like to say to your savior?”

Gratitude is a simple thing. Even a deathbound should be able to understand it. As the woman he had saved looked up at him, he saw the wide-eyed horror sprawled across her face.

“Ahhhhhhh!” the woman screamed as she backed up into the wagon with her hands held out defensively. Kinsoriel scowled.

“What’s wrong ma’am?” Benjamin asked the woman who had now begun crying.

“Take anything you want,” the woman yelled out between sobs, “just let me live!”

Shaking his head, Kinsoriel turned from the wagon and sat a short distance away. “You heard her,” he said behind him, “gather what you wish and let’s be off.”

For beings who would give anything to extend their lives for a few measly years, her reaction made no sense to him. This was gratitude of a sort, just not what he wanted. Acknowledgement that she lived solely because of him was preferable, or praise for pruning the evil of her kind. Even a simple ‘Thank you great dragon’ would have sufficed. 

He couldn’t care less about her possessions, and yet, it was what he had been offered. Worthless to him as it was, the intent was what mattered. A reward given in thanks to a rescuer was reasonable. A bribe to spare her life as though he was another outlaw? Illogical and insulting. She may have added to the body pile if his student wasn’t around to whinge about it afterward. If there was any praise she should give, she had better give it to Fayten for such a favorable outcome, undeserved as it was.

“I’m here,” Benjamin announced as he returned to his side.

“Did you find anything of worth?”

“I did,” he said while waving a piece of parchment around, “a map of the country to be precise.”

“Good.” At least they had gotten something productive out of this. “Will you be able to find where we need to go next?”

“Yeah… er, sort of. I’ll need our starting position first.” After a moment of thinking, he snapped his fingers. “I know! I’ll ask that lady over there where we are.”

Looking back over at the wagon, Kinsoriel smirked. “Oh, by all means, do that.”

It took his student around five seconds before he noticed the woman was nowhere to be seen. Better than the nine he had estimated. In her place was a line of bootprints in the opposite direction.

“Well?” he asked with a slight snicker, “What did she say?”

Returning with a half-lidded expression, Benjamin groaned. “She already left.”

Kinsoriel nodded along, trying not to make his amusement obvious. “How unfortunate.” As humorous of a sight it was, he still had something that needed to be emphasized. “If it wasn’t already apparent, little author, deathbounds want nothing to do with their betters. My superiority clouds their minds with fear. Time spent on them is time wasted.”

“Oh…” Benjamin said glumly, his face downcast.

Thinking about it for a short period, the dragon made an addition. “Though, the same can’t be said of you. I enjoy cultivating that diseased mind of yours.”

“Oh, thanks?” the mortal said, unsure of how to accept his master’s complement. 

“Of course.” Looking at the string of corpses, he wrinkled his snout. “Ready yourself. We’re leaving before those bodies start attracting flies.”

##->  Chapter 19: Obstacles And Goals <-

After searching for discernable landmarks for the better part of a day, the duo had to throw in the towel earlier than usual. Benjamin could hardly look down on his character for that. Dewn was his desert area, specifically designed to be a challenge in traversing. The sun would beat down on everyone indiscriminately, and it could certainly be felt in how slow the dragon’s fly speed was. It was approaching a glide near the end.

Picking out a relatively solid section of sand, they made their campsite. Kinsoriel was left panting much like Benjamin had when he first experienced exhaustion. If he was in such a state, this heat must be truly draining. 

“Aghh, just ugh, what is, what is this?!” he labored out. 

“Would you like for me to cool you down with a spell?” Benjamin offered.

Shaking his head, the black dragon ran his claws through the sand, watching it run around his fingers. “The heat isn’t the issue you dolt. There’s something wrong with the mana here.”

The mana? Pondering what he said, it came to Ben quickly. “Dewn!” he exclaimed, happy that he actually had the answer.

“What is that supposed to mean to me?” Kinsoriel asked between breaths.

“There’s a bunch of small creatures deep underneath the sand that take up a large amount of the mana around here,” Benjamin explained while picking up some of the stuff. “As a result, it takes longer for it to saturate the surface and its inhabitants.”

He knew that there was more to the subsurface creatures, but he could only draw on ones that could be considered dangerous. The main obstacle here was the mana issue anyway. It was intended to be more of a shock since his character would have a far smaller capacity for mana at that point. Regaining mana at a slower rate wouldn’t hamper him much then, but it would force him to consider the help of others more seriously. Considering how much mana he could hold at this size, that might not be the same case. 

Staring at him puzzled, Kinsoriel posed a slew of questions. “What? Where did you hear that? Have you been here before?”

Ah shoot, he’d been too specific. He didn’t want to talk about anything related to his Authordom, given the reactions he’d gotten before. But now he’d caught some unwanted attention.

“I have been here before,” he replied.

“And?”

“And what?” Ben said, trying to play dumb.

“Where did you hear that?” the dragon reiterated with a slightly harsher tone.

Why couldn’t that unrelenting focus of his just take a day off?  He wasn’t going to be able to divert from it. There wasn’t enough time to find the right words while on the hot seat like this. Unless he wanted to provoke more questions, he had no other choice than the truth.

“I didn’t hear it from anyone or anything,” he admitted, “I made it as a plot point for the story I was making.”

Kinsoriel’s discerning eyes blinked twice. Releasing a huff, the dragon looked almost amused.

“Of course. I look forward to all the answers I’ll have from you someday when you are cured of your madness.”

Benjamin was surprised at how easily that had gone. He was expecting significantly more poking and prodding. It seemed like he had earned an amount of trust from his character, enough to drop this early. Even if what he said wasn’t believed, this was still great progress for him.

“Right now, however, that leaves us with a problem.” Opening and closing his hands in front of his eyes, Kinsoriel said, “If what you say is true in any way, I’ll need to conserve my mana. Our lessons will need to transition to lectures for now.”

Benjamin nodded. That’s reasonable, If a bit saddening. While he could confidently say he was better off than most mages at this point, that was mostly due to his not needing a spellbook. He still wasn’t at a spot he could be comfortable with, not until he could answer to any complication he might face. Part of why he was getting as good a grasp on magic as he was were the examples he could follow. At least he would still be getting some instruction.

Kinsoriel’s stomach made itself known with a great rumble. "Ugh, I should have taken a bandit," he said, and pointed his claw to the campfire. "Servant, maintain the fire while I get us some food. I shouldn’t be long."

Giving a thumbs up, Ben got closer to the fire. He was left alone with the flames after his teacher had taken off, the fire surprisingly pleasant to look at today. Something about the setting sky gave a great accent to the atmosphere. Staring into the bright yellows and oranges made him think back to the mess from earlier today.

Those bandits would have been a prime opportunity for Kinsoriel to get some growth. Slay some criminals, save a person, and feel that addictive taste of heroism. Easy stuff ordinarily. Unfortunately, all it took to throw a wrench in that was a bad reaction from the victim. 

That terror, though understandable after having seen such carnage, had undone the entire act. Instead of seeing some good in ‘Deathbounds’, that rejection deepened his character’s resentment instead.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. Given what he had said afterwards, it was possible Kinsoriel saw Ben as the *only* human worth a damn. While it was better to be on his good side, that might actually be worse in the long run.

He’d seen that arc type enough times to be worried. When one character manages to bond with another from a group they dislike, that bond becomes grounding. The grounding character can lead to a warmer opinion of that group in a good turn of events. When something happens to that grounding character… it might be best not to think about that.

Part of him thought that it might have been a setup from his brother, though that didn’t last long. Stromwell couldn’t have had every part of that figured out. It was simply poor judgement on his part, shameful as that was. He needed to make better calls if he was going to have any chance at leaving this world a winner.

The fire was starting to die down while he reflected. Couldn’t let that happen on his watch. Unlike the forests they had traversed, there wasn’t anything he could use to stoke it lying around. Just sand and the occasional plant stubborn enough to live here. Looks like he would need to get a little creative.
 
Pointing a finger at the kindling, he projected a thin stream of raw mana. It wasn’t really a spell per se, but he’d picked it up all the same after seeing it get used here and there. Muttering once he saw the energy evaporate upon contact with the flames, he redoubled his efforts, forcing more out through his tips. That extra oomph was enough to get it to the wood, poking it around until the fire was burning bright once more. That trickle wasn’t as sensation heavy as actual spells, and it took less to use it, but it opened his eyes to the grim reality of the situation.

Despite his lack of experience with it, he could feel how exhausted his E.K. was right now. It was like he was a cup underneath a dripping faucet. It had poured out a bit of its liquid, and while it would still be refilled, a slow faucet left it hollow for longer. The scarcity here was far more intense than he had initially thought, leaving him to feel this almost painful emptiness. And coming off the heels of what amounted to extending his finger a bit further? What an awful sign. It must be hellish for the big guy.

Nevertheless, he felt back to normal after a little under a minute had passed. A far cry from the few seconds it might have taken where they had started.

His scattered thoughts started coming together once he looked back into the fire. They were both especially vulnerable here. If it came down to physical conflict, it would be a death sentence for him. As for Kinsoriel, while he could be quite fearsome outside of spell casting, he was only one entity. Like it or not, they needed more members to be safe, but mostly Ben. Nela and the rest of the cast would fill that role well. They might even get some of the original plot rolling as well. For that to happen though, he’ll need to get that dragon to be open to the idea in the first place. He’d look for smaller steps, carefully considered and presented. Knee-jerk opportunities were too risky as he’d learned earlier.

“Good,” he heard booming from behind him, “I see the fire continues to burn.” 
Turning back to greet him, Benjamin immediately noticed the weird creature in the dragon’s grasp. It had the same profile as a camel but was covered with a mix of bright scales and slimy skin. There were talons instead of hooves and what looked like a second mouth where the hump should be. This thing must have been very docile though, because Benjamin couldn’t recall anything about it.

“What is that?” he asked with a finger pointed at the creature.

“Until I find a suitable bestiary, it shall be called ‘dinner’.” Kinsoriel lightly chuckled at his own joke. He stared at Ben for a moment until the cue was received, leading to a forced laugh of his own. Shrugging his wings dismissively as though Ben was missing out on his humor, he moved the creature over the fire.

For as awkward as it felt, it had also put a real smile on the ex-Author’s face strangely enough. It faded shortly after. As their meal started cooking, he looked at the situation from another lens. These little moments were meant for different people, to strengthen Kinsoriel’s relationship with *them*. Besides what is absolutely necessary, he shouldn’t allow himself to get closer to the main character. Getting too ingrained would only complicate things more than they already were. The sooner he reunited the cast, the sooner he could end this stupid feud and erase his involvement here.

Hopefully, they’re still fine. They should be a decently strong force this early on in the story, but one could never know with a vindictive Author that could be anywhere. Benjamin wondered where they were right now.

##->  Chapter 20: Elsewhere <-

“Over here!” shouted an enthusiastic man from above the cave ledge. Nela brought her view upwards, frowning once she saw Oslow’s mischievous smile looking down on her. 

“Could you stop going so far ahead?” She pointed at her large breastplate aggressively. “I can only go so fast!”

Oslow, the Ratman ‘finesse’ of the party, blew a raspberry at her words. “Don’t be like that cap’n. It’s my job, remember? Poke around here and there,” he said while mimicking the action with his daggers, “keep you lot nice and free of holes in yer rumps.” 

The elite knight couldn’t help but fold her arms skeptically. With how long she’d known him, she had an intuition for when he was up to something. Was it a coincidence that he’s pulling this shtick while they were searching for a requestor’s family heirloom? Hardly. Does anything good ever happen when he smiles like that? No, not really. Was it likely that this uninhabited cave had any traps? Absolutely not.

“She’s got a point Ossy,” Chedwick the archer chimed in from beside Nela. “We should make more of an effort to stay closer together. What if one of us were to get injured?”

Rolling his eyes and twitching his whiskers, Oslow slumped his shoulders to take off his backpack. “Alright, I hear ya. I’ll wait for you slowpokes.” As he said this, he pulled something from his pack. It looked to be a hunk of cheese. Nela tapped her boots and voiced a loud ‘AHEM’ as the Ratman began nibbling.

“Tch, fine! Give me a second,” Oslow said as he reached back into his pack. This time, he pulled out a thick bundle of rope. He then tied it to a nearby stalagmite and threw it down, muttering under his breath the entire time.

Only once she had finished climbing up with Chedwick did Nela relax her stance. “Thank you Oslow,” she said with a pat on his furred back, “your help is very appreciated.”

Chittering happily, the Ratman popped his fingers and shrugged in an over-exaggerated way. “It’s nothing Cap’n.” A couple of sudden footsteps instantly drew the attention of her and Chedwick. “I mean, I won’t stop you from showerin’ me with complime-” Oslow yammered before being shushed by the more focused archer.

Raising her shield and unsheathing her longsword, Nela pointed its tip in the direction of the footsteps. “Who goes there?” Nela called out with a commanding tone. The rest of the party also readied their weapons, clumping together defensively.

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” a slightly graveled voice said in response. Nela’s eyes widened as she recognized who had said it almost instantly.

“Alister?” she said while lowering her sword a bit. Her suspicions were confirmed as the man stepped out and into view. That long beard, those purple eyes, and that always warm face. It was unmistakable; that’s him for sure.

Almost dropping her weapons, she rushed over to hug the aged human. He grunted as she made contact, chuckling when he reciprocated. “It hasn’t been that long has it?” 

Chedwick laughed as Oslow ran over and joined the hug before doing the same. “It’s been four years,” Nela said during the embrace, “that is a long time.”

“But two of you are elves!” complained the overwhelmed wizard.

While true, Nela and Chedwick could feel his absence every day since. It was hard not to when the man who brought you into the fold of heroism wasn’t there anymore. A longer lifespan didn’t change that. Oslow was probably the most affected though, given he was practically raised by the man.

Once the group finally let go, it left the wizard with a sweat. “My, you’ve grown quite a bit haven’t you,” he said with a pat to the Ratman’s head.

“O’course I have,” Oslow half whined and bragged, “I wasn’t going to just stop when ya left!”

“Not to sound rude or anything,” Chedwick said while putting away his bow, “but why are you here now?”

Alister reached into a belt pouch and pulled out a handful of coins. They weren’t copper or silver, but gold. Every single one of them. The entire party couldn’t help but stare at the wealth with shock and surprise.

“That’s the sign-on bonus I was offered for my services. I was also permitted to extend this offer to those I would need to do my duties.”

Nela’s pointed ears picked up on what he said quickly. “Does that mean what I think it does?”

With a nod, Alister said, “Yes. I’m here to gather the rest of my associates.”

Oslow started hopping excitedly, but the same couldn’t be said for Nela. “You know we can’t. As much as I would love to join you, I still have a mission to uphold.” Clenching her fists, she emphasized, “I won’t stop until it’s done.”

With a sigh, Alister said, “I do know that. But, I’m not asking for you to abandon it either.” 

Chedwick raised a brow. “Hmm? What do you mean by that?”

With a more malicious smile, Alister put the gold away and replaced it with a scroll. Unfurling it, he read aloud. “*Chief among your responsibilities is that you curb the dragon menace that plagues our lands. To that end, you and your help will have any monetary needs met and exceeded*.”

Curb the dragon menace eh? While Nela couldn’t deny how enticing that all sounded, something about it felt fishy. She never heard of professional dragon slayers who were paid before doing their job. Especially not that well.

“Who gave you that offer?” Nela asked, still not sure.

“A ‘Lew L’Morts’ fellow,” Alister responded while showing her the document. She saw the signature at the bottom, written especially neatly. If he was able to hand out money for recruitment so easily, she thought she might recognize a name. Nothing about the strange-sounding name rang a bell.

“I don’t know Alister,” she said while rubbing the back of her helmet, “I mean, we are still in the middle of a quest.”

“Right,” the wizard said while stroking his beard, “and what is that quest exactly?”

“We’re searching for a family heirloom the requestor lost while exploring this cave system,” Chedwick quickly explained.

“Yeah, what he said,” Oslow added. “Some fancy schmancy ring with a big ol’ ruby.”

“Does it look something like this?” Alister asked before thrusting a hand into his robe. When he pulled it back out, he held a golden ring with intricate engravings and set with a huge ruby. That was the ring alright.

“You found it already?” Nela said incredulously after taking it from his hand to look over it further.

“That I did. I asked around to find where you three were off doing, and figured I could help out.”

Though she appreciated the gesture, it was beyond transparent what he was doing here. He wanted to make sure there was nothing to prevent them from joining. Always the pleaser he was.

Well, she didn’t have any reservations about slaying dragons and getting ludicrously wealthy along the way. That part was as easy a sell as it could get. But she still had some reservations about it that she couldn’t quite pin down. Perhaps she ought to ask the others what they think about it first.

“Should we go with him guys?”

Oslow looked at her like she had said something incredibly stupid. “Did you not see the gold?” He then started rubbing his hands together, a greedy glint in his beady eyes. “Think how much we’d get when we bring one in!”

That didn’t make her feel any better about it. Looking to the more level-headed Chedwick, she awaited his answer.

Shrugging, Chedwick said, “I’ve no problems with it. We might even find *him* if Herotia is with us. This could be a great opportunity.”

Nela smirked as she considered his words. He didn’t seem at all bothered by how odd the whole thing sounded. Maybe she was just being overly paranoid. Becoming a full-time slayer could get them closer to finding that scaled bastard. A generous helping of gold could grease more than a few wheels toward that as well. What was the harm in checking it out at the very least?

“Alright, we’ll give it a go,” Nela said to the cheers of the Ratman beside her. Alister smiled warmly, pulling out his spellbook and rapidly thumbing through the pages. 

“You have no idea just how happy I am to hear that. Well, the sooner we get started,” he said as he finished cycling through the book, “the better. Stay where you are for a moment.”

Holding his spot in the book, he leveled his staff out horizontally in front of himself. His eyes moved from side to side rapidly as he looked down at the book. They were almost as fast as his lips, mouthing words silently at fascinating speeds Nela hadn’t seen before. Light pink orbs formed at the ends of the staff, flickering in and out every second.

Returning his gaze upward, the wizard finally added some volume. “**Return**,” he said, twirling the staff around once like a key in a tumbler. The orbs left a trail across their path, forming a circle once they touched where the other had been. Alister retracted the staff, leaving the spell hanging in the air. The circle he had made filled inward and expanded outward. The light pink energy swirled around in a vortex, mesmerizing to any onlookers. It stopped once it had touched the ground.

“The heck is that thing?” Oslow commented as he scrambled around it.

Looking quite pleased with himself, its creator said, “Just a little something I picked up in my studies abroad.” It was good to see he hadn’t spent these past years loafing around.

“What does it do?” Chedwick asked while inspecting it more thoroughly than the Ratman.

“How about you see for yourself? Follow me.” Alister then walked into the pink thing, not appearing on the other side. Oslow began freaking out a bit, needing to be calmed down by having a firm hand placed on his shoulder.

“He’s fine,” Nela reassured, “let’s not leave him waiting.” Quick to pick up on what had happened, she stepped through next. Her senses were assaulted from all fronts as the pink energies thrummed around her. It wasn’t painful, but it was certainly disorienting. Even though she considered herself to have a sturdy gut, she was glad she hadn’t eaten anything prior.

When she opened her eyes next, she wasn’t in that cave anymore. Looking around at her surroundings, it looked like she was just outside of a city in the middle of a desert. One look up at those deep red stone spires was all she needed to know where she was.

“Shocking the first time, isn’t it?” she heard from behind her. Twisting her head back, Nela saw the amused faces of Alister. Wait, faces? Shaking her head until her vision went back to normal, she shot a friendly glare at him.

“You couldn’t have said that would happen?”

“And spoil the surprise? I would never! Besides, I was wondering who would go first.”

As they were talking, a sudden pop announced the arrival of Chedwick, who ended up staggering around until he got his bearings. Oslow was less fortunate, coming into being already knelt on the ground. He painted the ground a disgusting yellow-green with his vomit shortly after. Nela shook her head, moving over to the retching party member. Maybe now he’d stop taking so many snacks in the middle of a job.

After helping them recover from the ordeal, they looked to Alister. He had been waiting patiently for their attention, springing back up from his seated position.

“I was beginning to think that we’d need some stilling roots for a minute there.”

“Why have you brought us back to Nextrial?” Chedwick asked. If he hadn’t, Nela likely would have herself.

“So you’ve noticed. Well, it pertains to our first assignment.”

Already? This was going a bit fast, wasn’t it? Before she could voice any concerns, Alister continued talking.

“A young dragon has been spotted coming and going nearby. It’s an especially vile one as well, apparently having enthralled some poor sod.”

This caught the elven warrior’s interest. “Enthralled? In what way?”

Alister’s gentle face twisted up into a more grim expression. “That’s what I’d like to know as well. Details were rather lacking in the request.” He looked over at the city and eased up. “That’s for the future however. For now,” he said with a shake of the bulging coin pouch, “I believe we have some shopping to do. We can never be too prepared after all.”

That was enough to get Oslow’s support, eliciting a flurry of excited yips and childlike squeaks. Chedwick pat Nela on her armored back. 

“Well, I’ve been wanting to spruce up my bow for a while. Maybe we can find you a new shield, eh?”

Nela nodded with a smile. Perhaps shopping would ease her doubts. Upfront pay for such a job would always seem sketchy to her, but who was she to say no to such a generous offer?

Outside of that, seeing some more once-familiar faces would be nice. She’d have to drop in on everyone from Nextrial since they were finally in the area again. Especially the temple. A donation to the gods could give them that extra bit of luck they might need in the near future. That, and the priests had been so very welcoming last time they were here. Returning the favor all this time later would make her day.

But of all the things she looked forward to from this, it was having the party back to what it once was. Things had never been the same since Alister left. But together once more, nothing could stop them now. Just wait and see you orange murderer. Someday soon, you’ll pay.

##->  Chapter 21: Prayers Received <-

Soaring through heat-baked skies while limiting his mana use was bothersome. Little comforts he had used it for almost instinctively were suddenly gone. Scratching itches he couldn’t reach, cooling himself down, things he would have to make do without now.

It was also incredibly boring. The sands all looked the same and had few if any landmarks to break up the monotony. Even the oceans had more variety to them. That’s why when he saw those tilting stone structures, Kinsoriel immediately veered off to make a detour. Anything to escape this maddening nothing of a flight.

“We’re stopping there?” Benjamin asked from his held position.

“Is that an objection?” the dragon said back, unwilling to listen to anything of the sort.

“No, I’m just surprised to see that place is all.”

Good. The less he needed to say, the better. 

Making a small sand cloud as he landed, the pair both took a moment to look around their surroundings. Just as he had figured, the structures he’d seen from above weren’t natural. Even with all the weathering, they were far too uniform, shaped with sharp angles in mind. 

“Servant,” Kinsoriel started as he pointed at the structures, “will you be able to find where we are with these?”

Shaking his head, the human moved closer to them. “This place isn’t going to be on any map from this century.” Looking back and forth from one side to the other, he added, “Or the previous two.”

“You haven’t even checked, how could you be so sure?” Well-informed estimations were acceptable. Lazy guesses were not. Lacking efforts were strictly forbidden under his tutelage. If he wasn’t given a good enough reason, Kinsoriel would need to use disciplinary action.

“Because this place used to be a city almost a thousand years ago, master.” That would be a good reason. One thousand? That’s older than his parents would be if they were still alive. In that regard, it was beyond amazing that there was anything left of this place, especially since it would have to be made by mortal hands.

Strange that a deathbound of all things would know about that given the large gap in time. But given who had said this, it was probably best to just accept it and move on for now. He could ask how and why later when he had the time to fix his student.

“If I were to guess,” Benjamin trailed as he rubbed a section of stone with his hands, “this would be the place of worship, like a shrine or a temple. They’re usually the tallest buildings.”

Better than nothing, but it wouldn’t help them. Not unless they… hmm, well, it was worth a shot. It may have been a place of heretical deathbound doctrine long ago, but it was still dedicated to the gods. Their sorry excuses for iconography had already long since been worn down anyway. Perhaps this place would make them more receptive to his prayers. There wasn’t anything that suggested it would work at all, but he had nothing to lose from trying other than a few more moments of his time. 

Sitting back with his tail out of the way, he clasped his claws together. Breathing deep, he thought of how he would phrase his words.

“Uh, what are you doing?” the crude mortal asked from the sideline.

“Quiet!” Kinsoriel barked. More annoyed now but given the silence he needed, he closed his eyes and began to pray to himself. “Oh Wex, Keeper of all wisdom, where am I supposed to go? Everything blends together here. Please, grant me knowledge of the correct path.”

To both his and Benjamin’s surprise, he was answered in the form of a powerful feminine voice. “I believe Fayten would be more appropriate.”

His eyes jerked open instantaneously. Looking back and forth all around him, he saw nobody else. When a shadow was cast over him, he finally looked up. Hovering over him was a dragon of absolute beauty. She was covered from horns to tail in scales that looked like they were made of the most brilliant metal he’d ever seen. Her two horns, solid white, were surrounded by a halo of pure light. The wings on her back were thicker than any other he’d known, like another pair of arms. That observation seemed to have a bit more truth to it as they each ended with a large hand. They also didn’t seem to be flapping, and yet, she stayed in the air. Her serene expression told him she held no fear she would fall. Most impressive of all was her size. She was nearly twice as large as him, making even Harax look small.

Not a second sooner, Kinsoriel bowed his head down. This divine emissary wouldn’t find him lacking in respect. He’d been raised right after all. 

That thought quickly reminded him that he wasn’t alone. Peeking an eye out to his left, he saw his servant staring dumbfounded. If he’d been looking at the black dragon, he might have fallen over dead from how intensely was being stared at. There was nothing he could do for him now. If that fool incurred the wrath of this angel, not even Kinsoriel could save him.

“Raise your head, son of Ortremel,” the angel commanded. Her words carried a calming ease to them but belied the presence of absolute authority. 

Not one to ignore such a thing, Kinsoriel did so immediately. The metal-like scales of the angel shimmered as she descended. Her eyes shone with the same light as her halo as she gazed upon him.

“Your arrival here was foreseen,” the angel remarked as she began circling him, “but not in such a manner. Your destiny has been altered.”

His destiny was altered? How could that possibly be? Fayten was the master of all outcomes and the strongest of the gods. Even when the pantheon had withdrawn themselves, his will remained in place. Those who dared to try and change it were doomed to fail. Unless… no, that couldn’t have. Or could it?

“Great angel, was it those deathbounds who had cursed me?” The one that shrunk him had called his spell ‘Fayten’s Will’. As ludicrous as it sounded, maybe they did find a way to alter fate after all. That would explain why he was talking to a servant of the gods now.

“I am afraid not, Kinsoriel. I am Moira, Archangel of Realignment. My lord does not ask that I find out why you have deviated, only that I bring you back into his vision.”

Despite the holy presence in front of him, he couldn’t help but resent being told *he* was the one who deviated. It wasn’t his fault any of this had happened. But who was he to argue with an angel? He swallowed down that indignant lump in his throat and focused on what she had said.

“You can fix my destiny then?”

“Yes,” she said as she stopped in front of him, her wings and extra hands held high above her head. “Brace yourself youngling, this may not be pleasant.” Heeding her words, he tensed up his muscles and closed his eyes, awaiting whatever she had in store for him. She then began speaking in a language he had never heard before. The words of the divine.

As she did this, strange things started happening. The subtle whispers of wind against his scales stopped. His hands and feet felt like they pressed against nothing, even less than when he took to the skies. The blood and mana coursing through his body slowed to a standstill. One last breath entered his lungs before that too had halted.

This absence of time and feeling dominated his world… for about five seconds. Everything then resumed course as it had before. Kinsoriel opened his eyes eagerly, hoping to see how his fate had been fixed. He was still in these ruins. He was still before the Archangel, who now had a perplexed expression along her muzzle. And, worst of all, he seemed to be the same size.

Kinsoriel heard the voice of his dimwitted student pipe up. “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

The Archangel Moira immediately brought her wing-arms back down. Looking around with a fierce look, she called out, “Who goes there? Reveal yourself!”

Kinsoriel could feel his teeth dulling as he ground them against each other. This disrespect was going to cost him all the time he’d spent on mentoring the soon-to-be-dead man. His invaluable education, squandered because of mortal gall.

However, In the middle of his woes, he picked up on a peculiar detail. Moira seemed to have looked straight at Benjamin multiple times, only to keep searching around. A deathbound would be beyond puny to any dragon of her stature, but you’d still be able to notice them with ease. Wait, she didn’t see him before either, did she? His student hadn’t made any attempt to hide; there was no way she couldn’t have seen him. 

“Archangel Moira,” he formally addressed in hopes of keeping in her good graces, “can you not see my student?”

She brought her attention back to him, softening her face as she did. “Youngling, you shouldn’t have one at this moment. He resides in the North-East.” Befuddled, Kinsoriel wanted to take a moment to figure out what she meant. That would have to wait until he resolved this initial observation, however.

“Benjamin,” he beckoned with a finger, “come closer.”

Warily, he did just that. Kinsoriel opened up a hand for him to climb upon. Once securely in his grip, he raised his servant into clear view for the Archangel.

“This is my student, the one who spoke.” He pointed a claw for extra emphasis. Moira’s big, light-filled eyes stared closely. Scrunching up her snout slightly, she placed one of her wing hands over her eyes for a moment. When she removed it, the light had disappeared. In its place were regular draconic eyes, though with a silvery-grey hue.

Looking once again at Benjamin, it looked as though she could finally see him. What happened next was as fast as it was unexpected. Her face slid into one of pure shock, then of amazement. Then not even half a second later, she knelt, bowing her head down even more than Kinsoriel had.
“Lord Fayten!” she said with excited reverence, “What brings you here?”

##->  Chapter 22: Matters Of Size <-

The ‘ground’ beneath Benjamin’s feet shuddered as the angelic dragon knelt. It wasn’t hard to figure out why. With how he had set up their religion, it was sure to ruffle some feathers seeing an angel address a human as one of their gods.

Implications of this suddenly dawned as he processed the scene in front of him. She recognized him. Not by his true title obviously, but as the god of fate and time.

His mind swirled as he tried to figure out how this was possible. He was certain he’d kept his image hidden, working through others to do what he needed. Even his persona’s angels had never seen his face before.

“Excuse my curiosity if you would,” Kinsoriel said with a slight unevenness to his voice, “but what are you doing, good angel? This is merely a deathbound. Nothing more.”

Moira let out a sharp gasp at the statement. “You dare deride Fayten? I ought to skewer you for such impudence! Consider yourself lucky that he has deemed you worthy of a grand destiny.”

Ben noticed the claws surrounding him curl inward a bit before relaxing. 

“I suppose I should.”

Nodding at his response, the Archangel enveloped herself with her wings. She turned herself clockwise multiple times, shrinking in size with each full rotation. The muscles in Kinsoriel’s hand tensed up underneath Ben as she stopped at a humanoid size. 

She was in a bipedal stance, with her wings wrapped around her neck like a cloak. Her shape was decidedly more feminine as well, with wide hips and a pair of breasts. With a bow, she called up to Ben, “I hope this form makes it easier to converse with you, m’lord.”

Without warning, Ben was dropped from Kinsoriel’s hand. Quick to react, he found himself in the arms of the Archangel.
“I think now’s as good a time for a reprieve as any. Benjamin, be a good servant and explain our arrangement for me in the meantime.” With a deep breath followed by a ‘hmph’, he went over to another section of the ruins and began pacing.

Benjamin put a hand to his face as he was gently set down on the sand. While he could never truly understand what the dragon was going through in his head, he could read all the surface emotions easily. Denial that this was happening. Disgust and betrayal that a religious figure of such significance would become more like a mortal. And that hardly restrained anger at the whole thing, masking something else he couldn’t make out.
 
“How dare he!” Moira carefully patted Ben down, looking for any signs of harm. “Do you wish that I punish that whelp?”

“No, no, it’s fine. He’s just… going through some things right now. Can I ask you some questions?”

“Anything Lord Fayten, it would be my pleasure.” She now stood back up straight. 

Despite being in a more human form, she was still a good head taller than Ben. Though he considered looking away from her nudeness, he was quick to notice that her scales covered anything that might make him look perverted. He thought of what he should ask first with a breath of relief. 

“Do you remember why I had you waiting here?” As he discovered with his magic system and written language, he wasn’t forbidden from relearning anything.

“Of course. You wanted me to guide Kinsoriel, Son of Ortremel, into his role as an intermediary between mortal races and the dragons.”

Yup, that sounds like the ending he’d make. He *knew* this place had some sort of plot relevance later on, he wouldn’t just have random city ruins in the desert for no reason. Unfortunately for him, he had a feeling this wasn’t the right time for them to be here.

How much of an impact she’s supposed to have was up in the air though. Was she supposed to serve as a neat little milestone, or something more? He made sure to keep critical info for surviving and trying to maintain the storyline, and even though he was pressed for time, he didn’t think to include this angel. Hopefully, that meant she didn’t have much to contribute, otherwise meeting her out of order could hurt everything else.

“How did you know who I am?” he asked next.

At this, Moira pointed at her eyes, pride evident in her voice. “Your gift of Fate Sight, m’lord. All things have your plan written into their beings, which I can see. All things, except you of course.” She suddenly had a pale face that bordered on horror. “D-did you not want me to see you? I’m so sorry! I didn’t know!  I mean no transgression! Please for-”

Ben had to cut her off with a finger to his lips followed by a shush. Like the obedient angel she is, she stopped rambling immediately.

“It’s fine, I’m not angry or anything,” he said to calm her down, “I just wanted to know is all.”

Her explanation made sense to him. He *was* the god of fate after all, and it would be weird for such a god to bind themselves in the same way. It bugged him how he was supposedly just another person in this world, but easily seen as otherwise by a side character. 

He could probably chalk it up to Stromwell attempting to be ‘fair’. Despite how rigged against him this was, he’d have no chance if he’d been stuck with his brand of fate. In other settings where he included it, he’d set it up to where everyday things were unaffected by it, but certain events would always happen. The universe around these events would automatically adjust to accommodate whatever he decided should happen. For how loath he was to admit it, this was one thing that made Ben appreciate his brother’s ego.

While contemplating all of this, Ben realized something. “You were about to fix Kinsoriel’s destiny, right?” 

“Yes m’lord,” the angel accentuated with a head  nod, “but something strange stopped me before my corrections could take effect.”

Drats. It was worth a shot. If she had simply stopped on his account, he might have won right here and now. Maybe this was something he could still use though.

“Would you be able to tell me what interrupted you?” Ben asked hopefully.

“Alas,” Moira said with her head lowered, “I fear I cannot. I was going to revert him to the time before he diverged, but no matter how hard I pressed, I could not go further than him flying into his portal. I still have no idea what caused it. My apologies lord.”

His portal? That would line up around the time he was… oh man. If she couldn’t go past that, that meant only one thing; Ben’s presence here was somehow stopping her from fixing this. He didn’t know how or why, but this lined up too neatly to be a coincidence. With no way to take himself out of the equation, this win condition was off-limits.

“It’s fine Moira,” Ben said with a sigh. The draconic angel gasped, holding her hands over her mouth. “What is it?” asked the ex-Author, now looking around with worry.

“You used my name! I’m not worthy of such affections, m'lord!”

She then hid her face to the side rather ineffectively. He didn’t know how it was possible, but Moira’s metal-like scales were blushing. Something about the difference from how intimidating and dignified she was only a few minutes before now was giving him serious whiplash. While a welcome reprieve from his main character’s prideful temperament, this crush-like reverence was almost as grating.

“Please don’t think much of it,” Ben half-begged, “and I have one more request of you, if possible.”

Seemingly thankful to divert from that conversation, Moira was quick to say, “Anything Lord Fayten.”

Looking over to the still-fuming black dragon, Ben asked, “Could you make Kinsoriel his real size again?”

Moira turned to look at him as well, her eyes regaining their divine glow. Tilting her head a couple of times, she finally let out a hard ‘tsk’. 
“Not fully. Your spell prohibits it until he has seen the world as a man would.”

Before he could object, Ben understood what she had meant. Arfael, the cleric who had cast the spell, had gotten it directly from him. He even named it Fayten’s Will, which in retrospect, also made him sound more arrogant than he’d prefer. Like it or not, it was his spell.

That bit about ‘seeing the world as a man would’ made for a good clue. He knew he had to finish Kinsoriel’s arc, but the exact developments were lost to him. Up until now, he’d been trying to get the dragon to improve in an unfocused, general way. This right here was the real goal of his MC, and by extension, his own. Get him to see the world as a man would.

“So can you do it partly?”

Moira held a hand to her jaw as she thought. “I could try, though it will only work insofar as he has fulfilled your will. Is that to your liking m’lord?”

Giving a grateful smile, he replied, “That it is.” 

From his current standing, Ben had little sway in how the dragon conducted himself. Sure he could maybe convince him into something here and there, but only if it aligned with his goals. His mentorship came with the promise of helping him get revenge. Saving that roadside victim was only possible because that hatred of thievery had been stoked. If he were to give him something he truly wanted, maybe that could change.

“Master,” he called over to Kinsoriel, “could you come here for a moment?”

This earned him a confused look from the angel while the black dragon came over, still in the middle of his bad mood.

“What is it now? Have you finished what I have asked?”

Sheepishly, Benjamin answered, “No, but I have some good news for you.”

Before any complaints could be made, he gestured to Moira with open palms. “Moi- ahem, Archangel Moira will fix your size… partially.”

She replaced her confusion with a look of pride at the gesture, puffing out her chest a bit.

Kinsoriel’s reptilian eyes widened. “Is that so? In that case, I suppose I could overlook you ignoring my order for the moment,” he said as magnanimously as he could.

Glaring at the comment, the humanoid dragon looked to Ben with concern, likely unsure of what to make of this. Mouthing a rough ‘I’ll explain later’, he motioned for her to go ahead.

“Prostrate yourself before me young one,” she said alongside a sigh.

The black dragon obliged her without question. In the blink of an eye, the humanlike shape she held reverted to her gigantic form, lacking any flourish in the transition this time. 

Holding her four hands above Kinsoriel’s head in a line, she chanted in a language foreign to all others present. As she continued chanting, Ben noticed an almost impossibly thin strand of white light appear above his head. It seemed to be of the same hue that emanated from Moira’s halo and eyes. She suddenly stopped her chanting and closed her multiple hands around the thread. With a grunt of exertion, she yanked it away from the black dragon with one large pull. 

Looking to see his expression, Ben saw the dark orange irises of his character shrink back as they dilated. His face was completely blank, eerily so. It remained that way as the angel stood over him, crushing the thin light and dropping it along his back. Even as it spread across his body and enveloped his form, his face lacked the spark of self behind it. Creepy.

Nothing happened for a few moments once it had fully covered the dragon. Ben eyed the angel nervously. She looked like she was confident in her abilities earlier, but what if this was something else Ben’s presence would screw up? That face Kinsoriel wore could stick. He could be left with a brain-dead main character here.

Before he could seriously sweat, the light started to expand. It began pulsing In a rhythm similar to a heartbeat, getting a little bit bigger with each thump. Each growth also came with a gradual fading of the light, almost like it was being absorbed through the dragon’s skin. Kinsoriel ended up considerably larger than he had been by the time it was fully gone. That chillingly absent expression was shed as the dragon looked around in a daze.
 
“Are you okay teacher?” Ben asked worriedly, earning another confused look from Moira.

Looking down at him, Kinsoriel plucked Ben up with ease by his backpack. With a slowly emerging smile, he said, “That and more.”

##-> Chapter 23: Three's A Crowd <-

Seeing Benjamin’s even smaller form between his claws was all he needed. Assuming the little author was of a similar measure to other deathbounds, he grew back about half his size. Though not to the extent he was comfortable with, this wild chase could safely be put on hold.

He has a real chance at taking on that disgrace of a dragon now. All that remains is to tip the odds even more in his favor. Such a sweet thought left him smiling from frill to frill.

“Are you okay teacher?” his student asked from a place of concern. A silly question to anyone with eyes, but he was in too good a mood to refuse it.

“That and more.”

Setting him down, Kinsoriel turned to the Archangel who still towered over him and lowered his head.

“Thank you for granting me this gift,” he said in his most flattering tone, “great and divine being.”

In a thunderous voice, she responded, “If you are truly thankful, give your praise to Lord Fayten and his limitless benevolence. He is the one who commanded it.” She then pointed a wing hand at the mortal beside him.

He could feel pressure behind his eyes as he suppressed a twitch as best he could. It made it easier to think of this farcical display as a test of faith, to see if he’d follow whatever the heavens told him. He would keep his tongue to himself, but he knew what he really believed.

No god of his would need to be taught. They wouldn’t need to eat, they wouldn’t need bedding to keep from freezing. And, most importantly, they wouldn’t need him to come to their rescue. A god would be beyond him in every way, and the human he traveled with was anything but.

Turning to Benjamin, he forced out his praise. “Thank you for having this Archangel restore my size in part.”

“You're welcome?” He couldn’t help but notice how it was phrased like a question. Perhaps this was just as perplexing to him as it was for the dragon.

Looking back over, the angel had a minor frown but said nothing else. Hopefully, that was enough for her. 

“If that is all,” Kinsoriel said to all present, “he and I will be taking our leave now. I have much to prepare.”

Moira looked at Benjamin with pleading eyes, holding all of her hands together. “May I join your travels, Lord Fayten? I could continue the task you have entrusted me with much easier at your side.” 

He had to fight to keep his jaw from hanging. Instead of a mighty angel or a noble dragon, her posture and mannerisms resembled that of a young whelp. Everything made less and less sense the longer he was on this insane journey.

The little author chuckled nervously as he looked up at Kinsoriel, a hand at the back of his head. Something idiotic was about to be asked of him. It was a behavior he had observed in other mortals, typically the inexperienced ones who had crossed paths with him. It was usually mercy or an exchange of ‘We didn’t see you, you didn’t see us’. Letting lie-prone creatures go on with info about his whereabouts and habits was never a good idea, so they were all dealt with. What would his student say?

“So, er, Master…” he started while fidgeting around.

“Yes?”

“Could she come with us?”

And there it was. While internally amused that his observation held once more, this was a grating question. Though he was loath to admit it, he wouldn’t be able to deny the angel if it came down to a real confrontation. She could force him to accept her demands or die. He’d rather not be constantly reminded of this freakish experience, but there wasn’t anything he could do to prevent it, not really.

Rather than protest it, he should frame it in his favor. You want to follow ‘Lord Fayten’? Very well, but this ‘Lord Fayten’ answers to him.

“She may come with *you*,” he emphasized, “so long as she doesn’t impede my goals. She will be your responsibility, got it?”

With a gulp, the little author nodded quickly.

If he viewed it as such, his student would be gaining experience in management from this. Delegation would be important in his servant’s future when he needed someone to manage things beneath him. This was just a stepping stone to that end.

Benjamin turned to the angel and gave her a thumbs up. She trembled in an excited manner that Kinsoriel still found overwhelmingly weird. He’s just a deathbound for Wex’s sake; an unimaginably peculiar one, yes, but the point still stands.

“You can polymorph right?” the man asked the angel. The strange word seemed to hang in the air, catching not only Kinsoriel’s attention but Moira’s as well.

“Polymorph m’lord? I’m not entirely sure what you mean by that.”

Ben widened his eyes for a moment before turning to the side and muttering something just beneath his breath. The urge to force him to say it out in the open was there but subsided when looking at the gigantic being. It may not be a good idea to press him much with her around. That short temper when he had tried before was backed by power he’d rather not see for himself. 

“Sorry, I realize that might not be a word you’ve heard before. I just wanted to know if you could make yourself into a bird or the like.”

“Do not be sorry, it is I who is ignorant m’lord. The shame lies at my feet. But yes, I could take any form I wish.”

Seemingly to show this, she wrapped herself up with her wings, shrinking rapidly as she did. Her scales smoothed and stretched out into shiny feathers while this happened. When it looked like she had finished, she was even smaller than the little author. Squinting, Kinsoriel could see she had taken the form of Finch. If it weren’t for the unnatural sheen of her feathers, it would be impossible to tell the difference.

“Is this to your liking m’lord?” bird-Moira chirped in a singsong way.

The mortal nodded his approval before looking back to Kinsoriel. Apparently, Kinsoriel had a sullen look about him he wasn’t aware of. He knew this because his servant felt the need to try and give an explanation.

“We might draw unwanted attention if she’s in her regular form, you know?”

That was a sound line of thinking to him, but it was hard to get rid of his expression entirely. It put a knot in his stomach seeing such a fine creature willingly degrade herself with a lesser body. Less so than when she had chosen a bipedal form, strangely enough. At least she was doing so because she wanted this change, a luxury he wasn’t afforded.

Not wanting to appear bothered by it, Kinsoriel forced a shrug. “Makes sense,” was all he could say without blurting out anything he might regret.

Sickening display aside, he was still focused on his next set of steps. This partial restoration wouldn’t be enough to ensure he would win against Harax. His spellcasting ability would still be inferior to what he was used to. If he were to rush back and challenge the land grabber right now, he could see two ways of fighting. It was either he stood around longer to channel his spells, or he overtaxed himself and hoped to end the fight quickly. Both options carried ugly consequences that he preferred not to dwell on. 

Fortunately for him, magic is a smart dragon’s pursuit. If he had a solid problem, he’d use a formless answer. A less stifling environment would be needed if that was to be a swift one. Since his servant seemed to know more about this place than he did, he would ask him.

“You said that unseen creatures slow down the mana in this land, yes?”

“I did. I don’t know much more about them other than they exist though.”

“Would you happen to know where they are less active?”

A twinge of clarity flashed across the human’s face. Without needing to be instructed, Benjamin rifled through his pack and pulled out the map he’d taken. He could be seen tracing a finger along the parchment before stopping on a few particular spots.

“I know you might not like this,” he said with a wary gaze up at the black dragon, “but there are a few cities that have managed to drive the creatures away.”

Kinsoriel held no strong feelings toward that information. Yes, he’d have to make a stop near yet *another* mortal town. At this point, he half expected it. But dealing with those particulars was less of a hornache than going elsewhere for what he had in mind. And while he was there, he could have his student gather some books for his soon-to-be rebuilt library. Not a bad use of his time if he had to wait a little longer for his vengeance.

“You needn't worry, I’m not opposed to it. We shall go to the nearest one immediately. Point me in its direction, and let’s be off.”

Features furrowed in concentration, the little author stared intently at the map and their current surroundings. After going back and forth enough times to be sure and not enough to be a nuisance, his student pointed his hand to the left.

“That would be Nextrial.”


##-> Chapter 24: A Rude Interuption <-
Having been swept up in the whirlwind of his protagonist’s eagerness, Ben found himself en route towards the oasis town. He hadn’t lied when he said that it was the closest place that had less of the things beneath the sands. That said, this choice of location was more to his benefit.

Nextrial is a massive place, second only to the capital. They would have just as massive a heroes guild as well. Finding out where Alister had gone would be as easy as it would ever be.

He considered also looking up where Nela and the others were but quickly scrubbed that as an idea. They wouldn’t be anywhere near for another few months at the very least. He might be able to convince the big grumpy reptile to go a bit further, but it wasn’t likely he’d be able to pull off something halfway across the country. They wouldn’t be accepting of his main character as is anyway.

Right, he still had to get Kinsoriel into a human form. If he had a minute alone with Alister, he might be able to convince him to work his magic. That was a big, big if, but it was his best shot.

Hearing the extra breaths behind him gave him confidence. Moira being a shapeshifter made having her come along much easier. She had currently attached herself to his backpack, holding fast despite him being carried by Kinsoriel. This made him wonder if she had all of her strength despite her change.

Having someone who was totally on his side was just what he needed to make this all work out. Religious associations could work wonders in getting him what he needed too. 

At least, that’s what he told himself. He had a feeling that bringing her would make for uncomfortable interactions between the three of them. Mediating would be much more difficult than just the black dragon alone. Still, what she could bring to the table outweighed any potential difficulties she carried.

“I think I see it up ahead,” Kinsoriel said while peering over the horizon.

Ben squinted, seeing the telltale red stone spires poke up from beyond.

“Stop somewhere around here then!” he called upwards.

Used to it by now, Ben shielded his face when they landed. Not as much sand blew around as prior times, but he wasn’t keen on having another coughing fit if he could help it.

After being set back on the ground, the ex-Author noticed Kinsoriel produce a minuscule line of mana, grimacing after a moment.

“This is still too slow,” he muttered while plopping his claw to the ground.

“What’s wrong?”

“Instead of telling you, how about you feel for yourself? Go on, go ahead,” he said with a patronizing wave of the hand, “cast a spell.”

The bird-shaped angel chirped in protest from behind but Ben ignored it. Going with the most simple spell in his arsenal, he quickly brought out “**Light**”.

The moment the luminous ball erupted from his palm, he felt Dewn’s sluggishness. It was less pronounced but still very much there.

“Not enough mana?” Ben guessed, unsure if he was right in his thinking.

“So you can figure things out by yourself, congratulations,” the dragon chided, words oozing with sarcasm.

His face darkened with disapproval at the pettiness from such an old being, Ben crossed his arms. “You don’t have to say it like that, you know. Just tell me straight. Why is this a problem, master?”

Snorting, Kinsoriel shook his head. “I apologize for such wording on my part dear pupil, you are not at fault for this.”

Ben couldn’t help but blink in surprise. Was this his protagonist showing remorse for offending him? He wasn’t all that peeved, yet he had gotten an apology all the same.

The dragon continued. “My grievances lie with this accursed land. Even with more mana available, it will take at least a week for our final preparations like this.” Looking up and down at Benjamin, a thoughtful look stretched across his muzzle. “We will also go over your last lesson.”

Last lesson?! There was no way he had been taught everything. He hadn’t even been told how to do that pocket spell! He didn’t want to keep carrying this junk!

Seemingly aware of his worry, Kinsoriel added on to what he said. “Your last foundational lesson that is.”

“What is it?” Ben asked after breathing a sigh of relief.

“We’ll be creating a brand new spell.”

***

Seeing the look of excitement on his student’s face was enough to bring a chuckle out of the studied dragon. He imagined it to be much like the one he had many a century ago when his father had taught him the basics. Minus the massive differences in their facial structures, obviously.

“I didn’t know that was possible,” the human murmured in an almost unbelieving way.

“Don’t be so naive,” Kinsoriel said playfully, “magic is a never-ending pursuit for this exact reason.”

This was a truth both sweet and bitter for many. He knew that even in his never-ending life, he would never know everything there was to know about his arcane art. It never deterred him, however, because it meant there was always room for him to improve, to experiment. There was no limit to what he could learn, and that appealed to him greatly. 

And now, he could share that unending thirst with another.

“To start, we will take the principles I have taught you and bring them all together. Do you remember them all?”

“Like the back of my hand!” Benjamin exclaimed pridefully, “The first is-”

Before he could continue, that deviant angel flew away from his backpack, squawking loudly. Such a disturbance wasn’t acceptable when a lesson was in session, even from a divine being. Kinsoriel motioned with his head for the little author to take care of the nuisance.

“What’s the matter?”

In her normal voice, Moira responded, “A Dewn Worm is coming! I can’t interfere!”

While left wondering what kind of worm would warrant such a reaction from an angel, the dragon noticed Ben running as fast as he could toward her. A great rumbling and shifting sands told him all he needed to know. Leaping away from where he stood, he was reminded of a week ago as sand exploded outward.

Unlike then, this creature didn’t expose itself for long, retreating once it had failed to catch anything. Though he had only caught a brief look, Kinsoriel had seen enough of the disgusting thing.

It had multiple eyes, all solid black. It was covered in a segmented carapace that glistened with thick mucus. There weren’t limbs of any sort, but it wouldn’t need them; a cavernous mouth filled with angular teeth would do all it needed. Size was on its side as well and it was the dragon’s height without fully emerging.

But with the mind of a beast, it wouldn’t be able to leverage any of its gifts against its better. It could only ever hope to make a meal out of some unfortunate deathbounds.

His eyes grew frantic as it dawned on him. Turning to his side, he saw Ben still running his little heart out. The tremors weren’t going towards the dragon anymore. 

Acting quickly, he sped towards his servant with great gallops. Grabbing with care not to crush the flimsy human, he took to the sky. No sooner had his hind legs left the ground than another violent eruption of sand came about. Much too close for comfort.

“Did it injure you Ben?” he asked while looking over his student.

“No, I think I’m,” the deathbound started before suddenly looking past him. “LOOK OUT!”

Before he could react, something goopy splattered against his back and nicked his wings. It burned in a way that fire couldn’t, making him thrash in a pain he hadn’t felt often. Acid. Whipping back around with clenched teeth, he saw the grotesque thing burrow back into its hole.

“We should just find a new spot. I can heal you!”

That was the most logical idea. There was much less risk in doing that. Kinsoriel would have agreed a moment earlier. He refused.

“I will not be humiliated by this overgorged maggot!” Taking a claw in his free hand, he spun it in a circle while pumping the tip with mana. With his mental image of a magical disk that would never fall or fail, he cast the spell. “**Shelf**!”

A purple circle formed in the shape his claw drew, quickly drawing inward. It wasn’t a perfect circle by any means, but it would do. Placing his student upon the disk, he gave a firm instruction.

“Wait here while I exterminate it.”

“B-but I cou-” Ben tried to protest

“Wait. Here.” He wouldn’t have any of it. This worm needed to perish, and constantly protecting a mortal would only make that harder. 

Moving his attention back to the creature arrogant enough to harm him, he scanned the landscape. The two spots it had come from were already filling back up with sand, though still visible. Focusing even harder, he noticed subdued movement creeping around the mounds.

“There you are,” he whispered to himself.

Eyes trained on the spot, he flew towards it in a near dive. With one mighty breath, he let loose a deluge of flames upon it while pulling back up. A shrill cry came from beneath the now glass-like spot. It burst outward, showering the area with sharp shards. This didn’t reach high enough to reach Kinsoriel or his servant thankfully. 

It looked at him with its many eyes and roared a primal challenge. The black dragon returned it with one of his own, racing back with killing intent. 

It reared back as he approached. Springing forward as he neared, it was able to expand its nightmarish mouth to an even greater size! Pushing his wings to flap harder in the opposite direction, Kinsoriel sidestepped its lunge. It was at the cost of great pain as his back muscles still ached from the acid it had spit. Not one to miss his opportunity, he raked his claws against its side, hoping to deliver a fatal wound. 

He felt its blood splash along his arms. That fireless singe came back with force against the places the blood had touched. Almost instinctively, he thrust his arms into the sands he passed. It seemed to do the trick in ridding him of the caustic fluid. Unfortunately, it left his arms looking reddened with spotty burns. 

That wouldn’t do at all. There was a great disappointment that he wouldn’t be able to end this insolent whelp with his bare claws, but he got over it fast. It would learn its place all the same. 

Turning back, he hovered just above the ground. It was likely already on the move. He needed to have his choice of spell ready by then. It didn’t seem to like his fiery breath, so maybe a Burning Sphere would suffice.

He began to bring about the spell in his mind, shutting out all except the image of the fire he would create. He circulated the mana towards an open hand, overjoyed to see it come out faster than it had last. As it finished forming into a dense ball of flame, he heard the sands to his right disturbed.

“**Burning Sphere**!” he yelled as the worm hurled itself into the air to attack. With as much force as he could muster, he hurled the spell up at the creature.

Perhaps he was used to throwing it to the ground and relying upon the explosion it produced. Maybe having injured arms threw off his aim. Whatever the reason, his heart skipped a beat as the spell barely missed the gigantic worm, arcing away as the tunnel of teeth approached. He grits his own as he prepares to dodge, but he knew it won’t be enough. This was going to hurt…

“**Lightning**!” proclaimed his student from high above. In that split second, a splintering line of energy crashed into the worm. The sound it made upon impact resembled that of thunder. The worm’s body spasmed wildly, causing it to fall away from its target harmlessly.

Intent on finishing this, Kinsoriel brought his hands together and focused intently. By the time he had said “**Flame Arch**”, the worm had begun to regain control. It wouldn’t be receiving any second chances. Stradling the thing, he pressed the line of solid fire against its neck. It wrenched and writhed beneath him, but this was useless. Mindless thrashing would never break his concentration, and its vile blood wouldn’t be of any help as the wound was continuously cauterized. Its cries eventually grew silent, its body going limp once there was nothing left to separate.

The anger left him as he looked over the corpse. It had risen against him thinking it had an easy meal, only to end up as the prey. It couldn’t have known any better, but that didn’t excuse its attack on him. Even if nobody else were to know why it had been slain, an example must always be made. To go against him was to die.

Taking a deep breath purged any lingering battle jitters. He looked up to the magical disk and felt something he never thought he would for a mortal; pride. Through his teachings, he had raised this madman to a level almost acceptable for a dragon. That was *his* student. 

At a much more relaxed pace, he flew up to retrieve him. It was only now that he really began to feel the consequences of his battle. A numbing pain ran along his back, at the edges of his wings, and up his forearms. Nothing to him of course… but he certainly wouldn’t mind having Ben heal him up faster.

“Your help was unneeded, but appreciated,” Kinsoriel complimented as he got closer, “I am pleased at your progress.”

The trembling form of Ben looked over with a weak smile, holding onto his knees as though they would buckle. “T-thanks master, I-I’m glad to h-help.”

It occurred to him that the little author had just used Lightning, a much more mana-hungry spell than he was used to. Given their environment, he wasn’t going to recover it for a while. No problem for him. He wasn’t bothered much waiting to receive healing.

Wait, did he teach him how to use that? He couldn’t remember doing so. Bah, he could always question him later. Right now, he wanted to let his aching wings rest for a bit.

He offered a hand for the mortal to climb on, flying back down to the corpse. While he wasn’t one to be wasteful, that didn’t mean he was willing to eat from something that bled acid. Figuring out how to make the meat edible would be laden with trial and error that he couldn’t be bothered with. Even the brain wouldn’t be worth the effort.

Moments after landing, the cowardly angel still in the form of a bird showed herself. Kinsoriel sneered.

“Finally find your courage? Don’t worry, I protected your ‘Lord’ for you.”

He realized what he had said without thinking too late. Moira hovered in front of his face and spoke in a volume impossible for her body.

“You foolish whelp! Lord Fayten doesn’t need either of our protection. Besides that, I am forbidden from altering the fates of others unless my altering was already fated.” Her eyes glowed as she looked over to the body of the worm and back. “You were always to kill this worm, and it was always to be killed by you.”

He wished he could see if she was lying, but there weren’t any other talking birds he could compare with. All he had was her voice, and that gave off no indication of a lie. As blasphemous as it was to wish an angel had lied, he had to take what she said at face value. That was much worse.

The implications raced through his mind. He never had a choice and neither did the worm. Was everything planned out? Was his land being stolen also a certainty? Were his pare-

“Could we not fight right now!?” Ben whined from the sideline. Having gotten both of their attention, he continued. “We should be relocating. We’re pretty far out, but this might have been close enough for the city to notice.”

There was a good argument in his words, enough to take precedence over interacting with the angel any further. 

“This is true. Get yourselves ready then, let us make ourselves scarce.” 

Thankfully, the angel seemed to be equally willing to drop the conversation, perching herself back on his servant's backpack. Before they could take off once again, a sudden pain erupted from his torso. 

Unintentionally letting his servant drop from his hand from the shock, he looked down at his chest with bulging eyes. An arrow had embedded itself into his flesh, paying no mind to his scales. A splurt of bright purple blood came out before it had sealed up. If it had pushed any deeper, it may have even pierced his heart.

“Blastit, y’almost got’em Chedwick!”

##-> Chapter 25: No More Rails <-

Landing on his rump, Ben wondered what the big deal was. That didn’t last long as he traced a mortified expression to the now violet shaft of an arrow. He paled as he saw the tri-tone green fletching of the arrow.

“Blastit,” came an all too familiar sniveling voice, “y’almost got’em Chedwick!”

There was only one Chedwick who used those colors. Almost apprehensive to see his fears with his own eyes, he turned to the source of the voice. His blood went cold as saw Them. This wasn’t just any party of heroes or adventurers, it was *Them*.

They all stood atop a particularly large dune. At the front was a handsome Elven man with long blond lochs, holding up a bow and already notching another arrow. Chedwick. At his side was a scruffy Ratman with a vibrant red cloak and a pair of daggers around his belt. Oslow. The heavily armored one behind them was their leader and had things gone correctly, Kinsoriel’s love interest. Chedwick’s twin sister, Nela. Most distressing was the last member, who he could only barely make out thanks to his gigantic hat. Where all the others shouldn’t be anywhere here, this was even truer of him. Alister.

“Lord Fayten, something’s wrong…” Moira whispered into his ear with worry.

He couldn’t help but agree. Why in the hell were they here? Why was Alister with them?! Why did they shoot THE BLOODY PROTAGONIST!?

Rushing between them and the injured dragon, he shouted, “Stop, stop it right now! This is a big misunderstanding!”

The only response those above him had was a hearty laugh from Oslow. “Hahahaha, oh that tickled my sides it did. Did you guys hear that?”
Alister stepped out towards the front, whispering something amongst the group. 

An unsettlingly guttural noise came from behind Benjamin. It didn’t take much to know what, or rather, who it had come from.

“How dare you!” Kinsoriel roared, his voice holding the air oppressively.

“Master,” Ben said as appeasingly as he could while looking back, “please don’t kill them. Let me try to talk this out. Please.”

Alister’s aged voice raised to audible levels. “Did you all hear that? He called it Master. It’s true then.”

The already hot air of the desert felt like it had grown even hotter, and for good reason. Kinsoriel was breathing in and out rapidly, to the point that his breath reached Ben. Though in the grips of an anger Ben hadn’t seen in person, the dragon wordlessly motioned his head toward the group. He had to fix this. Now.

“Alright,” he said as he looked back up to the group, “let’s go about this in a nice and peaceful-”

He stopped, squinting. One, two, three… one of them was missing. With a start, he realized too late who it was.

“Hello there” whispered an unseen voice as he felt himself hefted off his feet. “**Blink Step**.”

Everything shimmered around them as they changed location instantly. The motion of it was smooth enough to not make Ben queasy, but still disorienting. They were still in the desert, but he couldn’t tell where. A nearby roar told him it wasn’t that far away.

“You’ll be safe over here mate,” he heard from the voice he now recognized as Oslow. He was laid down face first, feeling his hands being bound by a thick rope.

“Are you a moron? Why, why did you do this? We could have talked this out if you had just list-” Benjamin was cut off by a rag being roughly stuffed into his mouth.

“Geez, that thing really did a number on ya, didn’t it? Don’t worry, we’ll get you nice and unscrambled soon enough mate. For now, we’ve got some business with tall, dark n’ ugly.”

Looking to his left, he saw footsteps briefly appear in the sands, likely returning to the rest of the party. A shimmer revealed the near-invisible form of the Ratman briefly before disappearing once again.

They poured gasoline onto the situation and hadn’t even realized it. After seeing him get spirited away like that, Kinsoriel wasn’t going to be on any sort of speaking terms with them. Everything was going to fall apart beyond repair. 

No. No, that wasn’t going to happen. Not while he was still around to do something about it. 

He struggled around with his bindings as best as he could. His efforts proved to be a waste. Even if he had the raw strength for it, this wouldn’t work. They were tied too well for him to loosen from here, especially with his big backpack in the way. 

His next thought went to using mana to free himself somehow. That hope was dashed very quickly. After casting Lightning, it had left him so drained that he doubted he’d have enough juice for anything useful. Even if that weren’t the case, he couldn’t think of how he could use mana in such a position anyway. 

Where did that leave him? He might try getting back on his feet by moving back and forth. The backpack would leave him like a turtle though. Ugh, why hadn’t he gotten that damn Pocket spell yet?

“Are…are you in need of help m’lord?” Moira chirped with concern. 

Yes! He could still get out of this in time.

“I would like that, yeah. Undo the bindings.”

After giving her permission to do so, she left Ben’s back and shifted into her bipedal form. He could feel her fiddling with the rope at a frenzied pace. For someone nearly as old as the entire world, it didn’t seem like she had much experience in untying knots. She was muttering annoyedly in that ancient language when a burst of light erupted from a distance.

“Uh, is there any way you could hurry this up?“ he said with his nerves starting to get the best of him.

“Sorry m’lord, I’m going as fast as I can!”

As fast as she could was going to cost him so many subplots that it made his head spin. There had to be something else she could do. An immense rumble rocked the ground beneath him.

“Forget about me for now then. Nobody there is to die today. Go, take them away from here, and keep yourself hidden if possible.”

The urgency in his voice must have been easy to pick up. She took off without any other words between them, speeding towards the site. Ben continued to struggle with his bindings, finally making progress with them being loosened a little. He managed to get an arm free a few minutes later when he saw foot claws land in front of him. Pushing himself back upward, he saw the look on her face and instantly knew what she was feeling: shame.

After an uncomfortable silence, he finally managed to get out, “How bad was it?” 

“Three of them are dead, one is missing. I… couldn’t revert it. Every time I attempted to, I was pushed out of the past. My powers have failed me again, failed you again.” Bringing her head low and kneeling, she added, “I will accept my punishment, no matter how dire.” 

He had finished getting himself unbound when she dropped that bomb. His stomach tied itself tighter than he had been prior and his knees felt weak. It couldn’t be, not like this. He had to see this for himself.

Before he did that, he had to set her straight. Kneeling to meet her, he put a hand on her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault Moira. I don’t blame you, and neither should you. You did your best, and that’s all I ever could ask.”

Her head shot up, looking at Ben with watery eyes. “Lord Fayten,” she trailed, choking up.

Not used to consoling others, Ben's hand continued to sit on her shoulder awkwardly for a time. This was all the comfort he could give right now, but she seemed to appreciate it. Taking a deep breath, he walked over to the epicenter of the action. Moira eventually joined him again as a bird on his backpack. 

Once he had climbed the last mound, the massacre lay before him. Kinsoriel had his back to him and seemed to be talking to himself. He was battered and looked to be in bad shape, but he was fine enough to remain standing. Ben turned his attention to those who couldn’t say the same.

Three bodies, all easily discernible. Chedwick was pounded into a crater with his limbs being the only thing that went past its edges. Nela’s skin wasn’t exposed, but the melted form of her full-bodied armor painted a grim image of what lay beneath it. 

Alister’s body was surprisingly intact. Ben couldn’t tell what had happened to him until he had gotten closer. He was missing his gigantic hat, revealing that a knife had been lodged into his forehead, splattering reddish-purple blood around it. It wasn’t just any knife he realized with a start; it was a scalpel.

“Hmm? Oh, here’s my servant now.” Kinsoriel turned to Benjamin, revealing someone who was standing beside the dragon. “Come here Benjamin, I’d like for you to meet this exemplary deathbound.”

The man was wearing light armor, clothed with a white coat like that of a doctor. He had the mask of a surgeon over his mouth and a short dusty blonde haircut. A row of variously sized scalpels, with one spot noticeably vacant, ran along his bracer. A canvas bag presumably filled with medical tools hung over his shoulder. 

He extended a hand. Shaking it more out of obligation than anything, the ex-Author said, “Benjamin. You?”

He knew who he was already, but let him say it for himself. In a smooth as silk voice, he responded, “Carthex, traveling surgeon and mercenary.”

##-> Chapter 26: A Bloody Rewrite <-

-Fifteen minutes earlier-
“Master, please don’t kill them. Let me try to talk this out. Please.”

The dragon could hear one of those damned deathbounds say something from above, but he couldn’t make it out over his rising fury. Fuming was an understatement. Kinsoriel could scarcely keep the anger out of each breath. Not that he wanted to, but self-control was a virtue he prided himself on. In this case, he had enough of it to process what his student had pleaded of him. 

He had no idea why this was being asked. Had he not been asked to slaughter bandits not even a week ago? Pests though they were, they hadn’t done anything to him personally. But what of those ‘heroes’ up there? They attacked him without any warning like cowards and had he not partially rid himself of his curse, they’d have killed him right there. If anything, he was obligated to return the gesture.

With that in consideration, this was still the strange little man he had come to know over this short time. For how deranged he tended to be, he had surprised him time and time again.  Even if he couldn’t immediately see or even understand why he wanted to do this, Benjamin had proven worth taking a chance on before. For that reason and that reason alone, he would stay his wrath for a while longer. Kinsoriel gave his permission with a head motion.
 
With a thankful nod, his student called out, “Alright, let’s go about this in a nice and peaceful-” The sudden stop was immediately of notice. 

Searching around, he realized that one of those who had attacked him was missing. A very faint smell tickled his nostrils too late. A rat. Despite not being able to see it, Kinsoriel realized what they had done as soon as Benjamin was seemingly jerked into the air. Before he could do anything, an enchanted item had been activated. “**Blink Step**” was said before his student was whisked away without a trace.

Normally quick to react, the experienced dragon couldn’t help but stare at the spot where Ben had once stood. These foul mortals dared not only to set their weapons upon him, but to take what was his? In front of him no less?! The pain he had was nearly forgotten as he grappled with their audacity. Feeling his eyes strain as he looked at the soon-to-be dead, he let out a roar loud enough to rend eardrums.

Though they shook slightly at the sound, the three that were visible stood defiant. 

“You shall hide behind your thrall no longer!” The armored one raised its blade in his direction. “Cease your cowardice and fight!”

He scowled. Calling him a coward when coming at him in numbers was a lie even if they believed it. Hollow accusations like that wouldn’t make him attack blindly. He’d been around for far too long to fall for simple trickery like that after all. That didn’t mean he would let them continue any longer, however.

With an archer capable of piercing his scales, he needed further protection. Condensing mana into his wings, he focused on the feeling of the breeze and the sway of the heavy winds. The image of blowing a leaf away with his breath came to mind. “**Gale Cloak**,” he said to himself as his wings were surrounded by protective winds. It was always that much more difficult to cast with his wings, but the subtlety it could provide made it worth learning.

In the time that he had spent casting his spell, the trio had started towards him slowly. They must have realized that he wouldn’t take their bait. 

The one that wore the large hat turned quickly to the archer, who had already let loose an arrow. It flew towards him at a nearly unperceivable speed. Of course, nearly wasn’t good enough. Bringing his left wing in front of him, Kinsoriel’s spell slowed it down enough to bounce off without harm.

The mage as they often called the big hat wearers spoke up. “Listen closely everyone, this dragon can use magic! Remain vigilant. Nela, cover us for a moment while I attempt something. Chedwick, give me those arrows.”

Furrowing his brow, Kinsoriel set his sights on that deathbound in particular. Not only did he seem to be their leader, but he was able to sense that a spell had been cast. A very hard-to-detect spell at that. A spellcaster experienced enough to do that was a genuine danger to him. He must be dealt with first.

He began circling them looking for an opening. The armored one followed his movements and put herself between him and his primary target. They had the disadvantage of being bipedal on uneven terrain like this, yet she never stumbled.

Just behind her, he could see the mage reading from his tome, enchanting their archer’s arrows. The brazen nature to do so in the middle of a battle infuriated the dragon to no end. A Depriving Net would just go to waste with them close enough to get it off of him. He could try and scorch them with his fire breath, but he’d used so much against the worm that he didn’t have much left in him.

Feeling the coarse sand under his claws gave him an idea. Grabbing at the sand beneath him, he flung it at the heroes and rushed towards them. Pouncing high, he prepared to snuff out the arrogant mage with one slice.

“**Shelter**!” shouted the armored one from the cloud of sand. A see-through dome of viridian suddenly appeared between him and his prey. Smashing himself against it, the surface violently pushed him back along with all the sand he had thrown.
 
Huffing and puffing aside, he managed to land on all four feet. All the scales that had touched it tingled with an imposed weakness. Shamefully, he couldn’t deny that they had gotten the better of him with that.

A snarl emerged from his mouth. Who could take pride in fighting like this? He was greater than every single one of them in every way, and yet here they were enchanting at leisure! Had he tried to do something like that, he’d have been relentlessly attacked for it. But they could get away with it because of their numbers? What a farce.

He had to consciously stop himself. This wasn’t the time to lose himself in such thoughts. Spiraling down how unfair it was would only get him hurt, not the other way around. Keeping a sharp focus and making fewer mistakes is how he would even the odds.

This wasn’t the first time he’d seen this spell, though it was the first he'd seen it as an enchantment. From what he could remember, its origins were in mortal camping. It would keep the users safe from animals while siphoning the mana of more violent ones to further bolster it. Dragons had no such need for that since most knew not to disturb their slumber. Wailing on the dome would just further weaken him. It may end up absorbing a spell if he tried to cast one on it. 

The one flaw he could immediately exploit in it was how it diffused air. It would be terrible if campfire smoke couldn’t get out and air couldn’t get in, so those ideas were integrated into it. As a result of that decision, the opposite was true as well.

Holding a hand up above his head, he fluttered his fingers, imitating the form of smoke. That scratchy, tainted air would soon fill that pathetic bubble. It would rip apart their lungs with every breath. With his image fully realized, he brought his hand back down and opened his palm towards the heroes. “**Smog**!”

Thick black fumes billowed from his hand and towards the deathbounds. Just as he had hoped, the wall of the spell did nothing to stop it from invading. Though obscured, he could see their forms start to move about. Either they let the shelter drop or they suffocate right now. Either way, they would perish shortly.

A deep pain bit into his right hind leg. Kinsoriel faltered, stumbling over himself as the act of standing became harder. Smog sputtered once his concentration had been broken. That offensive smell assaulted his nostrils again; the rat had returned. He tried thrashing around where he had been stabbed, but it had already left.

“Phew, looks like I got’ere just in time. What would you fellas do without me?” Once what remained of the smoke dispersed, the mortals still stood in the same place, joined by the now visible ratman. 

Everything continued to grow more and more sour. Kinsoriel’s back leg couldn’t take much pressure and this was on top of the injuries he had already sustained. He couldn’t keep up an image of invulnerability like this. Those savages would swarm him the moment he limped. His only option was to fly, even if his wings were also hurting. At least he would be able to better hide his weakened state.

Pushing the ground away from him with as strong a hop as he could, he started flying. The arrow still lodged in his chest throbbed with every flap, but he swallowed the pain. His anguish right now was temporary; theirs would be permanent. This thought helped him to continue on.

Below him, the mage handed the archer his arrows and took a drink of some blue drink. A mana potion, or in his eyes, yet another tool worthy of scorn. Fine, let them grow reliant on such things. He’d drop them and their shortcuts into a grave with actual skill and mastery.

Since they’re all so keen on keeping their eyes on him, why not give them something to look at? Quickly moving a great amount of mana into a closed hand, he opened it towards them while moving his face away and yelled, “**Flash**!” Light pulsed from his hand for a moment before flooding the world around him and the heroes below.

“Don’t look!” cried the mage. Even not looking directly at it, the sudden light would still leave them stunned for long enough to strike. He swooped down like a hawk, attempting to get the troublesome mage. The mage might not have seen him, but he had heard him. All he got for his troubles was the deathbounds overly large hat as its owner dropped to the ground. Flinging it to the winds in annoyance, he turned back to make a second run when he heard something.

“**Pierce**!” Another arrow made its way towards him. He briefly shielded himself with his wind-enhanced wings reflexively before realizing what had been called out. The enchanted arrow pushed through both his Gale Cloak and wings, penetrating his flank. His wings went limp long enough for him to careen back to the sandy ground below. 

The crash wouldn’t hurt much normally, but landing with three already injured limbs left Kinsoriel lying in agony. Hot blood soaked his scales around the new wound before finally sealing. They would see just how vulnerable he was and finish him off. If he didn’t get up right now, he would be as good as dead. Forcing his limbs to obey, he lifted himself back on his feet. 

The heroes came into view as he got back up. They seemed to be in no rush to kill him, walking at a cautious pace with the armored one still in front. In all his years of slaying groups like these, never had he seen such honorless behavior. He tensed up, awaiting their next move.

Before he or they did anything, someone else appeared above the dune. Another deathbound, sprinting confidently towards the heroes. It produced no sound as it did so somehow, not even disturbing the sands. Was it reinforcement or a traveler of some sort? As this third party grabbed hold of the archer and took a knife to his throat, things got confusing.

“W-what is this?! Unhand me!” shouted the elven archer, his voice strained with the knife.

This sudden intrusion allowed Kinsoriel to move closer, splitting the heroes' attention.

The mage quickly sped through his tome before the hostage taker stopped him. “Close that book or I slit his throat.” With a worried look at the archer, the mage complied.

“Can you not see this beast? It’ll kill us all if you don’t let him go!” cried the female.

“Let’em go! We need him, and so will you, ya daft bastard!” demanded the ratman.

Kinsoriel crept even closer as they tried pleading with the hostage taker. The deathbound, a man it looked like, cast a sidelong at the dragon. After doing so, he lightly laughed.

“What’s so funny?” asked the archer.

“That ‘beast’ as you call it won’t hurt me. Call it a gut feeling.”

The mage’s eyes darted back and forth between Kinsoriel and the man. “And what makes you so sure of that? These things kill for sport!” 

“Because,” the hostage taker replied simply, “I’ve got a gift for it.”

Without any further warning, the archer was thrown down towards Kinsoriel’s direction. It didn’t take long before the elf was driven into the ground by a great fist. Despite his weariness, there was plenty of strength leftover for that. 

At the same time, the man tossed his knife into the forehead of the hapless mage. One smooth motion and the most dangerous of the heroes lay on the ground dead.

“God’s above. Nela, we need to get out of here!”

The armored woman either didn’t hear her last party member or ignored him. She chose instead to charge at the wounded dragon.

“Monster! You monster! I’ll cut you down, do you hear me?! I’ll kill you! **Sever Edge**!” Her longsword began to hum with energy, glowing a deep red along its edges. She swung it around wildly like a club.

Such unfocused attacks were wyrmling’s play to avoid. Kinsoriel backed away enough to give the mystery man some distance. This had the added effect of convincing this knight that she had the advantage. Once far enough, he took a deep breath. Her rage made her realize what was to come far too late.

“**Shelt**-” was all she managed to say before a short-lived shower of flames covered her being. Despite sputtering out of breath one second later, it had still done the trick. The knight rolled back and forth on the ground desperately trying to put herself out. With all the armor she wore, it was already too late. A vengeful part of him wanted to let her writhe in pain like he had, but he cut it short. A bit of applied pressure to her softened helmet and it was over.

A strange feeling seemed to fill the air around him before disappearing as quickly as it arrived. Perhaps it was a side effect from all the blood he had lost? Odd nonetheless.

“Do I have your permission to come closer, mighty dragon?” the voice of the mystery man asked from a distance.

Flattery and respect? Given how he likely saved him from a worse situation as well, how could he say no? Though not sure of his intentions, he bid him to come closer with a nod.

“For what purpose did you come to my aid, deathbound? Your kin spoke no lies of my own. Many of my kind would kill yours for nothing.”

The mystery man shrugged. “I had a contract out for two of them and they were distracted with you. Aside from that, it’s in my profession to save lives.” He shook a bag over his shoulder for emphasis. This brought the dragon’s attention to his garb.

“You’re a surgeon?”

“An aspiring one that is.” With a short bow, he added, “My name is Carthex. To whom do I have the pleasure of addressing?”

A small smile creeping along his muzzle, the dragon said, “Kinsoriel”

##-> Chapter 27: Silver Lining <-

Forcing a smile as he shook the mid-story antagonist’s hand was surprisingly hard. It had to be convincing, enough to not let on how Ben felt about this catastrophe. It couldn’t be too wide or it would be suspicious. It couldn’t be too small or it could be taken as rude. 

Thinking of what he could do or say to get out of it was even more difficult. What kind of conversation could he even have with the man in front of him? *‘Well darn, you weren’t supposed to kill that guy over there Mr. Butcher! Didn’t you know? You’re just the persistent threat till the end of the second act!’*

“Your grip is a bit tight. Is everything alright?”

Taking the chance to let go of the handshake, Ben made an excuse. “Oh, sorry about that. Just stressed is all.” Ben’s eyes wandered back over to Kinsoriel who was busy looking at his side.
 
Carthex traced his sight and hummed to himself. “Worried about your master? You needn’t be. Dragons recover incredibly fast, and all of his injuries are non-fatal.” He paused for a moment as he glanced at the dragon himself. “You’ll want to get those arrows out before it heals over. Actually, I can help with that if you’d like.”

Benjamin readily agreed. Kinsoriel had a moment of pause before also agreeing. 

“Splendid! Let me just get my tools out and we’ll begin.”

While Carthex began rifling through his medical bag, Ben turned to his wounded character. 

“Would you excuse me for a minute? I’d like to check the bodies for, er… supplies.”

Though a brow was raised his protagonist shooed him on. Giving quick thanks, Ben scurried over to the hero's bodies. He would take anything worthwhile that he could, but he was mostly interested in finding out why they were here. Not needing to see the full process of Carthex taking out the arrows was a nice little bonus.

First was Alister. Being the most intact of the bunch, he was his best bet. The body was still warm, a fact that made the process even less enjoyable. This part was mercifully short as he managed to remove the belt and attached bags. They held what would be expected; dry rations, bottles full of some potion-looking substance, gold, gold… more gold? There had to be at least a hundred pieces of gold here alone. Why did he have so much gold?

Setting the loaded sacks to the side, he took hold of the spellbook. It was still held tight in its owner's hand. Some effort in prying it away and he was free to look through the pages. 

A single page slipped out once he opened the thick cover. Bending down to pick it up, his eyes were instantly drawn to the signature written at the bottom. His hands began to shake, not out of fear, but of anger. Alias or otherwise, there was no mistaking his brother’s signature. Lew L’Morts; the conceited ass probably patted himself on the back with that one. 

Reading over the actual content of the request told him just what the intent was. Slay a dragon near Nextrial who had enthralled a man into his servitude. Or in other words, pit the most important characters against one another. Regardless of the outcome, it would be a huge blow against Benjamin’s efforts. And it was.

“Stromwell,” Benjamin drug out for an extended time. His brother had to know how blatant this was; he was being taunted. The thought of ripping the paper to shreds arose in his mind. He refrained, choosing instead to keep it as a reminder. Even if he couldn’t see the immediate effects, there would always be a third party plotting against him.

He needed to act. After stuffing the note roughly into his pack, he flipped through the spellbook some more. It held countless spells that were sure to be useful, but they weren’t what he was looking for. No, he held hope that there was some sort of spell he could use to finally turn his character into a human. This arc needed to happen before his brother interfered even more.

A thump along the ground made Ben look back guiltily. Kinsoriel had smacked his hand down while Carthex worked on removing the arrow. The attention wasn’t on him at all. Yet, the thought of him catching on to what he was plotting demanded he stop. This would have to continue later. With a resigned sigh, he placed the spellbook into his backpack, covering it with the goods he had set aside.

There was little else of note past those finds. Sure he could have stripped the wizard of the fine robes, but he was hung up on the idea. Leaving someone who was once so important to this story stark naked felt disgraceful at best.
 
Searching the rest of the bodies was made quicker due to the bad shape they were left in. Chedwick’s bow and arrows were both as mangled as their owner and Nela… he shuddered. Their wealth was all that could realistically be salvaged, each having nearly as much as Alister. Stromwell must have loaded them up hoping they would get even better equipment. They did do that, but it looked like they were frugal with their purchases. The request they had did list Kinsoriel as a young dragon, so perhaps they underestimated him. Small though it may be, It was a victory over his brother, and he would take it gladly.

Returning to the other two much richer than he was minutes prior, Ben watched the bloody process. Carthex was on the second arrow now, using some sort of clamp to part the flesh around the shaft. A grimace painted the patient’s face all the while. 

Whistling to himself after taking a look inside the wound, the surgeon lightly tugged the arrow. As Kinsoriel physically winced, Carthex remarked, “You’re a lucky one you know. This one only hit your ribs, and the other stopped short of your organs.”

“Bah, if only.” Kinsoriel tapped his claws as he awaited the extraction. “They were out of their depth when they decided to challenge me. It’s a common occurrence.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is. Alright,” he said while grasping the arrow firmly, “I want you to hold still again. This won’t take long.”

It was a great surprise to Benjamin as the dragon followed what he said without saying a word. He wasn’t sure whether to chalk it up to the contract killer’s approach or if Kinsoriel genuinely trusted the man to do this. Somewhere in the middle maybe.

The moment the arrow was successfully wrenched out was the one that a giant fist pounded the ground beside. Ben swore he could see his protagonist fight back tears, but he knew better than to say anything. Forcing the matter would only harm his growth. When the dragon was ready to admit that he felt pain, he could capitalize on it. Until then, this was something for him to sort out himself.

“There we are! Since we have you all sorted out, I could dress the wounds before I take my leave.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Kinsoriel retorted while looking at Benjamin, “my servant will take care of things from here.” 

Shrugging his shoulders with a roll of his eyes, Carthex began packing up his tools. 

“You did a wonderful job,” Kinsoriel paused for a moment before adding on, “for a deathbound of course.”

Chuckling to himself, Carthex responded, “Those are very kind words coming from a dragon. I’m overjoyed to have impressed you so.”

“So what do you want for your services?” Ben asked, suspicious of his intentions.

Carthex shot a smirk his way. “Free of charge. Your master allowed me to bag one of my targets far easier than otherwise, so it’s only right that I return the favor, right?” He didn’t wait for him to respond. “But if either of you are in need of my professions, don’t hesitate to call upon me in the future. Here.”

A business card of some sort found itself held out between his gloved fingers, held towards Kinsoriel. Once he held out a hand to take the puny thing, Carthex continued his pitch. “My rates are fair and I am open to trades. Simply burn that card and we’ll have a meeting to discuss the terms.”

Placing the card in his pocket spell, Kinsoriel agreed. “Consider it done.”

Giving a bow, Carthex took his leave. “Till next we meet!"

Ben took his place by the dragon’s side as they watched him. “If only more mortals were like that one,” Kinsoriel said wistfully.

“You wouldn’t want everyone to be like the Butcher, Master.”

Carthex stood frozen in his tracks for a second with clenched hands. He resumed his way shortly after, stopping by Alister’s corpse to yank the scalpel out his head roughly.


An hour later, Ben found himself on the outskirts of Nextrial. He’d healed Kinsoriel up after chugging some of a mana potion he had looted. This part seemed to annoy the MC for some reason, but he soon got over it. Since the back-to-back battles had taken it out of him and he refused to take a drink from the mana potion, Kinsoriel postponed his lesson. Instead of that, Ben was to go to town and get him some books for the beginning of his new library.

Even though he would have to travel through the sweltering heat, Ben was more than eager. Money to spend, a break from his character, what more could he want? A lot actually, but this would have to do. At least he didn’t have to take a spying object with him this time.

He couldn’t help but mutter to himself along the way. “Stupid bet. Stupid brother. Stupid bloody heat.”

“Is everything alright Lord Fayten?”

Moira’s chirping reminded Ben that he wasn’t alone. 

“It’s fine.” He paused. If there was anyone he could vent to right now, it was her. “Actually, no, it isn’t. I try to fix things, try to make things right, and it just keeps blowing up in my face. Everything is supposed to go a certain way, but outside forces interfere with that. They may be what’s preventing you from using your powers. If I can just get Kinsoriel’s story back on track, I’ll be able to do it for everything else. But that’s proving to be more difficult than I thought it would be.”

“Story my Lord?”

“His fate,” Ben self-corrected.

Moira was quiet in contemplation before speaking up again. “You worry too much my Lord. Nobody else could do what you do. Whatever these outside forces are, I know you’ll overcome them with ease, as a god would. And even if you don’t believe that, you’ll have me at your side.”

Benjamin snickered. “I suppose that is true. Thanks for the words of encouragement, Moira.”

She squawked in a way that sounded almost like embarrassment. “You needn’t be so casual my Lord! And… it’s my pleasure.”

In the time they had talked, he had made it to the walls of Nextrial. They were made of a deep red stone designed to stand out against the samey look of Dewn’s deserts. Some spires in particular rose far above to be visible from far away, beaconing travelers to come in. The town was built around a large oasis and branched out significantly in the nearly two hundred years since it was established.

None of this was particularly useful as with info he had about cities in general. At least he knew that it would have a wide variety of goods since it was a commerce hub. The security at the gates nodded at him as he crossed the gates along with other passers-by. It was a far cry from the suspicious guards from Ferroes and a welcome one at that. Less scrutiny, less hassle.

Making his MC excel at teaching had proven to be a boon in many ways. Being able to read most of the text on signage was one of them, thanks to the many lessons he had been given. He still couldn’t read certain words here and there, but he wasn’t wandering around aimlessly anymore.

Before dropping into any bookstores though, getting some actual equipment would be preferred. He’d been vulnerable for far too long. Magic didn’t stop him from getting tied up a mile away from being able to do anything. He’d be a total idiot if he didn’t think further ‘complications’ would arise. If he was to control the damage, he needed as many options as possible.

One visit to the smithy and armorer later, and he had them. He bought himself chest armor that was small enough to go under other garments and replaced his clothing with ones more suited for defense. They had specially hardened areas around joints like elbows and knees but were still light enough for quick and precise movements. The boots he got had some protection at the toes and shin, but were mostly just for comfort. After asking Moira to leave for a moment, he changed into his new duds and stashed his travel-weary clothes next to his original robe.

Weapon choice took some thought but was still relatively quick. A dagger would allow him an option in situations where he couldn’t use spells and didn’t impede him as larger weapons would. He had its sheathe strapped to his right hip and exited the changing rooms.

The most important part of all this gear was one key feature; each piece was made to hold an individual enchantment. That alone raised the total price from the range of one to three gold pieces to a couple hundred. It made sense why Alister and the others were stingy here, but it had cost them. He wouldn’t make the same mistake.

“Splendid choices Lord Fayten!” Moria exclaimed as she returned. 

The shopkeepers looked around bewildered at the seemingly disembodied voice. Placing a finger up to his lips in a shushing motion, the ex-Author got the message across. Once the bird-dragon-angel nestled herself back onto his pack without another peep, he whispered a quick, “Thanks.”

No longer in as immediate danger, he could get down to sourcing some books. Asking for directions here and there led him to a store specialized in them.

Shopping around was easy since he knew the types that Kinsoriel liked. Speculative fiction, how-to books, mysteries, and humorously enough, fantasy. Finding something he would accept in that last one would prove difficult, however. Nextrial, despite being one of the rare few places that shelved books written by dragons, didn’t carry anything like that. If he were to guess, it was because fantasy written for a dragon wouldn’t be very deathbound friendly in its story. 

Ben couldn’t help but mentally retch. He just used that word without even thinking. All the more reason to hurry up and humanize the dragon. Having that terminology rub off on him could only spell trouble down the line.

He ended up getting the limited edition box set of the Paldin the Disgraced, whatever local travel guides they had, a few dry-sounding alchemy manuals, and a gigantic dictionary to further help him relearn the language. For two gold, it was quite the impressive haul. Checking out and beginning to trudge back the dragon, it became apparent that it was a heavy one as well. He was already feeling his back begin to ache when he reached the gates again. Seeing the hour-minimum trek he would have to make, he could only curse under his breath. *Why do I STILL not know that pocket spell?’* he thought near constantly as he returned from the oasis town.

##->  Chapter 28: Make To Break <-

What was taking that servant of his so long? The sun was already starting to set. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume that there had been another animal attack. But aside from that worm, no other beast would dare touch what was his. They'd smell his scent on him. A mugging was more likely but still not possible in his eyes. The little author was more than capable of protecting himself and had an angel with him as well. So what was it?

“Ah, hah, I’m, I’m back…” a faint but familiar voice called from afar. 

Putting down the book he had been reading in the meantime, Kinsoriel sought out the man. Looking red as a ruby, the little author breathed heavily as he drug his pack behind him. It looked as though he had gotten himself a new outfit, more similar to one of those ‘heroes’.

“I was wondering where you were. You took much longer than I was expecting of you, you know.”

“Bag…heavy,” Benjamin forced out.

Kinsoriel shook his head. “Tsk, I may need to integrate some physical exercise in your lessons if this is what I can expect.” He looked at the disguised angel on the backpack and narrowed his eyes. “Shouldn’t you have helped your ‘lord’ with his burden? Or could you not be bothered?”

She landed harshly on his snout looking red in the face. “I offered immediately, you cur! Lord Fayten insisted that he carry it alone, so that he may ‘remember’ as he said.”

Angel or not, his snout was nobody's perch. With a soft breath, he blew her off. She squawked angrily while he chuckled to himself.  
Returning his gaze to his servant, he saw that the little author had begun opening the pack. He pulled out what he had been sent for, much to the dragon’s delight.

“Excellent. Give them to me so that I may judge their quality.”

One by one, the precious things found their rightful place in Kinsoriel’s waiting hands. He scrutinized what had been picked with a careful eye. Anything about practical alchemy was always welcome on his shelves even if he wasn’t fond of the craft itself. Blase travel guides were fine since he needed to begin his collection again, but nothing impressive. The thick dictionary bound in supple red and white leather would be something he would be proud to consult when needed.

The last book, or box that is, was the greatest of them. The complete adventures of Paldin the Disgraced, by Erylock. Kinsoriel absolutely loved this series growing up. It was about a dragon that lost the gods’ gifts and his journey to regain them. The character is initially the worst of the worst but changes over the course of the story. It was made for wyrmlings to show right and wrong in an easier way. Unfortunately, the box set wasn’t correct in its title. Paldin never got a conclusive ending because Erylock was slain before it could be finished. The way it is now, the story ends with a cliffhanger on whether Paldin goes back to his old ways when a great enemy appears. This glaring error aside, it was the best thing he could have asked for.

“A credit to you my pupil, you’ve an eye for quality reading. I am pleased by your selections.”

Benjamin, who had recovered by now, asked, “In that case, could I make a request of you, teacher?”

“That depends on what you want of me. What is it?” He was in high spirits and willing to reward a task well done, but didn’t want to promise anything he couldn’t uphold. 

“Please, teach me how to use Pocket!” the man pleaded.

Raising his brow ridge, Kinsoriel questioned it. “You can request more, you know. That spell would barely constitute a full lesson in length. Is that really all you would ask for?”

The little author nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes please!”

This took him aback. What a humble student he had in his service!

Snickering to himself, he said. “Then consider your request granted. We will begin after dinner.”

It was strange how the excitement in his servant disappeared once Kinsoriel began cooking up the elven archer. He knew mortals had a hangup eating their own species, so he was extra considerate to not use that mage instead. Still, Benjamin politely refused the meal, insisting he had something else he’d prefer to eat. A facial expression Kinsoriel couldn’t place was stretched across the human’s face. Oh well, more for him then.

***

Rolling his shoulders felt amazing. Ben didn’t have to bear the weight of his pack any longer, and it was about time. His version of Pocket would hold much less since it was based upon the total amount of mana a being could have, but that was hardly worth complaint.

If he were to have an issue with something, it would be Chedwick getting turned into dragon chow. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised after the incident with the Yotee. It was humanoid and could speak, but that hadn’t stopped his MC then. Their Canon proclaimed that dragons should not waste anything, so why wouldn’t he eat something he’d killed? Even still, the sight wasn’t one he was happy to have seen. 

Hopefully, he could scrub this from his memories when he was back in control. Setting up scenes between them would be troublesome if he couldn’t.

The next day came, and with it, what had been promised before the fights.

“Creating spells of your own is harder than learning those of others,” Kinsoriel lectured, “do you know why that is?”

“Because they…” Ben trailed hopelessly, “I don’t know.”

Sighing, the dragon held up three claws. Was this a hint? Oh! “The principles of magic?” 

“There you go. Yes, before one considers this, they must have a sufficient grasp of the three principles.” Still holding up his three claws, he continued. “Third: Magic is a formless answer to solid problems. In creating a spell, it must have a specific use. Too general and it might fizzle out. Too general and your results will still be wild and unpredictable. Must I explain this further, or do you understand?”

Nodding along, Ben said, “I do.”

“Good. It is not rare for budding spellcrafters to think they can do everything at once and end up harming themselves.” He put down a finger. “Second: The mind is a muscle. In creating a spell, your mind must be able to visualize its form in great detail. A weak mind may be able to use what came before, but it will never make something of its own. I doubt this will be a problem for you, but it is important to know nonetheless.”

Ben agreed with that last point. It was the easiest part for him, only held back by his lack of physical experience. That didn’t mean he should forgo this information because of its ease. Knowing the ins and outs was always worthwhile.

With just one finger up, the last principle was explained. “Most important of the principles here is the First: A spell is an identity. In creating a spell, it needs to be distinct, and uniquely itself. Do you remember why we incant the names of spells we cast?”

“To help keep the mental image of our spells?” This was one of the first lessons he had gotten. The ex-Author was certain of his answer.

Rumbling contentedly, Kinsoriel said, “You remember well, though that isn’t the only reason. Without a name, magic will be different each time you cast it. To give a spell a name is to make it replicable.” 

“Wait, so we can use magic without saying anything?” Ben interrupted, more speaking to himself than anything. He hadn’t considered the possibility of this until now. Why hadn’t he been told this?

A dark and serious look found itself on his teacher’s scaly face. “Never use nameless magic outside of inventing new spells. Never. For every spellcrafter alive, there are five who perished by their own hands because of it. Even those foolish enough to challenge me wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“G-got it,” he said alongside a gulp.

Kinsoriel cleared his throat and resumed a lighter tone. “Now, where was I? Oh, yes. Scholars throughout history have yet to find a conclusive answer for why this is. The most widely accepted theory is that a name makes mana cross the line from endless possibilities and spectral to definite and real.”
This was where he had gotten lost. “I’m not sure I understand, Master.”

“That is fine, this part is only a theory anyway. What we will be doing today is coming up with what this new spell will do.”

From there, Kinsoriel wanted them to brainstorm a combat spell together. Being a lesson, it was presented in a way that could be applied to making other spells. Questions like ‘What sort of function does this need to have’ and ‘In what situations would it be used’ were asked. According to his teacher, you can’t start until you know these answers. 

They didn’t stay on that part for long. His MC already knew what he wanted, he just wanted to go step by step. 

“It needs to be swift to cast, effective against fast opponents, and not require much mana. It should be something that could be brought out at a moment's notice.”

These stipulations made him think back to another book of his that had a showdown between two gunslingers. Snaketongue Leroy got a well-deserved hole between the eyes and made for a great finale to the cat-and-mouse game throughout that story. What he wouldn’t give for a gun here.

A lightbulb went off in his head. If he could introduce these concepts naturally through magic, he could use things from other settings!

“I think I may have an idea,” Ben said to the now curious dragon.

##->  Chapter 29: Might Makes Right <-

With a thumb angled backward and a claw pointed at a nearby mound, Kinsoriel practiced the new spell once again. “**Bang**,” he said as an azure projectile sped away from his finger and straight ahead with a shrill sound. It collided with the sands and produced an eruption of the rough particles.

While not among the more potent spells, it would serve its purpose well. The time it took to reach its target was near instant. Unless an opponent knew what was going to happen, it wouldn’t be reactable. Spells like Lightning could do the same but held other issues. The toll on the caster’s mana, the time to channel, and as he had seen against Seigill, some beings were able to sense it anyway. This new spell would prove greater in combat, save for raw power.
 
It was all thanks to his insane pupil. From the very first moment, the little author had known exactly what this spell was to be. While not impossible, the last time he read of a spell with an origin like this had been decades ago, attributing it to divine inspiration. Given what he knew of the man, that further supported his theory that his student had been sent to him from the gods themselves. After all, a beginner finalizing a spell’s name in two days could only be considered a miracle.

“I must say, we have outdone ourselves with this one,” Kinsoriel praised while flexing his fingers.

Bowing, his servant said, “I’m glad you think so, Teacher.” 

There was one thing left to do. “Raise your head, Benjamin.” The man did so while he continued. “You have risen beyond your species in a way I once thought impossible. Though your life is finite and your abilities inferior, I acknowledge you as a fellow spellcaster. From this day henceforth, you shall always be the first graduate of this son of Ortremel’s teachings. **Pocket**.”

As the hole opened up, Kinsoriel plucked out a special item that he had created days before while waiting. “For that reason, I deem it necessary to award you with this.” He opened his hand before his student and awaited the reaction.

Instead of awe or immense thanks, Ben looked confused. He picked up the clump of black scales and held them up, asking, “Did these come from you?”

Rolling his eyes, Kinsoriel clarified this. “You say this as though it weren’t obvious, but yes they did. And now they are yours.”

“I, I’m not sure I understand.”

While he hadn’t expected his servant to get it, it was still irksome to explain. “They will adhere to your body should you press them against your skin and say ‘Graft’. In this small way, you would become more like a dragon.”

Finally understanding the great honor being given to him, Benjamin became wide-eyed. “Oh,” he said simply as he continued to look at the scales.
“I’d recommend putting them over vital areas like your neck or your belly,” Kinsoriel advised off-handedly, “but the choice is yours alone. Decide for yourself what is best.”

Once the man put away his reward, it was time. Holding out his limbs at an equal distance from each other, he drew mana into his palms. He imagined the territory that was rightfully his, from the great trees that sprawled around his tower to the streams that flowed through. Focusing on that desire to go back, he then went on to the method. A circle would form on the ground. Stepping on it and closing their eyes for three seconds or longer would bring anyone to the place he called home.

Finalizing his mental image, two pleasantly warm orbs of energy formed in his hands. They floated away from him and pierced the ground. A translucent disk with a honey-like color expanded outward from the spot. Once its size was sufficient, he fully cast the spell. “**Homeward**,” he said softly as he pulled his arms back. The circle became fully opaque with a short-lived glow.

“Step on this and close your eyes for a few seconds,” he beckoned as he stepped forward, “I have a scheming snake to deal with.”


The contrast between Dewn and Herotiun was drastic. From arid and rough to cool and pliable ground. Suddenly changing from afternoon to early morning was tough on the eyes as well. Had this been his first time, he would have been massively disoriented.

Speaking of, Ben appeared at his side moments later, down on his knees and trembling. “I’m going to be sick, ugh.”

Chortling, Kinsoriel reassured him, “You’ll be fine, just stay still.” 

Once his servant was no longer at risk of vomiting, he tasted the air. Harax was near. Time to announce himself.

Rearing back, he let out as loud a roar as he could. Ben frantically shielded his fleshy ears. “Could you warn me before you do that?!” cried the man.
“My apologies.”

Another roar came back, deep to the point even Kinsoriel could feel his body shake from it. Ben whined even more.

“Who dares tread upon my domain?” came the enraged voice of the orange dragon from above.

Kinsoriel looked up at the now grinning face of Harax. “Oh, so it’s you is it? I assume you’re just dropping by for a visit, right ‘soriel?” He landed with a tremor. “T’would be a shame if a puny thing like you had come looking fer a challenge.” 

It was true that the difference in size between them was still massive. Kinsoriel wasn’t as large or as strong as the orange dragon before him even before all of this. That didn’t change what he had come to do.

“Then let there be shame,” Kinsoriel spat, “I have come for what is mine by right.”

Harax’s thick muzzle quivered for a moment before he gave a half-hearted laugh. “Always the funny one you are. I wouldn’t say pathetic dragons who fall to a few vermin deserve anything. I wonder how the great Ortremell would-” he suddenly stopped talking, sniffing at the air. Looking around the black dragon, Harax smiled wickedly. “A deathbound.”

Kinsoriel placed himself between him and Benjamin. “Do not concern yourself with him. Just like this land, he belongs to me.”

Harax’s amber-hued eyes focused in on Kinsoriel, as though what he had said was a lie. They widened. “Now *that’s* something else! Let me guess, is it the same deathbound you wanted me to kill months ago?”

“W-what?” his student stammered.

After shushing that slip, Kinsoriel turned back to his opponent. “Can you only hear yourself? Do not be concerned with him.” Pointing a claw at him, he emphasized, “I hereby challenge you for this land.”

The follower of Valorian, who up till this point had a generally amused expression, dropped the act all at once. “I’ve humored you long enough, ‘soriel. You come into my territory thinking you are owed a duel? Your challenge is worthless, and If you weren't so pitiable, I’d tear out your tongue for the insult.” He placed an index claw and thumb on his chin. “Actually, never mind that. I’ll accept your challenge on one condition.”

“And just what would that be?” Kinsoriel seethed.

“What’s that deathbound’s name?”

Kinsoriel looked back at Benjamin, who had fallen back. “Don’t, don’t do it, Master,” Benjamin pleaded, “he won’t keep his word. He never does!”

Harax growled at the man while Kinsoriel turned back with a neutral expression. “His name is Benjamin.”

“Benjamin it is then. If you win, I’ll give you back this land.” His face stretched out with a hideous grin. “And when I win, you’ll give me that deathbound.”

Kinsoriel weighed this option before him. Harax wasn’t ignorant when it came to battle; Orange dragons were among the best, with only reds being able to rival their prowess. He didn’t know of Benjamin’s worth, meaning he was willing to put this land up for grabs against something he didn’t really want. In that Canon breaker’s eyes, he couldn’t lose. This was a matter of pride and putting down his rival.

What would happen to his pupil if he lost? He tried to convince himself that those rules of his would keep him safe, but he couldn’t. The words of the brother couldn’t be shaken, and little things here and there confirmed as much, though he hadn’t thought of it since that night. If he lost, the little author… his little author, would surely die.

All he needed to do was win then.

“As long as no harm comes to either, I accept these terms,” Kinsoriel said solemnly.

Nodding along, Harax motioned with his head to follow. “Let us find a more appropriate site for this then.”

“Agreed.” He turned to his student and gave him a command. “Stay here while I am gone.”

He trailed behind the larger dragon and ignored the cries of his servant. In a time like this, he mustn’t show weakness.

“Are you going to just let it whine? I’d have thought you were its master, ‘soriel.”

Shooting a glare back was enough to silence his cries. They would really need to work on his behavior in front of other dragons.


Even though he knew the path they were taking, Kinsoriel’s blood boiled when he saw it poking above the tree line. His once immaculate tower, desecrated by flame and flood. Knowing what he did now, he wasn’t surprised that scorch marks were worse at the top, suggesting they started there. Those deathbounds weren’t the ones who started the fire.

“Do you think yourself funny, Harax? I’ve known of your treachery. Bringing me here only reminds me of this.”

In a brief period, a jolt traveled from the black dragon’s spine to the end of his tail. “I have no idea what you are talking about,” Harax uttered with the slimiest tone Kinsoriel had ever heard, let alone from one of his own. He lied, and he ensured that it was known that he did.

Outrage at this total blasphemy saturated every part of Kinsoriel’s body in an instant. Breathing quickened, pupils constricted to slits, and tail stiffened; before he could think twice, he already had the mana at his fingertips.

“**Bang**!” The blue streak screamed louder than it had during practice, punching into an orange-scaled shoulder. Harax grunted as he clutched at it. He snickered.

“You shouldn’ta done that ‘ssssoriel.”

With a ground-shattering leap, the distance between them dissipated and claws were raised. Kinsoriel avoided the attack by jumping to the side. The sheer weight difference would make any direct contact disastrous for him. He’d have to keep out of the brute’s range to win.

His opponent knew that as well. Harax refused to let up, chasing him movement for movement. Dodge left, and a claw wouldn’t be short behind. Step back, and a hand would try to grab at his throat. Finding opportunities to use spells were few and far between under this relentless assault.

“Is sliding around all you can do? Come on,” Harax goaded between his many slashes, “hit me!”

He planned on it. Finally having enough time to concentrate, he pointed a finger under the orange dragon’s chest. “**Bang**!” The magic blasted into the underbelly with a short-lived shriek, eliciting a massive roar of pain. It was sure to have a lasting impact against those softer scales.

As he tried pulling back his hand, a massive force surrounded his wrist. He looked down and was met with a terrifying sight; he’d been caught. 

“Weak,” was all that was said as Kinsoriel was roughly drawn towards him. 

Thrashing did nothing. Biting did nothing. A quick escape would be impossible. All the while, his wrist was crushed. Harax held a sadistic smirk as the bones broke under his grip.

“Oops, did you need that?”

Before he could think of a retort, Kinsoriel had the thought driven out of his head with a big punch. Then again. And again. A few of his teeth felt like they might fall out and his right eye was watering. He had enough of this. Breathing in, he blasted the fiend in front of him with intense flames. 

Harax, with flames lapping at his body, lifted the smaller dragon from the wrist and spun. A loud pop filled his ear fins followed by sharp and unignorable pain in his shoulder. He was finally released, sent hurtling into his very own tower. 

The stones couldn’t hold against the great force. He burst through the bottom floor’s wall, landing in a puddle of fetid stillwater. With Harax still putting out his flames in the background, he finally had a lull in the battle to think, though that would now be that much harder. 

His strategy of using his magic from afar wasn’t going to cut it. Bang just didn’t have enough stopping power against the meathead. Unfortunately, it was all that he could possibly cast with how persistent his opponent chased him. A broken wrist and a dislocated shoulder made focusing that much more difficult and cost him many of his more powerful spells. And with one of his eyes already starting to swell, his depth perception would degrade heavily. This was a dire set of circumstances.

He took in his surroundings and came up with an idea. The tower was still standing, undoubtedly due to his skillful construction, but taking out any more of the supporting walls would topple it. If he could somehow collapse it over that orange head, he might be able to finish the fight there and then. One well-placed Bang would do the trick, but how would he get out in time?

“Had enough yet?” came a satisfied sounding Harax.

Damnit, he needed more time. This plan would just kill him if he got caught in it with these injuries. He needed to get him talking.

“Why did you do it?” he questioned, also ignoring the offer of surrender.

Harax stopped at the giant hole in the wall and raised a brow ridge. “Come again?”

“You worship Valorian, and yet, you took my land without fighting me for it. You let others fight your battle. You acted without honor. Why?”

The smug look of victory across the orange face died down into a stoic one.

“Do you really want to know?” When he nodded along, Harax entered the tower and knelt close, as though telling a secret. “The gods don’t care for us, so I don’t care for them or their rules anymore.” 

Kinsoriel was shocked beyond measure, even above his throbbing pain and desperate attempts at a solution. Could there truly be dragon who had completely forsaken his faith?

“I don’t understand. How could you say such a thing?” he asked, genuine in his desire to know.

“Because,” Harax started as he paced around the room, “there are no consequences for anyone or anything. Deathbounds constantly break the Canon, and yet, they can go on their merry little ways not in the slightest bit affected. One day I thought to myself, ‘Why is that?’.”

He sat himself on the spiral stairs and seemed to relax. “We’re told from the day we hatch that the gods each demand that we act a certain way for their gifts. When I had accidentally told a lie years ago, I didn’t feel any different. From there, I pushed against their rules further, getting more blatant each time. Wex demanded that we not destroy knowledge in exchange for bountiful mana, but you know what happened when I burned your library?”

Kinsoriel strained to not show his anger at this. “What happened then?”

Harax laughed heartily before taking up a tone eerily absent of emotion. “*Nothing*.”

He could try and dash right now while his guard was down, but that likely wouldn’t be enough in his current state. Harax would be upon him near instantly. Spells made to move quickly couldn’t be channeled fast enough after starting the collapse. Cowardly as it was, perhaps Flash could give him enough time to make that sprint. No, same issue as before. None of the options he could think of were preferable, but he started gathering mana in his good hand regardless.

“I’m glad I finally have someone to tell this to, but it does change our little duel.” Harax lifted himself up and strode towards the lying dragon. “Y’see, I can’t have you going and telling others about our little chat. Wouldn’t be pretty… for them that is. I’ll do a favor for them and you, ‘soriel.” The orange fiend stood over Kinsoriel, brandishing a set of claws high above. “For being such a good listener, I’ll make it quick.”

He had run out of time. There wasn’t any escape, none of his plans had solidified. This horrid disgrace to his kind was going to intentionally kill him in a duel. The gods weren’t going to help him survive, nor would they punish his killer. He knew that. Even yet, he would have the last laugh.

Pointing a finger at the tower’s support, he opened his mouth and said the words as claws descended upon his throat. “**Bang**,” he whispered as his last spell shot away from him.

His breath stalled, the subtle sting of the water at his side subsided, and the claws at his neck lost all momentum. The world had been completely frozen. Five seconds like this passed before it had stopped. When it did, he was no longer in his tower with his would-be murderer, but with the Archangel at a size similar to him.

Without saying anything, she hefted him upon her back and galloped out of the now falling tower. He was placed on the ground outside while the destruction began. Only one word bounced around in his head as he saw it come down, the same from when his father had been slain in front of him: Failure.