A few with a loud voice tried to unite them all against the Direwolf, but no one waited to test their mettle against it. Some ran right, some ran left, while some sought the waters of the lake behind them. Thorin’s group broke right with the horde and cut across dense forest, abandoning the worn trail.
Since there was only one Direwolf, the odds of a clean survival were two in three. Left, or the lake… alas, the Direwolf eyed Thorin’s side. It dashed towards them, threading the woods, its snarls and howls rumbling amid the dense foliage.
“This feels so nostalgic,” Quin quipped as they sprinted away.
“Just like old times,” Thorin said. The Direwolf closed in fast. Their speed couldn’t hold a candle to the four-legged beast, which moved through the terrain as if it were its own backyard. If they didn’t hinder it, no one would survive. All the hunters knew it. They all moved at once.
Thorin shot his wired blades at another group that matched their pace. But the three also ate a barrage of
They glared at each other, rage in their eyes. If they wished to live, they had to trip the other. It wasn’t a battle against the Direwolf anymore. Whoever was last would give up his life to save the others.
Deathbolt!
Thorin launched the spell and targeted the weakest on the other side—the girl who trailed behind. Clay followed and showered them with a handful of pebbles through
, blunting their counter.
But both were only distractions.
The real attack came from Quin.
The other side retaliated with their spells. Windblades, woodvines, and waterballs shot at the three cousins as Quin formed an axe with his spell and hurled the heavy weapon into their path.
Its blade slammed the earth before them. The pit, the weapon, and the spray of soil hampered their speed. The last in their group stumbled and planted her face in the grass with a deathly scream. Because they didn’t abandon her, Thorin and his cousins pulled away despite the incoming attacks. The Direwolf’s attention shifted to the last of the horde.
Before long, after they’d run until their hearts wailed in agony, they heard the Direwolf howl—the signal that the battle had begun.
“Can't…run…anymore.” Thorin heaved and gasped, clutching for breath. His weak heart verged on giving up.
“Just a little more,” Clay said and supported him as they ran.
“I’ll carry you,” Quin said. But Thorin rejected him when he reached out.
“I’ll…continue,” Thorin said, mustering up the strength to sustain his tortured heart. Once and if they made it back to their shack, he would have to sleep for long hours to recover again. Luckily, the Direwolf showed no signs of catching up to them. Either it was enjoying the feast of those Magi, or they struggled and fought it away. Regardless, it was good news for the three brothers.
……
They returned to the street market amid the buzzing chatter about the sudden appearance of the Direwolf. There were talks of reports, there were gossips with glee. Those who survived the direct confrontation with the Direwolf held their words in somber silence. They understood the danger they faced and couldn’t laugh at the fallen. But those unrelated who participated in the rumors took pleasure at the others’ misfortune. Some even bragged about bagging the Direwolf’s head if they met in the wild.
Thorin had no comment for the crowd, nor did his cousins. They dragged themselves back to their shack—a stark contrast to their bright smiles they’d worn after their piranha hunt.
They heaved an exhausted breath during dinner while Byram served their plates. The feast was that of the fish tonight. They ate what they hunted.
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“Do you think they survived?” Quin asked.
“Who knows.” Thorin took a bite of the flaky meat. The melted fat with the spices coated his tongue and sizzled his buds, and the squeeze of lemon delivered the zing. The fish was damn tasty. It did well in distracting him from the blue night. “But we came close to taking their place. So, let’s just be happy that we survived.”
“If we were weaker, we would be that wolf’s dinner right now,” Clay said. “Don’t blame yourself for what we did. Because we’ll have to do this many times again in the future to survive. Maybe even worse.”
“Who’s saying I regret it?” Quin clicked his tongue. “I’m just worried about the unnecessary conflict disturbing us in case they survived. They probably want to eat us alive.”
“Let them come if they want to,” Thorin said. “We’ll win. I just need to buy another set of chained blades, and I can whoop their asses.” He looked at Clay eagerly, his beady eyes sparkling.
“I also want to buy that
“Enough with your demands,” Clay grumbled with a bite of the fish. “We can look for a set of chained blades, but the
“We can start tomorrow,” Quin said. “My spells are ready.”
“What?” Thorin asked in alarm then looked at Clay. “What about you?”
“Mine too,” Clay said. “
“So, wait,” Thorin said, losing his appetite. “Am I the only one trailing behind?”
“You have to master five spells,” Clay said. “Of course you’ll trail behind us.”
“Then don’t do it now,” Thorin said. “Wait for me to finish.”
“No point in waiting,” Quin said, smirking at him. “The sooner we get our classes the better.”
“We’ll finish the rite tomorrow after selling our gains,” Clay said.
Thorin harrumphed with a soured nose. “I hope you two fail,” he said and buried his face into the fish.
……
They visited the guild when Thorin woke up from his recovery sleep and submitted the corpses for inspection. Because they faced the threat of Direwolf during the task, all the Magi who went on the mission came together to push the guild for compensation. But the guild shot them down. It even slashed what they were owed for the task with the excuse that too many Magi had participated in it.
Thorin’s group exited the guild hall with a grey mood. Their excitement of earning from their hard work chilled down. With heavy steps, they went around the market and sold their game. The restaurant took the flesh and blood; the artifact shop accepted the bones; and the Fae-Cores went to the potion shop.
What they earned today remained in their pockets though. Thorin tried to steer them towards the white-stone plaza with impure motives, but the two remained focused.
When they returned to the shack, Quin and Clay got busy with the preparation for the rites. Regardless of how Thorin distracted them, they shooed him away. In the end, he gave up and sulked in a corner. Since he couldn’t interfere with their rites, he thought about his spell instead that was about to level up.
The stage of scholar pulled itself apart from the previous three levels in all fields. Its prowess and efficiency equaled the combined growth of the neophyte, the pathfinder, and the adept levels. As such, the difficulty of the breakthrough to the scholar level also matched its strides. Regardless of how Thorin banged his head against the floor and rigorously practiced the spell, it wouldn’t reach the scholar level on its own. Even with the assistance of hunts and battles. Thus, he followed the words of the book and attempted to step over the hurdle.
The mana from his vessel surged out on his call as he meditated on the grass. He traced the spell model of
His labored breaths had warmed his chest by now, and his sweat drenched his hair. Each weave of the cocoon demanded the best from him. His sharp focus absorbed him into his soul space, and the world outside hushed down.
Time passed. Finally, when the spell model inside reached a symbiotic balance with the several layers of cocoon, Thorin dropped it inside his vessel. The active spell dimmed into an idle state, and the cocoon of mana maintained its life. Whenever it lost some threads to restore the spell model inside, the mana from Thorin’s vessel rushed in to reinforce it.
The spell seed of
[Spell mastery level-up.]
[Icetouch -: Scholar Level 1/5]
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