Blue couldn’t describe what he felt, why he was so bound to the human, and why he had subconsciously assumed the name he had been given—or the gender, even.

  There were a few times where he had unfurled his wings, considering taking flight and escaping to wherever the wind took him, but just as quickly would he settle back down, unsure why.

  It wasn’t the meat, hardly. He saw no reason why he couldn’t get them himself. And that was the only thing the human offered him, then he would be worked to the bones, when all he wanted was to sleep.

  The more reasonable deduction would be that a part of himself saw his connection with the human as a form of appreciation for the human having saved his life.

  Blue had been born in the dungeon, opening his eyes for the first time to find out that he was locked within an ice crystal tasked with siphoning every ounce of mana he possessed to power the dungeon. He had known at once, having been born with intelligence, that when all his mana was gone, he would die.

  So he was indeed grateful to the human.

  But if the human had really saved him, then why had he not been set free, but instead was turned into a pet?

  He wanted to ask—he really wanted to—but the differences in their races made it difficult for them to communicate. Or perhaps it was he who had that deficiency as the human had communicated with the Drachens quite easily.

  That was something to consider. But as of this moment, he had to focus on the task he had undertaken for the human. Regardless of his misgivings about his whole connection with the human, they were currently bonded as of this moment, and he wouldn’t do anything to hurt him. Not someone who had saved his life.

  Blue soared with a boom that rattled the sandy plains into motion. To the humans and the Drachens, it had taken them about a quarter of a day to walk, but he didn’t have the same problems. It only took him a few minutes to return to the only landscape of fertility in the first floor of the Tower, and a few seconds to sneak into the camp of his human’s enemies.

  Lackadaisical, was the only word Blue could use to describe the Drachens in the camp. They all lounged about, chatting, dancing, and engaging in any and everything that bordered on carelessness.

  But he was grateful for that. It made his mission a lot easier. They had left their weapons unguarded.

  Blue purred in ecstasy as his eyes found the Drachen’s rack of spears. He was enjoying this.

  Subtly, he flew past the cluster of Drachens, resisting the urge to have fun with a bit of mischief. He would have loved to glimpse their expressions when they struggled to figure out why their fire had suddenly frozen. But that would be pointless in the grand scheme of things, and, perhaps, ruin everything.

  He could poke fun at his human later on as payment.

  Blue flew towards the spear rack, the long line of them, drew in a sharp breath, and let out a stream of flaky air. White flakes settled on spearheads, and, for a moment, they ignited briefly.

  Fire.

  Blue recalled the first Drachen they had met, Krieger, producing a burst of flames from his spear, so he wasn’t particularly surprised.

  And, besides, the fire was a lot weaker than his ice. They ended up surrendering to his prowess, and his flakes settled into the spears, freezing them on an atomic level, and weakening their structure.

  Used the way they were at the moment, they would shatter in an instant.

  A loud groan sounded behind him, and Blue decided that his work was done. He swerved in the air and zoomed off. Not without blowing a cool breeze onto the Drachen that had been approaching, though.

  A little bit of fun didn’t hurt.

  The first signs of dawn appeared in between the darkness in the sky and the slowly fading blue moon. Every person in the village of Blatt woke up tense—well, those that had slept—and movements began a lot earlier than it usually did. Krieger and the rest of Merlin’s teammates strode to the southern part of the village, and coordinated the elderly Drachens, children, and sickly out of the village. They would be led by one of the other warriors to the southern cave, and there they would lie low and wait until the war had been won.

  Merlin and Zauberer the dragonpriest, on the other hand, made their way to the outskirts of the village where the battle was to begin. Behind them was a long line of warriors, thirty of the fifty strong their army possessed, and amongst them was Jung, the Drachen who had housed Merlin for the duration of his stay at the village.

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  The atmosphere was tense, and if one looked from afar, they would think Merlin and Zauberer were leading a line of criminals to the guillotine.

  Perhaps they were. Or, perhaps this was worse.

  With a guillotine, those sentenced to die by it knew they had no fighting chance, and would have accepted their fate a long time ago. Merlin and Zauberer, however, had given the warriors hope. Hope that they could and would win the war. And they had further solidified that hope by coming up with an intense plan that masked the scent of defeat with the sweet fragrance of victory.

  If they ended up losing the war, then this was worse than being led to a guillotine.

  Zauberer stopped, and everyone froze. He glanced around the scenery to the marked spots bearing thin, withered branches stuck in the sand and exhaled deeply. Then he turned around.

  [Great warriors of Blatt], he began, clearing his throat. [I am no leader, merely a priest who has done nothing noteworthy, won no wars, and merely inherited the power of enchantment from those who came before me. But my accolades, or lack of, have no say in the war that is to come. What does, is what we do from now, going forward].

  Merlin retreated behind the priest, making himself as unnoticeable as possible.

  What Zauberer intended was as obvious as the sun itself. The warriors were scared. All of them were young. They had seen no wars, as they hadn’t grown up in the age of one. Krieger was the only one who was left who had the experience.

  But like Zauberer had said. Their lack of accolades had no say in the war that was to come. Their actions did.

  [You are frightened], Zauberer continued. [We all are. The field of war is no playground. It is where blood is shed, lives are lost, and sorrow rises to the air like the smoke of a burning field of wheat. And…we fight our own brothers. Not mad Otherworlders, like our forefathers have, but Drachens born from the same flesh and blood of Xéros as us.]

  He paused.

  [But that is no excuse.] His voice rose in pitch. [They struck us first. Killed our brothers when we moved for peace, and turned their bones into a sacred necklace. They have defiled us, taunted us, called us animals. For Drachens who have shown they lack the empathy Xéros bestowed us with, have no fear. Why should you? Why should any of us fear them?]

  The green warriors glanced at each other. Their fingers tightened around their spears as their slumped shoulders rose like a man from his grave.

  [Show no mercy when they march towards us! Strike them down! Plunge your spears through their scales and show them the might of those they think weak!] He glanced over the faces of the warriors. [Age matters not in battle. Preparation and skill do. And we are the warriors of Blatt. We are prepared, and we are skilled. Monsters stand no chance.]

  Silence fell over the warriors, their gazes hardened and glinting with fury.

  Jung stepped forward. He thumped the base of his spear three times on the ground and a fist three times on his chest. A second of silence, and he repeated it.

  Another warrior joined in. And another. And then they all thumped rhythmically, announcing their presence to the dawn of day.

  Zauberer turned to Merlin who had been watching in silence and nodded.

  They were ready.

  The warriors shuffled at Zauberer’s command, taking their places before the marked spots. At the signal, flames burst out of their spearheads and they carved a circle where they stood in sync. The ground caved in, and they all fell into the holes they had dug.

  Zauberer raised his hands to the sky, his black robes billowing as his mouth parted into a chant.

  [Oh, Xéros. The source of all things living in the Tower. Look upon your sacred priest in mercy. I call for your essence with the tongue of life you have given me. May my words at this moment bear your power, and may my will become your will.]

  Grains of sand shot up from the ground at a blistering pace, swirling around Zauberer. It was as though gravity no longer had any effect on them.

  Merlin raised a hand forward in Zauberer’s direction, just like they had practiced.

  Activate Perk: Special Editor…

  [Perk: Special Editor Activated]

  [Spell identified…]

  [Analyzing spell…]

  [Analysis complete]

  [Spell: Barrier Enchantment.

  Category: Novice, Tier II

  Spell Wielder: Zuberer, the dragonpriest.

  Spell flaw: Haphazard control of mana. Spell is unstable and incoherent.]

  [Edit spell?]

  Yes…

  [Response confirmed…]

  [Mana pool is large enough to achieve desired results.]

  [Editing spell…]

  [Editing complete.]

  [Spell, Barrier Enchantment, Novice Tier II → Advanced, Tier I]

  The grains of sand fell back to the ground, and the mildly savage wind swirling around Zauberer softened to a calm breeze.

  His eyes opened softly and he glanced Merlin’s way. He was still amazed by the fact that such a thing was possible, despite the fact that they had trained together a few times already. But the dragonpriest chalked it down to him being a Blessed, so Merlin didn’t bother trying to explain anything to the Drachen.

  His concern was with the professors watching him. Maybe the headmaster as well. But he would cross that bridge when it came to it.

  Zauberer pried his gaze from Merlin and focused on what was most important.

  With a breath, the invisible energy gathered around his body shot out in the direction of the holes spread out in an arc around the battlefield, and a wall of translucent energy more vibrant than that which Merlin had seen on his way to the village emerged over the holes.

  Although, as quickly as they appeared, so did they disappear.

  With the barriers set, the warriors buried themselves in the sand, leaving an unnoticeable gap to sustain their breathing.

  Merlin deactivated Special Editor and stretched. It was time for his own preparations.