Kalon Bloodborn's POV

The sky stretched out in a winter’s gray, sunlight filtering through thick clouds that blanketed the horizon. The snow-covered landscape spread as far as the eye could see. Today marked our departure from Stygia, the beginning of our “Path to Mastery.” With Damon, Jared, and Clovis by my side, we’d journey through Enoria, learning from other races and seeking forgotten magic.

Cian stood before me, a satisfied look in his eyes. Last night, he had prepared a feast in our honor, a farewell filled with laughter and blessing. The elders had gathered around, each offering words of wisdom, but Elder Larry's presence was especially comforting. An ancient lamian with a youthful spirit, Larry’s excitement for my adventure was palpable. Over the years, he’d become one of my closest mentors, and I’d grown deeply fond of him.

“Kalon, remember what we talked about,” Cian began, his tone gentle yet firm. “Tread carefully with the deviant arts. The—”

I interrupted, grinning. “The world isn’t ready for it. I know. Don’t worry about me.” He chuckled, clasping my shoulder and passing me a pouch brimming with potions and elixirs. Not so long ago, the Patriarch had kept his distance, buried in his studies, his interest in my progress only piqued once he learned of my mastery over magic. But when I began to wield spirit energy, our bond grew stronger—a mentor and protégé, evolving into something closer to father and son. This newfound power, what I’d named “deviant arts,” seemed to ignite a spark in him too, and he began spending more time with Damon and me.

Stowing the box in my storage pouch, I turned toward my mount. Aszra had grown immensely over the years, a formidable creature now stretching three hundred feet in length, his serrated, ebon armor glinting in the faint sunlight. A mane of prickly hair crowned his head, adding to his imposing presence. Among all our beasts, he was undoubtedly the largest—Damon’s Kaa, though impressive, only came close.

Jared’s beast, though not as long as Aszra, held a class of its own. Its armored scales encased it completely, and from the cracks in its rough, scaly hide glowed a dim red hue that I realized was magma simmering just beneath the surface. The giant lizard stood fiercely, its fiery essence radiating a heat that contrasted with the cold winter air.

Clovis, who hadn’t yet acquired a beast of his own, mounted Jared’s drake, and together we set off, watching as the citadel shrank behind us and Stygia faded into the distance. Soon, trees and hills dominated the horizon, and the snowy woodlands stretched ahead, brimming with the lurking shapes of magical beasts. Many of them prowled, hungry and on the hunt. Our mounts projected an aura that warned these creatures off—enough to keep opportunistic predators at bay, yet not so intense as to draw the attention of the ancient, more powerful beasts.

The ancient road we traveled made the journey smoother, a remnant of times before the Oracle’s rule, when teleportation gates had yet to connect the realms.

“Ever wonder what Tarvile is like? I’ve heard they have enormous chambers with crops the size of boulders,” Jared mused aloud, a hint of awe in his voice.

“It’s home to giants; it’s a given,” Clovis chimed in, affirming what I could only consider an exaggeration. Those two had an unbreakable bond, forming one half of our group’s close-knit friendships.

“Just because they’re giants doesn’t mean everything has to be tremendous in size,” Damon replied, his tone skeptical. But Jared brushed off Damon’s comment as quickly as it was made, and the three of them launched into a lively debate, with Jared defending his fascination with Tarvile’s supposed enormity.

Night had fallen, replacing the brilliant sun with a star-speckled sky. After covering a substantial distance, I decided it was time to rest, setting up camp and lighting a fire to rejuvenate ourselves. Standing apart from the others, I finished dishing out a well-roasted meat, accompanied by greens we’d gathered along the way. Proteus diligently assisted, keeping a wary eye on the drake, who growled softly in anticipation, refusing to stray far from Jared's side. Unlike Aszra and Kaa, who had ventured off to hunt when freed, Jared’s drake remained loyal, perhaps a bit too gentle for someone as reckless as Jared.

Once everything was ready, I joined the others by the bonfire. As we settled in, a thought nagged at me—the scale of what we aimed to achieve and the challenges it presented. Revolution was a grand undertaking, and having allies I could rely on was invaluable. This wasn’t something I could shoulder alone.

“We need to start gaining potential supporters. We’ve already discussed using my deviant arts to earn merit by healing the sick, but we’ll need a solid strategy. Finding the right people to trust will be key,” I said, watching them absorb the idea. The collective effort gave me satisfaction—everyone’s attention and commitment to this goal was clear.

Damon, as usual, was the first to respond. “From our last discussions, I’ve identified some likely allies across the races. Those who might sympathize with our cause.” He paused, then added, “I’ll start with the giant race.”

Jared let out a low whistle, nodding, while Clovis took a slow sip from his bottle, his eyes glinting with interest. I leaned in, listening carefully as Damon continued.

“First, Olivia Rital—a councilwoman of the Nine Races and an elder among the giants. She’s no warrior, but she has openly opposed the Oracle’s decree of keeping wraiths confined within the Great Ruins. Her audacity to challenge that judgment has left her scorned by many,” Damon said.

“And Lord Erlanger,” he went on, “formerly a sage of Gladen, who lost his family in the mana-shift. Not a council member, but he’s made his distaste for them known—rejecting any of their gifts and harboring an unhidden resentment.”

These names were intriguing, each a potential ally with grievances against the established order. It was reassuring to know there were others who had already been pushing back in their own ways.

As Damon continued listing names, something didn’t sit right with me. These people were victims of the mana-shift—while their grievances made them potential allies, it wasn’t exactly the alignment I had hoped for. It would have been reassuring to see support from those seeking change out of conviction rather than personal loss.

“Well, I’ll be damned. I haven’t even heard of some of these people,” Jared muttered, glancing around. Clovis looked equally unsure. Damon’s eyes landed on me, expectant, waiting for my reaction.

“Where did you get this information?” I asked, intrigued by the thoroughness of his research.

“I consulted the elders back home. No better source than them, wouldn’t you say?”

I nodded. “True. We’re fortunate to have anyone on our side this early. We shouldn’t overlook that.”

Handing my empty bowl to Proteus, I stretched, a subtle ache settling in from the journey. “I could use a bit of exercise. Clovis, up for a duel?”

Jared nearly choked on his drink, while Damon gave me a wary look, his eyes flicking to Clovis, who sat quietly, his gaze lingering on the curved sword strapped to his side. Clovis finally looked up, a hint of a smirk playing on his face.

“To request a duel so suddenly…you must really miss having Ariadne around.” With an amused glint in his eye, he rose, drawing his sword in a swift motion.

In an instant, he dashed forward, covering the distance with remarkable ease, his sword swinging in one fluid arc aimed toward my side. His precision was as impressive as ever—silent, sharp, and relentless.

Summoning a blood spawn, reshaping it into a sonic bat. It launched forward with swift ferocity, intercepting his curved blade and clamping it tightly between serrated jaws. A sickening crunch echoed through the clearing as the blade snapped in two.

Caught off guard, Clovis withdrew, assessing the damage and glaring at me. “So, you really want to test my strength? Fine, but don’t expect me to hold back.”

The others exchanged stunned glances, their jaws slack in disbelief. With my growing mastery of deviant magic, I’d been able to craft blood puppets with a higher level of sophistication than before. Even Clovis seemed momentarily taken aback as he scrutinized the remnants of his sword. For a fleeting moment, I caught a dark glint in his eyes—a murderous intent directed at me.

In an instant, Clovis lunged forward with deadly speed, his fist piercing straight through the skull of my blood puppet, reducing its protective layers to shreds. He halted just inches from my face, the force of his strike echoing through the clearing.

I leaped backward, conjuring two more blood puppets at my side, their forms shifting protectively around me. Such power, I thought, stunned. His force rivaled that of a giant, and his speed was nearly supernatural. The Phantom’s unique command over darkness allowed him to bend light itself, making him a formidable melee combatant. No wonder no one dared to invade their homeland—it was impossible to predict their moves within close range.

His magic, steeped in darkness, made him formidable—quick, silent, deadly. His power was rooted in the phantoms' ability to distort light and cloak themselves in darkness, making their attacks near impossible to anticipate at close range. It dawned on me that Clovis had honed his technique to maximize his strength over a short distance, a limitation that also explained his preference for melee combat.

Clovis’s magic was limited by distance; the farther he strayed, the less effective it became. This limitation was likely why the Phantoms preferred melee combat. I couldn’t afford to underestimate his strength, but if I maintained just enough distance, I could turn this duel in my favor.

He lunged again, faster than I expected, and my puppets surged forward to intercept. But as he closed in, I realized his precision and experience outweighed even my puppets' agility. A glint in his eye revealed his focus, each step calculated. He was probing my defenses, reading my next move.

I couldn’t rely solely on defense. I needed a strategy that utilized both our strengths—and our limitations. I concentrated, willing my blood puppets to shift into smaller, faster forms. If I could keep him at a distance long enough, the advantage would be mine.

I released the flesh of demons from my storage pouch. It transmogrifying with my blood puppets into stronger more horrific form. A gemstone serving as their mana heart. This was a technique I had practice after gaining mastery over spirit energy. My demon puppets.

Clovis was relentless. His movements held an intensity that left little room for hesitation. As he circled me, his eyes were locked onto every twitch, every shift in my stance. Sensing an opportunity to assess my capabilities, he seemed to be sizing up the demon puppets I'd summoned, observing each with meticulous care. This was my chance—not just to experiment, but to fully test the resilience of the flesh-imbued constructs I'd fashioned with demon remnants and gemstones.

The first demon puppet lunged forward, its gemstone heart glowing faintly with spirit energy. Clovis reacted swiftly, his fist aimed directly at the gem’s position. But I was prepared; with a twist of energy, I altered the gemstone's location within the puppet just before impact. His strike met flesh, but the puppet's midsection buckled, only to reform instantly, tendrils of regenerated tissue knitting together. In the moments it took Clovis to wrestle his hand free, the puppet's maw snapped at his face, relentless and unyielding.

Without warning, Clovis conjured an intense flash of light, blinding me. I squinted against the searing brightness, barely catching the moment when my puppets disintegrated, leaving a haze of dissipated energy. By the time my vision cleared, Clovis was upon me, closing the distance with lethal precision.

I summoned the last two demon puppets, their forms fortified with an added surge of spirit energy. Clovis didn’t hesitate; he evaded their attacks with a sharp tuck and twist, then unleashed a spinning kick that connected with the snout of one puppet. Though the blow lacked his earlier force, it was still enough to bruise its hardened flesh.

I steadied myself, knowing I had to anticipate Clovis’s next move before he overwhelmed me entirely.

Clovis’s movements were as swift as they were calculated. He swept low, taking down one of the puppets effortlessly. Just as the final puppet descended, he pivoted, folding his arm inward before delivering a bone-crushing strike, inches from his target. The follow-up elbow shattered the puppet’s form, leaving it a disarray of mangled flesh and mana. As he straightened up, his breaths came heavy, dropping to one knee to recover.

“I think that’s enough,” he said, with a smirk. “We have a long journey tomorrow.”

“Agreed. We can pick up where we left off another time,” I replied, equally satisfied.

The test had proven valuable—the demon-infused puppets, though needing refinement, withstood Clovis’s light-bending magic and didn’t drain my mana supply excessively. With their potential confirmed, I found the results encouraging.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, I retired for the night, already planning my next experiment.