B2 Chapter 144: A Really Bad Day

Ianmus was having a really bad day. He knew he should have turned back when the system had updated, or at least headed to one of the semi-maintained roads that connected Mystral with the rest of the continent.

In his defence, the idea of seeing all of the variant evolutions when animals were shifted to beasts sounded fascinating, and he hadn’t quite expected things to go this badly.

Which they had, hence his slapdash sprint for survival.

A raucous cacophony of squawks and chirps sounded from behind him. Ianmus grit his teeth, fighting against the burn in his lungs as he forced his legs to move, to hurl him forwards with every shred of energy he had.

He’d thought a jaunt through the wild would be exploratory! The kind of thing that a true adventure was made of. Why, he might even have had some glimmer of insight into these strange new Aspects that the system had woven into existence above his soul.

In his defence, as soon as he had realised just how quickly he was getting out of his depth with the rapid leveling of beasts, he had adjusted his course, trying to cut towards Deadacre. A piddly, hodunk, backwater of a city it might have been, but it had walls. Which sounded really, really fucking good right now.

**Ding! Magister’s Dash has reached level 33!**.

The ding of his movement skill levelling brought him a little relief, allowing him to squeeze just that much more speed out. Every good Magi had one, but he was proud of managing to be offered a lauded Unusual purely due to his own practice and efforts. Most of his non-legacy skills were like that.

Too bad it wasn’t helping.

Another quick look over his shoulder showed that his pursuers had gained on him, thick taloned limbs dashing lightly over the grass.

Of course he ran into a bloody flock of terror birds right as he decided to head to safety.

He’d only managed to Identify two of them, but both of them were level nineteen. That had been when the fear set in, that crippling cold fluid that washed down his spine, sapping his strength.

He stood no chance, not as a level twenty magi with no front line. All of the combat casting practice in the world wouldn’t help in that scenario.

He started to channel, weaving his mana and pushing it into his Sunbeam skill. He stumbled, losing track of his footing as he focused on keeping his mana stable and steady. Gasping at the lurch, Iamus just barely managed to keep his stride.

It still let the birds gain on him.

The sunstone that capped his staff shone with brilliance as his skill clicked into place, fully charged and ready. Turning mid sprint, he aimed his staff at the front runner, firing off a lance of pale yellow light.

Without checking the result, he looked to the front and kept sprinting. The bird squealed in pain and rage, but there was no sign of a deathknell. No kill notification.

Dread and regret clawed at him. He’d been such an idiot. Valedictorian of the Sunspire, as a scholarship student no less, and he’d still failed to heed the system’s warnings.

He knew, knew, that he only had a handful or so more shots of Sunbeam left. Against one, maybe two, terror birds? Possible. Not against a flock though. He was doomed. Doomed to a fate of being run down and eaten alive. What a fucking travesty.

A roar echoed through the valley. One filled to the brim with bloodlust and a loudly announced promise of violent death. It chilled Ianmus to his bones, raising the hair on his neck in the way that only a superior threat could.

Gasping involuntarily, he forced himself to keep running. Hoping, praying, that whatever fell fortune had found him this time had decided that the terror birds would be more entertaining company.

Behind him, he heard a flurry of skidding steps as his pursuers squawked in outrage, wheeling around to advance on a new greater threat.

Ianmus suppressed his sigh of relief. Whatever the reason, whatever it was, he couldn’t waste the opportunity. He wouldn’t stop running until he was safe in deadacre, sat in front of a fire with a glass of rich red in one hand, and a good book in the other.

Then he heard the war cry.

It resonated with a deep bass, like the voice of a general leading an army into battle. It promised death, and thrummed with a glee that was impossible to miss.

It was a person’s voice.

Ianmus’s gait faltered, his head snapping over to the source of the sound in shock. He slowed, then stopped.

He stood there, jaw slack, as he watched an absolutely magnificent beast, garbed in leather and some kind of green stone armour, tearing down the hill side. A man was astride its back, draped in gleaming steel scales, with a longsword held victoriously aloft.

The terror birds had fully rounded on his saviours, tearing across the open ground to meet them at the base of the hill.

Struggling to process what he was watching, Ianmus saw the armoured beast beneath the man let out another bellow and accelerate. Heading straight for them. It wasn’t slowing. Whatever it was, it intended to trample the flock. Thick crystalline claws dug into the earth, powerful muscles engaging to keep the pair on target.

Wait. Those claws. That body plan. Could it possibly be? No, he had to be mistaken. Ianmus rejected the notion utterly, there was no way that one of them would be seen outside the Arboreal Sea, let alone armoured and carrying a man. Obscured as it was by armour, and charging at a full clip, it was hard for him to be sure of anything.

Then a bolt of lightning snapped into existence, grasped firmly in the rider’s hand. Ianmus stared at the raging torrent in disbelief. He had to be dreaming, that was it. Or the birds had already caught him and were tearing into his entrails as blood loss made him delusional.

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Because that man hadn’t channeled. Which was impossible. Spells needed to be channeled. Some might be quick, but they all needed to be channeled. No one could just summon lightning bolts instantly. What the fuck!

Uncaring of his disbelief, the rider hurled the bolt, cracking it like a bullwhip towards the leaders of the flock. The spell raged with such intensity it was blinding, both to his mana sense and to his eyes. Ropes of writhing plasma coiled around the leader as it shrieked in agony. Boiling blood spurted from its mouth and eyes, as more arcs cracked from the main bolt to bind two more terror birds.

They succumbed just as quickly, collapsing to the ground, dead.

Iamus gulped. Maybe…maybe it was a high level delver? It would explain the speed of his casting.

The stone armoured beast crushed the flock beneath his bulk, shattering bone and severing flesh as the mount lashed out with claws the length of shortswords. Then the rider leapt, lashing out with another bolt of lightning to smite more terror birds, even as he pirouetted through the air to land daintily on his feet.

The scale armoured rider dashed in, eviscerating another member of the flock with a masterful stroke of their blade, diving into the thick of the melee with a grace that belied mastery.

A magi cum blademaster, he really had seen everything.

Then the rider turned towards him. “Run you fool!” he screamed, before pivoting around a desperate hammer peck to fly back into battle.