"Ok… so it works outside the room too."
Nikolai exhaled, white vapor escaping from his lips. He was still unsure — the magic demanded too much of him, draining and pushing his body to the limit — but that was no time for caution. To his relief, the transformation had been a success.
He could feel Ashen pulsing beneath his skin as he gripped the magical scythe, the bear's instinct running with his blood like liquid fire in his veins. His body vibrated in harmony with the beast's — and, for a moment, man and beast seemed to share the same heart.
"Alright… I think I can hold this for about three minutes,"
he murmured, with a half-smile.
"Alexandra, activate twenty enemies. Maximum difficulty."
The voice of the magical intelligence echoed through the training field with its usual tone:
"Confirmed. Initiating simulation."
Ekaterina had taught him how to manipulate the training terrain, and fortunately, it wasn't much different from the rehearsal room. But out here, the wind hit his face. The ground vibrated under his feet. The cold cut through. Everything felt more real — and much more dangerous.
The goal was simple: to test his limits. To measure how far the power of fusion could take him when the environment wasn't under control.
The ability Nikolai was using — Raz-Kai — was extremely rare, even among the most powerful brown bear tamers. An experienced tamer could only partially metamorphose, gaining claws, strength, and heightened instincts. It was a way of absorbing part of the bear's power, sharing the creature's essence with one's own body — a complex and exclusive magic, but powerful if properly mastered.
Andrei was a specialist in that form. Although it was a trademark of brown bear tamers, it wasn't as common as people imagined. In fact, it had taken years of training before Andrei managed to achieve an intermediate transformation, still retaining human traits reinforced by strength and ferocity.
But what Nikolai did went beyond that. He didn't just transform his own body — he transformed the bear itself. Ashen became a living weapon, while Nikolai channeled its essence, spirit, and power into a tangible form — a brutal fusion of energy, sealed by a pact of blood and soul. The two became one, sharing strength, instinct, and will.
The temperature rose. The field trembled. The blade of the scythe roared as if it breathed, and a white-gray glow began to dance around Nikolai. The aura of the bear and the human merged, one pulsing within the other.
"Let's give them a show, Ashen."
The silhouettes began to form — twenty projected enemies, imposing, surrounding him in a circle. But before the first attack could be launched, Nikolai vanished. He didn't move — he disappeared. One moment he was standing still, the next, the scythe was already slicing through the air behind the enemies.
The crash echoed across the field. The sharp sound of impact shattered the silence from the windows above.
All the rooms that had previously watched with disinterest were now in complete shock at what they saw. Nikolai's magic, although not rare, surprised even the oldest and most attentive residents of Svarog, who still remembered seeing others with similar abilities. Yet, what he was doing at that moment seemed to surpass the limits of what was thought possible — at least, in the way he was doing it.
Everyone who understood what they were seeing knew what it meant. The complete transformation of a bear into a weapon of war was a legendary technique — an evolution of metamorphosis — one that even among the most powerful and ancient, few knew how to perform correctly.
The strangest thing, however, was the type of weapon that had manifested. Brown bears, by nature, manifested as impact weapons — maces, clubs, flails, cudgels, and above all, the legendary war hammer. Among tamers, after decades of examples, it was believed that these were the only possible forms of materialization, and there was a clear reason for that. These weapons reflected the essence of brown bears: brute strength, overwhelming density, and the primal instinct to crush. Each strike was the direct translation of their nature — weight and power, pure and indivisible. It was said that a brown bear never cut; it tore the world until it yielded.
But Nikolai's weapon… clearly did not follow the precedents set before him. It wasn't born to bash, nor to crush — it was born to cut. A colossal blade, silver-bright and alive with soul, curved like a crescent moon. And the most frightening thing was realizing it didn't pulse alone. With every swing, it was as if the bear breathed through it.
The scythe shimmered like molten glass under the sun, nearly two meters of blade forged from pure condensed energy. Its glow wavered between steel and light — now silver, now darkened — as if it didn't fully belong to this world. Each movement left a glowing trail, a flaming scar in the air, as if space itself was being torn and took time to stitch itself back together.
And, for a moment, everyone understood this wasn't the ability they thought they knew…
"Look at the size of that thing…"
someone murmured.
"I've never seen a weapon like that… and a cutting one, no less…"
And for the first time, even the most skeptical understood: what Nikolai was doing wasn't just magic. It was a fusion of two wills — man and beast in a single instinct. A living force that defied the laws of common ability.
Nikolai vanished and reappeared among the enemies like a specter of light. With each reappearance, a cut. With each cut, a mannequin was cleaved in half, melting under the edge of the scythe like hot butter. The sound of impacts echoed across the training field — a symphony of steel, wind, and illusory flesh.
Those watching from the windows couldn't even follow his movements. It was like watching lightning change shape, a silver blur cutting through the mist.
"That weapon…"
someone murmured, breathless.
"It's easily doubling, maybe tripling his power!"
The murmurs grew. What had once been curiosity now became pure astonishment. The eyes fixed on the windows shimmered with reflections from the scythe, tracking the boy who moved like a god of slaughter.
One, two, ten, twenty strikes. It all ended in less than a minute. The last mannequin was pierced before it even realized it had been attacked.
Nikolai stopped, panting, his body still releasing vapor — and for a brief moment, silence took over the field. He looked around. No enemy remained. Even though they were just projections, the mannequins were programmed to have resistance comparable to that of an adult Leshiy — and yet, they had been destroyed like wax dolls.
But victory came with a price. The air was heavy, his breath burned in his lungs.
"I feel like… unlike the simulation, the real environment holds me back a lot,"
he rested the scythe on the ground, panting.
"And… I don't think I've ever been this tired before."
Nikolai tried to understand the difference. In the simulation, time, wind, gravity — everything was calibrated. But out here, the weight was real. The cold was real. The exhaustion, too. He was still thinking about it when a shout pierced the air.
"Nikolai!"
There was no time to react. A searing pain coursed through his body, a magic circle beneath his feet surged excessively — and an explosion of energy threw him to his knees. Ashen returned to his normal form and collapsed beside him, panting, his fur covered in static sparks. The smoke took a while to dissipate. When it did, the boy was on his knees, and the bear, sprawled out. Both exhausted, but alive.
"I… was way too optimistic,"
he laughed, short of breath.
"Three minutes? Not even close. Maybe… two, at most. And even then I'd have passed out."
Nikolai looked up and recognized who was approaching.
"Master… did something happen?"
Ekaterina was sprinting across the test field, her face etched with concern. Hair disheveled, sweat running down her forehead — signs she had rushed down all the tower's levels.
"What do you think you're doing?!"
she shouted, her voice echoing across the snowy plain.
"Can't you see everyone is watching?!"
Nikolai stayed silent. The sound of his own breathing filled his ears, mingled with the dull thrum of blood pulsing. He knew she was right — exposing himself like this was dangerous, maybe even foolish. But still, something burned inside him. A small flame of pride, weak but alive. He lifted his gaze, steady, even if he was swaying.
"I… just wanted to test the skill I learned,"
his voice came out hoarse, tired. His trembling body revealed the strain, but his eyes… his eyes showed no regret.
Ekaterina didn't answer right away. She was in shock. She had rushed down every level of the tower fearing the worst — and yet, the boy was still standing. Tired, yes. Exhausted, certainly. But awake. And alive.
"Honestly…"
she exhaled, wiping sweat from her face.
"I thought I'd find you unconscious or worse. I'm… surprised you managed not only to summon but to keep this magic active for more than a few seconds."
She spoke with a mix of astonishment and awe. She knew exactly what that technique represented: a fusion ritual that demanded everything — body, mind, and soul — from the summoner. Few survived their first attempt; fewer still completed it. Even her husband had never tried anything like it. The magic Nikolai used was different — purer, more dangerous than she had thought possible. Almost taboo.
It was obvious he would try. He was the kind of boy who faced the impossible with the same ease as walking through a door. But even knowing his stubbornness, Ekaterina had never imagined he would actually succeed. And now, everyone had seen it.
The entire training field. The windows surrounding the testing grounds were packed — faces pressed, eyes eager, curious, calculating. Veteran hunters, clan leaders, top-ranked tamers… all watching the boy like starving predators eyeing a rare prize.
Ekaterina knew exactly what it meant. From that moment on, Nikolai was no longer just her talented pupil. Now, he was a prize — a living promise of power, and therefore, a target. Whispers erupted between the tower floors, spreading like fire through dry straw. Offers would come. Alliances, be forged. Betrayals, inevitable. And she, the only one who knew how much that power truly cost, felt her heart sink.
While she still tried to decide what to do — whether to hide him, scold him, or protect him — a new voice broke the silence. Low. Steady. Cold. The kind of voice that didn't need to shout to command the entire plain.
"Very well…"
said the man, his tone heavy with icy interest.
"I thought coming down to Vybor would be a waste of time. But it seems I've found something… interesting."
The voice echoed, and even the wind seemed to go still. Ekaterina turned at once — and her face went pale.
"Vladmir…"
she swallowed hard.
"What… what are you doing here?"
The man walking toward the field was tall, with impeccable posture, and every step carried the weight of a sentence. There was something irritatingly calculated about his elegance. As if even the way the wind touched his coat had been rehearsed. At his side, his group advanced silently — and yet, none of them seemed to truly belong to this world. They were… eccentric.
The first to draw attention was the girl with gray eyes and clothing far too light for the northern cold. Her steps were feline, but her expression was one of someone bored with life. Even surrounded by frost, she walked as if the weather didn't dare touch her.
Behind her came a massive man, his head shaved on the sides, leaving only a wild mane that ran from nape to mid-back. His skin was marked with poorly healed cuts and strange symbols, contrasting with the empty look in his eyes — as if his soul had been ripped out and replaced with something less… human.
There were others. One of them seemed to constantly whisper to himself, like he was arguing with voices only he could hear. Another wore a mask covering half his face, from which hung a thin chain, jingling in the wind — like a warning bell.
The only thing uniting them, amidst the chaos of personalities and appearances, was the red cape draped over their backs. Other than that, nothing about them was normal. Nothing was trustworthy.
Nikolai watched in silence. He didn't know who they were. But the way even the wind seemed to still in their presence… The way Ekaterina furrowed her brow — she, who rarely showed emotion… Something big was about to happen.