"Reyn, Milton's a Bluvords Academy graduate. Like you, adept of a rare magic school—Mage of All Souls, while you're Combat Mage. You'll have plenty to discuss," Pollock introduced smilingly.
Milton modestly replied:
"I'll be thirty soon, still second-level mage. Mediocre talents—can't compare to Reyn."
"Still stronger than me. Truth is, I know no spells," Reyn chuckled, telling the truth.
They laughed, unbelieving.
"Sometimes truth is hardest to believe," Reyn thought, suspecting Milton.
Third-level but claimed second. Mentioning rank, soul color shifted sharply, emotions turbulent—he lied, hid much. No hostility, but unnatural nerves. Others calm; why him? Unless... real secrets.
Reyn, hiding suspicion, asked curiously:
"Milton, Bluvords Academy's far from our Longsand. How'd you end up here in Demon Extermination Squad?"
Bluvords Academy, in namesake major city—eastern province Ister's capital—was arguably the Empire's, world's, most famed supernatural arts school. Ancient history from era's dawn, predating Empire. Current rector—not Holy Soul Mage but high-rank legendary, universally respected; pupils famed worldwide. Said he was next after Holy Souls, could reach anytime.
Graduates stayed in Ister, went north to Empire capital Nosriel, or south to thriving Modu. Rare in Longsand.
Milton gazed tenderly at nearby Alberna. She blushed, smiled cutely back.
Reyn guessed instantly—another clichéd love story.
Pollock answered for him:
"After graduating, Milton planned Imperial travels for experience. Last year, passing Longsand, met Alberna—captivated by our beauty, stayed," Pollock laughed.
Milton smiled, hugged Alberna.
"Hey, enough PDA—get a room!"
"Yeah, can't watch..." Squadmates teased good-naturedly.
Reyn joined the fun, but doubts deepened.
They looked deeply attached. Alberna's soul color showed strong love for Milton; his only light-green—liking, borderline infatuation, not deep. He didn't love her as shown.
"Hides strength, fakes feelings... What's this Mage of All Souls's goal?" Reyn pondered. Too little info; note and stay wary.
They chatted, laughed over food; Reyn bonded quickly.
Hargrove, initially biased, after cups insisted on arm-wrestling. Reyn let him win sometimes; they traded victories, surprising and delighting Hargrove. He called Reyn "brother," kindred spirit.
Welcome dinner perfect.
Reyn, subtly using Soul Eye, gauged new comrades' characters.
Captain Pollock—true good guy, prior meetings confirmed. Hargrove—typical Berserker, straightforward brute. Frida, Holy Swordsman, Justice God believer—old-fashioned: cautious speech, spirited fighter. Uphold faith and law, she's pleasant. Shadow Warrior Ilay—cheerful, sociable jokester youth. But secretly in love with Alberna: mood darkened at her/Milton PDA. Hid well; Soul Eye revealed. Alberna—typical smitten woman: shy, all attention on Milton, quiet.
Milton remained most enigmatic—schemer, insincere. Outwardly balanced, witty; knowledgeable, opinionated, eloquent—mage archetype.
Compared, Reyn paled—except looks/strength, Milton outshone.
Dinner lasted late. Parting, Reyn insisted paying, citing recent reward. Small sum, under one gold shield—but won more favor.
Next morning, post-meditation, Reyn went to Demon Extermination Squad base. Evening prior, arranged with Pollock for griffon riding lesson today.
In big stable by training ground, a man waited. Gray-haired, wrinkled forehead, over fifty. Leather armor, big bucket fresh meat in hand.
"You're Reyn?" the old man asked.
"Yes, Master Martin," Reyn replied respectfully. From Pollock: Martin raised/trained all squad griffons; everyone learned from him.
Soul Eye on Martin: Superhuman Ranger, second-level. Soul state poor, worse than new convert. Superhumans aged, powers waned, souls weakened. But Martin's spirit good, better than normal elders. Blood Soul Curse hit normals post-50 hard physically/morally; 60s mostly unproductive, rarely to 70.
Martin eyed Reyn. Gaze clear, unclouded.
"Come with me," he nodded.
Reyn followed him into the spacious stable.
Immediately, a roar rang out, unlike the growl of ordinary beasts. Hearing it, Reyn felt an inexplicable fear stirring in his soul, as if the sound itself had the power to suppress the will.
He looked toward the source of the sound. The stable was divided into separate stalls stretching in a long row. Each one, several dozen square meters in area, was quite spacious.
The stalls housed enormous exotic beasts.
Reyn had seen their images in academy textbooks and in the "Book of Thousand Souls"—these were griffons.
They were a cross between an eagle and a lion: the upper body—head and wings of an eagle, the lower—body and claws of a lion. The main body reached nearly three meters in length, and if you counted the lion's tail, more than four. The hindquarters of the griffons were covered in bulging muscles, while the front was covered in brown feathers. They looked majestic and menacing, radiating an aura of danger.
There were twelve griffons in the stable. Some rested on the floor, others paced their stalls, seemingly quite excited.
Four workers were grooming the griffons. These beasts weighed over a thousand pounds sterling and appeared as true giants in human eyes. The workers, with their ears stuffed with cotton to avoid being deafened by the griffons' roars, carefully tended to every feather and every strand of fur, as if caring for the most prized steeds.
Reyn examined the griffons with the Eye of the Soul and discovered that all of them were initial-rank magical beasts. Their souls contained only one element, called "Psychic Scream"—it was what gave their roars their intimidating effect and served as their hunting weapon.
Reyn felt a slight thrill: in two lifetimes, he had never ridden a horse, let alone a griffon.
Martin entered one of the stalls. The griffon inside, upon seeing him, immediately lowered its head and began rubbing against him.
"Come on in too, don't be afraid."
Martin stroked the griffon. Pleasure reflected in the beast's eyes, and soon it purred, becoming as docile as a house cat.
Reyn wasn't particularly afraid of griffons. Initial-rank magical beasts posed no serious threat to him; even if a griffon bit him, the wound wouldn't be fatal.
He approached closer. At Martin's signal, Reyn placed his hand on the griffon. The beast reacted immediately: it turned its head toward Reyn, wariness flashing in its eyes. The massive eagle head sniffed Reyn, but under Martin's soothing strokes, the griffon gradually relaxed.
"Feed it some horsemeat."
Martin explained,
"I deliberately underfed this griffon this morning so you could bond with it."
Reyn knew griffons loved horsemeat. He lifted the bucket on the ground and used tongs to pull out a large piece of fresh meat, holding it up to the griffon's beak. The beast hesitated for a moment but ultimately couldn't resist the temptation and greedily swallowed the meat.
"Keep feeding it," Martin ordered.
Reyn obeyed. The griffon had an excellent appetite: a whole bucket of horsemeat, weighing over thirty pounds sterling, vanished into its maw in just a few minutes. Yet the beast still looked hungry and gazed at Reyn hopefully.
"That's enough, can't overfeed it. Keep stroking."
Martin knew the temperament of griffons well. He took a set of leather straps from the wall, resembling a safety harness, and helped Reyn put them on. At the ends of the safety straps were metal carbines that could be clipped to the griffon's saddle to prevent falling from a height.
"Newbies always clip in. Once you're used to it, you won't need this precaution."
Martin helped Reyn climb onto the griffon's back, tightened the straps, and began explaining how to control the beast in flight. Since flying in the sky was smoother than a horse galloping on the ground, the art of griffon riding turned out to be even simpler than horseback riding.
These griffons were long trained and responded to commands given by kicks to the sides. For example, a left-foot kick meant turn left, right foot—right, and squeezing both legs—dive down. If you established close enough contact with the griffon, it could be controlled with voice commands too.
Reyn practiced on the ground several times and quickly mastered the commands, establishing good rapport with the griffon.
With Martin's help, Reyn led the griffon out of the stable, took a deep breath to calm himself, and patted the beast on the back.
The griffon immediately bolted forward, gaining speed, spread its mighty wings, gave a powerful flap, and soared into the sky.