The wind screamed past Kael's ears, but it didn't feel cold. To his Viking soul, it felt like the spray of the North Sea. Below, the city of Oakhaven looked like a child's toy box, flickering with the torches of a thousand panicked soldiers.
"Varg, down," Kael commanded.
The golden-black wings dissolved into a fine mist, and Kael plummeted toward the dark canopy of the Mist-Woods. Just before impact, the Shifter surged to his feet, forming thick, shock-absorbing springs of grey matter. He landed in a silent crouch, the forest floor barely groaning under his weight.
A few minutes later, a heavy crashing through the brush announced Silas. The adventurer was wheezing, his face a mask of disbelief and terror. He stopped, leaning against an ancient oak, his sword still drawn.
"You... you crazy, miniature bastard," Silas panted. "You didn't just win the tournament. You declared war on the entire Southern Province! There will be five hundred Bounty Hunters on our tail by sunrise!"
"Let them come," Kael said, his eyes glowing with a faint, predatory violet light. "A wolf doesn't worry about the number of sheep in the field."
"The 'Hidden King,' Kael..." Silas stepped closer, his voice dropping. "If what the Count said is true, we aren't just running from a lord. We're running from the man who rewrote the laws of this world ten years ago. Nobody knows his face. They only know his seal. The Three-Pointed Crown."
Kael looked at his hand. Varg rippled, mimicking the texture of the rough bark of the tree.
"I know his face," Kael whispered. "I've seen it in my nightmares and my memories. He didn't just cross over, Silas. He brought the rot of my old world with him. He's building an empire on betrayal, just like he did before."
"So what now?" Silas asked, sheathing his sword. "We can't go back to your parents. If the King's scouts find them..."
Kael's jaw tightened. The thought of Elin and Thomas—the soft, kind farmers—being hurt because of his war sent a spike of genuine Kael-born protective fury through his Viking heart.
"We go to the Gray Peaks," Kael decided. "The borderlands where the beast-tides are strongest. I need to train Varg. He's evolved, but he's like a new blade—unbalanced. I need him to mimic things this world has forgotten."
"The Peaks are suicide," Silas groaned. "That's where the Behemoths live. Creatures that eat Mid-Tier Stalkers for breakfast."
"Perfect," Kael said, a jagged smile crossing his handsome face. "Then that's where the best templates are."
For the next three days, they lived like ghosts. Silas showed Kael how to mask their mana-scent using pungent mud and specific herbs, while Kael showed Silas how to move through the woods without snapping a single twig—the "Ghost-Walk" of the raiding parties.
On the fourth night, they reached the base of the Gray Peaks. The mountains rose like jagged teeth against the moon.
"Varg," Kael called out.
The Shifter slid off his shoulder and grew into the size of a large hound.
"Since the Yggdrasil drop, you've been hungry," Kael observed. "You can't just mimic what I remember anymore. You need to consume the essence of this world's monsters to stabilize your new form."
Suddenly, a low, guttural vibration shook the ground. From behind a massive boulder, a Stone-Crag Golem emerged. It was a lumbering beast of granite and moss, standing twelve feet tall, its eyes glowing with yellow earth-mana. It was a High-Tier guardian of the pass.
"Back off, Kael!" Silas yelled, reaching for a flash-bomb. "That thing's skin is literal mountain! Your needles won't pierce it!"
"Who said anything about needles?"
Kael stepped forward. He didn't summon the axe. Instead, he reached out his hand. Varg didn't form a weapon—it began to Liquefy. The Shifter turned into a stream of pitch-black oil, rushing across the ground and climbing up the Golem's legs.
"Varg... Mimicry: The Root-Rot," Kael commanded.
The black Shifter-matter didn't attack the stone; it flowed into the cracks between the rocks. It mimicked the freezing water that splits mountains. Within seconds, the Golem began to shiver. The black liquid expanded, exerting tons of pressure from the inside.
C-C-CRACK.
The Golem exploded into a shower of gravel.
In the center of the debris lay a glowing yellow Earth-Core. Varg didn't wait. It surged over the core, consuming it in a flash of gold light.
Kael felt the surge of power through their bond. His skin began to take on a faint, stony shimmer. His physical defense was leveling up.
"One down," Kael said, looking up at the thousands of caves lining the mountain. "There are a lot of templates in these mountains. By the time I leave this place, Silas... I won't just be a boy with a beast."
He looked toward the north, where the Capital lay far beyond the horizon.
"I'll be a god's worst nightmare."