CHAPTER 107: PRAYER MAGIC

The moment Misty touched the dirt, the demon took full advantage of its opportunity and moved its freed body easily. It turned on the orc which had caught its paw, and climbed higher upon him, opening its toothy maw wide over the blacksmith’s head before biting down decisively.

Rust’s eyes went wide in realization, and he finally lost that urge to find a bathroom as his heart stopped, soiling himself as his mentor met a brutal end. The fox could only whimper, his jaw hanging open, his ears falling flat upon his head, and his pupils fully dilating in shock from the crunching, hollow sound of a living skull being shattered by such bite force.

A violent tremble overtook his limbs, and the cub felt his knees buckle, collapsing onto the earth below. The fox was shaking mercilessly in fear but was unable to make himself move even the slightest bit from his soiled place in that desert landscape. He was certain, he was going to die in the spot he had just fallen as surely as Tan had.

Sir Corper pulled roughly on the tails, turning to draw against them as the creature fought to be freed. Milky jolted forward, leaping atop the monster’s back and pounding his fists into the creature’s head mercilessly, beating the monster back to the ground with the constant barrage against its skull.

Rust heard the younger orc shout through his delirium and fire another arrow into the side of the beast. The orc had a single black mark on his chest. This was his first battle, too, but even after losing his allies, he was still fighting. That thought shot a bit of clarity to the cub as he drew back to the battle at hand.

Milky had stopped beating on the monster and had wrapped himself tightly around its throat, leaning the creature on its side as it held firmly around it. Rust’s pulse quickened as he realized they wouldn’t be able to hold it for long. The demon would free itself soon, and they would all die...

Rust felt his despair creep back into his heart and found himself clutching at the hilt of his dagger. When his fingers wrapped around it, the fox forced himself to watch as he drew the crimson steel from the scabbard and took a stand. Even in the darkness of the night, the fox could make out the three markings left behind by the blacksmith.

`Bravery. Determination. Heart.’ His thoughts clung to his mentor’s words, repeating them to himself as he was tasked. He was strong enough to do what was needed. He touched the symbols in a final bit of confirmation and rushed forward with a steady hand on his drawn blade, his features taking on an entirely new side of the fox.

Rust could feel it, something inside of himself wanted out. Something was pushing up from his anger, tipping him over the edge from his loss. A single word flashed through his mind, and the cub spoke it without hesitation, fueled by something instinctual. Young Rosten Aschefell laid claim to his birthright that day. Rust activated the bloodskill inherited from his birth father for the first time in his life.

"Mark." The fox blinked, and suddenly, he was inches away from the demon, as if he had jumped through space itself.

He could see something dark pulsing in the monster’s throat, something nobody without that bloodskill could see, demanding his attention and beckoning his actions.

The fox tightened his grip as he drove his blade forward decisively in his revenge, the sharpened steel sinking effortlessly into the beating heart of the demon.

The monster wailed loudly, writhing in an effort to free itself. It rolled sharply, managing to run a single, shredding paw across Milky’s chest before the dagger sank a bit deeper and pierced through the last of the heart.

The demon snarled a ferocious growl as its body hardened and began cracking into brittle pieces. The monster decayed away rapidly, the bear holding the tails, allowing himself to fall backward in exhaustion.

Sir Corper was sure of one thing after helping dispatch the second demon of the day. He really was getting too old for this shit. He heard a heavy sniffle come from the fox who had just teleported before his eyes and sat up a bit to check on the cub. The bear’s mood soured even more at the sight.

Rust was leaning over milky, letting giant tears flow from his eyes. The canine was bleeding badly, with three deep gashes running over his chest and stomach. Their white fur was quickly turning a deep red as the blood spilled from the wound. Whatever fighting spirit had overtaken the mountain of fluff was gone, returning the simple beast back to a dying body just as the demon fell.

Milky looked up at the fox and smiled as it whined weakly. The fluffy beast raised a hand and pointed towards the lute lying on the ground a short distance away. Rust followed the motion and stood on shaky knees to go retrieve it for them. He quickly returned and kneeled over the gentle creature once more, laying the beloved instrument by their fingertips.

Milky closed his eyes and began lightly shifting his fingers, strumming weakly at the strings, making for a more somber performance than usual. Rust felt his heart break. He looked to the collapsed Madame Mist, uncertain of her condition.

He looked to his mentor and friend, the orc Tan, laying slain in the streets. He dropped his gaze back to the fading beast beneath him, listening helplessly as the song ever slowed. Rust squeezed his eyes shut tightly in anguish and remorse.

After everything, this couldn’t be how it ended. He refused. Such loss could not be allowed. Something sparked at his trembling fingertips, jolting the fox ever so slightly. It inexplicably felt like hope.

As his bloodskill had surfaced from a need to survive, another gift emerged from a desire to change such harrowing circumstance. Both graces signaling his undoubted progression towards becoming an adult.

The fox was growing up, he was maturing at an alarming speed, and his dormant talents were blossoming at a pace that paralleled such exponential growth. Rust did what felt natural, letting his instincts rule over his chaotic mind once more.

He extended a hand to the silky white fur of the canine and focused his determination on a single effort. He felt that tingle at his fingertips again and pushed that sensation outwards, sending bursts of magic surging into the simple canine.

Sir Corper watched on in shock as the fox awakened his second hidden talent that day. Milky’s wounds began closing rapidly as a greenish glow and warmth overtook them both. There was no doubt about it. The fox could use prayer magic.

There was finally a healer revealed among their ranks, and it seemed Milky had been spared by the gods themselves.

___

Aster was in serious pain as the tiger darted through the battlefield. His head felt like it had a crack opening wider with each jarring step, and his ankle felt like it was going to catch fire from the feverish burning.

Even so, the boy kept his forehead against the tiger’s shoulder, clutching tightly around his thick neck as they made their way to the prince. Aster could feel Oust’s strong heartbeat as he ran much faster than the human ever could.

He felt Oust’s powerful fingers wrapping securely around his thighs and noted the presence of the tips of the retracted claws poking at him. The tiger hit a jarring low point in the ground briefly, knocking Aster’s left hand down weakly to graze over the beast’s muscular chest. Aster shuddered out a ragged breath into the tiger’s ear as he readjusted his grip quickly.

Through his aching, hazy head, Aster found himself caught in the surreal nature of the moment. Here he was, being carried by the very beast who had despised him since their first clash in the Selection.

The same tiger who’d called him "Runt" with such venom, who had wanted nothing more than to see him fail and disappear. Yet now Oust’s grip was protective, almost gentle despite his urgency. The way the tiger’s powerful form moved beneath him, the careful positioning to avoid jarring his injuries too much, it all felt like a sick joke. Yet it was real... to Aster, at least.

When had everything changed between them? Was all this the fruit of their resent clash? Aster couldn’t really believe that, but no other reason sufficed at that moment. So, somewhere along the way, the tiger had begun to see him as... what? An equal? An ally worth saving?

Oust never slowed his run, but his heart was hammering for reasons he couldn’t entirely name. The human was hurt, vulnerable, trusting him completely in this moment.

It was such a stark contrast to their early encounters, when all he had wanted was to prove the boy didn’t belong among them. Now, feeling Aster’s weight against his back, hearing those pained but trusting breaths in his ear, something had fundamentally shifted.

The beast found himself gripping the boy more securely, more protectively than he’d ever imagined he would.

He wasn’t the hideous, spoiled pelt his father had made him believe he was, not when someone like Aster could trust him like this. The human had a way of making him feel... different. Better than he’d thought possible. His thoughts focused on getting them both to safety as the prince’s formation came into his sights.

Captain Rix was shouting the moment he caught sight of the tiger.

"IT’S ABOUT TIME!"

Stahl turned briefly to lay eyes on her mate and almost let herself get distracted by the poor sight. The she-wolf quickly turned back to fend off a fiend, her mind racing over what she had seen.

’That’s a lot of blood to lose in the...’

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