Day 368, 5:35 AM

“If I have seen further it is by standing on the shoulders of Giants.”

― Isaac Newton

I gasp in the middle of getting dressed, stumble, and massage my head. It’s been a while since I’ve died and felt this phantom pain. It passes almost instantly, since nothing’s wrong with my body, but the memory of something that didn’t happen makes my hand move on its own, scratching at the side of my head, as if scratching my temple will help with getting stabbed in the brain.

What now? My options are to run back myself and arrive exhausted, talk Vatten into coming back with me, but we might arrive too late, or I could gamble with the plan and see what happens.

I decided to give myself time to consider my options once I returned to the past, but now that I’m facing them, I must say my options still suck balls, and procrastination didn’t get me anywhere; imagine that.

Gamble. Vatten can probably conquer Karengord without my help, especially if I ease his worries about what is happening at Eaglegord. It’s not like our army can help with the siege, soldiers can only drop dead when faced with an enemy army after two weeks of forced march. And even then, we might be too late.

I don’t like it. I have no idea how my gamble will turn out; there’s a slight chance I’m killing myself while Redo is red, and I don’t want to find out what happens then. Do I get deported back to hell? Do I start another life? Maybe my stats go down permanently?

Too many unknowns, too many risks, too much to lose. Yet, I have no choice unless I’m willing to gamble on Manny’s and Victory’s lives.

I get dressed and march, brooding the whole day, making plans and discarding them. While soldiers prepare the evening camp, I sit down on a rock and write two letters for Vatten instead of eating.

In the first one I explain I intend to depart tonight in the flashiest way I can imagine, and beg him to send Ralek’s cavalry to Eaglegord as backup, if he thinks he can spare them. He will engage in siege, and while agile light cavalry is a great battlefield asset, they aren’t best known for climbing ladders and breaching gates with improvised battering rams.

Lastly, I explain that he should open the second letter only once the army reaches Karengord. In that letter, I explain what I’m doing, why I’m doing it, and what the enemy will tell him in the letter that got them all killed in my previous life.

I fold the parchments with excessive force and rip one at the side. I take a deep breath to relax, but gnash my teeth instead.

I am insane. He won’t believe any of this, even after the facts slap him in the face.

Still, I leave the letters for him, the second one could have been a part of the first. It’s not like the parchment lacked space. Still, I separated the information. While I dislike the old bastard, there’s no need for him to cook on my crazy ramblings for two weeks.

It’s almost time. The sun is setting; I hand Batsy and the messages to Mark, one of my bodyguards. “Gather the boys in my tent. When lord Vatten arrives, tell him to wait for me, and when he tries to leave the tent, give him these letters and tell him to read them before exiting.”

Mark is confused for a moment, but there’s not a trace of doubt as he salutes and nods. It’s good to have men who trust you blindly.

I salute back and turn around to leave when I remember one more thing.

“Right. Have someone tell a cavalry merc called Dell or Don from the Gallant Riders to be careful, otherwise a buck might break his jaw tonight.”

Mark’s confusion intensifies, but I leave and hear him calling my unit over to my tent.

Good men! I don’t know why, but I feel proud of them and of myself for earning their trust.

The shadows are growing darker, and I use the cover to enter the herd of tied horses. They are calm around me, and I crouch, leaving the mercs’ field of vision.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

This is insane. I think, heading in the general direction from my memory. I look up at a tree, and it should be the right one. A few moments later, I’m waiting in its crown. The sky grows darker, and soon it becomes the faintly familiar deep purple color. Tense seconds trickle by. Doubt tears at my soul. I might die.

Suddenly, I hear the rush of wind. A dark-brown blur with a yellow patch flashes before my eyes like a bolt of lightning, followed by cracks and snaps. A moment later, a cacophony of screams, neighs, and squeals explodes into existence.

I didn’t know horses could squeal. I think as I focus on the leonine winged body. The body and wings are the dark color of ebony, the head and the massive beak a dull yellow, splattered with blood.

I have just enough time for one random thought and to take in the sight before I jump.

The griffon fails to notice me in time. It’s too busy tearing the horses into steaks and choosing its dinner when I slam onto its back. I expected it would shriek or roar, or something, but the beast merely grunts, before flapping its wings and taking to the air.

The sudden jerk nearly knocks me over, but my legs move on their own, and my knees press into the beast’s flanks. I grab for the feathers at the back of the griffon’s neck, but my hands move on their own and grab it where its ears should be.

I hate skills— The massive eagle head tries to turn, the deadly, bloody broadax of a beak opening to bite, but my hands clench harder, and I forget about complaining about skills taking control of my body. In fact, I feel like kissing Initial Rider. Without it, the griffon would have shredded me, or I wouldn’t have made this crazy plan in the first place.

Wind smashes against my face, screaming in my ears, while my ass goes up and down as the airborne monster struggles to shake me off. I have zero control over my body. My fingers dig into the griffon’s skull and the beast plummets, then I dig my heels into its belly and it rises. The damn bird-cat twists in the air, and my lunch almost leaves me.

As the world spins around me, I see men staring at me with shock and terror, and Vatten standing in front of my tent, his mouth agape, eyes open wide.

“I told you to stay inside!” I shout, then my wild mount dives towards the tents. Men and horses scream as I pull on its head feathers so hard I thought I’d pluck them. The beast rises before shooting away from the blurry camp like a comet.

Dizzy, my guts churning, I hang onto the griffon for my dear life. The beast tries to kick me off, but all my movements are controlled by Initial Rider, and it’s keeping me alive.

Aren’t you supposed to allow me to mount animals? It just says animals, and this is definitely a big, dangerous animal, if I’ve ever seen one.

BSD doesn’t respond, naturally, and we just keep flying, the griffon, Initial Rider, and I, enjoying evening’s breeze and the stars smeared against the blackening sky.

Hours pass. The griffon fights me with all its strength, then glides smoothly, resting before struggling again. I’m cold and drenched in sweat. We passed through god knows how many clouds, and my shriveled left arm is killing me. It’s completely cramped, and other than pain, I feel almost nothing. I have to look at my arm to know what’s happening with it.

I have broken half my nails, my fingers bleed, my butt is sore. Griffon’s feathers are tough and elastic, not quite as strong as metal, but they cut like splintered plastic cutlery. And sitting on a pile of plastic shards while wearing sweaty leather armor pants is really unpleasant.

The only thing I could do these endless past hours is survive, curse the bloody king Basson for forcing me to do this, and inspect the creature I’m trying to tame. Looking at it, the griffon’s majestic head is more massive than an eagle’s. It’s like a demonic, bloodthirsty toucan, maybe a terror bird of some sorts.

It keeps trying to see me, but Initial Rider moves my arms to block its rear vision, and I push its head back with all my strength whenever it tries to turn its head around. I’m trying to make sense of what Initial Rider is doing, and the best I can figure is this, if this beast turns around and sees me, I’m dead. I’m violently beating it and inflicting pain without causing real harm, probably to break its spirit.

Seems like a stupid thing to do in all honesty. I would prefer to offer it all the food it would ever want and all the comforts I can provide just for several days’ worth of help, but Initial Rider disagrees with my humble approach and enforces tough love.

We’ve been flying south the whole time, and sometimes, deep, thunderous growls came from a distance. It happened thrice, and all three times, both the griffon and Initial Rider immediately changed course.

My guess is we intruded into the territory of another griffon, but the sound I heard was something I’d expect from a giant elephant-dinosaur, not from a cat-bird-monster.

Bit by bit, hour by hour, the flight grows slower, the griffon’s attempts to turn its head grow less frequent, and its trashing grows less and less violent.

The sun slowly rises, I have no idea where we are, probably in a different kingdom, and the griffon becomes as docile as an old horse. My posture relaxes, and I realize I can rest while riding.

Bathed in the golden light, covering tall yellow mountains, a blue screen appears.

[You have ridden the world’s apex predator as your first mount.

Achievement unlocked.

Reward - Grandmaster Rider, each body you inhabit will gain the skill Master Rider.]