Things weren’t right, and Beriin could feel it, even within his old bones.

The cleansing had gone like any other night had. After the men had rounded up a good number of the nearby monsters, they had slaughtered the hapless beasts trapped within the nets with relative ease. The entire time though, Beriin could feel an odd presence stalking the group.

It surely wasn’t magical in nature, but rather the feeling stemmed from a previous lifetime of being a sellsword. Back then, you never knew what would screw up, who’d be doing the act, and who would still be alive by the time the incident was over. Living on edge like that everyday tended to cause anyone to develop a reliable gut feeling for whenever shit was going to happen. Which was why he kept his spells so close to himself, casted and primed. It took a lot out of him to store the magic within for so long, but he endured the strain with barely a whisper.

A splash from the river drew his attention, his eyes darting immediately to the source of the sound. From behind the bushes crept a red-maned creature. Looking closer, he recognized it immediately as a young Vekkus. The elk-like creatures were well known for being non-aggressive, but extremely dangerous when triggered. With its flexible necks and various uses of sky-magic, there weren’t many beings (human or otherwise) living in the area that could take them on unscathed.

He considered letting the creature roam free, since considering its temperament the men weren’t in any sort of danger at the moment, so long as they let it pass unprovoked. With the Seventh approaching however, almost at their doorstep even, should the vekkus find its way to them while bloodlusted, he had no confidence that he could keep his charges safe from it entirely. Which meant that for the safety of the rest of the village, he likely had to put the men here at risk now. A task which left a bad taste in his mouth. The elk was docile and usually left well enough alone, but the phenomenon threw every monster under its effects, and the beautiful but dangerous creature was no exception.

Filling up his mana channels quietly, Beriin signaled to Jerrod to ready the men, who were already preparing to go home. Although shocked at first from the sudden change in plans, the group trusted the Chief enough to follow his orders. Once enough of the group had taken notice of the monster, they moved as one.

As usual, half of then split into a line, casually yet cautious, so as not to spook the vekkus away. The rest held their positions but secretly wielded their weapons. When all had settled into their assigned locations, all eyes turned to Beriin, who nodded resolutely. As far as he was concerned, the best weapon the humans had against the formidable monster was the element of surprise.

He began weaving one of the more intricate spells he knew. Like bricks to a building, the mage carefully stacked each section of mana next to one another, in an effort to form the desired shape of the spell. Feeling his mana reserves emptying fast, he knew that there wasn't much time to hold the spell. Throwing his hands out towards the beast, he let loose the mana construct from his belly, sending it blasting out of him in an impressive display of destructive magic.

Three bolts of bright violet energy rotated in the air before lancing out and striking the unsuspecting creature. The poor beast was struck dead center, flinging it across the river in a heartbeat.

“Charge it now! Before It can recover!” yelled Beriin desperately. He wasn’t so arrogant to think that a single spell of his would be able to kill the creature so effortlessly. He was after all still a mageling, and he knew his own limits. It was an amazing feat, when compared to being a run of the mill mercenary. But in the grand scope of magic he had barely scratched the surface.

With loud shouts, the militia closed in hurriedly. They neared the fallen monster in the water, weapons bared and their faces holding savage expressions.

A tremor in the water stalled their advance, causing them to glance at each other hesitantly. But that slight moment of deliberation cost them greatly. Violents gusts of wind began building all around the faltering militia, quickly turning into a silvery hurricane with them right smack in the epicenter.

Water scattered in all directions as the closest was pulled off his feet screaming alongside several of the others, right into the maelstrom of magical elements. With a furious bellow, the vekkus regained its footing unsteadily, eyes holding unmistakable anger. The condensed eldritch bolt Beriin had cast before had been potent enough to snap off one of its prized horns, though likely not much more than that. The originally passive monster was now entirely and rightfully enraged.

"Hells!!"

Beriin ducked to the ground as a sharp branch flew past, threatening to take out his eye lest he not be careful. Any man present who was fortunate enough to avoid being drawn into the elemental vortex were all in similar positions hugging the ground, praying to Kera that they survive the magical onslaught.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The mage hastily put together a plan, one that screamed of bad decisions. It was a shit idea, but with no other option available, it was either that or allow half his men to die here. And Gods help the village survive the Seventh then. Beriin quickly constructed a veil structure in his mind, strengthening the magical membrane that held it together carefully. He risked imploding his mana circuits in this rushed manner, but he pressed on regardless.

Too thin and the spell would easily disintegrate into pieces, especially with the strong winds. Too thick and it would lose the flexibility required for his plan to succeed. With magic buffeting him from every direction, it took superhuman focus for the mage to build the structure as efficiently as he did.

A fine spider web of amaranthine spread out from beneath the waters. It slithered smoothly on the river bed, its presence hidden by the intense energies above. It wasn't until the pulsing net had the creature within its grasp, that the vekkus realized something was off.

Eldritch tendrils sprang from under the creature then, ensnaring it to the river and dragging it under the water. Red mane flaring, the monster struggled furiously against the trap. Numerous spells and cantrips exploded from within the net, but the elasticity of the spell worked well enough that most of them either rebounded or were outright dispelled. Small bolts of electricity jostled within the cage, stretching the tendrils akin to a balloon. Still, the spell held.

Even with the pressure of battle, Beriin couldn’t resist the nasty grin spreading on his face. Named the Eldritch Cage, the blood-hex resulted from a combination of multiple tier one spells layered on top of each other like a cake. The difficult part was to balance them in such a way that the entire cake did not topple from its own weight. Much like balancing pebbles, the process was painstaking and tedious. Finding the right structure and combination was usually a series of constant failures, and it was by sheer luck that he had managed to get it working at all.

Spell after spell dissipated against the squirming barrier, but the mage’s expression was turning whiter by the second. His circuits were straining against the onslaught. The monster had earned its well deserved reputation, since its mana seemed endless compared to his own. Though they were only cantrips, the constant barrage drew the net taut, consuming the cage at a voracious rate. His expression turned grim as he turned to the only course of action left to him.

“Jerrod! Grab everyone and return to the village!” he cried. “The spell won’t hold for much longer!” Straining himself far further than he healthily should, the mage struggled to keep the trap up. Allowing any of the men to attack the vekkus now required him to release the net, and judging by the resistance of the elk, none of the men stood a chance the moment he did so.

“Chief..! The people won’t…!” stammered the young man, no sign of his usual carefree attitude. He had one of the fallen slung over his shoulders, iron sword long discarded. Those still conscious hurriedly gathered and began dragging the rest away from the river.

“They can and they will lad. They have you. You’ll know what to do.” replied Beriin, his expression soft before turning strained again. “Now leave, before the thing sends us all to hells!” His mana pool was already reaching its last dregs; almost everything went into maintaining the entrapment. He watched as the group reluctantly dragged themselves away from the fight

When the last of them disappeared from behind the multitude of trees, the mage stared hard at the elk, who had suddenly ceased casting its magic. It returned the glare with a fierce one of its own, as though it knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold the cage for much longer. As proof, the violet tendrils sputtered noisily before fading into nothingness.

The vekkus, now free, stood haughtily in front of him, snorting in anger as it bristled it’s red fur. Despite its earlier display of magical prowess, not a single spell came from the monster. Beriin cautiously picked up a nearby sword from the river. The elk had every right to kill him, seeing as he had made the decision to start the fight, but that didn't mean he’d let it be easy. It pawed at the soft ground once, readying itself into a charge with its one good antler.

With the iron blade poised in front of him, the old mercenary shifted into a defensive stance to receive the blow, one that he had not practiced for decades. He covered his tired muscles with a miniscule amount of mana; whatever he had left. A paper-thin shield coated his body, pretty but still largely useless. Desperate, he attempted to stall the fight and feed the spell more juice.

But the attack came in an instant. One moment he was there, hands gripping the sword tightly. The next he found himself already sailing through the air. Beriin slammed into the river bed, his vision blurred and dim. Already he could spot clouds of red in the crystal waters, evidence of his wounds, but from where on his body, he did not know. Even with only one antler, the damage was devastating and it didn’t seem that that was the end.

The vekkus faced him straight on, and with a loud snort began pawing at the ground again. The mage watched as it conjured silver winds to its antlers. The magics encompassed it’s horn tightly, wrapping round like a shiny cloth. Brilliant motes of light circled round it's head elegantly, each one no doubt holding a considerable amount of magic.

What a show off, he thought as he laughed mirthlessly. Blood snaked from a cut on his forehead into his eyes, but there was no time to wipe it away.

As it advanced in a large semi-circle towards him, Beriin could only watch as the elk lowered it's enchanted horn steadily, prepped to skewer him front to back.

And he could only watch, as a large brown boar carrying a scale-clad goblin, crashed right into the monster's flank.