By the time the moon had risen, I was on my way southwest, headed out of the territory of the silver horned wolves less than a day after I had arrived there, and moving in the direction of the coast.

I had decided to leave the same day for multiple reasons. One, the chief and I didn’t exactly get along, and seeing as how he was both a tribal chief and a member of the beast council, I couldn’t very well get comfortable in the home of someone who was just barely not considered to be a political enemy. Secondly, I wanted to be free of my escorts. The envoys had accompanied me for a fairly long time, and I wanted to be able to move by myself without adhering to a literally inhuman pace or receiving strongly worded suggestions not to use any magic. Thirdly, I felt I was capable of safely travelling at night. Without anyone to object to my use of magic, I could simply hollow out a small cave underground and sleep undisturbed.

Finally, and most importantly, I wanted to be able to use my beast space and the contents within.

I could pick any creature or beast and its speed would be enough to eclipse my own, thus I had a veritable buffet of options for a mount. Plus, if the one I was currently riding got tired, I could switch it out with a different one that was rested up. If I got in a fight, ambushed by monsters or feral beasts, I could bring out my own helpers and even the odds. I could also just sleep in the beast space if I suffered from nightly attacks on a regular basis, though I was in two minds about sleeping in there.

Before I left, though, I said goodbye to the envoys. They didn’t require an explanation from me about what I would do next. As far as they were concerned, anything that happened to me from now on was my own fault and I deserved it. They were to return to their tribes and new envoys would be selected to take up their former posts. While it wasn’t exactly a tear-jerking goodbye, they all wished me well as we parted ways.

Unexpectedly, Chief Torr also stopped me before I left, as he had forgotten to give me something. He threw a two-toned bracelet made of fused iron and jade at me and said it was a token that would prove my status as a friend of the beastkin, something I would have been presented with if my trial was held and ruled in my favor. The dragons calling it off threw a wrench in the works, and as his tribe was the one I had visited first, he was burdened with having to do it in this manner, without ceremony or pomp. He even formally gave me permission to use magic in their lands, not that I needed it, but he did sigh in exasperation and walk off without answering when I asked if that meant I could create ash houses now. I took that to mean yes. Technically, he didn’t say no.

With all my last-minute goodbyes over with, I began running out of the tribe’s domain, waiting until I was at least two days away before I interacted with my beast space in any way.

I was on my way to the coast as I wanted to see if marine beast attacks were less common than land-based ones, and the possibility of adding some aquatic animals to my collection was too good to pass up. If there were any coastal tribes I coincidentally ran into, I would see if they had sushi or some kind of dried seaweed similar to nori, as the craving for those hit me the moment I thought of them in my brain.

The first night was spent in complete peace, as I followed my plan and created an underground cave to sleep in. The soil was marginally softer than the grass and dirt aboveground, but it had its own problems, such as the increased number of insects and the general dampness. The reduced likelihood of attacks was worth it, though. I even rubbed a few of the leaves from the beast-repelling tree on and around me.

As I attempted to sleep on the damp ground, I reflected on what the chief had said. I took the intervention of the dragons very seriously. Beastkin senses being what they were, I couldn’t discount the possibility that nobody was watching me right now. And if, as the chief claimed, all beastkin were descended from dragons, I had to assume that draconic senses were even more amazing and all-encompassing.

There was just no way to know how much they knew about me. When had they developed an interest in me? Was it when I landed on the shores of the beastfolk continent? Was it when I was on the skyship or using the teleport formations? Could their senses reach the human kingdom? Or maybe the entire planet?

The point was, I had no way to know. All I knew was that the dragons intervened. Maybe searching for them wouldn’t be a terrible idea, if they were already inclined to help me once. But it would be a long search, as nobody knew where the dragons lived. Not even the Beast King, who only interacted with one of their intermediaries, and even then, it was extremely rare.

If the dragons wanted to talk to me, I had no doubt they would be able to find me. For all I knew, one of them was watching me right now!

Regardless of whether or not I was being monitored, I would stick to my original plan. Head to the coast, grab some sea beasts, then make my way along the coast to the desert and cross that off my bucket list. Thankfully, this wasn’t a video game where I needed to unlock 100% of the map. As long as I caught some beasts unique to the desert and visited any points of interest, that would be enough for me. After my desert travels were over, I would head to the capital ‘city’ to watch the great tournament of the continent, the Thundering. It was the only large event I knew of that would draw attention from the entire continent, and even beyond.

Nothing stopped me from sleeping unmolested throughout the night, as I woke up dry and cool, the chill from the morning less potent than I assumed it would be. Spring was just around the corner, which meant the Thundering was approaching quickly as well. It looked like I would have to postpone seeing the tournament until after I finished my tourist vacation in the desert. The tournament was held every year, to my knowledge, so I could easily make the next one.

My journey to the coast was relatively peaceful, as I had only been attacked twice while the sun was out, and once during the night. For a trip that took nearly two months, that was phenomenal and unprecedented for me. My route had me pass through the territories of two tribes, who were relatively smaller in both population and status compared to the silver horned wolves.

The first tribe was some kind of pig tribe that rode massive warthogs and wielded giant bone clubs. The bracelet I showed them, the one that supposedly displayed my status as a friend of the beastfolk, was just an eye-catching trinket to them, but nothing worth any attention.

So, the wolf chief was either lying, or these pig-men didn’t know what it meant, which was totally possible.

They offered me food, water, and shelter, adhering to the beastfolk custom for guests. I stayed with them for only a day before I left, healing the few of them that were sick or injured, and leaving with a warthog mount of my own as a gift.

The next tribe I encountered was a species of otters that spat venom at their foes.

Literally.

I came upon a group of their patrols mounted on animals that bore a resemblance to them, as they were in the midst of being pelted by a flock of birds that constantly dove at them and flew in circles around them, evading their mistimed and poorly aimed attacks while peppering the riders and their mounts with strikes from their wings, beaks, or talons.

Now, I was in a bit of a dilemma when I saw the scene playing out in front of me.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

There was a stupid, stupid, custom among the beastfolk of not interfering in fights, which included giving aid. It was so ridiculously idiotic that I was sure the person who came up with it secretly hated beastfolk and wanted them all to die in combat.

Theoretically, I could help them and claim ignorance, being a stupid human and all that, but it wouldn’t earn me any goodwill for saving their lives, which were in danger if I didn’t make a move on the birds.

But while I was deliberating, it seemed like the decision had been made for me.

One of the otters noticed me, as I was clearly visible on my mount less than a quarter-mile away, a dark spot against the blue sky and green grass. Unfortunately, while his attention was on me, a bird took the opportunity while he was distracted to cut his throat with its outstretched wing, and I could sense blood rushing outward through the laceration.

That marked the beginning of the end for the otters. The birds, some kind of hawk, redoubled their efforts as they harassed the otter beastfolk, Their second wave of attacks caused a few hawks to go down, but the otters were outnumbered and outmaneuvered, unable to bring their strength to bear against airborne foes.

To a man, they all died, save for one otter mount that was on the brink of death, wounds gushing blood onto the formerly pristine grassland. The hawks descended from the sky once more to feast on the bodies of their conquered foes, unaware that there was something else capable of killing them within the vicinity.

I dove underground once I realized which way the tides were shifting, just barely poking my head out to see the final moments of the skirmish. The victors were pecking at the freshly-slain bodies, savoring the hard-won meal as they cawed and shrieked.

There was no reason for me to risk being ambushed and caught unawares by them, so I encased myself in the ground, rendering any attempts by the birds to reach me moot. This was almost an ideal situation for me to test out a technique I hadn’t attempted before, due to my doubt about its viability.

I was capable of using blood magic in numerous ways, but I had never tried using an opponent’s blood as a medium in order to manipulate their bodies. More importantly, I hadn’t named such a technique yet, and I had narrowed down the options to ragdolling, blood puppetry, marionette, and meatbagging.

Meh, I’d see if it worked first. The name could come after.

As I laid down in the small chamber of soil and dirt, I worked quickly, as there was a limited amount of air for me. I reached out with my blood sense, the circulatory systems of the avian creatures revealing themselves to me. I could feel the hearts beating, the blood traveling through the body while avoiding the wings, oddly enough, and even a few small scrapes and cuts leaking blood onto the ground, a remnant of the battle they had just undergone.

I focused on my intent, holding a clear image in my mind of what I was trying to accomplish, and conveying that desire to the essence both within and around me. The hawk closest to me began squawking and screeching as it sensed my magical intrusion, flapping its wings to gain altitude from the unknown threat. Unfortunately, its legs weren’t properly bent, as the blood burst out of the vessels closest to the talons and prevented it from properly taking off.

The next muscles to be crippled were its chest muscles connected to its wings, which were now immobile. The screeching eventually became a constant annoyance, like a splinter in my mind despite being underground, so I ended the experiment and just burst its heart from within. I unexpectedly discovered that the bird could live for almost five minutes without its heart, so that was a…data point….

Sadly, the rest of the birds flew off once one of their comrades died to something they couldn’t detect, the bodies they were consuming now lying on the grass with strips of flesh torn off and entrails hanging out.

I would have to try again, but maybe with something less…avian, next time. I emerged from the dirt and soil, nature magic brushing off any sediment stuck to my skin or clothes, and looked at the pile of dead bodies. The best thing for me to do would be to burn the bodies, to prevent any monsters or other beasts from snacking on them, so I opened a small pit in the ground, and pushed all the bodies inside. I only knew of a few fire spells, and ‘Torch’ would be the most appropriate one for this poor man’s excuse for a funeral.

Beastfolk didn’t have funerals, instead they had something akin to a wake. If a friend or loved one died, those who knew them would mourn their passing and celebrate their life, sharing stories about them. Oddly enough, I had never heard of what beastfolk believed happened to them after they died. In my entire time on this world, I hadn’t heard of things like heaven or hell, nor reincarnation, so I was curious what most people thought would happen.

I could have searched for the otter tribe, who were bound to be somewhere closeby, and informed them of what happened to a group of their warriors, but they would find out eventually, with or without me. Then I felt the bracelet on my left wrist jangle against my forearm. The one that marked me as a friend to the beastfolk.

Dammit. Even I’m laughing at how naive I am.

It was possible the bracelet didn’t mean a damn thing. But if it were real, I couldn’t just walk away without doing nothing, even though it would be so much easier. I lamented how much simpler my life would be if I didn’t have a conscience weighing me down sometimes.

I left the bodies to burn, as I summoned my warthog mount from my beast space, where I left it before the altercation with the birds began. I didn’t have any skills in tracking, but it wasn’t too hard to spot the divots and bare patches of grass in the rough outline of paw prints headed in a single direction.

It was nighttime when I entered the otter tribe’s domain. Two guards were patrolling the perimeter, and they looked almost identical to those beastkin I had seen fall to the hawks earlier. After a polite exchange of greetings, I passed on the news of their brothers’ deaths, as well as the locations of their bodies, in case they wanted them. Once the guards got over the shock of a human speaking their language, they took the other news rather well. Their moods were downcast as they learned of their comrades’ fates, but they accepted it quickly, thanking me for informing them and saving them some time. It was somewhat rude of me to enter the tribe’s domain and not visit the chief, but the tribe was already further inland than I would have preferred, so I left soon after, citing urgent business, a vague statement that worked as an excuse just as well here as it did on Earth.

The sea drew ever closer as my mount trundled along. It was chosen for its stamina rather than its speed, but it wasn’t long before I smelled the salty spray of the ocean, and the unmistakable scent of fish mixing with it. The terrain abruptly transformed from flat grassy plains to sandy slopes, before the ocean was once more in sight, the sun just about to reach the horizon, painting the normally blue waves an orange that was…transcendent.

On the very edge of the range that my blood sense could perceive, I noticed something disturbing the idyllic view, however. There were numerous forms containing blood swimming towards the shore at ridiculous speeds. They were either rushing towards me or fleeing from something else behind them, and given that I probably registered as a dot to their eyes, I would wager they were running from something. Metaphorically speaking.

More and more bodies joined them, creating a tidal wave of bodies that was fast approaching my position. The reason for their frantic dash became apparent soon after, as a vast head with reptilian and aquatic features broke the ocean surface to bite at something. Something black in color, and just as enormous as the reptilian head that bounded after it.

A sea serpent was battling a vorander, and their blows were creating aftershocks that rippled out from the point of impact, to the point where I could feel the ground shudder beneath me, threatening to topple me over.

More and more bodies were racing towards where I stood on the beach, with no one else in sight to offer aid or even run away and ‘promise’ to bring reinforcements. While the incoming creatures were running away from something that could end their lives without even noticing, it was unlikely they would ignore my presence, as I had learned by now that beasts rarely passed up the chance to dine on something that looked like it would offer little challenge.

I was about to summon some of my beasts from my beast space when the appearance of the serpent head flashed through my head. It was possible that the sea serpent was related to the dragons, as it was the closest thing to a dragon that I had ever seen, which meant it was possible it could contact them.

Contact them, and inform them of a peculiar human who pulled out an army of enslaved beasts from thin air and needed to be killed immediately to free the poor creatures that had been trapped.

I was tempted to run, or dig underground and hide, but there was no way I would get far enough to avoid pursuit in the little time I had left. So my only option was to stand and fight. I ignored the warthog that had carried me here; whether it lived or died was up to fate. I wouldn’t bring trouble to myself by storing it in my beast space if there was a chance the sea serpent could sense it. If it got too hairy, I would absolutely not hesitate to retreat into my beast space, but not before then.

In the seconds I had left before the tide of enemies approached, I set the field as much as I could to get any advantage possible. I had faced enemies in similar numbers, while defending the academy, but never alone, and never without some kind of backup plan.

How did that one saying go? Men make plans, and God laughs?

If Khime was laughing at me right now, my next plan would definitely involve slapping him until it no longer felt satisfying.