Clyde Vistone wiped the sheen of sweat from his brow as the gates of Valos clicked shut behind him. His usually steady hands trembled faintly as he leaned against the solid wood, his breathing uneven. It wasn’t the brisk pace of their walk back to the city that had him winded; it was the enormity of what had just transpired.
A lizard. Not a lizard—the lizard. Twenty feet of predatory muscle and a voice like thunder in a storm. Clyde prided himself on his composure in the face of danger. He’d earned his copper silver and gold stripes on campaigns far from here. Monsters, brigands, and even the occasional rogue mage—he’d faced them all with an unflinching blade. But the Sovereign of Newscar wasn’t just another obstacle on the road to glory.
Clyde glanced over his shoulder at the group of young adventurers who had brought him into this madness. They looked uneasy, trading furtive glances and muttering under their breaths. He could see the questions forming behind their wide eyes, the tension in their stiffened shoulders. Clyde straightened, exhaling a slow breath as he forced a calm facade over his frayed nerves.
“All of you, listen carefully,” he said, his tone sharp but not unkind. The group snapped to attention, their inexperience showing in the way their nervous energy betrayed their attempts at stoicism. “What you saw—what we all saw—is not to leave this circle. Understand?”
The ranger, a wiry young woman with a quick tongue, hesitated for a heartbeat too long. Clyde’s piercing gaze silenced whatever protest she’d been about to voice. “Not a word,” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument. “The last thing this city needs is rumors of a talking lizard spreading through the streets. I’ll handle this. Do you trust me?”
The healer, ever the mediator, nodded slowly, her hands gripping the staff she carried. “We trust you, Clyde,” she said softly. “But... what are you going to do?”
Clyde forced a wry smile. “What I do best—navigate bureaucracy and convince the guild not to banish me for even entertaining the idea of bringing that... creature into our fold.”
The younger adventurers exchanged uneasy looks but said nothing further as Clyde dismissed them with a curt wave. He strode toward the guildhall, the imposing structure carved from dark stone that loomed over Valos like a sentinel. His mind churned with possibilities, each one more improbable than the last.
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By the time Clyde reached his office, his shirt clung uncomfortably to his back. The polished mahogany desk before him, stacked with reports, summons, and letters of grievances, seemed like an insurmountable obstacle compared to the battle he was about to undertake. He sat heavily in the cushioned chair, the leather creaking under his weight, and stared at the gleaming orb sitting on the pedestal to his right.
The guild’s Ethereal Convocation Sphere was a marvel of magical ingenuity, though Clyde had grown to loathe it. It allowed instantaneous communication with the guild’s leadership—an essential tool for emergencies but also a window into a world of red tape and petty power struggles.
Today, though, the sphere was his lifeline. He pressed his hand to its cool surface, channeling his will through the arcane lattice that linked it to the grand hall of the Adventurer’s Guild in the capital. The runes inscribed on its surface flared to life, glowing a faint blue as the connection was established.
In the blink of an eye, Clyde found himself seated within the virtual chamber of the guild’s High Council. Seven figures sat on their thrones, their faces obscured by the shimmering veils of the projection spell. The grandeur of the ethereal chamber was as overwhelming as always: towering columns etched with sigils, a domed ceiling painted with celestial constellations, and a table that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. Hundreds of lesser guild officials, each represented by a faint ghostly outline, sat in the rows of seats encircling the chamber. Clyde knew they could all hear and see him, even if they rarely spoke.
The seven councilors turned their heads in unison as Clyde’s image solidified before them.
“Clyde Vistone,” intoned the central figure, her voice clipped and imperious. “You have requested an emergency audience. Explain yourself.”
Clyde took a steadying breath, keeping his posture upright and confident despite the weight of their collective gaze. “Councilors,” he began, his voice even and respectful. “I bring you a matter of great opportunity and equally great complexity.”
“Opportunity?” one of the councilors echoed, a sneer audible in his tone. “Valos is a backwater post. What could you possibly offer of value from such a place?”
Clyde bit back the retort that sprang to his lips. “An ally,” he said instead, letting the word hang in the air for a moment. “A being of immense strength and intelligence, seeking to operate within the bounds of our guild.”
The councilors exchanged glances, their veils rippling faintly with the motion. “What manner of ally?” another asked, suspicion thick in his tone. “And why would such a being come to Valos, of all places?”
Clyde leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing he said, his voice deliberately calm. “A creature from the northern wilds, the likes of which we’ve never seen. It possesses intelligence on par with any human, if not greater, and its strength is undeniable. It seeks permission to travel through our lands and to join the guild under our terms.”
The reaction was immediate. Murmurs rippled through the chamber, the faint outlines of lesser officials shifting uncomfortably in their seats. One councilor leaned forward, her voice cutting through the din like a blade. “ Are you suggesting we invite a monster into the guild?”
Clyde met her gaze unflinchingly. “We have done so before. Beastmen, elves, even the occasional dragonkin have been allowed entry under similar circumstances. This being is no different—it seeks strength, knowledge, and purpose. And it is willing to abide by our rules to obtain them.”
Another councilor snorted derisively. “And you believe it will follow our rules? That it won’t turn on us the moment it decides we’re no longer useful?”
Clyde’s hands tightened into fists beneath the table. “I believe it has as much right to prove itself as any of us did when we first picked up a blade,” he said evenly. “It came to us, not as a conqueror, but as a negotiator. It has already demonstrated restraint and intelligence beyond what most would expect. I see no reason to deny it the same chance we extend to others.”
The council erupted into heated debate, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of opinions. Clyde watched them closely, noting who seemed receptive and who remained firmly opposed. He had anticipated this reaction; the guild’s bureaucracy was nothing if not predictable.
After several minutes, the central figure raised her hand, silencing the chamber. “Clyde,” she said, her tone measured. “You present a compelling argument, but this is unprecedented. The risks are significant. If this creature were to act against us, the damage could be catastrophic. We have just suffered a major lost in your region.”
Clyde inclined his head. “I understand your concerns, councilor. That is why I propose a trial. Allow the Sovereign to undertake a series of monitored missions under my direct supervision. If it fails to adhere to our rules, it will be expelled—or dealt with as necessary.”
The chamber fell silent again as the councilors considered his proposal. Clyde could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but he kept his expression neutral, his posture steady. This was his chance—not just for Valos, but for himself. If he could make this work, if he could prove the value of this alliance, it could be his ticket back to the capital, back to the respect and recognition he deserved.
Finally, the central figure spoke again. “We will deliberate on your proposal. Expect our decision within the week.”
Clyde nodded, his expression carefully controlled. “Thank you, councilors. I await your guidance.”
The projection faded, leaving Clyde alone in his office once more. He exhaled slowly, the tension draining from his body as the glow of the Ethereal Convocation Sphere dimmed. The hard part was over—for now.
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
As he leaned back in his chair, his mind churned with plans and contingencies. He had gambled everything on this Sovereign, and he would do whatever it took to ensure that his gamble paid off.
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Four days had passed since Clyde Vistone, the branch leader of the Adventurer’s Guild, had told Jannet to wait. Four days of pacing the plains, of sunning himself to stave off the creeping boredom of late autumn nights, of hiding from wary human eyes whenever travelers passed too close. Four days, and Jannet’s hunger had begun to gnaw at him with a relentlessness he could no longer ignore.
For the first time since leaving Newscar, Jannet truly understood the weight of his Sovereign-sized appetite. The sparse rabbits of the plains no longer offered the sustenance he needed. His massive form, nearly two tons of muscle and scales, demanded more than these lands could readily provide. Hunger was not just a discomfort now—it was a call to action.
The sun had risen high by the time Jannet’s patience broke. He lay hidden in a shallow depression beneath a lone tree, his dark scales blending seamlessly with the shadows it cast. From his vantage point, he watched as a group of adventurers departed the city gates, their polished armor catching the morning light.
Unlike the younger groups he had observed before, these adventurers moved with purpose. Their gear bore signs of heavy use—scratched metal, faded leather, and weapons that gleamed with the dull polish of maintenance rather than newness. Their ranks included six members: two heavily armored fighters, a pair of mages, and two others whose roles weren’t immediately clear to Jannet. They spoke in low tones, their voices barely carrying to his hiding spot.
Interesting, Jannet thought, his tongue flicking out to taste the air. These weren’t amateurs testing their mettle on slimes. These were seasoned hunters. What prey would bring such a group together?
Curiosity, coupled with the sharp edge of hunger, spurred Jannet into motion. Keeping low to the ground, he shadowed the group as they moved out into the plains. His natural camouflage, enhanced by his Sovereign skills, rendered him nearly invisible against the tall grasses and rocky terrain. The adventurers were cautious, their eyes scanning the horizon and their weapons kept close at hand, but Jannet’s patience was unmatched. He had stalked prey in the dense jungle of Newscar, where every step risked betrayal by a snapping twig or the glint of sunlight on scales. Here, on the open plains, he was a ghost.
The group pressed deeper into the plains than Jannet had ever ventured, their progress marked by a methodical sweep of the area. Hours passed as the sun climbed higher, casting stark shadows across the land. By mid-afternoon, the adventurers seemed to have found their quarry. Jannet froze, watching from a distance as they crouched low, gesturing toward a distant herd of creatures grazing in the tall grass.
The beasts were enormous—far larger than any prey Jannet had encountered in the jungle. They resembled bison in shape, their bulky frames covered in shaggy fur that hung in thick clumps from their flanks. Where they weren’t furred, they were plated with bony armor, the pale material glinting faintly in the sunlight. Their heads were crowned with massive, curved horns that looked as much a weapon as a defense. Even from this distance, Jannet could feel the weight of their presence.
His identification ring pulsed faintly, feeding him information as he focused on the creatures.
Plateback Bison. Level 16.
The adventurers wasted no time. One of the mages stepped forward, her hands weaving complex patterns in the air as an arcane sigil flared to life before her. A bolt of crackling energy shot toward the nearest bison, striking its armored flank with a sharp crack. The beast bellowed in rage, its deep, guttural call reverberating across the plains. The rest of the herd scattered, their massive hooves churning the ground as they fled.
The targeted bison, however, turned to face its attackers, its dark eyes glinting with a dangerous intelligence. Lowering its head, it charged. The adventurers braced themselves, their formation tightening as the fighters moved to the front, shields raised. The ground shook beneath the bison’s thunderous strides, the air vibrating with the force of its approach.
Jannet watched, impressed despite himself, as the group worked in unison. The fighters absorbed the brunt of the bison’s charge, their shields ringing with the impact. The mages unleashed a flurry of spells, fire and frost striking the beast in rapid succession. The others—rangers, perhaps—darted to the flanks, loosing arrows that found the vulnerable spots between the bison’s bony plates.
It took time, but the adventurers wore the creature down. Its movements grew sluggish, its bellows quieter, until a final coordinated strike brought it crashing to the ground. The fighters stepped back, panting and bloodied but triumphant, as the mages moved in to inspect the kill. They began to work immediately, carving into the bison’s armored hide with practiced efficiency. Jannet noted their excitement, the way they spoke in quick, animated bursts as they harvested what they needed.
A worthy hunt, he thought, his own hunger flaring anew at the sight of the fresh kill.
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That night, under the cover of darkness, Jannet ventured out on his own hunt. He avoided the adventurers’ camp, their fire a bright beacon that he instinctively shunned. The smell of their roasted meat drifted on the wind, taunting him, but he focused instead on the task ahead. His hunger demanded satisfaction, and he had no intention of challenging the humans for their kill—not yet, at least.
It didn’t take long for him to find a herd. The bison had scattered after the day’s commotion, but Jannet’s sharp senses soon led him to a small group. Five Plateback Bison lay in a loose circle, their massive forms dark against the starlit plains. Their breaths came slow and steady, plumes of vapor rising into the cool night air. From their scent, Jannet deduced they were young males, likely bachelors driven from the larger herd.
His golden eyes narrowed as he sized up the group. They were large, yes, but their youth made them vulnerable. He noted the way they slept, their formation designed to protect against predators but leaving gaps that an experienced hunter could exploit. His claws flexed against the ground as he prepared to strike.
Jannet moved with the silent precision of an apex predator, his massive frame gliding through the grass without a sound. He circled the herd, his tongue flicking out to taste the air, his muscles coiling in preparation. Hunger sharpened his focus, dulling the aches that had begun to creep into his body after days of waiting and watching.
He chose his target carefully—a bison on the outer edge of the group, its breathing deep and even in sleep. It was slightly smaller than the others, its horns less curved. Jannet positioned himself downwind, his tail flicking once before going still.
He moved closer, each step measured and deliberate. His claws sank into the soil without a sound, his massive body undulating with the fluid grace of an apex predator. When he was within striking distance, he coiled his powerful hind legs beneath him, muscles tensing as he prepared to spring.
In a blur of motion, Jannet struck. His powerful jaws closed around the young bison’s neck, his teeth finding purchase beneath the edges of its bone plating. The creature’s eyes snapped open, a guttural bellow of terror and pain ripping through the night. The herd exploded into motion, the four remaining bison surging to their feet with surprising speed for creatures of their size.
Jannet braced as his prey thrashed beneath him, its powerful legs kicking wildly in an attempt to break free. The others turned toward him, their heavy heads lowered, horns gleaming in the moonlight. One of the larger males pawed the ground, its breath steaming in the cool night air as it prepared to charge.
The Sovereign tightened his grip, his massive claws digging into the bison’s flanks to keep it pinned. He twisted his body, using his weight and strength to drag the creature away from the herd’s protective circle. The young male bucked violently, but Jannet’s jaws held firm, the strength of his bite unmatched.
The first charge came suddenly, the lead bull barreling toward him with a speed that belied its bulk. Jannet released his hold on the young bison just in time, pivoting on his hind legs as the bull’s horns grazed his side. The impact was like a sledgehammer, the sheer force of the charge sending a shockwave through his massive frame. Pain flared briefly, but it was a distant thing, dampened by the adrenaline surging through him.
HP 650/800
The first charge came suddenly, the lead bull barreling toward him with a speed that belied its bulk. Jannet released his hold on the young bison just in time, pivoting on his hind legs as the bull’s horns grazed his side. The impact was like a sledgehammer, the sheer force of the charge sending a shockwave through his massive frame. Pain flared briefly, but it was a distant thing, dampened by the adrenaline surging through him.
Jannet hissed, his tail lashing as he faced the charging bull. The remaining bison stood their ground, their deep, guttural calls echoing through the plains as they rallied to defend their fallen companion. The young male, injured but not yet dead, staggered to its feet, blood matting its shaggy fur.
The second charge came almost immediately, another bull charging from the opposite side. This time, Jannet was ready. He sidestepped with surprising agility for a creature of his size, his tail whipping out to strike the charging bison’s legs. The bull stumbled, its momentum carrying it past Jannet and into the darkness.
The remaining bison hesitated, their defensive instincts warring with the reality of the predator before them. Jannet’s golden eyes gleamed as he turned his focus back to his prey. The young male was weak now, its movements sluggish as it tried to retreat toward the herd. Jannet struck again, his powerful jaws clamping down on the creature’s throat. This time, there was no escape.
The herd bellowed in frustration, their hooves stamping the ground in a show of defiance, but they did not charge again. Jannet’s victory was clear. The young male collapsed beneath him, its struggles fading as its life ebbed away. The other bison retreated slowly, their mournful calls carrying across the plains as they left their fallen comrade behind.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION:
Congratulations!
You have slain a Plateback Bison (Level 13).
Experience Gained: 320 EXP
Jannet released his grip, his chest heaving as he stood over his kill. The scent of blood filled the air, mingling with the earthy tang of trampled grass. He allowed himself a moment to revel in the hunt, his reptilian instincts thrumming with satisfaction. The hunger that had gnawed at him for days would finally be sated.