Sinclair dusted off his hands, his eyes still adjusting to artificial lights in the tunnels after hours in the depths of the mine. With a nod of farewell to City Lord Garret, he turned to Turgrin. "Ready to head back?"
Turgrin seemed lost in thought but snapped back to attention at Sinclair's words. "Ah, yes, of course. Shall we?"
The two set off at a brisk pace, but it was evident that Turgrin was not used to such rapid movement. Noticing Turgrin's struggle, Chewy—a creature that resembled a blend of wolf and bear after his race upgrade—trotted up beside him, letting out a friendly whine.
"Turgrin, would you like a lift? Chewy here doesn't mind."
After a moment's hesitation, Turgrin's eyes lit up. "Ah, well, if it's no trouble... I must admit, my legs are not what they used to be."
With surprising grace for a man of his apparent age, Turgrin managed to mount Chewy, who gave a pleased grunt before catching up to Sinclair and Leia.
The group finally reached the portal room, its mystical sheen still intact, indicating its operational status. Sinclair gave Turgrin a look that said, "After you."
"Ah, the same old, same old, I see," Turgrin remarked, dismounting Chewy and stepping into the swirling portal. He vanished, only to be replaced by the cavernous room they had originally left nearly a week ago.
Sinclair and his companions followed suit, stepping through the portal and finding themselves back in familiar surroundings. He felt the sensation of magic envelope him, as though the cave itself was recognizing an old friend.
They found themselves taking in the original cavern portal room that was just a week ago even though it had felt a lot longer.
Sinclair nodding his head, "We have to check out what has happened. Garret said the scouts at the entrance to the mine would have an updated report on the area and any recent events from Wolf's Run available when we get there. Let's not waste any time. A sense of urgency filling him. There was still so much to do, and time was a luxury they couldn't afford. But for now, for this brief moment, they had made it back, and that was a victory in itself.
Sinclair's world narrowed to a point of searing pain. Just as he felt his knees give way, his descent to the ground was cushioned by some invisible force. His vision blurred, the sensation of being mentally torn apart overwhelming even his formidable pain tolerance skill.
Just as quickly as it had started, the pain ceased, replaced by a translucent dome that materialized around him. His senses were once again his own, and he gasped for breath, sweat beading on his forehead.
Odin's resonant voice filled the confines of his mind, comforting and authoritative. "Do not worry. You are not under attack. Midgard senses you and was trying to connect to you since it needs you for its upgrade. Until you are stronger and can handle the communications on your own, I will take care of it."
Sinclair let out a sigh of relief, his body still tingling from the abrupt cessation of pain. "Thank you, Odin," he thought, unsure if the deity could hear his mental response but feeling grateful nonetheless.
"Always," came Odin's swift reply, a sense of warmth accompanying the word.
As the dome dissipated, Sinclair slowly rose to his feet, his legs a little shaky. Turgrin looked at him, concern etched on his features. "Are you alright? What just happened?"
"It's part of something bigger, something I still have to understand fully," Sinclair said, locking eyes with Turgrin. "But for now, we have more immediate matters to attend to."
Turgrin nodded, the momentary concern replaced by a look of determination. "Indeed, we do."
Steadying himself, Sinclair glanced at Chewy and Leia, who seemed to sense that the danger had passed. As they moved to exit the cave, Sinclair couldn't shake off the immense weight of what had just occurred. Midgard itself had reached out to him, and the very thought filled him with a mixture of awe and trepidation.
Upon reaching the makeshift base camp situated near the cave's entrance, Sinclair scanned the area for the scout who was supposed to provide him with an update. Soon enough, he received news from scouts who had just returned: Orcs had encircled the city. Although the defenders were putting up a staunch resistance, they were alarmingly outnumbered. Armed with this information, Sinclair and his party embarked on a breakneck 25-minute sprint, aiming for a vantage point that would allow them to survey the situation at Wolf's Run.
When they finally arrived at the elevated viewpoint, the scene that unfolded before them was staggering. A veritable sea of Orcs, their green and brown forms blurring together, spread out in front of the city walls. Amidst the chaos, Sinclair could spot familiar faces—friends and family—defending the ramparts. Yet, there were also many faces he didn't recognize, fighting alongside those he loved.
Uncertain but resolute, Sinclair unfolded the scout report that had been hastily handed to him before he left the base camp. The Dark Elves on this side of the gate had been diligently surveying the surrounding area, noting the populations of animals and possible resource caches. Sinclair studied the document intently, convinced that somewhere in those notes lay the key to tipping the scales in favor of his embattled city.
As part of their agreement, the Dark Elves had committed to aiding the growth of Wolf's Run through extensive information gathering and research. Scanning the maps and notes, Sinclair's eyes caught something intriguing: markers indicating a large population of wolves sighted to the southeast of his city. Given his unusually favorable reputation among wolves, Sinclair realized this could mean built-in perimeter defenders for his community. While he had no intention of using them as mere fodder, if these wolves were anything like he anticipated, he could likely enlist their help. Under his banner, they would receive natural combat boosts, making them valuable allies in the fight.
Additionally, the map showed a small village near the wolves, encircled by a rudimentary wall. It was marked as a human settlement, but little other information was provided. Sinclair felt a twinge of self-reproach; in the chaos and the urgency to secure his city, he had neglected to adequately explore the surrounding territory. This was an oversight he vowed to correct. For now, though, the immediate matter at hand was the army of Orcs laying siege to Wolf's Run, and the untapped resources—both wolf and human—that might be turned to its defense.
With a newfound sense of purpose, Sinclair decided to head to the nearby village first. If he couldn't secure additional help, he was prepared to make the Orcs regret their siege, even if it meant risking his own life.
As he sprinted toward the village, he took the opportunity to consult with Odin about the mysterious Midgard connection. Sinclair instructed Chewy and Leia, his ever-watchful companions, to be extra vigilant, as he would be somewhat preoccupied during the discussion.
"Odin, can you hear me?" Sinclair projected his thoughts, aiming to reach the Elder God.
"Yes, I can hear you," Odin replied. "You have some time before you reach that village. We can discuss matters now."
"So, what exactly transpired when I stepped through the portal?" Sinclair inquired, still perplexed by the experience.
"As far as I can discern, the seed within you has facilitated a symbiotic link with Midgard," Odin began. "As you grow, so too does the planet. I've already observed signs of this relationship in the expanding resources and alliances around you. Given your cultivation of the World Tree, and considering Midgard's past existence within that same galaxy, it seems the planet sought to reestablish a connection through you. In time, I believe you'll be capable of direct communication with Midgard itself."
Pondering Odin's words, Sinclair had to admit that even for him, the situation was quite perplexing. "Alright, that's strange, but what does this mean for me in practical terms? Will I gain new abilities? Will I be confined to Midgard in the future? This is all a bit overwhelming."
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He sensed a mental sigh from Odin. "To be entirely honest, Sinclair, I can't say for sure. The connection you've established is unprecedented in my experience. We're entering uncharted waters. But rest assured, I'll provide guidance to the best of my ability."
Though uncertain, Sinclair knew he had little choice but to embrace this newfound connection. More power was always an asset, especially with the immediate challenges he faced. His mind briefly flicked to the thought of his next set of meridians, which were slated to open the following day. But first, he had a battle to fight today.
Finally gathering his thoughts, he ventured, "How's everything back home? How is everyone holding up?"
"They're managing," Odin replied. "You've surrounded yourself with remarkably resilient friends and allies. However, they're facing overwhelming numbers. The odds are roughly three to one against them. Moreover, there's something peculiar about these Orcs; they seem to have been altered in some way."
Upon hearing this, Sinclair quickly relayed his experience in the mine with the mutated animals. "Could be something similar going on with these Orcs," he suggested, adding another layer of complexity to the unfolding situation.
"You're approaching the village. Prepare yourself for a pleasant reunion. With the return of some of my powers, I've been able to make a few adjustments," Odin remarked, his voice tinged with an enigmatic chuckle before fading from Sinclair's mind.
Though he was told to expect a pleasant surprise, Sinclair found himself weary of the constant unpredictability. Shaking off the distraction, he refocused on the trail ahead, taking the lead once more. Bursting out of the treeline after another quarter-mile, he was greeted by a sight that felt oddly comforting: a walled enclosure, reminiscent of Wolf's Run, though not quite as expansive or robust.
As his eyes caught the banner fluttering over the wall, recognition flared somewhere in the recesses of his mind—a nagging inkling urging him to pay close attention. Drawing nearer with his arms outstretched in a non-threatening manner, Sinclair's face lit up as he spotted a couple of familiar figures.
"These are Hrondir's people!" he thought to himself, bewildered yet eager to find out more. "Where did they come from? How did they end up here?" The whole situation was stretching his understanding of time and space.
As he neared the wall, he called up, eyes searching for Bjorn. Almost as if on cue, the man appeared, leaning over the wall's edge, a puzzled smile gracing his features.
"How did you get here? This is baffling," Sinclair exclaimed, struggling to reconcile his present reality with his past experiences. He had assumed those tutorial zones were fabrications, or perhaps reenactments of historical events. Yet here stood someone he'd fought alongside, as real as the ground beneath his feet.
"It's a pleasure to see you again, my friend," Bjorn called down, his voice reverberating warmly. "Give me a moment; I'll have the gates opened for you."
"No need for formalities," Sinclair interrupted, turning toward Chewy and Leia. "You two, run a perimeter sweep for a few minutes. This shouldn't take long. We'll head toward that forest afterward."
Sinclair then pivoted back toward Bjorn, took a single, purposeful step, and leapt effortlessly over the wall. A chuckle escaped him as he observed Bjorn's astonished expression while he soared through the air. All eyes followed his trajectory until he landed gracefully within the walled compound.
Bjorn quickly descended a ladder leaned against the inner wall. "You certainly have a flair for dramatic entrances, I'll give you that."
"I'm still struggling to understand—how are you even here?" Sinclair asked, his brows knitting together in puzzlement.
"After you departed, we took temporary refuge with our cousins in the valley. Conditions were cramped, but then Jarl Hrondir received a unique quest: to tame uncharted lands. It's been ages since we've had such an assignment. Rallying our people took a bit of time, but once we assembled and accepted the quest, we were magically transported to this place."
Sinclair's eyes gleamed. "That's incredible. It's a relief to have neighbors I can rely on. My town, Wolf's Run, lies just a few miles beyond that ridge. Currently, it's under siege by Orcs, which is also why I'm here. Can you spare any fighters?"
By this time, Jarl Hrondir had joined them, catching the tail end of the conversation. "It's wonderful to see you again, Sinclair. We can indeed provide some reinforcements. Though we're still a fledgling community here, I can assemble a force to ride out shortly."
"That's splendid news," Sinclair replied, his voice tinged with relief. "I've heard that these woods are teeming with wolves. I intend to enlist their help as well."
"As we weather this crisis, I'd like to extend an invitation for you to visit us at Wolf's Run," Sinclair said to Jarl Hrondir, already pivoting to leave. "I believe our communities would benefit greatly from a stronger alliance in the challenges ahead."
"I couldn't agree more," Jarl Hrondir responded, waving at Sinclair's retreating form as he launched himself into the air, once more soaring gracefully over the village wall.
Sinclair landed nimbly just beyond the enclosure and immediately set his sights on a remote part of the forest, situated between their respective territories. The location felt promising for his current objective.
Within minutes of his rapid sprint through the dense underbrush, Leia and Chewy rejoined him, Turgrin still astride Chewy.
"We haven't found anything threatening so far, but the scout reports were accurate. There's a high concentration of wolves in this area; we found tracks everywhere," Chewy reported, his voice tinged with anticipation.
"Excellent. Let's focus on rallying them to our cause, then," Sinclair declared. Adjusting his trajectory slightly to avoid some rocky outcroppings up ahead, he led his companions deeper into the wolf-ridden expanse of the forest.
Nestled deep in the heart of the woods, Sinclair found himself entering a secluded valley that was almost exactly as he had envisioned. At its center stood a rustic hut, and outside it, the old man was already waiting, as if expecting his arrival. "You look about as surprised to see me as I am to see you," the old man mused. His eyes lingered on Sinclair, then shifted to Chewy and Leia, and he let out a low, appreciative whistle. "My, my, haven't you all grown since we last met?"
Sinclair gestured to the verdant surroundings. "A quest brought you here as well, I presume?"
"Indeed," the old man nodded. "Our ancestral lands back home are still well-protected by the wolves, but this here is a new generation, accompanied by a new pack leader." As he spoke, he gestured behind him, and two imposing wolves emerged from the shadows of the forest.
Sinclair locked eyes with the larger of the two wolves, an unspoken contest of wills. The wolf maintained its gaze for a moment before finally lowering its eyes. In this world, there was but one Wolf Lord, and that was Sinclair.
"I'm honored to meet you," Sinclair said, turning his attention back to the old man. "I suspect you've heard tales of our recent endeavors. I've come seeking aid; my city, Wolf's Run, finds itself besieged by Orcs. I suspect you've had your own encounters with these creatures lately."
The old man's eyes narrowed, clearly familiar with the scourge Sinclair spoke of. "Ah, the Orcs," he grumbled, stroking his thick, grizzled beard. "They've been prowling these parts, hungry for a fight. Seems like you've got an even graver situation on your hands, though."
Secluded amidst the ancient trees and lush vegetation of the valley, the old man locked eyes with Sinclair, weighing his next words carefully. "You carry the title of Wolf Lord; the wolves will heed your call. However, every alliance comes at a price. What are you willing to offer in exchange?"
Sinclair met the old man's gaze, his smile tinged with both warmth and conviction. "You know I hold life in the highest regard. I wouldn't risk any life for something I wouldn't dare attempt myself. In return for their allegiance, we can designate this valley and its surrounding lands as their official territory."
As Sinclair spoke, the old man nodded, his eyes filled with a mixture of approval and contemplation. Abruptly, he paused and turned his head slightly, as though receiving a silent communication from the pack leader.
"Some of our kin are eager to journey to your city," the old man said, his voice as smooth as winter ice yet brimming with youthful confidence. "It appears there's a summoner in Wolf's Run who is ready for bonding, and they're heeding the call."
Sinclair shifted his gaze to the wolf leader, his eyes meeting the lupine orbs of the majestic creature. "It would be an honor to host any of your kin in the future," he declared, his voice steeped in solemnity. "Know that they will always be welcome within the walls of Wolf's Run."
Seemingly satisfied, the pack leader offered a single, decisive nod, sealing the newfound alliance between their realms.
Sinclair's heads-up display was cluttered with notifications, each vying for his attention. He quickly scanned through them, filtering out the trivial details while ensuring he didn't miss anything crucial. He mentally bookmarked anything requiring a closer examination for later.
Activating his "Visage of the Wolf" ability, he immediately sensed the collective shift among the wolves around him. They straightened up, their eyes locking onto him as they recognized the presence of a legendary Wolf Lord. Invoking his "Call of the Hunt" ability, Sinclair tilted his head skyward and released a resounding, elongated howl. A shiver coursed down his spine as the surrounding wolves joined in, their howls reverberating through the forest, amplifying his own.
With an aura of déjà vu reminiscent of his earlier trials, Sinclair led his burgeoning army of wolves out of the secluded valley, his faithful companions Chewy and Leia trotting at his sides. Torgrin, seemingly oblivious to the world-changing events unfolding around him, remained perched atop Chewy.
They hadn't journeyed far when Jarl Hrondir and his men, their armor glinting in the dappled sunlight, caught up with them on the outskirts of the Valley of Wolves. Together, they advanced toward Wolf's Run.
As they crested the final hill and entered a clearing, trees spreading out around them like stepping stones, Sinclair stood at the edge of the clearing in his enhanced wolf form. His form was even more a fusion of man and wolf than before, exuding an aura of raw strength as if he could rend steel with his bare hands. He had grown slightly larger since the upgrade, until now it was clear that he was no longer in a simple bipedal form. There were noticeable changes to his physique, curved shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist and powerful thighs which bulged as if made from steel. His muscles popped out like knots on a tree trunk, each one distinct and shaped for purpose. The outer coat of fur covering him was silver, the color of moonlight. His nails were dark silver and his eyes glowed with an otherworldly light. Small patches of exposed skin on his hands and face appeared to be etched by blacking whorls moving across the surface like smoke or fire.
In that moment, Sinclair let out another deep, soul-stirring howl that made the very trees quiver in resonance. Each wolf in his pack responded in kind, their collective howls punctuating the air. A new buff icon materialized on his heads-up display, signifying their increased unity and strength for the battle that loomed ahead.
New Buff As One - (Rare) When the warriors of a unit are under the "As One" buff, they fight not as individuals but as a singular, relentless force. Each sword stroke is executed with the ferocity of a battalion, and every maneuver is carried out with the precision of a well-oiled machine. It's as if the essence of an entire army's might is distilled into each combatant, amplifying their damage and speed to unparalleled heights. In the heat of battle, "As One" turns a group of fighters into an indomitable warband.
As Sinclair looked ahead, his eyes fell upon the walls of Wolf's Run. Though they seemed grander than he remembered, their crumbling condition was evident—a painful visual metaphor for the plight of his people. As if on cue, the unsettling sound of splintering wood pierced the air. The gates were giving way.
A surge of raw emotion erupted within him—rage intermingled with an instinctual bloodlust aimed at the creatures threatening the lives of his friends and family. With no time for strategy or second thoughts, he let out a primal roar that seemed to echo the very essence of his being.
And then, propelled by a force greater than himself, he sprang into action.
With a roar that shook the heavens, Sinclair initiated the charge.