The blowing wind and his deep, controlled breathing were the only sounds that could be heard from the middle of the ring of violence where Duncan now stood. Prairie hopper corpses littered the ground around him, leaving little room to move freely.

Duncan briefly shifted his gaze away from scanning for new threats to look down at his injuries. Near the end of the wave of beasts, he’d lost his footing thanks to the corpses strewn around the circle of cut grass, causing him to drop his shield as he tried to catch himself on the ground with his left hand. It was all the opening three of the hoppers had needed.

One had led with its sharp front claws, slashing into the flesh on his belly. Another decided to bite into the meat of his left shoulder. Luckily, his armor stopped the worst of the damage from both attacks. Both wounds were annoying but were not deep enough to affect him in combat.

The third prairie hopper had done the most damage. It had acted as a blunt projectile, using all the power in its back legs to launch itself head-first directly at the arm Duncan had braced against the ground. Luckily, those three hoppers had been part of the final group of attackers, leaving only ten monsters for him to finish off while he was injured.

‘Idiot,’ Duncan reprimanded himself. He knew better than to put himself in such a position. He’d reflexively tried to catch himself, leaving himself open. He could have rolled with the fall, using it to reposition. Or he could have used the air walk enchantment on his boots to rise above the corpse-covered ground and find a less obstructed section of the circle.

He continued to mentally admonish himself as he summoned a stone vile from his storage ring. He unstoppered the vial, then proceeded to upend its contents down his throat. This wasn’t the first time he’d taken a regenerative potion. Phevona had been training to make her non-combat Subject something related to alchemy. He’d been a somewhat less-than-willing test subject for many of her concoctions. The best of them had become a standard part of the team’s arsenal during monster hunts.

Now, as he sent the empty vial back into his storage ring, he felt the regenerative powers of the potion go to work on his injuries. The gash in his stomach and the puncture wound on his should begin to close as new skin grew into existence. His broken wrist even started to feel less painful, though he knew there was no way a weak tier one regeneration potion like the one he’d taken would be able to fix a broken bone. Not even Phevona could heal the break with the healing ability enchanted into her wand. Maybe she’d be able to soon with her Subject.

Duncan kept his attention on his surroundings as he let the potion continue to heal his injuries. Despite his broken wrist, he still held the shield in his left hand. He thought about taking another potion but knew drinking more than one so fast would only leave him poisoned and in worse shape than before.

He soon felt the warm sensation of the potion’s effect subside and once again assessed his condition. Both his gut and shoulder were good as new, not even a scar left behind as evidence of his blunder. His wrist was still broken, but he’d fought in much worse condition while under Rhona Tell’s tutelage. It was only the practical effects of a broken wrist that concerned him. It was simply a structural issue. He filtered the pain out of his mind as he’d been trained to do.

It was time to move. He knew he should stay put for an hour. If he waited that long, he’d be okay to take another regeneration potion if he needed to without poisoning himself. He was growing impatient, though. He’d been waiting for years. He’d been training for as long as he could remember. It was finally time for him to take the power he’d worked so hard for. He didn’t want to wait anymore.

Duncan let go of his characteristic patience and discipline. He gave in to his desire to move forward and ran. He rushed through the sea of dark blue grass, periodically using air walk to rise into the air for a better view. He didn’t know where he was going; he just knew he needed to move. He needed to reach 80 percent. He needed to find the prime. Then, he’d have his Subjects. He’d have his power.

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His dash through the grass caught the attention of more prairie hoppers as he put more distance between him and his killing circle. Their hissing alerted Duncan to their pursuit, but he didn’t care. It only meant he’d clear out 80 percent of the monsters faster. He kept running.

More and more hills passed under Duncan’s feet as he searched for the prime. Almost every prairie hopper that attacked was left lifeless and bloody in his wake. Most of the beasts had been foolish enough to jump above the grass to attack. Those met the merciless blade of his short sword, doing almost nothing to slow him down. The few with enough intelligence to stay in the grass and attack his legs were simply hurdled with the help of air walk. His hairpin once again proved its worth, allowing him to sense the stealthier attacks in time to dodge.

This continued for half an hour. Duncan took no time to rest, simply slowing down to a more sustainable pace once the prairie hopper attacks became less frequent. Everywhere he went, he was met by the same sight. More blue grass and more rolling hills. Until, finally, something changed.

Upon reaching the top of another hill, Duncan stopped. The other side of the slope ended in a section of grass that grew shorter and shorter until it disappeared altogether. In its place, barren ground stretched for almost 100 yards beyond the bottom of the hill and to either side.

A monster lay asleep in the middle of the grassless land. Duncan could hear the rumble of its deep breathing from the top of his hill. Even with it lying down, he could tell it was big.

As soon as Duncan noticed it, it also noticed him. Despite the fact it had been asleep, it seemed to know the moment Duncan’s eyes found it. The beast slowly stood up on its four legs, shaking itself until a cloud of dirt drifted into the air on the flowing breeze.

Gray fur covered the beast’s body, with a large clump of it surrounding its neck like a mane. Two three-foot-long horns stuck out of each side of its head, curving up into sharp, ivory points. It was a bison, or something like one. The coloring was different than those he’d seen pictures of on Earth, and the horns were longer. The most significant difference, however, was the size. This thing was at least twice the size of its Earth counterparts. Solid muscle rippled under its fur as it turned to stare up at Duncan.

It made no moves. It simply waited.

Duncan was done waiting.

As he started down the hill, he sent his short sword and shield into his storage ring and continued forward empty-handed. If this thing was anything like its cousins on Earth, he had a pretty good idea of how it would fight. He had a plan.

As soon as his feet touched the dirt at the bottom of the hill, the prime, for that is the only thing this bison could be, started to hoof at the ground. After another three strides, it charged.

It started slow but picked up more and more speed the longer it charged. As it grew closer, Duncan began to circle off to one side, forcing the prime to follow. Its momentum carried it forward like a train, and like a train, it didn’t seem to turn too well.

Once it was only ten yards away, Duncan dove off to one side, putting as much distance between him and the charging slab of meat as possible. The monster roared as its momentum carried it past its prey, and it soon dug its hooves into the dirt to slow down.

Duncan stayed where he’d risen from his dive, watching the monster as it desperately tried to turn around. As he’d thought, it was all momentum and no finesse. Duncan smiled. He’d always thought bullfighting looked interesting. Today, he would be a matador.

The bison charged again and again. Each time it was thought it would catch its prey, the annoying human escaped. Every time it turned to run down its enemy, it grew a little more tired and a little slower.

Then, after another fruitless charge, Duncan seized his chance. The prime was slow to turn. Too slow to realize it was now the one being charged.

Shooting up from where he dove to avoid the latest charge, Duncan sprinted for the turned back of the prime monster. Still empty-handed, he took one, two, three steps into the air. Just as the bison turned to face him and found him gone from the ground, Duncan summoned his greatsword. In a perfect imitation of the move he’d used against Jen the previous week, he brought the blade down on the neck of the beast with all the gravity of his fall from the sky behind the strike.

Sharp metal and momentum met tough hide and flesh. Hide and flesh gave way until Dunca’s greatsword was buried a third of the way through the massive beast’s neck. His feet met the ground just before the bison’s body. It had crumpled without so much as a cry of pain, lifeless.

A sudden rush of energy filled Duncan’s entire being. It came from everywhere. It came from the very realm he now stood in. Before he knew it, his body was so full of what he knew to be mana that he could hardly even breathe. It felt like the very matter that he was made of was being twisted. It felt like it was trying to change.

‘I guess this means I cleared the realm,’ Duncan thought to himself. ‘It’s time to choose my Subjects.’