It didn't take long to reach their destination. Here, a scene of chaos unfolded before them. A company of goblins, with their gross skin and malicious grins, that were in stark contrast to the peaceful woods, engaged in a skirmish with the treants and spirits. The air was thick with tension, and the sounds of battle—clangs of metal against bark, snarls, and shouts—echoed through the clearing.
Tyrus raised his hand, indicating to Meadow to come to a halt and take cover behind the thick and sturdy trunks of the trees. He analyzed the situation before them. The treants, colossal wooden creatures, bellowed furiously while thrashing their enormous limbs, hurling goblins into the air like puppets. The earth spirits weaved through the chaos, hurling rocks from a distance and trapping the unsuspecting beasts with tree roots. It was an entire battlefield, and the denizens of Wildwood were winning with little to no effort.
"I'm now finding it hard to believe you guys struggled against the drake," Tyrus said. "The earth spirits could have done what you did earlier and threw rocks from a distance while the treants fought up close."
Meadow frowned. "You've seen first-hand how sneaky and smart the drake was. You almost didn't sense the drake until I warned you. Also, mere rocks and a treant's bark couldn't penetrate its scales. Your dagger snapped in half when you thrust at it."
"Yeah, but I still feel you could have overwhelmed it in due time."
"Savior… I don't mean to be rude, but it's a lesser fire drake. We are terribly weak against fire and had to be careful with fighting the drake. One misstep and Wildwood wouldn't be standing as it is now."
Tyrus said nothing and peered at the unfolding scene. It wouldn't be long until the treants and spirits finished the remaining goblins. As their bodies exploded from the bludgeoning, they would drop their weapons. They bore weapons akin to those of the goblin troupe in the Wasteful Wetlands. He discerned daggers, clubs, and even wooden shields. Though armed with deadly weapons, their garb was distinctively dissimilar - only soiled scraps.
When he shifted his gaze to his right, in the distance, he spotted the lesser hounds prowling around, watching. The onyx shade of their fur clashed with the green vegetation, and their gleaming ruby eyes narrowed as they breathed in the air. Tyrus glanced at the goblins. Because of the treants’ overwhelming might, most of them were fleeing in the opposite direction. They met the deserters with snarls from those who had stayed behind for various reasons. Nevertheless, when their focus was diverted, their skulls would burst.
Tyrus winced as he advanced. "Meadow, you can join the treants and spirits. I'm thinking about grabbing one of the weapons on the ground to replace my dagger."
"Good thinking. What are you going to do in the meantime? There are only a few goblins remaining."
"Target practice."
Without delay for a reply, he dashed towards the scene and arrived in less than a minute. The treants and earth spirits had successfully cleared out the remaining goblins. Separate piles of corpses littered the floor alongside the strewn armaments. As Tyrus neared, the creatures all revolved and opened up a passage for him. The earth spirits appeared much like Meadow, with floral wreaths adorning their heads. Though their faces and hairdos differed, they possessed wings of the same hue. No water spirits were among them; they were probably putting out the fires.
The treants reverently bowed down and inclined their crowns, emitting tender wails and rustling branches. Tyrus greeted the onlookers with a wave and crouched down to examine a dagger with a few blemishes on its edge. Although it appeared flimsy, it was better than having nothing. Goblins typically steal their weapons from settlements or travelers. Without the means or know-how to create and upkeep arms, they were fortunate enough to obtain some blades.
As a precautionary measure, he seized another one, this time with a black leather hilt and significantly fewer blemishes. He concealed the former in his ring and clung onto the latter. Ultimately, he fixed his eyes on a small, round wooden shield. Although he was initially hesitant to get it, his battle with the drake came back to him. Even if he had a shield, it may not have been completely effective against the creature's talons and teeth, but it was a preferable option to having no protection. It wouldn't hurt to have some form of defense.
The shield's exterior teetered on the brink of damaged and functionality. If Tyrus had to guess, then one good swing from a sword would break it in half. He raised his ring and assessed if it would be drawn towards the shield, shrugging as he did so. The ring gobbled it up, disappearing from sight.
"What a wonderful find," he smiled.
He rose and searched around. A plethora of eyes landed on him, all teeming with admiration and fascination. Few of the earth spirits exchanged whispers. The dialogues he overheard revolved mainly around his bravery, his disheveled appearance from a brutal fight, and whether he’d accept a handshake. While he didn't mind their attention, he was thankful they weren't swarming him. Also, it felt nice to be praised for a hard day of work and his efforts.
The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
Tyrus's cheeks blushed slightly, yet he cleared his throat and rapidly departed. He revolved the dagger in his palms, familiarizing himself with the handle while surveying his surroundings. For a short while, he watched Meadow blending with the earth spirits and communicating with them. They held each other briefly, and a few wiped their misty eyes. He smiled as he turned his attention back to his goal.
Adjacent to the woodland, on its left side, was a range of mountains and hills featuring snow-covered summits. Tyrus questioned the kinds of beasts that roamed the peaks. He had heard that dragons usually roost at places with a high altitude since they were solitary creatures. Giants and trolls also occupied the place. So many beasts lived around him, yet he had never seen them before.
Tyrus withdrew his gaze from the mountains and turned to look elsewhere. Immediately following were vast plains dotted with occasional clusters of trees. Lakes and rivers occupied the land, and more rolling hills further downward.
Up ahead, the lesser hounds were near the outskirts of Wildwood. Due to the swift conclusion of the goblin conflict, they were primarily idling about, resting or engaging in leisurely activities with each other. With a hushed movement, Tyrus vaulted onto a nearby tree and examined the area. In total, he tallied five, each one of them smaller than the Two-tusked boar.
"What to do?" he said to himself.
He had to tread carefully, as many mistakes would send them fleeing in the blink of an eye. Beasts had a natural sense for detecting lurking danger, and even the faintest sign would jolt them. A snapped branch or rustling brushes? They're already on the other side of the forest.
A hunter always had to be mindful of their steps to not disturb them. There was also the case of camouflaging his intentions until the last moment. The more formidable the creature, the more prone they are to bloodlust.
Tyrus sighed and stared at his hand. To use silent casting, he needed to conjure up a mental picture of the specific type of power he wanted to unleash with his chosen element. That proved to be a trivial matter. The problem he might encounter was in precisely fine-tuning the mana within his body and establishing a stable flow before being released.
While it was difficult when he was under extreme stress and pain against the drake, he could see it becoming difficult in later battles. There was an abundance of elements that required attention, such as monitoring the enemy or prey's position, keeping track of the location, being aware of the mana heart, and devising strategies.
In all his battles, knowing his incantations proved to be helpful. Silent casting provides increased flexibility in adjusting the strength and shape of spells, whereas verbal incantations simplify matters. All it took was an adequate mana heart and completing the incantation.
Between the two options, Tyrus would rather follow the path of silent casting. It played a part in defeating the drake. He shaped the spell he desired and made adjustments in the heat of the moment. Overextending with a spell like Dual Shot would have led to negative repercussions, while Lightning Bolt wouldn't have done anything. The advantages of the former method far outweighed those of the latter.
"Okay, enough stalling. Let's start…"
Tyrus sealed his eyes and felt the mana stream throughout his being. It remained steady, like his pulse. At times, it would exhibit erratic movements for half a second, but it was nothing serious. He imagined a Lightning Bolt floating above his palm, but instead of the usual size, he wanted it to be the size of a marble. A brief surge of mana flowed through his hands, producing a soft popping sound and a slight sensation of warmth. At the moment he opened his eyes, a swell of levitating energy crackled.
He gazed in awe at the spell, but its appearance soon twisted as if he were molding a piece of pliable bread. Tyrus focused on stabilizing the structure to prevent it from moving unpredictably, but it was mentally exhausting. The longer he sustained the form, the more his head pounded. Unable to bear it any longer, he hurled the orb at the closest lesser hound.
The spell charged ahead and hit the creature on its snout. It whimpered and leaped upward while rubbing its face. Clutching his head, he watched as the hound bounded away from the pack, who watched it with tilted heads.
"Maybe I'm still not recovered," Tyrus mumbled. Maybe the fight drained him mentally, which could have affected the spell.
He bore the pain with a frown but did not let it deter him from his next objective: casting spells silently and using both light and fire. Was it only applicable to his primary affinity, or could he perform it for the others? He should have asked Selena if it was limited to the most in-tune element, but the question never came up. Being by himself, he had to determine without help.
Tyrus wasted no time and duplicated the procedure, but visualized a radiant orb instead. He calmly waited for any fluctuations in his mana current, but none came to pass. When he opened his eyes, nothing appeared in his hand. He made another effort, directing his complete concentration toward the task at hand, but to no avail.
"Not looking good so far. What about fire?"
He repeated the method for fire, yet no result occurred. Tyrus converted to lightning and instantaneously brought forth the tattered sphere. After that, he tried for light and nothing popped up. After contemplating, it finally dawned on him what was happening.
Because of his attunement with lightning, silent casting was much easier compared to the other elements. It was also beneficial that he invested more time into it while the others remained unimpressive. Fire continued to be as feeble as a candle while light was just recently obtained. No wonder nothing happened between the two. If he wanted to use the two elements, using incantations was necessary.
I don't mind it that much. Maybe I'll be able to use silent casting for them in the future.
It was another positive development, and he uncovered it solely through his own efforts. A feeling of triumph arose within him as he tightened his fist. Now that he had more freedom with lightning, Tyrus was itching to find out what else he could do. The only thing restricting him was his mana heart and his intelligence. Learning through trial and error was a wonderful process.
As the monthly exam drew near, Tyrus was eager to reveal what he had learned and observe the reactions of his peers. He aimed to prove that he was serious about becoming an explorer and wouldn't slack off, one step at a time. To prove his capability, he had to persuade them that his age was not a limiting factor. It was only a matter of time.
But before that, he should actually start training fire by the end of the day.