Cerebus shook his horned head as he looked Mason up and down.

"Your armor offends me. Remove it."

"It was a gift," Mason said, tapping a finger on Eve's breastplate with a grin. "I'm told I look...intimidating."

Cerebus snorted, holding out a clawed hand. A thousand fireflies rose from the swampy ground all around them, swirling into the long shape of a spear before it solidified.

"Fear is not the hunter's aim. Merely a side effect. Kill your rivals and you will not need 'intimidation'."

"I've been killing them,” Mason said. “For about a week.”

The horned god's fangs showed more clearly as he smiled. He put his head back and laughed, the mist-filled swamp echoing with his voice, the sound of hundreds of animals panicking in the distance.

"Yes." Cerebus nodded and turned, mist clearing everywhere he walked. "I have enjoyed it. Now follow me, little wolf, and flush out the game. I wish to hunt. It has been too long."

With that the huge man or beast turned and ran. Mason hesitated, aware he was being compared to a dog.

"I'm starting to detect a theme," he muttered, thinking to his girls calling him a sheep dog. But he didn't expect he could really say ‘no’, and honestly he kind of wanted to see what Cerebus was up to. So he summoned his elven bow and chased after his ‘patron’.

Cerebus raced through the trees with Mason working hard to keep up. He struggled with the foliage, ducking branches and grasping vines, feeling as if the roots beneath his feet were trying to grab him.

“You must teach them,” Cerebus called, as if knowing the problem. “All living things must learn to respect you.”

Right, Mason thought. Teach the plants respect. Should I kick a few trees?

Mostly he just activated his tier-upgraded Aspect of the Cheetah and tried to keep moving, hyper focused on his immediate surroundings. It was hard to tell how much faster he’d gotten, but the chase got easier over time. In a few minutes the mists faded, the hostile plants getting less alive, more dormant.

Mason finally had a moment to look up and around, wiping sweat from his brow with a forearm as he almost ran into an apparently stopped Cerebus. He was also pretty sure as he looked at the trees and heard the sounds around him, that they were now (or always had been) somewhere in the Fey.

Standing next to the god also reminded Mason how big the creature was. Mason had grown a few inches since entering the great game—standing at least six foot three or four, and that was before he started shifting or activating Duality of Strength.

But he hardly rose above Cerebus’ waist. As he stepped beside him, using his Sleeves to camouflage as he carefully picked his steps, he looked out with surprise at a gathering of…humanoid creatures. He wasn’t sure how else to describe them. They looked like short…goat men.

“There you are,” Cerebus hissed quietly. With a growl the god launched into the clearing, his body glowing with green light as he raised his spear and hurled it with a roar.

The goat men understandably panicked. They shrieked and screamed, bolting in every direction, some smashing together in their desperate attempt to flee. A few just stood still and stared with wide eyes, or cried out again and again in obvious terror.

Cerebus’ spear impaled the only one amongst them carrying a club. This one was larger, wearing leather armor, a small crown on his head. The spear lifted him off his feet, pinning him against a tree with a splash of blood. The creature stared at the weapon nailing it to a tree trunk, gasping for breath as it stared in complete incomprehension.

Mason followed in the god’s footsteps, no idea what was happening or why. Cerebus lifted another of the goat men by his horns, dangling him in the air in display.

“Speak,” he growled.

Urine ran down the creature’s leg. It twisted and gasped for breath, closing its eyes and whimpering as it looked at Mason with somehow even wider eyes.

“I…I…didn’t know. I meant no disrespect…horned lord…where…and…that is, how…”

Mason startled as he recognized the voice. It was the ‘trickster’ who had sent him to the elven city when he was lost in the Fey.

“You’ve been a naughty little goat,” hissed Cerebus, mouth full of fangs dripping with drool as he leaned closer to the creature. “Did you think I would not know? That I would not see? There are rules, you wretch.”

Amazingly, the impaled goat man stuck to the tree actually spoke.

“How…are you here?”

Cerebus smiled, standing to his full height.

“Hadn’t you heard? My champion won the games.”

Goat men shrieked and wept all around them. Mason saw other curious creatures now—birds with the bodies of ravens and the heads of owls; monkeys with glowing eyes; tree-men with human faces, walking on legs and dragging their roots. Cerebus watched them all and laughed.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

“For one year’s journey of the primal sun, these lands belong to me. Your lawlessness ends.”

More tears. More dramatic wails and weeping. The impaled goat-man spit blood and tried and failed to pull out the spear.

“Do you wish to hunt him, little wolf?” Cerebus turned and looked at Mason with a raised brow. “They are weak, but…they are quick and cunning. It might be amusing.”

Mason looked at the terrified creature still dangling from its horns and shook his head.

“He's meaningless. I have better things to do.”

Cerebus sighed but nodded as if he agreed. Then with the barest effort, and a terrible sound, he ripped off the creature’s arm. Like one might flick a piece of food, he threw the screaming creature across the clearing.

“Run, little goat. Go show all your kin. Cerebus has returned.” He raised his voice to a booming echo. “Stray from your filthy lines, miserable curs, and I will take more than limbs.” With that he put the goat’s arm to his lips and tore a chunk with his teeth, chewing with a grin.

“You will pay for this insult,” somehow said the goat with a spear through his chest, still wiggling and dripping blood. “I have many friends in the Unseelie court.”

Cerebus laughed and turned back for the trees.

“Keep the spear, goat king. I have plenty of others.”

Mason took a final look around the clearing, doing his best to act like he knew what the hell was happening. He noticed a vibrant hue of color and looked to see something familiar—a very small, very attractive looking young woman with a puffy dress and blue and purple butterfly wings.

She fluttered the wings and waved when Mason looked at her, a big white smile spreading across her face. Then she zipped back into the trees and vanished. Mason shook his head, and followed after Cerebus.

“What the…I mean, what was all that?” he said, trying to get to the god’s side. “You’re ‘free’ now? Because I won that tournament? I don’t understand.”

“Quiet.” Cerebus tossed away the goat-man’s arm and actually winked at Mason. “You’ll scare away the game.”

As usual Mason had no idea what to say. He just followed until Cerebus again crouched and stared into a clearing in the Fey, then bolted inside with monstrous power. Mason heard an animal bray and panic. Then Cerebus was on him.

The god stood and lifted his arms, holding the White Stag’s legs just below its hooves, two in each massive fist. He held it upside down and turned to Mason with a smile.

“My gift, little wolf. For your victory.”

The stag cried out and kicked, but soon stilled in submission.

“Your days of running free are over, old friend,” Cerebus said with a smile. His eyes glowed with magic, and again the scent of sweat and blood filled Mason’s nostrils. The clearing hummed with green and white light, until finally Mason saw a familiar golden chain binding the stag’s leg to Cerebus.

He knew it well. It was the same chain he’d seen binding the giant elemental Rochmananoch to the old druid he’d enslaved.

The same chain Mason had been forced to break to get free. It was supposed to suppress his powers, and at the time he’d thought Apex Predator had somehow protected him. Now he wondered if it had something to do with Cerebus…

“Come, little wolf,” said the smiling god.

Mason shook his head. He had helped this creature—helped save its mate and deliver its foal. Though it had ultimately been some kind of trick, the stag had given him a blessing that allowed him to actually walk the Fey and understand it.

Whatever Cerebus was doing or offering him, he didn’t want to harm this creature. As if detecting his hesitation, Cerebus frowned.

“He will serve you, ranger. Nothing more. The White Stag cannot die. He is eternal, like me, and one day he will return to the Fey. Claim him. He is my gift to you.”

Mason finally stepped forward, raising a hand to touch the creature, not sure what else to do. He decided maybe he would free him, but in this moment he had no choice but to do as expected. He didn’t trust Cerebus, exactly, but he respected him, and didn’t want to offend him.

As his hand got closer, the same green and white light flashed.

[Essence gained: Essence of the Stag. Gain the ability to challenge a foe to single combat, limiting its powers and senses to detect and effect others.]

[New Animal companion detected. Bond gained. Would you like to bond unique animal {White Stag of the Fey} now?]

Mason saw the text and didn’t hesitate anymore. He felt another presence enter his mind as he accepted. It was calm and quiet, with a deep and unfathomable sense of the world. Mason could only think of it as wisdom.

Cerebus set the stag down as if no longer concerned it would run. He sniffed the air and sighed, glancing as if he could see the sun above the impossibly thick canopy of the Fey.

“I cannot linger. Go with my blessing, Mason Wolf. Grow strong and wise. Make your claim upon this world. Together, we will ascend.”

Mason Wolf. The name shivered through Mason’s spine, much as he tried not to feel it. He had always been grateful for the Nimitz’s and everything they’d done for him, but he’d also never truly felt like one of them. The surname had always felt like something of a lie. But this one didn’t.

“I have questions,” he said, knowing Cerebus was probably an endless source of knowledge.

“Ask them quickly,” said the god.

Right. Now what the hell to ask? He didn’t have much of a plan. Think of something useful. Quickly.

“My dreams,” he said. “I see the walking dead. Demonic creatures. Can you help me fight them one day? Can I call for your help?”

Cerebus shook his head.

“I cannot enter the prime, except in visions, or as a beast. There are rules.”

“What rules? Who makes them?”

Cerebus shrugged. “Who knows such things? But they are so. And even gods must follow them.”

Mason started thinking about the orc tower that had trapped Blake. How...strange it had felt. How unlike the rest of the game, like an error, or a personal vendetta. Had it been the interference of a 'god'? A kind of other entity or mind responsible for a piece of the game?

More and more Mason was thinking what he thought of as 'roboGod' were more like ‘roboGods’—beings with different opinions, or at least perceptions. Maybe even different rules.

What to do with that information he had no idea.

"Thank you," he said, not wanting to push his luck. Cerebus nodded, and without another word, turned and bolted with frightening speed, the trees themselves seeming to bend as he vanished into the forest of the fey.

Mason turned and looked into the resigned eyes of the Stag.

"Sorry," he said with a shrug, activating Speak with Nature to be sure it understood. "I…didn't know that was going to happen. I can release you, if you want. Though I don't know how."

The Stag looked at him, the same piercing eyes seeming to stare into his soul.

No, ranger. Only Cerebus can release me. But...I thank you. Serving you will not be a hardship. A hundred years isn’t so very long.

A hundred years? Jesus Christ. But Mason nodded, feeling…surprisingly honored.

"What should I call you?”

Stag is acceptable. My true name is a scent. Shall I spray you with it?.

Mason grinned. He had already sensed the playful nature of the creature through their bond, and was again reminded of being tricked the first time they met.

"No, thank you, Stag. Now let’s go to your new home.”