Weeks passed, and Sorin had grown to thoroughly enjoy his life at Warbringer Academy. What had started as intense training and new experiences had quickly evolved into something more: a series of constant, intense, yet playful competitions with his friends. Whether it was competing for the highest grades, running the fastest, or lifting the heaviest weight, Sorin, Diego, Tytus, Jackson, and now Torrid pushed each other to be better. These contests had created a friendly rivalry among the group, and the constant one-upping had become a daily part of their routine.
It was this rivalry that led them to their current activity: hunting beasts.
The forests surrounding Cestead were teeming with dangerous creatures, many of them Acolyte-Ranked beasts. It was common for students from all the academies in the city to go hunting in these forests, as hunting beasts provided two critical benefits. The first was honing their combat skills, and the second, more important one, was absorbing the spirit from the slain beasts, which allowed them to cultivate and improve their own spirit reserves far faster than simply cultivating. This made hunting a crucial part of their development as warriors.
However, it wasn’t without risk. Each year, a few dozen students overestimated their abilities and paid for it with their lives. The forests were dangerous, and even a moment of carelessness could turn a routine hunt into a deadly encounter. Sorin and his friends were aware of the risks, but their competitive nature had driven them to the hunt, eager to prove who among them was the best.
What made the surrounding forests interesting from a political stance was the rivalry between the academies of Cestead. The hunting grounds near the city were regulated by the City Overlord, and each academy was assigned specific areas in which they could hunt. The most coveted hunting grounds—those teeming with the strongest Acolyte-ranked beasts—were awarded to those within the City Overlord's favor. For over fifty years, Warbringer Academy had maintained control of the best hunting grounds, thanks to their close relationship with the City Overlord. Zane Warbringer and the City Overlord had a history where they had fought together for many years in No Man’s Land. This had sparked a fair amount of jealousy and animosity between Warbringer Academy and the other schools in Cestead, who resented being relegated to lesser hunting areas.
It was forbidden to hunt in areas outside of an academy’s sanctioned grounds. Violating this rule often led to harsh penalties, including expulsion, or worse. Still, students from rival academies often tried to sneak into Warbringer territory, hoping to gain access to the stronger beasts and spirit reserves. After all, who could prove they were trespassing as long as they weren’t caught or there was no proof that they were within Warbringer Academy hunting grounds. This created a tense atmosphere between the academies, disputes, and even physical confrontations between groups of students.
Sorin and his friends had set out early that morning, armed and ready to hunt. They had chosen one of the prime hunting areas controlled by Warbringer Academy as their destination, a dense section of forest known for its population of dangerous Acolyte-ranked beasts. The forest was thick with towering trees, the canopy overhead casting the ground in a perpetual twilight, making it an ideal environment for Sorin to use his powers. The air was cool and crisp, and the sounds of distant wildlife filled the air.
The air was also thick with anticipation—everyone was excited except Jackson, that is, who was currently doing everything in his power to avoid the hunt. His usual cowardice had been kicked into high gear, and it had reached the point where Torrid had taken matters into his own hands—literally.
Torrid, the hulking giant of their group, had slung Jackson over his shoulder like a sack of grain as they made their way through the city. The wiry illusionist kicked and squirmed, trying to break free, but Torrid's grip was ironclad. Jackson's protests had fallen on deaf ears, much to the amusement of the rest of the group.
"Put me down, you brute!" Jackson wailed, flailing his arms dramatically. “This is kidnapping! Kidnapping, I tell you!” His tone was exaggerated, as if hoping the passersby would come to his rescue.
The reaction from the people they passed had been mixed, ranging from confused stares to outright chuckles. Mortals and fellow students gave them curious glances as they left the city, but no one intervened. It was just another odd sight in the bustling world of Cestead.
Diego, walking calmly beside Sorin, gave Jackson a sideways glance. “For someone who follows the God of Lies and Illusions, you sure aren’t subtle,” he said dryly.
Jackson, still dangling over Torrid’s shoulder, groaned. “That’s because none of you are falling for my tricks! I’ve done everything I can to avoid this ridiculous death march, and yet here I am, being carried like a prize boar!”
Sorin couldn’t help but laugh at the scene. “You’ll be fine, Jackson. You are far too skinny to be considered a prize boar. Additionally, you’ve got the best group in the academy watching your back. Besides,” Sorin added with a grin, “I’m curious to see what kind of illusions you’ll cook up when we come across a real beast.”
Jackson huffed, clearly unamused. “Illusions are for tricking people, not giant bloodthirsty creatures that want to devour me. I prefer not to be their snack, thank you very much!”
Torrid, ever unbothered by Jackson’s complaints, adjusted his grip on the smaller boy and kept walking. He had long grown accustomed to Jackson’s antics and no longer reacted to the prankster’s attempts to manipulate the situation. Jackson had even tried casting an illusion to make it look like he’d slipped free and was sprinting away through the streets of the city, but Torrid wasn’t fooled. The giant hadn’t let go of Jackson the entire time.
Tytus, walking ahead of the group with his mage staff slung over his shoulder, laughed loudly at Jackson’s latest attempt to wriggle free. “You know, Jackson, if you put as much effort into fighting as you do into running away, you might actually enjoy this!”
Jackson shot Tytus a withering look, though it lost its effect since he was still draped over Torrid’s broad shoulder. “Not all of us are flashy warmage lunatics like you, Tytus. Some of us prefer the art of subtlety and survival.”
Diego, ever the calm voice of reason, shook his head. “You’ll survive just fine, Jackson. And if you don’t, well… at least Grimm will greet you with open arms.”
Jackson gasped in mock horror. “I’d prefer to keep Grimm’s arms far, far away from me, thank you very much.”
Tytus, ever the loud and boisterous one, had made it clear that he had no fears about the battles ahead. "I’m telling you, nothing’s going to stand a chance against me," he boasted. "I’ll flatten anything that crosses my path.”
Jackson, as usual, was less enthusiastic. “Or you’ll just get squashed like a bug,” he quipped, though his tone was lighthearted. “I’ll be sticking to the back, thank you very much. Let you all have the glory.”
Diego, calm and focused as always, simply checked the blade of his scythe, his dark eyes scanning the forest ahead. “We need to stay vigilant. There is no telling if we may be ambushed by something out of our league. We don’t want to end up getting our resident weakling and coward Jackson killed.”
“Heyyyyyy,” Jackson protested.
Sorin was eager for the hunt, but he knew that discipline and focus were key. The competition between his peers was fierce, and if he wanted to win he would have to be in top condition. It had been far too long since he had struck out into the wilderness and gotten into a good fight.
As they approached the forest, Sorin’s thoughts briefly turned to the rivalry between Warbringer Academy and the other schools. He understood the jealousy the other academies felt. Warbringer had held control over the best hunting grounds for decades, and that gave its students an undeniable advantage in spirit cultivation and combat experience. But Sorin also knew that this was simply the way of the world—those with power and connections would always have the upper hand. Rivalry in the academy wasn’t just about competing in controlled environments—it bled into every aspect of life in Cestead.
As the group entered into the depths of the forest, the tension of competition began to rise among them. Despite their camaraderie, each of them was eager to prove themselves. They quickly decided on a set of ground rules for their beast-hunting competition to ensure fairness—and to keep Jackson from wriggling out of it entirely.
They agreed that they would work together to locate the beasts, but when it came time to slay them, they’d follow a set rotation. Each person would get a turn to face the beast alone while the others provided backup. They’d continue this cycle until everyone was either out of spirit or they reached the end of the day. Whoever killed the most beasts by the end of the hunt would be declared the winner.
Jackson, predictably, tried to bow out the moment the idea of a rotation came up. "I think I’ll just stick to supporting you guys—moral support, you know?" he said with a nervous grin.
But his friends weren’t having it.
Tytus, holding a set of straws in his hand, smirked and shoved them toward Jackson. “Nope, you’re in this whether you like it or not. Now draw.”
Jackson sighed dramatically but drew a straw like the rest of them, muttering about his impending doom. Once everyone had drawn, the order of the rotation was set.
The rotation for the hunt was:
1. Torrid – He insisted on going first despite drawing a shorter straw than Diego and Sorin. When everyone had tried to explain to Torrid that is not how drawing straws worked, he looked at them with an uncomprehending expression. Eventually they gave up and told him to just go first.
2. Sorin – Sorin was next rotation and was itching to draw his blades in combat once again.
3. Diego – The quiet scythe-wielder would go third, he did not react with excitement or disappointment, merely keeping his usual expressionless nature.
4. Tytus – The follower of Tremor would follow Diego much to his disappointment of not being early in the rotation.
5. Jackson – Last in the rotation (and much to his happiness) was Jackson. He still held his straw with a look of dread, muttering complaints under his breath that he had to be in the rotation at all.
With the order decided and Jackson thoroughly unhappy about the whole endeavor, the group set out to begin the hunt, eager to see who would come out on top.
The forest was alive with the sounds of distant creatures, and the group, brimming with competitive energy, moved through the dense underbrush with sharp eyes and eager anticipation. Torrid walked ahead of the group, his massive sword and shield resting easily in his hands, looking every bit the unstoppable force he was known to be.
After about an hour of searching, Sorin suddenly spotted movement through the trees. “There!” he called out, pointing toward a clearing up ahead. A low, guttural growl rumbled through the air, and a large beast emerged from the shadows of the forest.
It was a Graveldug, a hulking creature resembling a bear, though its hide was made of cracked stone and its mouth was filled with jagged, rock-like teeth. Its eyes gleamed with hunger, and the ground trembled slightly with each step it took. The Acolyte-ranked beast was well known for its tough exterior and brute strength.
Torrid grinned, clearly relishing the opportunity. “A beast like that? A good fight!” he boasted, stepping forward confidently. He glanced back at his friends. “Watch and learn.”
Without waiting for a response, Torrid stepped into the clearing, positioning his massive shield in front of him. The Graveldug let out a thunderous roar and charged, its stone-like body barreling toward Torrid at full speed.
With a quick movement, dark purple spirit surged up Torrid’s body as he activated his first ability: Bull Rush.
Torrid charged forward, meeting the Graveldug head-on with all the force he could muster. His charge was like a battering ram, crashing into the beast with such power that the ground shook beneath them. The impact knocked the Graveldug off balance, sending it skidding back several feet. Torrid didn’t let up, immediately following up with a flurry of powerful strikes from his sword, each blow landing with a heavy thud against the beast’s stony hide.
The Graveldug recovered quickly and swiped at Torrid with one of its massive claws, aiming to knock him aside. But Torrid was ready. He lifted his shield and activated Impenetrable Guard. The shield became an indestructible barrier, glowing faintly with a dark purple energy as it absorbed the impact of the Graveldug’s attack without even a dent.
“Not today!” Torrid shouted, grinning as the beast’s claws scraped harmlessly off his shield. With his guard up, Torrid waited for the perfect moment. When the Graveldug lunged again, Torrid stepped aside and retaliated with Obsidian’s Wrath, which turned Torrid’s rage into raw power.
Channeling his rage, Torrid’s strikes became even more powerful. Each swing of his massive sword hit with enough force to send cracks running through the Graveldug’s stony exterior, and each hit knocked the beast back, staggering it further. The impact of the blows was so intense that small shockwaves rippled through the air, shaking the nearby trees.
The beast let out another enraged roar, attempting to crush Torrid under its weight with a savage leap. But Torrid wasn’t fazed. He raised his sword high, summoning all his strength for a finishing blow. With a mighty roar of his own, Torrid activated Colossal Slam, empowering his strike to unseen heights, and brought his sword down.
The strike was devastating. Torrid’s sword crashed into the ground with such force that it created a shockwave, sending the Graveldug flying backward and crashing into the trees with a loud thud. The impact was enough to shatter the beast’s stony hide, leaving it defenseless. Torrid wasted no time, charging forward once more and delivering the final blow.
With one last swing of his sword, the Graveldug fell, its body collapsing to the ground in a heap of broken stone and earth.
Stolen novel; please report.
Torrid stood over the fallen beast, breathing heavily but grinning from ear to ear. “Told you,” he said, looking back at the group, clearly pleased with himself. “That’s one for me.”
The others gathered around, impressed by Torrid’s display of power. Even Jackson—who had been nervously hiding behind a tree—couldn’t help but be in awe.
Diego raised an eyebrow. “Impressive, Torrid,” he said quietly. “Though you might want to pace yourself. It’s still early in the hunt.”
Torrid waved a hand dismissively. “I have lots of spirit,” he said with a confident smirk. “I win even without spirit.”
Sorin couldn’t help but grin. Torrid’s powers, as a follower of Obsidian, the God of Invincibility and Unrelenting Force, were perfectly suited for this kind of contest. His combination of brute strength and nearly unbreakable defense made him a natural in battle. Bull Rush allowed him to close the gap with his enemies and deliver devastating blows, while Impenetrable Guard made him nearly impossible to injure unless you broke his guard. And with Obsidian’s Wrath and Colossal Slam, his melee attacks could easily overpower even the toughest beasts. It was an incredibly simplistic yet powerful set of abilities.
Sorin did know of one power that Torrid did not use in this encounter. It was Torrid’s one and only spell and frankly had never seen it in action. It was called Obsidian Armor and supposedly created an entire armor set for Torrid allowing him to bolster his defenses against both physical and magical attacks to a large degree. Sorin was curious if Torrid would be pushed far enough to use the armor at some point today.
After Torrid’s impressive victory over the Gravelmaw and several minutes for Torrid to mediate and absorb the spirit from his kill, it was Sorin’s turn to take the lead. The group continued deeper into the forest, moving carefully through the thick underbrush as they searched for their next target. The friendly rivalry between them was still very much alive, but the hunt had taken on a more serious tone as they ventured further from the city’s safety. Sorin, always focused and alert, scanned the area, his instincts honed from weeks of training.
They hadn't traveled far when Sorin's Eye of Discernment caught a subtle shift in the shadows around them. His gaze sharpened, and he stopped, holding up a hand to signal the others.
“There,” he said softly, pointing toward a thicket not far ahead. A low growl emanated from the shadows, and from the darkness emerged a creature known as a Nightclaw—a predatory beast with sleek, black fur that blended almost perfectly into the twilight of the forest. Its feline form moved with lethal grace, and its glowing yellow eyes locked onto Sorin’s group with predatory intent. The Nightclaw was known for its stealth and speed, making it a dangerous adversary, especially for those who couldn’t match its agility.
Sorin took a deep breath, feeling the rush of adrenaline that always came before a fight. The others hung back, ready to support but allowing Sorin to take the lead, as per their rotation.
He stepped forward, drawing his twin swords, the familiar weight of the blades steadying him. “Alright, my turn,” Sorin said, glancing back at his friends with a confident smile.
The Nightclaw snarled and darted toward Sorin, its movements nearly invisible as it weaved through the shadows. But Sorin wasn’t about to let it close the distance on its own terms. He lifted his hand and summoned the Shroud of Shadows in a flash of black spirit, enveloping himself in an ethereal cloak of darkness. The shroud obscured his form, rendering him almost invisible to the beast and muffling his presence as he sidestepped the Nightclaw’s first attack.
The creature, disoriented by Sorin’s sudden disappearance, growled in frustration, its sharp eyes scanning the area for its prey. But Sorin moved silently within the shadows, positioning himself strategically behind the beast.
With the Nightclaw still unaware of his position, Sorin dispelled the shroud just as he lunged forward with his twin blades. He struck with precision, his swords slicing through the Nightclaw’s fur and cutting deep into its side. The beast let out a yowl of pain, but Sorin was already moving, using his agility to stay one step ahead of the creature’s retaliation.
The Nightclaw whirled around, claws flashing as it swiped at Sorin. But instead of backing away, Sorin stood his ground and called upon The Essence of Vesperos, Shadow Control. Shadows gathered around him, swirling in response to his command. With a sharp gesture, Sorin unleashed a small wave of shadows, which surged forward and wrapped around the beast’s legs, momentarily trapping it in place.
The Nightclaw struggled against the bindings, but Sorin moved swiftly, using the momentary distraction to his advantage. He delivered a series of rapid, precise strikes with his swords, each one cutting deeper into the beast’s hide. The creature roared, breaking free of the shadows, but Sorin was relentless, keeping up the pressure.
Just as the Nightclaw prepared to pounce again, Sorin whispered under his breath, calling upon the Echoes of Fear. The Nightclaw hesitated, its predatory instincts overridden by a sudden, irrational terror. The whispers wormed their way into the beast’s mind, conjuring nightmarish visions and paralyzing it with fear.
Sorin took the opportunity to finish the fight. With a final, powerful strike, he drove his swords into the creature’s side, and with a pained yowl, the Nightclaw collapsed to the ground, its body going limp.
The forest fell silent as Sorin stood over the fallen beast, his breathing steady as he sheathed his swords. He turned back to his friends, who were already approaching, clearly impressed.
Tytus let out a low whistle. “Damn, Sorin. That was something else. You handled that Nightclaw like it was nothing.”
Diego nodded in approval, his eyes lingering on the spot where Sorin had used the shadows to bind the creature. “Your control over the shadows is improving. It’s no easy feat to manipulate them like that in the middle of a fight. Much better when you first started your War Magic Basics class.”
Jackson, still clearly relieved it wasn’t his turn yet, grinned nervously. “I mean, sure, it was impressive and all, maybe you want to take my turn too?”
Sorin chuckled, giving a modest shrug. “Just trying to keep up with Torrid’s beast of a performance.”
Torrid, clearly not one to be outdone, clapped Sorin on the back with a grin. “Close! Close! Not quite!” He crossed his arms and added, “But don’t get too comfortable. I will still win.”
Sorin smiled, feeling the camaraderie and the competitive spirit pushing them all forward. He sat down briefly to mediate and consolidate the spirit he had received from the fight. He rapidly pulled it into his Divine Conduit and felt a sense of fulfillment and progress as he felt his Divine Conduit become just a fraction more saturated.
The group continued their hunt. Diego was up next in the rotation, and though he was usually the quiet and reserved one in the group, everyone knew he was a formidable fighter. As a follower of Grimm, the God of Reaping Souls and Delivering them to the Afterlife, Diego wielded his scythe like all followers of Grimm, his powers drawn from the dark energy of death itself.
It wasn’t long before the group came across their next target—a Scaleback Stalker, a predatory beast known for its stealth and brutal ambush tactics. Its body was covered in tough, stone-like scales, and its long claws and glowing red eyes gave it a fearsome appearance. The Scaleback Stalker prowled silently between the trees, its breath misting in the cool air.
“Looks like we’ve got a real challenge here,” Sorin remarked, sizing up the beast.
Diego’s eyes gleamed with anticipation. He stepped forward, his scythe already in hand. “No challenge,” he said softly, his voice carrying an eerie confidence. “I’ll send it to the afterlife where it belongs.”
Jackson, still somewhat rattled from his impending turn in the rotation, gave Diego a skeptical look. “You sure about that? That thing looks like it could rip us all to shreds.”
Diego smirked, his grip tightening on his scythe. “I’m sure,” he said simply. “Watch and learn.”
Without another word, Diego advanced toward the Scaleback Stalker, his scythe trailing behind him. The creature snarled, baring its teeth as it crouched low, preparing to strike. But Diego was already calling upon the power of Grimm. His scythe began to glow with a smokey gray, necrotic energy, a manifestation of Death’s Embrace. The gray energy rippled along the blade, crackling with power as it enhanced his attacks, ready to sap the life from his foe.
The Scaleback Stalker lunged, its claws outstretched, aiming for Diego’s chest. But Diego remained calm, waiting until the last second before activating Spectral Pursuit. His body flickered, becoming intangible, and he phased right through the beast’s attack. In a swift movement, he reappeared behind the creature and solidified, his scythe cutting through the air in a deadly arc.
The necrotic energy of his scythe bit into the creature’s flesh, leaving a trail of gray, withering energy in its wake. The Scaleback Stalker let out a pained roar as its defenses were weakened, its tough scales crumbling under the effects of Death’s Embrace.
“Not so tough now, are you?” Diego muttered, his eyes cold and focused.
The beast snarled and turned, trying to slash at Diego again, but this time, he was ready. Diego raised his free hand, invoking a spell called Grave’s Grasp. The ground beneath the beast began to stir, and spectral hands, twisted and ghostly, erupted from the earth. They latched onto the Scaleback Stalker’s limbs, holding it in place as it struggled to break free.
Torrid let out an appreciative grunt from the sidelines. “Not bad, Diego!”
With the beast immobilized, Diego wasted no time. He swept his scythe in a wide, ritualistic arc, unleashing the power of Harvest of Souls. Gray energy exploded from his weapon, enveloping the Scaleback Stalker in a cloud of necrotic power. The burst of energy dazed the creature, its movements slowing as it became more vulnerable to attack.
Sorin and the others watched as Diego methodically dismantled the beast, his strikes precise and unrelenting. There was a deadly grace to his movements, each swing of his scythe calculated and lethal. The Scaleback Stalker roared in pain and fury, but it couldn’t escape the spectral hands that held it in place, nor could it defend itself from the relentless onslaught of Diego’s scythe.
With one final, powerful strike, Diego brought the scythe down on the creature’s neck, the blade biting deep. The Scaleback Stalker let out one last, gurgling roar before collapsing to the ground, its life force drained.
Diego stood over the fallen beast, his scythe still glowing faintly with the remnants of Death’s Embrace. He took a deep breath, letting the rush of victory wash over him before turning to face his friends. “Told you it wasn’t a challenge,” he said, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
Tytus clapped his hands, grinning broadly. “Damn, Diego! That was brutal! You really sent that thing straight to the afterlife.”
Sorin nodded in approval. “Your mastery with the scythe is drastically improving. You didn’t give that beast a single opening.”
Jackson, still hiding behind Torrid, let out a nervous chuckle. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
Diego chuckled darkly, resting his scythe over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry, Jackson. Unless you decide life is no longer worth living.”
Jackson quickly shook his head. “Nope! I’m perfectly fine with continuing to live.”
Diego’s performance had been nothing short of impressive. His connection to Grimm, the God of Reaping Souls, was evident in every swing of his scythe and every ability he used. His Death’s Embrace allowed him to weaken his enemies while dealing devastating damage, and his ability to become intangible with Spectral Pursuit made him a deadly and elusive opponent. The Grave’s Grasp ability had completely immobilized the beast, allowing him to finish the fight with ease, while Harvest of Souls further showcased his power over death itself by stunning the creature.
As they prepared to move on and Diego meditated, Diego’s quiet confidence and lethal efficiency left little doubt in the minds of his friends. He might not boast as loudly as Torrid or Tytus, but his power spoke for itself.
As the group moved deeper into the forest looking for the next target, Tytus was practically buzzing with energy, his boisterous nature on full display. He twirled his large mage’s staff in his hand, eager for the opportunity to showcase his power. A follower of Tremor, the God of Natural Disasters, Tytus wielded the elements with devastating effect, and everyone knew this next battle was going to be explosive—literally.
“You guys have had your fun, but now it’s time to see what real power looks like,” Tytus boasted, his grin wide and confident. “Get ready, because I’m going to show you why they call me the ‘Stormbringer’.”
Jackson, still nervous about his own upcoming turn, gave Tytus a side-eye. “That’s not actually a thing, is it? No one calls you that.”
Tytus laughed loudly, clapping Jackson on the shoulder. “They will after today!”
The group continued to search the forest until they found their next target: a Thunder Raptor, a large reptilian beast with thick, scaled skin and a long, whip-like tail that crackled with electrical energy. Its yellow eyes glowed in the dim light of the forest, and as it stalked toward them, the air around it seemed to hum with power. The Thunder Raptor was known for its lightning-fast reflexes and ability to discharge powerful electrical blasts.
Tytus’s eyes gleamed with excitement as he stepped forward, his staff sparking with latent energy. “A lightning beast, huh?” he said, cracking his knuckles. “Let’s see who can control the storm better.”
Sorin raised an eyebrow. “Be careful, Tytus. That thing doesn’t look like it’s going to go down easily.”
Tytus just grinned. “Oh, it won’t go down easily—because I’m going to flatten it with Tempestuous Fury.”
Without waiting for the others to say more, Tytus raised his staff and channeled the power of his God, Tremor. Dark clouds began to swirl overhead as he summoned the localized tempest. The air became thick with high winds, and a sudden downpour of rain lashed through the clearing. Lightning cracked across the sky, striking down in random bursts of energy around the Thunder Raptor, disorienting it.
The raptor snarled, electricity coursing through its tail as it tried to retaliate with a blast of lightning aimed at Tytus. But Tytus, already in his element, was one step ahead. With a sharp command, he used his spell Gale Force, creating a powerful gust of wind that deflected the lightning away from him and into the ground harmlessly. The winds also pushed the beast back, forcing it to lose its footing.
“I told you, the storm is mine to command!” Tytus yelled over the roar of the tempest. “Let’s see how you like a little Lightning Surge.”
He pointed his staff directly at the Thunder Raptor, and a bolt of lightning shot from the tip, crackling through the air with a deafening boom. The lightning struck the beast square in the chest, causing it to roar in pain. The electrical energy surged through the creature’s body, temporarily disabling its own abilities and leaving it vulnerable.
The others watched in awe as Tytus continued his assault, clearly in his element as he manipulated the storm around him. The Thunder Raptor attempted to charge, but Tytus had one more trick up his sleeve. Slamming his staff into the ground, he activated Tremor’s Might.
The earth beneath the raptor shook violently as localized tremors rippled outward from Tytus’s staff. The ground cracked and split, causing the raptor to stumble and lose its balance. With its footing gone and its body weakened by the storm, the creature had no chance of recovering.
Tytus seized the moment. With a roar of triumph, he raised his staff high and called down another bolt of lightning, striking the raptor in its final moments. The beast let out a last, pained cry before collapsing to the ground, steam rising from its charred scales.
The storm above them dissipated as quickly as it had come, leaving the clearing quiet once more. Tytus stood over the fallen Thunder Raptor, his chest heaving from the exertion, but his grin as wide as ever.
“Well?” he said, turning back to his friends. “I told you this was my kind of fight.”
Sorin shook his head. “You definitely didn’t hold back. You must have used at least half of your spirit.”
Tytus looked a bit sheepish. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t.”
Diego, still calm as ever, gave Tytus a nod of approval. “You controlled the storm well. That raptor never had a chance.”
Jackson, looking both impressed and slightly terrified, muttered, “I’m just glad I’m not that thing. No way I could survive a fight like that.”
Tytus laughed and clapped Jackson on the back. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, Jackson. Besides, I’m the storm around here. No one’s going to steal my thunder.”
Everyone groaned at the pun except for Torrid. Torrid just looked a bit confused at the joke. Sorin knew that Torrid definitely did not pick up on the word play. The group decided to take an extended break due to Tytus desperately needing to meditate to absorb his gains as well as replenish some of his dwindling spirit supply.