The other three strong humans likewise were equipped with similar arcane weaponry. Though only in function not form, as one of them had a greatsword, another a mace and the last, they had a dagger of all things.

And each one of those weapons pulsated with the same sort of twisted energy that I could feel from the battle axe.

These humans might be knights. No they had to be knights, what else could they be? They certainly weren’t mages.

In any case, now that I was done analysing the humans it was time to assess my surroundings, it seemed doubtful I would be fighting them but if I was I would need a good position to do it in.

The most noticeable scenery was the relatively large walls, which surrounded the camp in a circular shape.

They looked to just be made out of compacted sand. The rather poor building material didn’t seem to have weakened the walls though as they stood twenty feet tall and three feet thick.

Probably because they were crafted with the aid of mages.

There were a few sentries scattered loosely across the top of the walls, scanning the surrounding desert with attentive gazes.

The archers carefully crafted bows seemed more suited for hunting but their arrows certainly weren’t.

The arrowheads were essentially large triangles and oddly enough, I knew what they were, they were anti horse arrows. Meant to stick inside a horse or person and while they were riding grind inside of them, tearing apart flesh and ruining organs.

I wished I knew what they were called but sadly my new knowledge only briefly covered their function and purpose.

And also the fact that the arrows were one of the few things supplied to these lowly soldiers. Maybe bows were too difficult to make or perhaps it was assumed the archers would perform better with the bows they used for hunting.

The next thing to attract my attention after the wall was the makeshift stable in the northern quadrant. Made out of fused rocks and rotten wood, this manmade cave provided shelter for animals such as horses and oxen to crowd within.

The eastern side of the camp alongside parts of the west had small sandy structures, most likely for housing the important personnel and supplies of the camp.

As for the rest of the east and a large chunk of the south, they housed tents.

The tents were the most professional part of the camp by far.

Each one of them is shockingly perfectly uniform both in decorative symbols and size. With each tent being ten feet tall and twelve wide and having a small serpent imprinted upon its fabric at the entranceway.

They were also very neatly arranged, unlike the more sloppily placed sandy structures and the stable.

Before I got the chance to observe more of the camp though, my creator finally gave me an order, “Kneel".

They didn’t order me as fearfully as last time but I could still feel traces of their terror and unease echo through the link.

Trying to ease their fear, I quickly drop down and try my hardest to emulate how humans kneel, since their method of kneeling is the only one that I somehow know of.

After a few seconds of this, my creator urges me to stand up and follow them.

Naturally, I obey and start moving towards them. If I had to bash a few humans aside to fulfil what they wished then so be it.

But before I could smash them aside, the clumps of humans between me and my creator move out of my way. Shooting fearful glances at me, as I move through the gap.

I hardly pay attention to them though, I’m just focusing on walking behind my creator and their cohort of mages.

Leaving behind the horde of humans we reach a poorly drawn circle. Then my creator gives me my second order “Step inside of it”.

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The circle was nothing of note, just a long line drawn clumsily in the arid sand. It looked more like an oval than a circle if anything, yet I could feel traces of power flow out from it.

Still, orders were orders so I carefully walk into the circle, pausing once I reach the centre as I await further instruction.

What comes next wasn’t instructions, rather it was a ritual. With the humans beginning to wave their limbs around, almost like seaweed.

Only seaweed didn’t screech, though the sort of screeching they were doing felt different from what most humans did. It felt more alive.

Those traces of that dreamlike realm that I had felt from them increased dramatically in intensity as the aura of impossibility started to echo out from them.

And with each new screech, the world became a little less real. As their arcane power fueled the circle, entrapping me within a bubble of false reality.

Symbols and markings that I had previously not noticed =lit up like miniature flames and spewed forth a torrent of string thin tendrils which prodded and wormed their way inside my flesh.

Physically I was unharmed, with these tendrils appearing to only be ethereal in nature. They still brought me my first taste of pain though, invasive and itchy pain.

With my only orders being to get into the circle and with my creator not seeming to want me to leave. I didn’t try to do anything to escape this entrapment, even though it hurt. I just waited patiently for the ritual to end and tried my best to ignore the probing.

And eventually the ritual did end, but it had gone on for so long that I was starving.

I had spent maybe thrice the amount of time in the physical world than I had previously. As was the case with most things I didn’t know the reason why. It didn’t feel like I had gotten any stronger or evolved, so perhaps it was because I wasn’t as active as I had been last time. Or maybe the infusion of magic had anchored my form to this plane for longer than would otherwise be possible.

The mages were still screeching but their screeches had lost the mystical element they previously harboured and were now just the same grating sound that the others of their kind made.

Aching all over from the probing, my creator finally gave me the order to leave, saying “exit the circle”.

Slowly I made my way towards them, plopping myself beside them as exhaustion and hunger overwhelmed me.

With some hesitation, my creator once again spoke, “Well done, you are my summon and I name you Phaeraxion. I’m, no, we’re so very proud of you.”

I was unsure of how I should react, this was the first time I had been given not just thanks but a name. This was the first I had been given anything other than an order actually.

With time stretching on and not wanting to screw up this moment, I replicated the feelings of appreciation my creator had sent me and sent them back. I wasn’t quite fully capable of experiencing true joy but a small spark had nonetheless been lit in my non existent heart.

This fledgling ego of mine was further stroked by when they went on to say, “You're one of a kind Phaeraxion, you're pure. You're good, you're perfect even”.

The scant knowledge that I had been gifted from the ocean didn’t prepare me at all for a situation like this. So I did a weird shuffling prance to show off my appreciation while broadcasting my thanks across the link.

My dance didn’t just draw my creator’s attention it also drew the attention of the nearby mystical humans, who abruptly stopped their screeching and started barking instead.

Even the pikemen and spearmen who had watched us from a distance joined in.

Despite the language barrier preventing me from understanding what they were saying or doing, I still knew that I was being mocked.

I felt no shame though, just disdain, who were they to mock me?

Flimsy pathetic creatures of bone and weakness, they knew even less than I did of the reality of the world.

They didn’t even have proper limbs. Just ridgid and pathetic mimicries of tentacles.

Perhaps registering my anger through our link. My creator reached out their trembling hand and stroked my flank. A rather difficult feat to perform considering the height difference between us.

I was a bit scared that if I leaned in towards them my creator might get hurt, so I restrained myself and stood as still as stone while my creator shakily pet me.

Perhaps realising the danger they had been in or simply not finding the situation funny anymore, the vast majority of the humans stopped laughing, a few of them still kept up the annoying behaviour though.

Those would be the first ones I would kill if I got the chance.

Not that there was any chance to be had, not here, not today.

As I quickly started disintegrating into nothingness for a second time. It was just as strange as it had been the first time, the tents grew fur and sprouted legs before leaping over the wall like hideous and mutated frogs.

And that was just the more normal changes, the stable for instance morphed into a beautiful bird covered in fish scales and had a dog's snout instead of a beak.

And when it sang, I couldn’t help but be enthralled by its hideous and charming voice, feeling emotions that I had never felt before and likely never could experience on my own.

There was one thing that remained the same though and that was the ocean, angrily and lovingly it embraced me and once again brought me into its comforting and hideous depths.