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Wayspring Wanderer - A Desert Druid LitRPG
Chapter 42: Druid's Awakening

Chapter 42: Druid's Awakening

As Gramm screamed threats and struggled, Oskar pulled at the Wayspring below him with everything he had, and he had a lot. He could, full of clarity and empowered by whatever Erik had used to heal him, feel the water below him like an extension of his body. The thick rock between him and the Wayspring were of no consequence, and so did not even cross his mind as he called the water to himself. This Wayspring and its magic were part of him, and as such, belonged with him. The Wayspring had sat there waiting for him all this time.

It didn’t burst through the rock below them with a crashing and shattering of stone. The path of least resistance in this case was breaking itself down into its tiniest parts, seeping through the rock. In rivulets, the water reformed, stringing up Oskar’s back and arms from all around him, his strength and mastery over water on full display for all to see. By the time Gramm realized what was happening, Oskar’s hands were locked like iron around his neck.

I hope you’re thirsty, you cruel bastard.

The water reforming did so as if at the core of a new Wayspring, himself, and as it ran up his arms and back, the chill caused his breath to catch. The almost ice-cold water rode up his arms and then his hands, enveloping Gramm’s head in an orb of water. The Croc couldn’t stop that first panicked, fatal, intake of breath. Within moments, Gramm’s massive lungs were full of water, and he was choking, gasping for air he would never again breath.

The surrounding fighting slowed further as the combatants, as well as those fighting to get to the Point’s platform and assist their Chief, slowed to a stop. Their snouts fell slack as they witnessed real magic in a way that was spoken of only fairy tales- by children, and their sense of childish wonder. Gramm was drowning, and the world was changed.

***

-Bragg-

I'm in the deeps now.

Bragg walked with purpose, fiery Drakon eyes occasionally glancing back towards the Great Collective.

Interacting with elements wasn’t exactly common, as it was the focus of some classes; like the Hyena Windgliders who styled themselves Dragoons as they rode the wind, and the Pyrochemists in the south, who used alchemy and sparking mechanisms to simulate fire blasts.

They were effective in their own way, but they used elements and magics that were already available, albeit creatively. Actually manipulating an element or magic spoke of something else; it spoke of a magic thought lost, and it was something many believed never even existed.

This was something the twenty Drakon Magi, now marching westward, bitterly wished the human had never revealed. They marched to their home, far to the west, a contemplative silence. In the front of the formation was Bragg, the robed figure that had stood behind Gramm when Oskar had first presented himself. He was their leader for a reason; he was already moving past the bitter problem and was thinking of mitigation and solutions.

The Kobold is out of the proverbial sack, as my father would say.

The only way to contain it would be to indiscriminately kill every living sentient in the Great Collective. To burn and cut out every Kobold and Hyena in the small interlocking caves and crannies. To fight the dozens of Crocs and the dangerous humans that had caused it all to fall apart and leave no one left alive to tell anyone the Drakon had tried and failed to do so. An impossible job, foolish to even attempt.

Even if we had tried, the rats would have scattered and made the attempt useless. We should have had more of a presence and never have allowed that fool the illusion of power. And so we move forth.

It would have been a pointless, last, desperate attempt to maintain their secret knowledge over the remaining elemental magic of the world.

The world was changing.

Changed, Bragg corrected himself mentally as he absentmindedly checked his PUB overlay for today's projected temperature.

It's changed, not changing. This was the second human I know of showing such potential in the past year. That first human had power over true spiritual magic, but after having been tortured and maimed by the always over-eager Valla, it was surely of no threat, comparative to the new human, Oskar. The human was so weak that even his unfortunate healing of Oskar had almost killed him. And that brings forth another question. Why? Why risk himself? Do humans just blindly support other humans?

This Oskar, though... was going to be a problem. He'd had his group poised to leave the moment he'd seen Oskar using Sora like a prodigy in his fight with the Sandwyrm, and had left the moment the one armed broken human had healed and empowered their new problem. And Bragg was having trouble deciding if they should try to be this problem's friend or this problem's enemy.

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Maybe the decision will be made for me. Perhaps Gramm will be able to stop him.

It was possible, after all. Gramm was formidable. The potential perked Bragg up momentarily, and he even considered stopping the group of Magi, returning, and coming up with an excuse for leaving.

At least until the notification popped up.

/ Gambit Failed: Ambassador and Spy

Build relations between the Drakon people and Gramm's Collective.

Failure Consequences: Potential breakdown of relations between the Crocodilian and Drakon peoples. /

Well. I suppose that means Gramm was not, in fact, able to stop him.

***

Gramm's death was a turning point for what passed for civilization on this dying planet. Other than the group of Drakon now marching Westward, all who survived it would speak of it with reverence. They would talk about the fierceness of the Wayspring Druid, and how he and his brave companions had stood unwaveringly against overwhelming numbers, numbers that grew with every retelling. That they’d fought their way through hundreds, no…a thousand… and flew off the side of a mountain carried by the wind, either unscathed or bathed in the glow of Bastet, sometimes both.

Future storytellers, some of which had actually been there, would say they had personally held back in the ensuing battle because they'd known this human was something special. They would claim they’d stood aside and secretly cheered them on, or surreptitiously tripped up pursuers, deflected attacks and various small other things that grew over time. By the time the survivors themselves passed away, many of them even convinced themselves they’d stood against Valla and what she’d eventually become, or even fought by the Druid’s side. The truth, however, was far less glorious, if no less important for it. There was only one who’d fought by the Druid and his companion’s side, and he’d paid dearly for it. That is a truth.

***

As the water surrounding Gramm’s dead, beady eyes, streamed down Oskar’s arms and hit the rock with a splash that finally broke the silence, Valla began screaming. Oskar barely had time to climb out from under Gramm’s lifeless body. Her loud accusations of betrayal and regicide- as if Gramm had been some great king- pierced the air, whipping the Crocs and the Hyena-men into a panicked frenzy. The massive Drakon, Oskar noticed with some alarm, were suspiciously missing from the fray.

Oskar had seen the moment, at least in his peripheral vision, when Valla had gotten within view of the fight. She’d watched him drown Gramm and then disappeared. She’d chosen not to interfere. Oskar didn’t immediately realize it, but this was her path to power, and maybe even her plan all along. But in that one desperate moment, he'd simply killed the enemy before him.

The sobering rush of power, the splash of the still cold water, and the screams of murder by Valla were more than enough to get Oskar thinking again. He pocketed the Insight Gem that appeared, but ignored it, knowing they had but a moment to break through the wild-eyed, disorganized Crocs and Hyenamen who were stumbling over one another. it was only a matter of time before they realized what Oskar and the tactical minded Kobolds already knew; the only hope of survival was forward. Behind them was open air, cliffs, and death.

// I know you’re busy, but Talau just jumped up and your Sora mastery just hit another major threshold, which is just... wild. You’ll now begin to understand and have access to more concepts. That weird molecular rock water trick mixed with whatever you just got from Gramm has a lot of potential. Like… to way oversimplify it, you’re developing knowledge of planetary magic. Druid is broken. You’ll probably still die trying to fly, but I’ll never forget you. //

Looking back at his brother, Oskar knew it was impossible to run back and pull Erik’s prone form off the stone, but then… as if his brother had purposefully been resting until the very last second before being forced to move… Erik sat up, rolled over onto his knees and stood. He wavered just a moment before he took a step, staring pointedly at Oskar. His gaunt, sunken, single eye said what he could not. “Go.”

Setting his jaw, Oskar turned and pulled in as much Sora as he could. There was a gust from behind the group as the air pulled in from every direction into a focused point in his palm. It looked like a ball of swirling colors, and he released the pent-up elemental magic forward, sweeping the attackers in front of him backwards into the press behind them, sending one over the edge with a scream. The Hyenamen were adding their own hysterical laughs to the din as they darted through legs and jumped tails to attack the cornered group.

Oskar wasn't sure exactly what he did, but it was draining, wildly inefficient, and very short ranged. The group pushed forward, past Gramm's tent where Touwon darted in to snatch his bag and their stuff, which was sitting just inside the opening on a thick rug at the foot of Gramm's massive sleeping blankets.

That necessary delay almost cost them their chance to break though, but they heard a sudden roar from behind the press of bodies. A huge, pale red Croc slammed into the wall of attackers. Half a dozen fell over the cliff, others fell into the side of the tent, tangled in a pile of confusion and the sheer cloth. This created both a gap wide enough for them to finally make headway, and time to utilize it.

As counterintuitive as it felt, Oskar fought his way to the wall to keep from being surrounded, using wind and spear to kill and clear the way. With his newfound knowledge, he could feel the sand and rock all around him, and an abundance of other things below him, similar to the way he could feel the Waysprings when he’d first arrived on this cursed two sun planet.

He could feel it all- weakly and with little detail, but it was ever present. He knew he'd broken through to D Rank on some of his stats, but didn't have time to check the notifications. The surrounding threats were almost all green now, but there were a lot of them.

As they passed the other side of Gramm's fallen tent, they slowed just enough for Joker to recover from slamming into the crowd, and the Croc was quickly by their side with a large axe and a wicked grin. Joker banged his chest with a thump and said something to the Kobolds before he turned and savagely rushed forward to clear the way for the group.

Wait! Was that Kobold-ian?