Dean Luo unsummoned his Familiar the moment his paperwork began to disintegrate. There was a brief exhilaration in seeing his workload disappear before Luo realised that requesting the faculty to re-submit their proposals was a far bigger hassle.

He looked over to see how Fudan’s prized Void Mage was handling Ellen's Aural Vortex, finding Gwen sheltered behind a double-glazed Mana Shield. It was no surprise to Luo that the girl was in possession of such a unique Abjuration; knowing her history, he would have been disappointed had the Morning Star not endowed the girl with his Signature Shield.

Overlooking the two Mages each nestled in their barriers, Gwen’s Stag-monster placidly loomed. It had lost a layer of its chitinous exoskeleton to the sonic blast, though its expressionless head showed no acknowledgement of being flayed.

Of greater interest to Luo, was the fact that the Stag had shielded Gwen with half of its body, forming a make-shift barrier with its protruding tendrils, one of which had broken off, obliterated by Ellen’s innate ability.

“Are you alright, Gwen?” the Dean enquired. It was his duty, after all, to ensure that the students were safe.

“Yessir.” Gwen brushed off a few motes of plaster.

The office was in ruins.

Gwen pondered if there was a ‘Reparo!’ Charm the Dean could use.

“CAO!” Dean Luo approached his obliterated alcohol cabinet. “My four-decade single-malt! ELLEEEEEN?!”

“I am terribly sorry, Sir.” Gwen shared the heart-rending suffering of the Dean; she could smell the sickly sweet scent half a room away.

“It’s not your fault, Gwen.” Luo held a shard of shattered crystal in his hand, his face a mask of devastation. “I wasn’t ready for Caliban’s prehensile friendliness either. It was probably too much to expect Ellen, whose instinct was fight or flight, to rationally assess both context and circumstance. Let that be a lesson! Many young Mages freshly endowed with Spirits think that the IFF is universal, but it is correlated with the Spirit's innate erudition.”

Gwen stood awkwardly beside the Dean as he made an increasingly grim assessment of his historical office. The walls were warded, the windows shielded, but not so his collection of baubles and curio that he had put up for flavour.

The Dean dug out a shredded manila folder.

“I had your results here as well,” Luo lamented. "I was going to commend you on achieving your first H.D average. Well done, Miss Song."

He handed her a pile of mangled paper.

“…” Gwen expressionlessly received the tattered shreds in her hands. Stoically, she stowed them in her ring. "Thank you, Sir."

The Dean beamed happily.

“Thank you for coming in, Gwen. I eagerly await your participation in the 2004 IIUC in August.”

Speaking of the IIUC, Gwen raised a hand.

"Yes, Miss Song?"

"How did the current group of students progress, Sir? There's been nothing in the Student Paper."

The Dean's expression fell.

"The field of competition is rather stiff, I am afraid," Luo lamented. "Fudan was knocked out in round 2. It happened while you were away. We've decided not to make too much of a fuss, you know, student morale and all that."

"That's unfortunate, Sir."

"Unfortunate is the right word," Luo continued. "They were up against the regional champions from last year, the team from Kyoto University. I am ashamed to say that Fudan lost fair and square. Outmatched, if you will. Nippon's Shikigami's nothing to scoff at; alas, we had a good crop this year, but..."

Gwen felt the Dean's feverish gaze rest against her face.

"... next year, with you - and I am hoping Mr Huang, a few talented third-years, and a roster of support Mages, there will be an underdog uprising."

"Of course, Sir," Gwen extended a delicate white hand. "I am from Australia, where the underdog always wins."

"That's what I'd like to hear!" The Dean laughed heartily.

The two shook firmly, her draconic-essence turning Gwen's supple fingers into an iron vice.

"Let me know if there's anything you need, or if anyone troubles you." The Dean flexed his tenderised hand contemplatively.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Enjoy the rest of your day, Miss Song."

Gwen bowed, then exited the Dean's office.

Already, there were several staff members gathered outside, wondering what had happened.

“Is he injured?” One faculty member asked eagerly. “Maybe out of commission?”

Gwen regarded the gathering of old men surrounding her with wonder. What she saw on their face wasn't worry, but expectation and vain hope.

“No, the Dean is fine,” she informed them.

“Oh.”
“Bah!”
“What a waste of time.”
“That man's a cockroach.”

The various Chairs and Heads of Fudan's faculties dispersed.

Behind her, Dean Luo despairingly picked up the pieces.

"Ellen." She heard him say to his re-summoned Familiar. "Tell the Chair of Abjuration and the Bursar that I need another copy of their reports on my desk by this afternoon..."

Outside, Gwen was met by Magus Kumiko, who’d had also been summoned by the Dean on short notice.

“Shall we?” The Magus was apparently in the middle of something before the Dean demanded her immediate presence. Her face was anything but willing.

“I can wait,” Gwen offered. She could use a breather as well.

Kumiko shook her head.

“No need. It’s best we keep your health up.” She smiled graciously, though her eyes suggested otherwise. “Not to mention I want to see this Kirin of yours. Did you know that in my country, we worship them?”

“Uh-huh… Yes, Grandfather. Percy will be safer than my personal portfolio. Yes, Lulan and Kusu will be joining us- No, of course, not…. What’s a portfolio? It's- Look, I’ll take a spell in the gut before he loses a single hair, haha… Alright. Thanks, Yeye - Cheers!”

Gwen dismissed the Message.

“OKAY!” She turned to her companions. “We’re good to go!”

“Sweet.” Richard gave her a thumbs up. “Our Quest is not THAT safe, you know. We're going on an unmapped Dungeon crawl.”

“Ah, he’ll be right.” Gwen chuckled. “Mina and Tao can’t make it, but Babs said she'd load up Petra with healing spells.”

“So who’s coming?” Lulan butted in. “You, Me, Kusu, Richard, Petra, and your brother Percy? Is he cute?”

"Very cute," Gwen joked. "He's a real Lady Kill...er... Uh-HGN!"

Gwen cleared her throat awkwardly and took a sip of water.
Petra rolled her eyes at her cousin's unintended slip.

“I understand rearing the younger members of your House.” Kusu put his mind on the table. “What if he receives a mortal injury? Are you sure bringing an Acolyte is the best course of action?”

“Bringing Percy is indeed the best course of action,” Richard interjected. “When Gwen has Percy with her, there’s a convergence of stars. Creatures will start dropping Cores more often than not.”

“…” Kusu regarded Richard with scepticism. He knew Richard always gave Gwen what she wanted; endangering her brother and creating a hassle for the Adventuring Party was unlike the efficiency-obsessed workaholic.

“That’s amazing.” Lulan’s ochre-amber eyes sparkled.

“That makes no sense,” Kusu pointed out.

“Well, you’ll have to trust me." Richard grinned at Kusu. "When have I ever disappointed."

"..." Kusu conceded that thus far, Richard had been their saviour in more ways than Gwen, who had abandoned the siblings like a wealthy step-mother with endless social commitments.

"Look, if we want to do this easy, there's not much to gain. The bounty is 500 HDMs, with 200 CCs shared amongst the members, with a bonus 2 CC for every monkey we eradicate. Assuming we kill say, two hundred Water-Ghosts and some big bugger at the end, that's 620 CCs, tops. That's a hundred odd CCs, but what about the HDMs? Even if Gwen doesn't need her share and Percy forfeits his, that's 125 among the four of us. Barely enough to pay for our training! What we need is a real source of income, and that's where the Cores come in..."

“Jesus, we don’t have to stow the corpses, do we?” Gwen remarked. “I use my Storage Ring for food…”

“We can use mine.” Lulan flashed her ring finger. “I got a Large one as well. Usually, I do the butchering in the party.”

“They’re all yours.” Gwen grimaced, picturing Lulan hacking happily away at a mountain of corpses, giggling maniacally. The very idea that a hundred odd eyeballs, scalps, and other ‘materials’ could be kept together with her Spam and Shin-Ramen was abhorrent, not to mention she kept her outfits in the same pocket space!

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

“When do you want to go?”

Gwen counted the days.

Currently, it was Wednesday night.

She could arguably squeeze out a ‘Hound Pack’ by Sunday. Ever since Gunther had told her that Ariel could lead the pack, she had been looking forward to it.

“How about we leave Sunday, first thing?” Gwen suggested to the party. “Richard, you’ll be leading, right?”

“I'd say so. I know the area, the people and the lay of the land,” Richard addressed her question with confidence. “Passenger trains are usually booked out well in advance though. We'll hitch a free ride on the express Cargo-trains heading that way with the NoM labourers.”

“The NoMs don't mind?" Gwen asked.

“I’d say the NoMs are far happier for it.” Richard chuckled. “Imagine getting ambushed by some critters in the countryside. Wouldn’t you want a team of crack Mages sitting next to you when that happens, rather than rely on the train's armoured engine to plough through blood and bone?”

“Right, of course.” Gwen nodded sheepishly. “Sunday?”

“Lulu? Kusu?” Richard turned to the others.

“We’re fine.”

“Pats?”

“I should be alright for a few days. How long do you think?”

“A few days sounds about right.” Richard cocked his head. “I’d say our itinerary is as follows: Get to Nantong. Get our passes stamped. Go to the site. Clear the lair over two days. Return with our ill-gotten gains. Be back by Wednesday evening. If anyone wants to check out the Nantong District, we can stay longer, but there’s not much to see. It's all construction at the moment.”

“I’ll ask for Monday to Thursday off,” Petra concurred. “A sound plan, Richard.”

“Gwen?”

“I got nothing,” Gwen approved. “Give me three days to get Morden’s Hound and Hound-Pack running. I want to show you guys something extraordinary, haha.”

“Ooo!” Lulan gushed. “How many dogs can you summon?”

“No idea.” Gwen laughed. “We’ll see!”

2 AM.

Gwen laid in bed, wide awake, thinking about dogs.

Would her dogs look like basset hounds? Dachshunds? Or perhaps Rottweilers? In her old world childhood, she had a Maltese-Shitzu. But in the heart of hearts, she had always fancied something bigger and more huggable, like a Golden - or something incredibly handsome, like a Weimaraner.

Bloodhounds are hunting dogs, Gwen theorised, they would probably be Weimaraner-like dogs with long, lithe limbs and powerful upper bodies.

Other than field-testing her Hounds, the trip was an excellent opportunity to gauge her future spell list.

In her mind, there were THREE scenarios a Combat Mage would face on the regular:

The first was a Mage's primary vocation - the defence of Human life and property against Magical Creatures. A successful Mage must possess the means to contribute to the extinction of threats to human cities via fire and fury. She was, Gwen proudly confessed, rather good at this.

The second was the expansion of Human-held territory: this involved clearing Dungeons, ones with actual Cores, as well as lairs, pseudo-Dungeons with powerful monsters. Arguably, Gwen had experience in both. What she had not undertaken was a Purge, Yue’s mainstay.

The third was duels - A.K.A contests of ego. Though entirely futile and even counterproductive to the wellbeing of the Human Race, it was a necessary evil to attain prestige and power amongst Mage kind.

Most Mages were specialised for one purpose or another.

But she was unashamedly unique.
Gwen felt narcissistic to the core, but there was no denying the truth.

She had a solid if unimaginative defence.
She was working on additional mobility.
She had arguably absurd damage-per-spell.
And soon, incredible AOE potential, thanks to Ariel’s IFF.
AND she had stamina, both physically, mentally, and in the magical sense.

In other words, she possessed the looks, the will and the way to assume the mantle of a particular protagonist, all she needed was Chris and Liam Hemsworth fighting over her disinterested affection, and invent a catchy whistling jingo.

In her esteemed opinion, the best way forward was to have a baseline tactic, augmented by unilateral access to secondary Schools of Magic.

Conjuration would form the basis of her Spellbook.
Arguably, she was already a Creature Mage through and through.

Ariel.
Caliban.
Warding Bolt.
Call Lightning.
Tentacles.
Bloodhound.
Hound Pack.

Some spells, such as Warding Bolt and Tentacles could be doubled up.
Call Lightning she didn’t dare, for the spell attacked her targets indiscriminately. The last thing she wanted was someone yelling out ‘I yield!’ - then taking a randomised Bolt to the face.

Furthermore, with increased proficiency in Conjuration, she could also add Planar Ally to that number, bringing her concurrently active spells to eight, excluding her Familiars. Of course, spell fatigue was a thing, and only so many effects were dumb-fire or seeking, but milling an opposing Mage down to the stump as she had done with Golos was a solid strategy.

For Monster Hunting, she would augment her Conjuration with Evocation AOEs and Divination such as Hunter’s Mark and True Strike.

As for Abjuration, she would pick up Resistance and Mage Armour, then augment her abilities with Magical Items. There were single-use items such as Shielding Pebbles that expended themselves as reactive barriers. She could additionally invest in a suit of Combat-leather, something akin to what Golos had destroyed.

If she could push Conjuration to such a point that Dimension Door was at-will and near-instantaneous, survival was guaranteed, especially considering her possession of Gunther’s ring.

As for the rest, mastery was a matter of time.

Additionally, perhaps as a side project, she wanted to hash out Illusion with Tao. Even if she had no intent to use Illusion in combat, she could likely manage a few of the Lesser Image spells to bring to life a few exciting and notable elements from her old world. Ideally, she would like to deliver a few killer TED Talks.

Having mapped out her mind, Gwen welcomed the embrace of Hypnos.

Thursday.

Upper-campus Training Hall.

“Miss Song!” A member of the administrative staff accosted Gwen before she could swipe into one of the student training rooms. “There is a Warded Staff Room reserved for your use."

"Oh? Sure!" Gwen replied happily, not one to say no to privilege!

The room had been left for her at the Dean’s behest. Now that Fudan was no longer catering to its disappointing 2003 team, the Dean was free to splurge on more hopeful ventures.

It was probably the tentacle slap, Gwen supposed. Caliban's tentacle slap must have left a deep impression.

Inside, Gwen marvelled at the spacious sanctum. It was one of the larger staff rooms, second only to the one Wen had employed. Furthermore, the room had an inbuild Cognisance Chamber which she could peruse at her leisure, drastically saving the time she would have spent on introspection and meditation.

"Alright, let's do this!" The echo of Gwen's voice answered her.

She retrieved the two scrolls from her Storage Ring, opening them side-by-side.

The tier 5 Morden’s Bloodhound originally involving 48 Major and 33 Minor Incantations.

After augmentation with her Master’s Signature Morden’s Hound, it now involved 72 Major Incantations and only 9 minor incantations, significantly pushing up the casting time. Furthermore, the somatic component involved drawing a glyph in the air, a segment taken from her Master’s variation.

Observing herself in the reflection below, Gwen replicated the incantation, mouthing each movement to achieve a better understanding of the spell's somatic and verbal orientation.

She ran the routine a dozen times, taking just over an hour.

With practice and expertise, thirty seconds of continuous casting was needed to manifest Morden's Bloodhound. In a team battle, it was entirely viable. A 1v1 was much harder to say.

Still, she was satisfied. How can a Creature Mage not be when watching an enormous Quasi-Draconic Deerhound sporting with Ariel?

She inspected its superior physicality with a critical eye.

The Deerhound portion she could understand.

It stood to reason that a Scottish Arch-Mage who hunted Giant-kin would conjure the most iconic quasi-magical canine of his homeland as his 'Bloodhound'.

As for Gwen, her 'creature' was abstractly dog-like.

A casual observer would happily note from afar that indeed, this was a Deerhound - until the creature came closer, at which point they would freak. Curious enquiries would beg uncomfortable answers.
Why does your dog have a lizard tail?
What's with the crested, scaly brow?
Where did its tapered cobra snout come from?
How did you get a bitch to mate with a Draconic-beast without it being eaten?

With supernatural grace, her Draconic-Deerhound landed on all fours. It possessed a noble mien, handsome like an old-timer gent, sporting a spindly coat of white-fur tinged with mottled cobalt highlights. Its ears, strangely, were pointed backwards, resembling twin-horns, twitching back and forth as it listened for her command. The Deerhound's form was sleek like that of a greyhound but heavily muscled in the chest and legs. As with Ariel, it had a white mane running the length of its spine, though ending with a whippet’s tail, barbed with carapace.

And it was huge, standing on its hind legs, the Deerhound was taller than Gwen.

She had pondered giving the dog and all her subsequent conjurations names until she unsummoned the creature, then practised summoning it again. When Morden's Bloodhound re-emerged, it wasn't the same. It was stockier the second time and sans brow ridges.

“Buck?”

That's what she had called the last one.

The dog came to her, but without evidence of self-awareness.

Alas, the Deerhounds were neither summoned beings nor manifestations of her animus.

They were temporary elemental phenomena coaxed into existence.

“Eeee!” Ariel commanded the creature at Gwen’s behest, relaying her mental commands.

It sat.
It rolled.
It could offer its hand, and Gwen could safely rest her hand between its jaws. The Deerhound was wholly obedient and happily self-destructive if need be.

“Guess I’ll be calling you guys by the number,” she remarked with disappointment, having imagined herself at the head of a pack of sled dogs. She had hoped to christen them with names like Buck and Old Jack and Silver and White Fang.

Bummed by reality, Gwen took a break for lunch.

Outside, she was joined by an old familiar face: Instructor Chen Hufei, the senior Magma Mage with a Salamander Spirit.

“Sir!” Gwen bowed her head, showing respect and meaning it. Master Chen had taught her everything she knew about keeping her creatures safely out and about in public.

“What’s this I hear about a Kirin?” Chen folded his arms. “You went to Huangshan, didn't you?”

“I am not at liberty to say,” Gwen addressed the old veteran’s blunt enquiry evasively. She respected her cynical Instructor, but the buck stopped at anything relating to her family's secrets. “I can show you Ariel's new form though. First of all, it's not a Kirin…”

“A pseudo-Kirin.” Chen grunted. “Meaning Draconic Essence. What did you and the Ash Bringer kill? You're not going to bring Hangzhou trouble, are you?”

“No, Sir," Gwen answered defensively. "You knew I was with Uncle Jun?”

Chen grumbled annoyedly.

“Dean called me in this morning. Told me to check up on you, so here I am,” her Instructor explained. “As for the Ash Bringer, we’ve met a few times on the Front, before I retired from combat tours. Can I see your Familiar then? Is now a good time?”

“Of course, Sir.” Gwen smiled sweetly. “I could indeed use some advice with a few of my new Creature spells.”

The stoic Chen nodded, making for the door.

“I have a Staff Room booked.” Gwen directed him to the right.

“Luo’s giving it his all, eh?” Chen scoffed. “You better not disappoint come August.”

Gwen informed her Instructor that he would be well-satisfied.

The two of them re-entered the private sanctum.

“Alright, show me what you’ve got.”

Gwen brought out Ariel and introduced her new Kirin-Marten’s forms.

“Fascinating.” Chen ran a hand through Ariel’s undercoat.

Unexpectedly, Ariel began to purr thunderously, emitting the loudest, most heart-melting thrum imaginable.

“Ha, still got it.” Chen parted Ariel’s spiky mane and pointed to a protruding nub of flesh. “Flying Draconids tend to have a ‘reverse’ ridge where their shoulders and wings meet. Your pseudo-Kirin’s got Winged Dragon-essence, from the looks of it. I take it you and the Captain took down one of the Yinglong’s spawn and got lucky with the Core?”

“Something like that,” Gwen confessed. “I thought most Familiars couldn’t consume Cores to evolve themselves, Sir.”

“You’re running a Signature Conjuration by Henry Kilroy.” Chen shrugged. “And no. You can't. Don't ask me though. I am just an old soldier. I can tell you where Ariel likes a scratch, but I can’t tell you why it can eat Dragon Cores.”

Gwen gave Ariel’s hidden ‘nub’ a little pat as well, eliciting a chest-rumbling purr from her marten.

“I am also working on this new spell, Sir.”

Gwen showed Chen her scroll for Morden’s Bloodhound.

“Mao’s tomb! You’ve bought the augmented variation already?” Chen regarded her with disbelief. “Damned thing cost me 94 CCs just the other week!”

So Chen was one of the many Mages who contributed to her CC-pool. Gwen felt guilty that she was doubly benefiting from the Instructor.

“I’ve got the Hound Pack as well, Sir.”

If Chen had been toking on a cigarette, he would probably be having a coughing fit.

“The two of them together would be 240 CCs,” the Creature Mage remarked. Like the Dean, her Instructor paced around Gwen, inspecting her for wounds or some other signs of doubtful competence, even a torn sleeve or a mote of dust on her shoes would do. Finding none, he scratched his head.

“You’ve done how many quests?”

“Ahahaha…” Gwen laughed cringingly. “None… Sir…”

Her Instructor's inquisitive mien fell away, revealing the gruff old sergeant who loathed young Missus and Masters. From the look in Chen’s eyes, his opinion of her as a hard-working, down to earth straggler from the Frontier was curdling like sour milk.

“So, what’d you want to know.” Chen’s raspy voice grew annoyed and impatient. The old soldier was anything but brutally honest. "I got places to be."

Gwen wondered if it was worth explaining herself.

“I would like to know…” Gwen tried to think of a better way to phrase her enquiry as to not appear to humble-brag. “What I should do after I’ve summoned a pack of Draconic Deerhounds… Ariel’s a Spirit now so it can command them via telepathy…”

“D-Draconic Deerhounds?!” Chen's bark made her flinch.

"Ariel's a SPIRIT?"
“You found a draconic SPIRIT core?"
"What did you kill on Huangshan? What tier?"
"Is Hangzhou on fire? Did they censor the news?"

If expressions could kill, Gwen swallowed nervously, Chen would have triggered her Contingency Ring.


Gwen quickly explained that not only was everything 'cool', but the matter also had been blessed by the highest echelons of the Party.

“You expect me to believe that a girl of eighteen…”

“Seventeen, Sir-”

Chen glared at Gwen, who bit her tongue.

“…seventeen - possessing TWO unique Familiars convoked via a Signature Familiar Conjuration, now imbued with a Draconic Spirit, met face to face with the Secretary-General of the CCDI - is a nobody from that vast and empty final Frontier?”

“You forgot tier 6 Lightning, Sir.” Gwen went for broke. At this point, she may as well buckle up and break-in Chen entirely.

Chen pinched the bridge of his brow while breathing dejectedly.

“Fine, show me.”

“I haven’t succeeded manifesting Morden’s Hound Pack yet, Sir,” Gwen confessed. “Can you teach me?”

Chen glanced at the exit, then back at Gwen's sweetly smiling face.

“Are you using the augmented variant?” the old soldier relented.

“Yessir.”

“Operator!” Chen Messaged the front desk. “Cognisance overlay, Instruction Mode, charge the crystals to the Dean’s account.”

The floors thrummed as the inbuilt Cognisance Chamber activated.

“Observe.”

With meticulous care, Chen ran through the necessary verbal and somatic components.

First, her Instructor drew the glyph in the air, leaving behind a sulphur scented imprint akin to a light drawing. Then came the Major incantations, shaping the nascent Magma Mana coursing through his conduits. A steady flow of red-hot arcane-energy filled the glyph.

“Hound Pack!”

Chen finished off with the minor incantations in a flurry, concluding with a flourish. The entire process took just over two minutes.

A magma-hound slipped into existence, a little smaller than Gwen’s Deerhound, less defined and far more abstract. It was more exact to say that rather than any specific breed, Chen’s animal was a ‘dog-like’ elemental.

Then another.
And another.
Until nine of the hounds were lined up, one after the other, smouldering gently as their Magma-enriched skin sizzled the air, filling the limited space of the practice room with eye-watering sulphur.

“Gust!”

A low-level Evocation ensured both student and Instructor would avoid asphyxiation by monoxide.

“Sir,” Gwen pointed out. “Your dogs, they’re a little different from mine.”

“That's because I am not a Transmuter.” Chen ordered the dogs to form into two rows. “Conjured creatures are altered by a Mage's affinity with other Schools of magic, your elemental affinity, and any other factors that may influence your Astral Body.”

Gwen thought of her Abjuration, her Transmutation and her other Sigils - there was also the fact that her Astral body had three ‘elements’: Lightning, Void, and her Almudj’s Essence.

“Transmutation gives definition and flexibility in form,” Chen continued. “Abjuration gives greater toughness and resistance. Evocation boosts your creature’s elemental attack. Enchantment gives resistance to glamour, while Illusion bolsters Familiars or Spirits attuned with obfuscation abilities.”

“So... just like how a Healer's Familiar can deliver AOE healing?” Gwen pointed out, thinking of Kumiko’s lesser Spirit Familiar, Onibi.

“Not always, but yes, in addition to self-regeneration. Also, if you ever see a Necromantic Conjurer, they have the most infamous Familiar ability of all.”

Gwen was all ears.

“Life-drain and Vampirism,” Chen stated grimly. “We had to fight them a while back on the Front. Let’s just say it took a Creature Mage to fight a Creature Mage. As the Abjurers found out, you can Banish a flock of Corpse Crows, but you can’t unsummon the decomposing body of a risen Behemoth Beast.”

“God, that sounds awful…”

“More than you can imagine,” Chen snorted, his mood improving. “But they burn all the same. With your Lightning, that would be a sight to see!”

“I am glad to hear that.” Ariel's abilities were a battlefield shoo-in, but Gwen had little faith that Caliban’s Consume wouldn’t be mistaken for Necromancy. The effects were eeriely similar, after all.

Chen unsummoned the hounds.

“Can you keep up? Shall I slow down?”

Gwen replayed Chen’s incantation in her mind, then shook her head slowly.

“I’ll give it a go,” she assured the Instructor.

Chen’s scoffed with cynicism.

Gwen stood back from her Instructor and imitated his stance down to the last inch. Having Chen beside her amidst the glow of a Cognisance Chamber reminded her of how Henry used to teach her the same way. Back then, her theory work had been so lacklustre that all she could do was to parrot her Master’s flow of mana. It was funny that despite possessing no knowledge of advanced Conjuration theory, she could Dimension Door back and forth like a seasoned veteran.

Watching a tidal flood of mana circulate through Gwen's Astral Form, Chen squinted, a smirk touching his wizened old face. With an Astral Body like that, Chen speculated, no wonder the Dean was up in arms.

“First!” Gwen's Instructor began. “We inscribe the Glyph…”

Gwen alternated between Faithful Hound, Blood Hound, and Hound Pack over the next few days, readying herself for the monster lair ahead. Thanks to Chen’s timely intervention, she averted a process of precariously experimenting with delivery and cadence.

The result was that after three days, she could wrangle a tier 5 Bloodhound with absolute confidence. As for the Hound Pack, she managed the tier 6 spell with a one-in-three chance of success.

That was where her VMI, combined with her Lightning affinity, met in beautiful confluence.

A run of the mill Senior Mage casting tier 6 spells usually rocked a mana pool of 60-100 odd VMI. Intuitively, Gwen felt that a pack of Bloodhounds cost her about one-seventh of her 230-odd mana pool. In the event of spell failure, she suffered nothing worse than a headache. Had she been the aforementioned Senior Mage, a feedback-loop exceeding half of one’s maximum allowance would have knocked her out cold.

And so, Gwen added resistance to spell-failure to her accumulative list of advantages. Considering that her first Magic Missile had her vomiting all over the rooftop, it was comical that she could now shake off catastrophic fuck-ups with a smile and a catnap.

With this in mind, Gwen noted that her Evocation could use a dose of hyper-tier magical training as well. Boosting her Evocation to 5 would up her direct-damage and the damage of Ariel's spell-channelling. Mayhap, Gwen conceived deviously; she could coax the Dean into sending her Magus Young for a few serendipitous lessons on Blizzard and other Evocation staples.

Sunday Morning, the crew assembled.

Richard, Lulan, Kusu, Petra, Percy and Gwen herself lined up outside Guoding B1.

“GEAR CHECK!” Richard inspected his troops.

Gwen reported that she had a full complement of potions and clothing, including her elementally-attuned skin suit and Boots of Flying, as well as her Portable Habitat. For her casual attire, she had picked out a black skort to go with her thigh-high boots, paired with a tapered quarter-sleeve top.

Beside her was Percy, hand-delivered by an anxious Guo first thing in the morning. Her young man wore military cargo pants in the PLA style, likely chosen by their Grandfather, and a dark t-shirt tapered to his waist and shoulders. His boyish face had taken on a masculine likeness of their father, oozing smugness. Though half-a-head shorter than Gwen, Percy carried himself with quiet competence.

Lulan's expressive eyes flittered from Percy to Gwen, then back again, stroking her chin as she pondered Percy's lady-killing proficiency.

“I’ve got potions and supplies in my Storage Ring,” Percy rattled off a list of must-have items, feeling neurotic as one of Gwen's companions licked him from head to toe like a piece of meat. “Grandfather got me a localised Contingency Ring as well, so I wouldn't be in mortal danger.”

Gwen inspected the glamoured band on Percy's finger, noting its simplicity. As Magus Maymaruya had explained it, two factors determined a Teleportation Ring's worth. Mechanically, the denser the Core, the further the Teleportation. Contractually, the more influential the patron of the commission, the more Towers were willing to accept the Ring's displaced owner. Gunther's Asscher-cut Contingency Ring worked almost anywhere in the world, provided she wasn’t stuck in Antarctica.

By that same note, Gwen wondered if the Towers had ever found an elegant solution to the method of infiltration used by Elizabeth Sobel. Considering that she had received no CCs for exposing the loophole, the solution was likely highly censured. In fact, it made sense to expunge the news, as a unilateral voiding of Contingency contracts would suddenly imperil countless Magisters, Maguses and their precious Acolytes.

“... Cure Moderate, 3 Restorations, 2 Cure Serious, Antidote, all Cubed,” Petra ran through her inventory with Richard. “I’ll be leaving damage-dealing to Gwen and Lulu.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“That’s fine.” Richard made sure Petra had at least a few spells left to protect herself.

“I got potions and myself,” Lulan announced proudly.

“I’ve got her supplies, her change of clothes, and our food.” Kusu flashed his 'medium' storage ring. “Lulan brought her bike... and a bed.”

“Hey, I like my bike, and I can't sleep without my mattress! AND I have to leave room for the loot!”

“You don’t need a bike in the Dungeon! Gwen's got beds in her Habitat!”

Richard left the siblings to bicker.

Mayuree stood on the sidelines, moping miserably. She had wanted to come, but the House of M had forbidden her from needless danger. As a countermeasure, Gwen took a Teleportation beacon with her so that should the need arise, Mayuree could immediately be within her vicinity. Richard applauded the idea as well, stating that the beacon also served as a contingency for the party, who could always call upon Mayuree for aid should the Quest proceed poorly.

"I think we're good." Richard nodded at Gwen.

“ALRIGHT, gang!” Gwen declared. “To the public bus!”

The 'gang' alighted from the bus at Hongqiao Transit Station.

As Richard had promised, their early morning ride out to Nantong was via a freight train. After having their Student I.D’s recorded and their passes stamped, the crew boarded a fifty-segment freight-mover stretching from horizon to horizon.

They were joined by a company of labourers who immediately displaced themselves, making space for Gwen’s party.

“Ju!” Richard called out to the foreman. “Tell the men to be at ease.”

“Mr Huang!” A man in his fifties approached the group. The two men clasped hands. “Good to see you again, Sir.”

Once Gwen and her companions settled, the displaced crowd came closer. The men’s demeanour was equal parts wariness and curiosity, surprised by the unexpected visitation of three delectable beauties.

Richard conversed with the Foreman, laughing and slapping the wry old labourer on the back. Behind the girls, Kusu joined the group.

“…”
“…”
“Hey, boy!”

Kusu pointed a finger toward himself.

“Yeah you, what are you doing! Come over here! Don’t bother the Mage ladies!”

Kusu felt incredulous - until he looked down.
Desiring anonymity and low on crystals, Kusu wore no-name khaki pants, an unbranded t-shirt, and a jacket he’d picked up from the local market.

Contrastingly, Petra wore a bright-red Mizuno parka over yoga pants. His sister wore a sundress, the style Gwen liked, mismatched with combat boots. Gwen looked as though she was going for a magazine spread, and Percy wore PLA surplus in aerial sky-camo.

Without any distinguishing peculiarities, it was no wonder the labourers thought he was one of them - they were wearing the same style, though theirs were far shabbier.

One of the NoMs helpfully drew him aside.

“Don’t get too close,” the old man kindly advised, pulling Kusu behind him. “Let Foreman Hung deal with Sir Huang.”

The girls stared at Kusu, making him even more self-conscious.

Sequestered from his companions by sheer good will, Kusu wanted to weep.

Gwen snorted.

Possessing a sharp eye for fashion; the NoMs' misunderstanding was immediately apparent. Her mirth quickly infected the other girls, filling the carriage with giggles.

"Oi, I think they like you." One of the middle-aged men nudged Kusu in the ribs. "Don't try anything though, enjoy the view while it lasts."

One by one Richard introduced his party.

“Oh! The Flower of Fudan!” one of the workmen blurted out before someone dragged him back into the crowd.

Petra nodded imperceptibly.

Upon reaching Kusu, Richard passed over the hopeful young man with complete nonchalance.

"!"

Kusu wanted to call out, but the friendly labourers dragged him into their midst. Clearly, the hot-headed lad had gone 'must' and had to be restrained.

When Richard finished introducing Gwen, who curtseyed and waved, the crowd fell eerily quiet.

“Hello.” Gwen gave them a blindingly dazzling smile. "I am Gwen Song."

“Where’s her Worm?” someone whispered.
“What Worm?”
“She’s famous for having this giant Worm following her.”
“It eats her enemies!”
“Alive, the bones and all.”
“Woa…”

It was now Gwen's turn to be incredulous.
How was it possible that a group of NoM labourers knew about her Caliban? Had she reached that rare stratum of fame where everymen NoMs knew who she was? Would she now need to wear Gucci shades everywhere she went?

She waved at the workers, hoping to appear approachable and amiable.
As one, the workers backed away.

“Careful!” A hand took Kusu by the wrist and yanked him back yet again. “She’s a dangerous one, that one. Sir Huang says she eats Monsters and Rogue Mages for breakfast. You wouldn’t want to offend her now.”

“I am a Mage, actually,” Kusu informed his helpful companion, his face growing desperate. “I am with her.”

The old man sagaciously patted his shoulder.

“Young man, I was young like you once, but a young buck needs to know his limits. That girl might look like a million HDMs, but let me tell ya, a lass like that will gobble you for so much as staring at her the wrong way. You think they call her the Worm Handler as a joke? She’s a Maneater.”

Gwen froze, hoping that her ears had deceived her.
Possessing unusually acute hearing was both a boon and a curse.

Did the NoM just call her a 'Worm-Handler'? What the fuck was a WORM HANDLER?

At that moment, sensing the tense atmosphere, Foreman Hung split from the group and shook the team’s hand one by one, sans Kusu.

“I’ll be in your care,” the Foreman informed Gwen. “You too, Young Master Percy.”

“Likewise,” the siblings replied.

“We’ll be over yonder.” Richard directed his team away from the NoMs. Gwen was likely fine interacting with the labourers, but Percy, Lulan and the others usually had little to no contact with the common people. Lulan especially was too thin-skinned and thick-headed to stomach the ill-humour of the labourers.

The train departed, its armoured engine core sending a thrumming, chest-thumping vibration through the parallel rails, ponderously picking up speed.

Though the train was used for freight, there was enough space cleared for the Mages to make up a comfortable abode for the four hours it took to travel to Nantong.

The party made themselves comfortable with an assortment of packets and wedged canvases, then settled down to snacks and chit-chatter.

Richard popped a sour plum into his mouth. Puckering his lips, he watched Lulan, Percy and Gwen make small talk beside a heavy slab of transmuted steel.

Petra closed her eyes and meditated.

Percy looked outside the cabin, enjoying the quickening scene of the countryside.

“Say…” The boy looked around, feeling that something was amiss. “Where’s Kusu?”

“REALLY?!” Kusu listened to the old men’s flights of fancy, caught in the revelry of their blustery anecdotes.

“Truly.” One of the middle-aged men passed him a cigarette, which Kusu accepted out of politeness. Another man helpfully lit the soggy tobacco stick.

“I heard from folks living in the Districts that the Worm Handler cleared out a whole level in D-109,” the original speaker continued. “Broke through the gate, she did, rammed right in there, worm and all. Massacred her way through the outer perimeter.”

“Blood, guts, bodies all over the place. That worm left nothing alive.” Another joined in. "I hear that her Worm grows larger with every man it eats."

“That can't be right. I heard the Handler was on the hunt for a man-eating Carrion worm,” someone attempted to correct the fake news disseminated by the first.

“Naw,” a third spoke as though he’d witnessed the bloody ordeal vis-a-vis. “I have it on good authority that she’s taming them. That’s why she’s the Worm Handler, see? She tames worms and uses them for her foul magic. I hear she rides em too.”

"Ah, yeah."
"That makes sense."
"Mao, the gall!"
"What, like, clutched between her legs?"

“I don't think that's right?” Kusu swallowed nervously. Why was it that Gwen’s exploits around the ‘out wall’ sounded exactly like what Lulan had done? Furthermore, the thought of Gwen riding on Caliban, her white thighs straddling its girth, combined with her usual perchance for skirts, was heating his face like a furnace.

“Yeah, she’s a real fatal female, she is,” the first man utterly sagely, borrowing a word he’d gleaned from a book once. “Don’t let her pretty face trick you, she’s a man gobbler.”

“I don’t think that means what you think it means.” Kusu scanned his company of grinning NoMs nervously. “Maybe a better choice of words would be wise.”

“How about the Swa-”

“NOOOO!” Kusu stood. “Alright, it’s nice talking to all of you. I have to go.”

“What’s a good one then, eh? All the great Mages got nicknames!”

Kusu paused.

A vision of Gwen devouring half her bodyweight’s worth of vitality-rich ingredients flashed across in his inward eye. That was during yesterday's lunch, and two days ago at dinner, and...

“How about…” The words came to his lips unbidden. “The Devourer?”

Gwen had wanted to talk to the NoMs on the freight train to ask about their jobs and their living conditions, but the men seemed to have an aversion to her presence.

"Leave them be," Richard advised, a solemn expression on his poker face. "They're just NoMs. They're the same everywhere. Food, shelter, safety, a chance to get better food, shelter, be safer, that sort of thing."

An hour later, the train pulled noisily into Nantong Central Railway Station. Kusu had rejoined them halfway, though the Sword Mage strangely kept to himself.

The primary platform held two lines for passenger trains while the third and fourth was set up with a wide berth for cargo. The NoMs shuffled off the rear carriage and formed a line for inspection by one of the Transport Officials. Not far from the friendly labourers, Gwen and company proceeded unmolested.

“See you on-site, Ju.” Richard waved at the Foreman, who casually saluted him. “Alright everyone, this way.”

The station itself was more akin to an enormous warehouse, with a vaulted ceiling of latticed steel forming a gargantuan oblong shape. After registering with the officials at the checkpoint, they proceeded down a stark corridor which eventually led to the main atrium.

As the double-doors opened, a blast of hot air odious with human sweat blew into the inner terminal. Unlike the station’s interior, the atrium was a hive of human activity. Thousands of NoMs, seemingly all wearing cotton jackets in garish colours and bundled from head to toe with backpacks and other travel accessories, lined the ticket counters a hundred deep, as far as the eye could see.

“It’s gotten worse.” Richard grimaced as he pushed through the crowd. “Gwen, Petra, be careful.”

“Why?” Gwen asked, following her cousin closely.

“You’ll get pick-pocketed,” Richard warned. “Or worse. They can get grabby. The people here are simple folk. The menfolk especially are used to running things, so they don't think much about respect for the women. Added to the fact that until recently, they had rarely seen Mages and certainly not Gweilo, you get the idea.”

“Some guy tried to grope me once,” Lulan stated proudly. “But I didn’t maim him.”

“Thanks to me,” Kusu added annoyedly. “Just be careful. Gwen, I'll take the rear, and Richard take the front. Percy, take the side. You girls can walk between us.”

"That seems excessive," Petra pouted, evidently offended.

“…” Gwen’s thoughts immediately fell to her propensity to attract all kinds of creepy weirdos. Already she could see that their group was drawing eyes from all over. As countless pairs of eyes centred on Gwen, she began to regret not wearing a burka. With her keen perception, Gwen could already sense several figures converging toward them. Am I paranoid? Gwen pondered, or was she merely once molested, twice shy?

“!”

Her Divination pinged.

For once, her foresight affirmed the need to take immediate action.

“Caliban!”

Her Void worm slithered into existence.

“Shaaa!”

At once, the crowd fell away from the party, overwhelmed by an inherent aura of existential dread. In Caliban's docile form, the vertigo was barely perceptible by her companions. For the NoMs, however, it was as though the circumference surrounding the party had become a bottomless pit.

The tingling in her spine faded.

That’s one crisis averted! Gwen gave herself an imaginary pat on the back. Caliban, the eldritch deterrent of pickpockets and deviants!

“Showing off?” Richard joked as the party sliced through the crowd. “Cali is hardly subtle. The world will know you’re in Nantong.”

“Is that so bad?” Gwen searched the crowd. Everywhere she looked, people averted their gaze.

“Who knows?” Richard shrugged. “You could ask Mayuree to throw some bones.”

“Nah.” Gwen made sure the others followed closely. “Where are we going now?”

“I booked a truck to the site.” Richard indicated to the exterior of the station.

Like all public transit spaces, the entrance to the station was six storeys tall and inundated with red ribbons. Across the top row, Gwen read a sign which said ‘SAFELY EXIT AND ENTER’. On an adjacent banner, she read, ‘MOVE QUIETLY AND ORDERLY’. Closer to the door, she almost did a double take when she came across smaller signage:

‘DO NOT DEFECATE ON THE PLATFORM.”

Her nose wrinkled.

A second sign read:

‘NO PEEING IN THE ATRIUM, USE BATHROOM AT EITHER END.”

“What?” Gwen directed Richard to the warnings. “What happened to the euphemisms? Shouldn’t it say something like ‘public health for all’ and ‘clean environment for you and family’?”

“It’s the countryside.” Richard snorted. “What, you think people have flushing toilets and running water out there? Filtration units don’t grow on trees you know!”

“B-but,” Gwen protested. “You said Nantong was a part of Shanghai’s redistricted outer-zone!”

“Oh, Gwen…” Petra squeezed her squeamish cousin’s hand. “That began only two years ago. The Tonglv Canal’s just started this year.”

Gwen appeared scandalised.
From all she had heard of Nantong and the Nantong Fungs, she was expecting some sort of palace-city. Thank God she came prepared.

Richard laughed out loud.

The massive gates to the station interior slid open.

Humid air rushed in, inundated with a mana miasma so thick that spent particles were visible to the naked eye. Next came the stink of stagnant water, urine, and construction waste. Furthermore, a tidal wave of sound washed over Gwen, the thrumming of earth moving Golems so offensive as to jar her bones.

“WOA!” Percy gazed upward at a massive, vaguely humanoid Construct hoisting piles of rebar onto trucks. A dozen similar Constructs were shifting all sorts of cargo onto flatbeds trailers.

Richard opened his arms expansively, the dust billowing about his ankles.

“Welcome to Nantong!" he shouted above the din. "The fastest growing District in Outer-Shanghai!”


Once they were outside the station, Richard wandered off to locate his truck driver while the rest of the crew stood under the shade of the colossal transit-station.

Thanks to Caliban, her party remained unmolested by neither paupers nor guards, not even a single beggar accosted them.

“Was it like this the last time you guys came?” Gwen turned to Lulan and Kusu.

“Not as such.” Kusu pointed to the mass of bodies still attempting to press into the station’s interior, stopped only by olive uniformed guards with dangerous looking batons. “It’s getting close to the end of the year, and farm work is winding down. Without jobs here, the NoMs apply for permits to work in Shanghai proper. For these folks, the redistricting of Nantong was a real game changer.”

“How so?” Gwen enquired, full of questions for the curious mass-migration. Most of the llabourers appeared to be men, but there were women too. She even spotted a few children.

“Being included in the Shanghai Special Economics Zone means their Hukou moves up a rug. These guys are no longer rural peasants, haha.” Kusu laughed. “I suppose they’re urban folk now, just look at them!”

Gwen, Percy and Petra 'looked'.

Gwen felt that it was a bit rich coming from Kusu, but the young man was right. The peasant-turned-city folk were all bundled up in their Sunday best. Coming from a redistricted zone like Nantong, this meant that they were indistinguishable from the homeless wandering through Shanghai’s industrial rim.

“We have that in Moscow as well,” Petra chimed in nostalgically. “Outside of the big city, it’s all Frontier: from St Petersburg to Perm and then onto Novosibirsk. Westward of the Eastern line, things are tenable, eastward, there is nothing but Black Zones. Every winter, the rural folk try to get into the cities for safety, warm meals, and menial employment.”

“It’s all Black Zones?” Gwen raised an arched brow. “What, all of Siberia? That's a vast swath of land!”

Petra nodded.

“Are there Dragons?” Gwen persisted out of curiosity. It seemed to her that every country had their dragon-sized problems. If China had a Yinglong, and old Burma had a Tyrant, why not Siberia?

Petra shrugged.

“No one knows. Or at least no one knows who's in the know.” Her companion snickered. “My ex-Master once said that the powers in Moscow had cut a deal with whatever governed its Siberian domain. If rumours were to be believed, I’d say our Baba Yaga is something akin to a Zmei.”

“Is that a type of dragon?”

“I suppose.” Petra raised a hand. Using her palm as a platform, she created a three-headed crystalline Magic Beast half-hydra, half-dragon. “There, that’s a Zmei. The most infamous of which would be Chudo-Yudo, it’s all fascinating and mythic, of course, but unproven.”

“Hey, the Yinglong is very real.”

“Ah~, but Chudo-Yudo hasn’t been seen, not in the flesh, ever.”

“Never been witnessed, you mean. All who sees Chudo-Yudo die!”

“Well, there's that,” Petra conceded.

“Dragons all over, huh?” Gwen noted. "Maybe we're living in the Dragon's world, and Humans are just getting in their way."

“There’s a good reason they’re the universal mythos,” Petra suggested shrewdly. “Name me a culture without a dragon.”

Gwen didn’t know enough to comment.

“Egyptians?” Percy dropped his two cents.

“Oh! Good work!” Gwen patted her brother’s head. Indeed, she couldn’t recall seeing dragons on her trip to Egypt back in the day. No bearded crafter sold draconic memorabilia as far as she knew, and she had browsed Khan El Khalili for days.

“Nope.” Petra grinned with an air of superiority. “Apep the Chaos Serpent. Primarily cobra, partly divine, and most definitely draconic.”

“Bugger.” Percy scratched his head.

The conversation then turned to more mundane matters.

“Caliban, where are you going?” Gwen noticed her serpent tugging at the edge of her mind. Out of curiosity, she followed it rather than recalling her Familiar. "Pats, I'll just be over there."

"Want me to come with?" Percy peeped up.

"Naw, stay with Kusu and Pats."

"Over here, Little Brother, talk with us," Lulan indicated to a spot next to her.

Percy stayed a respectful distance away. He had caught the girl staring several times already, though far from attraction, the feeling he perceived from her was that of an appraiser inspecting a curio.

Gwen meanwhile, stalked her slithering serpent toward a branching street not far from the station. In a few years perhaps, it would likely develop into a trendy, gentrified alleyway full of eateries, though now it was filled with dubious, banged up little shops fronts, half-abandoned and falling to pieces. Some workmen were having lunch, a few other napped, and a group of old men played Chinese checkers.

“Shaa!” Caliban indicated with its snout.

What little activity in the street had instantly ceased, all eyes were turned toward the lithe Mage standing beside her monster by the entrance.

“Caliban, to me,” Gwen commanded.

Her serpent twisted and turned upon itself with surprising agility, coming to a stop beside her ankles.

Her Familiar tugged at her mind. It wanted to go deeper.

With meticulous care, Gwen surveyed the scene.

The crowd looked away wherever she set her gaze, not daring to meet her eyes.

“Shaa! Shaa!” Caliban urged her.

The duo proceeded through the alleyway until they reached the other side.

She was met by the roar of machinery. It was the main street, still under construction.

There had been a crowd of people gathered near a series of box-shaped containers, though now they were staring at her and her monster.

Gwen edged closer.
First, there was a dour odour.
Her monster sniffed the air.

"Shaa!"

Then Gwen saw it.

The spectacle had eluded her at first because there was a huge red banner slung across the cages. The words, embossed in black against the dusty red fabric, read:

PROGRESS AND PROSPERITY, LOWERING CRIME, IMPROVING LIFE.

Earlier, she had wondered why there were no beggars outside the station and had praised Caliban for deterring vagabonds. Now, Gwen found her answer in amidst crate-like enclosures surrounded by an acrid haze of urine and despair.

She had to do a double-take.
People in cages?

A few were men, most were old women, though a few young children were present as well, both boys and girls. A few old men, missing a limb, or two, or otherwise, laid on their backs. The cages were made low, reaching only her waist, forcing the inhabitants to slouch. She wasn’t sure how long they had been in there, but from the looks of their attire and the filth clinging to their soiled clothes, it had been some time.

Outside the cages, just within reach, were begging bowls.

“Shaa!” Caliban wiggled its tail.

Gwen glanced between her Familiar and the beggars. The panhandlers had by now noted her presence, a few of them already reaching for their bowls. Perhaps it was her attire, her transparent display of wealth and comfort, or maybe it was Caliban’s aura, she couldn’t know, but the beggar began to bang their bowls collectively against their iron rails.

‘Clang!’
‘Clang!’ ‘Clang!’
‘Clang!’ ‘C-clang!’ ‘Clang!’
‘Clang!’ ‘C-clang!’ ‘C-clang!’ ‘CLANG!’

An abominable cacophony filled her head.

“SHAAA!” “SHAAA!”

Caliban sang to the music of abject hopelessness and desperation, thrilled by the aberrant dissonance. As for Gwen, she tasted a mouthful of bile. Not even in the hopelessness of D-109 had she seen such a sight as this. Beside her, Caliban’s exhilaration extolled her with an unpleasant thought: that perhaps, the greater mercy for these folks was to answer the call of the void. What was it that had drawn Caliban to this place? Her curiosity was no longer keen for answers.

Without a word, Gwen fled the scene, unsummoning her fiend.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

By the time Gwen rejoined her party, Richard had returned, accompanied by a minivan and a friendly looking labourer.

“The Boss did us a favour,” he informed the party. “I was wondering how we were going to make it on a flat-bed truck, haha.”

His companions filed in one by one. Gwen was the last to arrive.

“Gwen?” Richard noted her pale complexion. “Did you use your Void spells?”

Gwen shook her head.

“I’ll tell you in the van.”

It took another thirty minutes to get to the mid-section of the Tonglv Canal, where a two-hour hike was required to reach Richard’s Water-Ghost den.

“I see.” Richard remained stoic after Gwen narrated her ordeal.

“This is not unusual,” Petra pointed out. “After January, it’s not entirely surprising to find frozen NoMs in alleyways, even in Shanghai.”

“NoMs die every day.” Lulan put in her two LDMs. “Just in D-109, I knocked off a few by accident.”

Gwen stared at Lulan, struck by the weightlessness of her casual confession.

“She paid a fine,” Kusu iterated. Seeing that Gwen wasn’t sufficiently placated, he added a few more details. “In both HDMs and CCs, as well as future Community Service.”

"I... see." Gwen licked her drying lips. "That's good to know."

"Are you unhappy with the verdict?" Lulan asked, her voice worried and uncertain, far more touched by Gwen's displeasure than the maiming of a dozen civilians.

“Why the sudden pity?” Petra joined the fray, though the Russian beauty's tone was measured and delicate. “Did you not escape from Sydney? I heard as many as ten thousand NoMs, and several hundred Mages perished in that single incident. Assuming they've accounted properly by now, the dead may exceed thirty thousand. In case you've forgotten, during WWII's Beast Tide, NoM casualties came in around 60 million.”

“That's not the same,” Gwen murmured, thinking of the child sitting in a puddle of her wastewater. “The state could help, surely? I am just a little confused as to what the cages imply. Are they being left to die?”

“They’re safer in those cages,” Richard explained patiently.

“Richard!" Gwen snarled. "What?!”

"I think its an elegant solution," Petra stated in that overtly rational manner of hers.

“There were kids in there!” Gwen hollered. “How can babies be criminals?”

“Gwen.” Richard patted her shoulders. He had been seated in the front passenger's seat, but now he turned around. “Nantong is a developing city, and it's going through growing pains. There's a lot of money coming in, skilful labourers from the city, as well as Mages. The folk here are used to abject poverty, so seeing all that wealth pouring in is getting to their heads. For a while now, the city's had a real problem with pickpockets and beggars. Remember those guys from the train? They're from Shanghai; they don't take shit from anyone; those guys know how to operate machinery, they're concreters and sculptors and plumbers and brickies. You think they're vegetarians? Think again. They're honest, hard-working blokes, but you know what? If those labourers caught one of these peasant-beggars red-handed, they would beat the shit out of them, probably to death. If one of those beggars robbed a Mage from Shanghai, no guard is going to save them. By segregating the beggars, everyone's happy. They're safe, and Nantong's beggar free.”

“What?!” Gwen spluttered. “That’s absurd.”

“An absurd truth,” Richard pronounced with nonchalance. He knew his cousin had a soft spot for the destitute and the downtrodden. It was admirable, but also impractical in the extreme. “Chang, what's your take on this?"

"We'd probably break their thieving hands and leave them to the authorities, boss," the driver replied. "Miss, you're kind-hearted, but don't you worry about the trash, leave em to us. They don't want to work, they don't eat. Easy as that."

“I…” Gwen felt as though she was wrestling with an eel. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t dwell on it.” Petra pulled Gwen closer so that Gwen rested her head against her shoulder. Gwen was having another one of her episodes, a curious failing for one so gifted for death-dealing. “It’s nothing. They’re nothing. Think about something else.”

“…”

For the rest of the trip, she instead focused on the rumbling of the mana-engine as the van struggled over the hilly terrain, bouncing and shaking against every groove and divot along the twisted, broken path.

Tonglv Canal exists for a singular purpose. To streamline freight shipping from Shanghai’s industrial zones to the South China Sea while bypassing the CBD.

Measuring 200 meters across and 90 meters at the thalweg, the yet to be filled man-made valley cut a straight line across the landscape, carving through plains, forests, valleys, hills and wetlands with equal impunity.

When their van first pulled up at the industrial zone, Gwen had thought themselves arrived at the foundation of some epic monument, at the base of which concrete covered every conceivable space. Within the valley, gargantuan golems, a dozen or so each four to five storeys tall, manipulated sheets of criss-crossing rebar or towed cables across the newly established canal.

At its extremity, two dozen Mages of varying talents worked in tandem. Earthen Transmuters shifted soil and stone aside, pulling apart roots and vines from the sub-tropical flora while Translocation Mages turned the debris, simultaneously conjuring away the refuse. Above and beside them, standing on platforms, Evokers blasted away at quasi-magical critters as the freshly excavated earth crashed over the grey ferroconcrete, as well as denotating sections of hardy granite.

“GWEN! Look! It’s a Class III Iron MITSUBISHI Construction Golem!” Percy blurted out, his eyes alive with excitement. “I’ve only ever seen them in Lumen-pics!”

Richard likewise took on an appreciative expression.

Depressed but nonetheless curious, Gwen regarded the lumbering giants labouring below.

Vaguely humanoid, the Golem reminded her of power loaders from the movie Aliens. Standing on iron-wrought stilts and apportioned like a dwarf, the golem was stout of body, with broad, iron-wrought shoulders sporting a plethora of hissing pistons. Painted a comical construction-yellow, it towered over the Mages working below. Just above its shoulders where its head should be was an operator cage, within which was the pilot. Behind the driver's cage was a load-trailer where the golem deposited what was dug up.

“Wow.” Percy was beside himself. “Gwen, are you seeing this?!”

Gwen chuckled, boys and their toys. It was in moments like this that Percy acted his age. As for Gwen, just seeing her brother so filled with exuberance dispelled her earlier ire.

“Sure am.” she placed a hand against her hip. “Richard, do you know any of the drivers?”

“Yeah, I know a few."

"Do you think Percy could take a look inside?"

“I don't see why not." Richard shrugged. “So long as Junior won’t be a menace.”

“I won’t!” Percy turned back to the machines, his eyes gleaming.

Gwen chuckled. Indeed, what fifteen-year-old boy wouldn't be in ecstasy when seated within a full-scale Caterpillar heavy-hauler? These Golems looked like bipedal, humanoid Bagger 288s mated with a Tonka Truck. If she had to draw a pop reference, they reminded her of gritty, 90's cartoon Transformers.

The party watched as the golem knelt with one of its excavator's arm, shoving up to its elbows into the loam. A Transmuter below then collapsed the upper section perfectly into the digger. With a mighty roar of its Japanese-made engine, the giant retreated, taking out a near-perfect rectangle of elementally compressed soil, displacing the load onto the canal’s banks.

Gwen had to admit, watching a ten-meter robot earth-moving had a simple, hypnotic quality. This world might not have basic social safety nets or OSHA, but they had Iron Giants at their beck and call.

“Look there!” Richard tapped Gwen’s shoulder, pointing at a sudden eruption at the base of the excavation. “Those are River-Gobs!”

The new excavation had inadvertently revealed a warren system, exposing its interior to air and light. As Richard spoke, two midget-like goblins leapt from a collapsed section of the mud-bank and made for the Transmuter.

“CONTACT!” someone yelled.

The Transmuter must have had an armour spell active, for the first Gob bounced off, while the second hung onto his arm without managing to deal damage. The Evoker atop the escarpment seemed lost as he waited for an opportunity to strike, waiting for a Shield or perhaps the Transmuter to throw the Goblins a safe distance away.

The goblins, possibly understanding their life depended on their adhesion to the Transmuter, clung on for dear life.

“Gwen.” Richard nudged her. “What's the range on your Lighting Bolt?”

“Enough." Gwen gauged the distance: the Gobs were a little far, but she could manage. "Ariel! Assist me!"

“INCOMING! DON'T MOVE!” Gwen called out, her voice ringing across the construction space, empowered by both her Essence and a vocalised Clarion Call. “Lightning Bolt!”

The party below was a hundred odd meters away.

A blue-white arc of lightning struck the first ball-like Goblin, penetrating its body before it enveloped the second. Where the electricity would have concurrently assaulted the Transmuter, it instead grounded itself, completing the circuit between Gwen and her target.

The first pot-bellied Mer-Goblin exploded in a shower of guts and bone. The second convulsed; its overtly large eye-sockets boiling before it fell limply to the floor.

Percy stared at his sister, as did a smitten Kusu.

“WOW!” Lulan clapped happily.

Gwen retracted her finger, then blew on it as one would the nozzle of a pistol. The gesture was a little strange to her peers, it wasn’t as though Gwen used a Ray subtype or a wand, but the implication was clear.

“Well done!” Richard clasped her shoulders.

The construction Golem turned its cage upward and waved at the Party.

The Party waved back.

The Transmuter shaped a protruding block of soil into a thumbs up.

Gwen’s companions laughed heartily at the acknowledgement.

“See?” Richard smiled at Gwen, full of confidence. “Nantong’s not so bad, right?”

More Riven-Goblins poured from the warren.

Gwen pupils flared with concentric rings of blue-white electricity.

She could use a good fight to blow off some steam.

The encounter ended as quickly as it had begun.

In its aftermath, they had been joined by the Transmuter crew Gwen had saved. Perhaps more surprisingly, the pilot of the rig was a NoM and a woman, shocking Percy as well as Gwen. The wizened pilot thanked Gwen and her companions, leaving them a gift of bottled rice wine from Xian. Percy got to have his ride, going as far as walking the golem around, moving several metric-tons of dirt to and fro.

"The controls are manual," Richard explained later, sensing Gwen's confusion. "At least that's true for Construction Golems. If you're wondering about Mage Pilots. They're exclusive to the Military. Did you know Military Golems can be linked to the driver's talents? It's very interesting Magi-tech, mostly from Israel and the U.S.A."

"Abominations." Lulan appeared wary of the giant constructs. "I hear the real ones have human souls sealed into them. That's got to be Necromancy."

"Which is why we use the piloted variety," Richard stated the obvious. "I'd love to see a battle-golem up close though."

They were a little behind schedule now, though that didn't worry Richard. Thanks to Gwen’s Portable Habitat, there was no need to fret over day cycles. Combined with Petra’s Warding expertise and Lulan's Stone Shape they could set up a discrete shelter anywhere, even deep inside the Dungeon.

The marching order of the Party was laid out by their de facto leader. First and foremost was Richard himself, joined by Lea. Lulan, whose swords could counterattack through the soft Water Shields, was second. Gwen was the artillery Mage, taking up third place. In the middle was their VIP, Percy, who was advised to stay put, followed by Kusu and Petra, bringing up the rear.

The team affirmed their positions.

“If we had a Cleric, we could get some group buffs,” Gwen noted from the mid-section, thinking of Elvia.

“No worries there,” Richard advised. "Petra's brought buffs."

"Once we're inside, or when we're close," Gwen's cousin advised. "I've also got two Heroisms cubed."

Lulan gave Petra a thumbs up.

“I could do wonders with a buff like that.” The girl grinned from ear to ear. “Keep me topped up, and I'll solo anything.”

“Now, now,” Ricard placated the cheerfully murderous Lulan as she hopped from foot to foot. “We don’t know what’s at the bottom. It could be a big-ass Water-Ghost, or it could be something nastier. Our job is to kill it, not to put ourselves in unnecessary danger.”

The Sword Mage nodded obediently.

“Lulu, be a good girl and listen to Richard,” Kusu apprised.

“Che-!” The girl clicked her tongue at her brother. "You're not the boss of me."

Kusu shot Richard a look of agonised constipation.
Gwen read it as, ‘Are you seeing this shit?!’

She burst into unexpected laughter, vaguely aware that her offence over the caged NoM had grown diluted and distant. As for the reason why, she could only guess that amongst such a company of excellent and competent companions, her conscience had grown comfortably numb.

"Gwen, can you drop the Hounds now?" Richard diverted Gwen's train of thought before her solicitude could dwell.

"Of course!" Gwen perked up. She had been looking forward to this moment. "Who let the dogs out?"


“DOGGING IT UP!” Gwen announced to the party. “If I screw it up and start barfing all over - nobody laugh.”

“Ooo!” Lulan clapped, her eyes full of anticipation.

"We won't," Richard promised, his legs casually crossed as he leaned on Kusu's shoulder.

“Ariel!”

“EEee!!” Ariel presented itself with a flash and a flourish, swishing its tail.

Gwen drew an iris-searing Conjuration glyph in the air, first beginning with the Major incantations, then moving onto minor adjustments before finishing with the final invocation.

“... Hound Pack!”

The party collectively held their breath.

The first Deerhound emerged, sleek and semi-draconic, shimmering with static-electricity.

Then another, a more robust copy of the first, with long, blade-like ears.

Another and another, until all seven were facing Gwen's astounded companions.

“D-Draconic Hounds?” Kusu blurted, his jaw failing to re-hinge itself as the hounds began to sniff the party members, recording the scent of their allies.

“Seven?” Richard implored.

“I can’t seem to get past that number,” Gwen confessed. “Instructor Chen said it's a matter of experience. Maybe when I actually reach tier 6, I could manage more, but that's all I got for now.”

Gwen drew another Glyph in the air.

“Bloodhound!”

An eighth hound emerged, heavier than the others.
The Deerhound's noble mien reached Lulan’s shoulders; when it breathed, two sets of electrified-air ejected from its dark nostrils. Its eyes were two cobalt orbs of vivid lightning with a dark slit at its centre.

Kusu’s heart violently seized when Lulan carelessly embraced Gwen’s alpha-hound with an open-armed, full body hug.

“IT'S SO SILKY!” Lulan rubbed her cheeks against the dog’s forehead as it licked her hand. Gwen’s Deerhounds were modelled after the short-furred hunting hounds of Scotland, possessing a fine coat of short silvery fur that oozed luxury when stroked. "Oooh! Its jowls are super soft as well!"

Kusu back-paddled cautiously. According to the spell’s description, these were tier 4 compelled-elementals. Though doglike, Kusu knew well the deceptive nature of assigning standardised ‘tiers’ to Magical Creatures. When imbued with draconic-essence, even a deer could become a significant threat.

“What beautiful animals.” Petra patted a dog with each hand, feeling the warmth radiating from the beasts’ scalps. “It is hard to believe that they are elementals. Why are they so real?”

“Chen says it’s because I am concurrently running Transmutation,” Gwen remarked helpfully. “That and I love my dogs!”

“You used to have a dog?”

Caught by her own disinformation, Gwen rummaged through her memories for an answer.

“We have greyhounds in Australia.” She threw out a bone for her companions. Gwen couldn’t possibly inform Petra that she had religiously attended every Easter Show, window shopping for canines while speaking to their breeder-owners, fantasising about rearing a big Wolfhound or a stout Dane. Even now, she could recall the sensation of running her hand over those big, beautiful canines, through their fur, feeling the warm drool dripping down their paunchy jowls.

“EE! EE!”

Her hounds stood to attention, skipped away from the gang, then formed into a wedge with Ariel at its centre.

“Oh my GOD.” Percy mouthed, his eyes glimmering with awe and desire. Like Gwen, he had always wanted a big dog as well. “Sis, you’ve killed me.”

“Hahaha!” Gwen laughed, her hands gripping her brother's shoulders, hysterically gloating with pleasure. There was a particular euphoria that drugged the brain when others praised one’s pets or children, and Gwen was drowning in a pool of it.

“Can you incant…” Kusu asked only the important questions. “Void Hounds?”

Richard whistled.
Petra's ears perked up.

Gwen shook her head.

“I’ll need A LOT of vitality for that,” she informed her companions. “Also, I’d rather not risk Void-burn. I had those a few times, in the beginning, and each time I was knocked out for hours.”

Just imagining a mana burn that involved both void matter and vitality was enough to make the party grimace.

“So, what can your dogs do?” Richard paced around the alpha, inspecting its handsome features.

“Ariel!” Gwen commanded.

"EEE! EE!"

'Showing' was worth a thousand words.
As one, the dogs formed into a W.
The pack sat - rolled over - then swapped places as though in a marching band, responding to each, 'EE!' with mechanical efficiency.

‘Clap! Clap! Clap!' Lulan was beside herself.

Ariel rose into the air.

“EE~ Eee!! EE!”

“They’re going to scout for prey, see what’s in the surrounding area,” Gwen declared boastfully. “Originally, the pack is supposed to be led by the Bloodhound. That’s what Morden had intended, although I’ve got Ariel.”

The party looked upward.

Ariel levitated above like an airborne general, resplendent even in its mundane combat form.

“Hah-hah-hah-hah~.” The dogs fanned out into the knee-high bush, their panting growing fainter as they crashed through the hilly peat.

“Let’s proceed.” Gwen pointed northward. “MY Ariel and MY Deerhounds will take care of ALL our scouting! HAHA! No more stupid orienteering!”

“Wonderful!” Lulan applauded, admiration gushing from every pore.

Petra and Kusu looked toward Richard.

“Gwen.” Richard implored his cousin with great gentleness, placing both hands on Gwen’s shoulders before turning her leftward toward a northerly direction. “Your dogs have gone the opposite way.”

"That's not north?" Gwen pointed a rudely erect finger toward the direction her dogs had gone.

“That’s east,” Richard informed her with great solemnity. “North-North-West is that way.”

The euphoria drained from Gwen's face.

“Lea!” Richard summoned his Spirit. The Undine couldn't 'fly' in the Spellcraft sense; instead, she levitated at will with complete freedom of movement.

“Heeheehee!” The Undine flittered about Ariel playfully, mocking its master’s directional-blindness as below, Gwen grudgingly redirected the hounds.

“Ariel.” Gwen moped. “Follow Lea’s direction…”

“EEE-EE!”

“Contact!” Gwen called out.

An hour in, the Water Ghost’s lair could just be seen, buried under a massive mound. The strange landscape reminded Gwen of a colossal ant-hill, disrupting the flat expanse of the muddy peat bog.

When Gwen had asked Richard why the bog had evaporated, her cousin informed her that the PLA had drained it in anticipation of the Canal's final stages, which required the ground to be thoroughly dried and compressed.

After half a minute, two of Gwen’s Deerhounds came running, pursued by Water Ghosts.

“God they're ugly!” Percy cried out as the Ghosts came into view.
Gwen mouthed a silent 'Strewth!' in turn. Ugly wouldn't even begin to describe these simian fiends.

The leading male was a specimen almost five-foot tall, broad of chest, hulking in its bearing with steel-cable arms. Its face was a bedraggled mess of fur, moss and other unnamable growths, hiding two beady eyes glowing with dark maleficence. The creature had the gait of a biped, though it ran expertly on all fours, using its elongated arms in the same fashion as gorillas to propel its body forward.

The second was a male as well, though smaller, begging the question of whether or not it was an adolescent or an inferior specimen.

The party fanned out with Richard taking the lead, attended by Gwen and then the others.

“Wanna try out your dogs?” Richard inquired.

“Sure,” Gwen agreed. “Ariel!”

“EE!”

Her dogs sallied forth.

About a hundred meters from the party, the two Water Monkeys stopped. The alpha sniffed the air, then turned directly toward Gwen and her company, half hidden in the ankle-deep sedge.

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“See that? They have poor vision, but possess a keen sense of scent,” Richard pointed out. “There’s no ambushing these bastards.”

The Water Monkeys turned to flee, but by then it was too late.

Three of Gwen’s Deerhounds closed in behind their prey, growling dangerously.

The other two made an about-face, likewise turning on the Monkeys.

“GRRRRRR~!”

A throaty confluence of bone-throbbing growling filled the low valley, masking the presence of yet another three dogs hidden in the shallow sedge. The stink of ozone radiating from Gwen's electrified animals was overpowering.

“Did you teach 'em that?”

“Chen trained Ariel,” Gwen smirked. “Ariel’s the top dog up there. I suppose that makes me the sheepherder.”

Indeed, from up on high, Ariel shimmered gently, commanding Gwen’s hounds.

“EE!”

“Rrowff!”

The foremost hound feigned an assault.

“SHREEEIII!”

An unexpected howl pierced the soggy air, rippling from the Water Monkey’s chest like a banshee's wail.

“YIP! YIP! YIP! YIP!”

The smaller of the two began to beat its chest, emitting an awful racket from its peeling lips, baring inch-long fangs set into pink, mangled flesh.

“They’re calling for the rest of the pack!” Richard cracked his neck. “Lea! Shields on everyone! Maximum repulsion! We’re forcing them toward Gwen’s dogs!”

Gwen's irises gleamed with excess Lightning as she loaded up a tier 5 Evocation.

Lulan fell into a defensive stance, her pupils turning a vivid ochre.

“Dagger Wall!”

A swarm of dagger-like implements materialised around Kusu, floating placidly above the party, ready to intercept whatever came their way.

“Crystal Skin!”

Petra’s envious silhouette shimmered, becoming wreathed in a brilliant shell.

Percy hopped from foot to foot, trying to spot the incoming pack.

Down on the bog-flat where the two Monkeys had been cornered, Gwen’s pack met their quarry in melee. After a feigned snap to the neck, the second quickly nipped at the larger of the two targets, trying to hamstring the alpha. Dextrously, the first Water Ghost dodged, only to be met with a third dog, who had anticipated its sidestep. The smaller Monkey attempted to assist its companion - but was bodily checked by yet another growling hound. As it dived for cover, a shadow leapt from the sedge, barrelling into its chest and pinning it against the soggy turf. Beside the fallen Water Ghost, its companion faired no better. The sneak-attack ripped into its calves, forcing the Monkey to its knees while another ambushing hound tore out a chunk of its arm.

“SCREEEEEEIIII!”
"SCHEEEII! YIP! YIP! YIP!"

A series of bone-chilling screeches polluted the air.

“SCEE-!”

Its battle cry was suddenly cut short.
Gwen's alpha hound made its move, assailing the larger Water Ghost from behind, sending it crashing into the mud.

The rest of the pack fell upon the shrieking simian, tearing at its abdomen and torso as it frantically struggled. One of the dogs took a blow to the chest before snapping back, catching the Monkey’s paw in its jaw.

‘Crunch!’

“Shii…shii…” The creature attempted to cover its face with a mangled limb. Gwen's alpha wouldn’t have it, her hound tore away at the Ghost's forearms with an enthusiasm that would have made a starving Gwen proud, ripping out rags of bone-white sinew.

“OH MY GOD!” Percy paled, watching the dogs at their terrible work. “GWEN! They’re eating the damn thing alive!”

“SHUT UP!” Richard shouted over Percy’s incredulous utterance. “STAY DOWN! THEY’RE HERE!”

And they were.

The waterlogged loam surrounding the party bulged like diseased pustules before erupting into full-sized Water Ghosts.

“Their elemental teleport is kind of like a Blink!” Lulan shouted over the sound of splashing water. “They can't use it unless they're ambushing though. It'll get worse when we’re indoors!”

“LULU!” Kusu screeched. “DON’T let the water from their fur touch your lips! It’s poisonous!”

Diseased, Gwen corrected Kusu mentally. Virulent bacteria likely inundated the water cascading from the damned thing's mangy fur.

“Ariel!” Gwen channelled a spell into her Familiar. It was far easier launching spells from up on high than at her eye-level, especially when they were ankle-deep in mossy turf.

“Warding Shield!”

A total of six adult Water Ghosts emerged about two meters from the party’s right, taking advantage of the momentum of their innate water-Blink to throw their bodies into melee range.

"FARRRRRK!" Percy fumbled with his Salt Bolts. He was beginning to realise that competitive duelling was distinctly different from half a dozen disease laden barrelling baboons frothing at the lips.

Richard waited until the last moment before activating his Shields; driving Percy up the wall, or at least up Petra's crystal coated form.

‘Thunk!’
‘Splash!’

Forward facing semi-dome barriers swiftly negated the Monkeys’ momentum, catching four of the creatures mid-air. A hidden jet of water caught the victims as they spun, turning the Shield into a cocoon.

The remaining two broke through.

“Lulu!”

“GOT IT! BROAD STROKE! SWEEP!”

Lulan’s gleaming Iron Blade caught the first Monkey across the chest, biting viciously into flesh and bone, stopping the creature's momentum cold. Her second strike proved a second too slow, nicking the Monkey across the shoulder as it dexterously contorted its upper body.

“Ball Lightning!”

Gwen had been the nursing her tier 5 Evocation with meticulous care. Jacked up on adrenaline and fuming with thunderous wrath, she channelled the spell through Ariel's horns.

Despite her growing competence, the hyper-tier Evocation remained a considerable challenge. Without her teammates, it was unlikely that she could enjoy fifteen-seconds of uninterrupted, stress-free invocation.

Her first Ball Lightning caught the last Ghost that had slipped their defences, erupting into a white-hot sphere of plasma as its latent energies unleashed.

The remaining four, likewise ejaculated from Ariel’s incandescent horns, erupted where Richard had momentarily immobilised their quarry, ripping through their targets as the liquid cocoon turned into superheated steam.

“Caliban!”

Gwen materialised her second Familiar. Now was the perfect time to stock up on vitality.

“SHAAA!”

There was no need for elaborate transformations. Caliban slithered straight for the most wounded creature, pinned by Lulan’s sword into the ground like a kabob, opening its carapace with gleeful abandonment.

“Shaaa~, Shaaa~.”

“SCREEEEEEIIII!”

The lame Monkey thrashed against the slab of iron, ripping its wound; its flailing claws scored bloody gashes all over Caliban’s pulsating purple flesh, spraying ichor over the dark turf.

But as with the proverbial honey badger, Caliban didn't give a shit.

Caliban's lamprey lips launched for the Monkey's face.

It all happened so fast.

Percy stood in the midst of splashing water, exploding lightning, crushing blades of iron, the yipping and growling of dogs, throngs of screaming, insane Monkeys, and a yawning Petra.

His sister was strong, and her friends weren’t bad either, that had been the intellectual understanding he had brought to Nantong. Seeing the gory ordeal come to life, however, was opening his eyes to a reality he could scarcely comprehend.

How could they even tell what the hell was going on? Percy’s mind revolted. There was so much chaos, a concourse of light, colour and sound concomitantly occurring amidst spurting blood, snapping bones, howling Familiars and screeching monsters.

“Lightning Bolt!”
“SWEEP! THRUST!”
“PIERCE!”
“Lightning Sphere!”
"SHAAA!"
"Shield!"
“SWEEP! Iron Strike!”
"E-EE!"
"LULU! CAREFUL- CAO!"
"GRRR!"

His amulet glowed red-hot, subsuming the escaping essence of dying creatures all around him.

A few times he tried to help, but before his incantation even finished, a sword would lop off a limb, or a blast of lighting would erupt, leaving nothing but smouldering flesh. Whenever a creature got too close, a barrier of water would send it reeling backwards, or Kusu would protect him with a wall of steel implements. More often than not, stragglers were dragged off by Gwen's dogs.

“Salt B-”

"SHAA!"

Caliban tackled Percy's target.

Now in a feeding frenzy, Caliban was fully fluffed, more terrifying than Percy had ever seen the jovial worm. Ignoring all wounds and feeling no pain, it crashed bodily into the largest of the Water Ghosts. The simian beast kicked and scratched at the Familiar's body while Caliban hung on face-first, a comical addition to the monster's anatomy.

OH, GODS! Percy felt sick to his core even as his amulet recharged.

The Monkey's simian head slipped into Caliban’s maw, then inch by chomping inch, Caliban took the damned thing into its gullet. Even when half of the Monkey’s torso could no longer be seen, it thrashed and kicked, sending out vivid sprays of purple-black ichor that polluted the yellow-green undergrowth.

“Percy!” Gwen’s cheery voice called for him. "You alright?"

Percy glanced up to see his sister, her face flushed with the passion of the hunt, her cheeks rosy with thrilling violence.

“Gwen! Bring em!” Richard commanded Percy's shepherd sister.

The combat was dying down, the earlier chaos reduced to the sound of whimpering resistance.

Gwen’s Deerhounds approached, six of her dogs dragging two simian victims between them.

Percy stared in horror as the hounds deposited its quarry.

One of the Water Ghosts could barely be recognised as such, now missing most of its furry dermis and half of its face, with one eye hanging loosely by a few precarious vessels.

The smaller one was whole, though it was bleeding out via a missing chunk of its throat.

The rest of the party convened upon the bloody spectacle.

“Percy, go for it,” Richard directed him toward the twitching aberrations. “Your first Monster Kill, buddy, tier 3, maybe tier 4, not bad! I had to start with bloody Yabbies, you know!”

Gwen appeared behind Richard, looking apprehensive.

Percy could hardly breathe. He looked down at the creature below him. A pair of mangled jaws, even a meter away, reflexively snapped at him.

“Salt Bolt!”

The incantation came naturally to his lips.
Percy watched as a razor-sharp shard of Salt sliced into the creature’s skull.

His sister winced. Percy wondered what drove Gwen to want her little brother to deliver the coup de grâce.

“Salt Bolt!”

The second strike proved likewise unerring, taking the creature with a single hit.

“WELL DONE!” Richard slapped Percy on the back. “Nice control you’ve got there, Percy. Next time, your targets will be moving!”

Percy looked up to see his sister smiling at him with bloodshot eyes. The amulet burned as the creatures' essence entered the Kirin Stone's Soul Well, after which the jade cooled.

“Holy shit.” Percy cracked a forceful smile, his mind a deluge of emotions after bearing witness to such competence. “Sis, you guys are insane.”

A look of benevolence broke across Gwen’s tautly strung face.

“You know it!” She hugged him. “You did so much better than me when I was put in the position. I couldn't even look at my targets, even knowing that I had every right and that they deserved nothing better.”

Percy awkwardly returned the embrace.

“ALRIGHT!” Richard spared no time for sentimentality. “Petra! Lulan, IT'S TIME!”

“Resist Disease!” Petra dropped an essential protection spell on Lulan. At the tier in which Petra had acquired the stowed spell, it would remain active for days.

Lulan kicked over a Monkey corpse.
Two Iron Blades fell like meat-cleavers, taking the body apart, splattering her from thigh to elbow.

She reached down and ripped open the ribcage, searching for the promised prize. Not far, Gwen was coaxing Caliban to return any Cores the creatures may have stowed by stroking its mid-section.

“MAO!” Lulan triumphantly emerged, scarlet from her elbow to the tip of her fingers, her white face crimson with viscera. “I found one!”

“You’re kidding me!” Kusu’s eyes moved between the object in Lulan’s hand and the astonished, pale-faced Percy, trying to fathom some form of probable cause. “A Core?! REALLY?!”

“I got one here too.” Gwen pushed on Caliban’s torso, coaxing a slimy orb from its lamprey lips. The Core landed with a plop.

“Four more bodies!” Lulan skipped happily to the next body and once again began her merry butchery.

A wayward spleen ruptured, filling the air with a foul odour.

Behind Lulan, Percy reached his limits.

His sister, their cousins, and her friends were insane.

Turning away from the 'Nantong Ripper', Percy cleared the contents of his breakfast.

Richard nodded with satisfaction; his work was done.

“Good sport.” He gave Percy a thumbs up. “Kusu, you owe me 50 HDMs.”

“CAO!” Kusu cursed. “You would think Gwen's brother was made of sterner stuff!”

Four Cores later, Kusu was aghast.

“I am not going to ask why, I only hope you come with us every time,” the crystal starved ex-Clanner professed, handing Percy a towel.

“Thanks.” Percy wiped his lips.

Gwen’s dogs fanned out again, directed by Ariel.

“Prestidigitation!” Gwen ran the quasi-magical laundry Device over Lulan’s dress. The girl’s tolerance for ultra-violence was mind-numbing. Even Gwen, who had personally seen a Mage eaten from inside-out by an eldritch horror, was sickened by her gory labour.

Earlier, Gwen had to take a quick break to ‘digest’ her newly acquired vitality.

Having her friends, not to mention Percy, seeing her groaning with ecstasy was beyond awkward, so she had forced herself to remain grim and unmoving while her innards contorted.

After a minute of stoicism, Gwen could once again breathe. The Monkeys were robust, but their vitality was tier 3 at best, maybe scraping into tier 4 on the Nephres scale. It was their ambushing, pack-hunting tactics that made them so dangerous.

On another note, Gwen was gaining a renewed appreciation of just how potent draconic-essence could be. Compared to the earth-shattering, eyes-rolling-to-the-back-of-her-head ecstasy in Huangshan, her mortal meal of Monkeys was chugging stale-beer compared to slugging Mao-tai.

Lulan emerged from her butchery smiling from ear to ear.

8 Water Ghosts. 16 CCs so far.

Fortuitously, Gwen packed enough LDMs to dry-clean Lulan's entire wardrobe and then some.

“EE! EE!” Ariel reported back.

“All good.” Gwen passed on the buck. “Nothing of note within half-a-kilometre.”

“Marching Order!” Richard barked. The Water Mage was a born drill sergeant. He inspected his troops before giving the command to keep moving.

“Gwen, get the dogs! Alright, to the Lair!”