"From now on... we're a team," Donavan declared, arms crossed as he stared down both Zai and Fir.
Their reactions were immediate—a blend of confusion and barely-contained anxiety.
Zai paused mid-bite, slowly chewing his food like it had betrayed him.
"Uhhh… no," he said flatly, finally swallowing.
"Same here," Fir added, sipping from his chipped mug. "I don't really like you all that much."
Donavan let out a long, tired sigh. Without a word, he reached for a steak knife from the center of the table and casually bent the blade with two fingers like it was made of warm butter. The sound of metal warping filled the now-silent air around them.
Zai and Fir froze.
They looked at each other. Zai had another spoonful of stew halfway to his mouth. Fir had his drink mid-sip. Neither moved. In a wordless exchange that only came from a bond formed through near-death experiences and shared stupidity, they silently agreed on something.
Then Fir said, cheerful as ever:"Nah, thanks. We're good."
Zai nodded, mouth still full.
Donavan exhaled through his nose. (I forgot how stubborn they can be... Fine. Guess I'll use that.)
He closed his eyes, and in the next breath, his mana flared—not with light, but with intent. Heavy, suffocating bloodlust poured from him like a fog.
The tavern changed instantly.
Nearby conversations stopped mid-sentence. A bard dropped his lute with a loud twang. Dice rolled off a table, ignored. A burly dwarf gripped the handle of his axe. An elf in the corner flicked open a rune-etched fan that doubled as a weapon.
Someone in the back whispered, "Ten gold says he kills them both."Another responded, "Twenty says they run first."
Still, Donavan didn't move.
His eyes—sharp, tired, ancient in ways no one here could understand—were locked on Zai.
The young wizard blinked, not flinching. But his spoon was no longer moving. He tilted his head slightly, thoughtful, and slowly put his hand on his chin.
"...I see," Zai said softly.Then, he looked Donavan directly in the eye."Can you see it? Can you see mana?"
Silence gripped the tavern once more. Fir looked between the two, frowning.
"What? You two bonding over weird arcane stares now? Is that what we're doing?"
Donavan didn't answer. His bloodlust had receded slightly, but the tension still hung in the air like smoke.
Around them, the tavern slowly returned to life, though at a distance. No one wanted to get involved. The bartender ducked behind the counter. A waitress subtly changed course to avoid their table. Only the bravest (or dumbest) remained watching with interest.
The bent knife still sat on the table between them.
"…I'll answer that," Donavan said, his voice low and steady. He met Zai's gaze directly, ignoring the curious eyes of the onlookers still lingering nearby. "If you agree to become my teammates."
Zai narrowed his eyes. The air around him shifted almost imperceptibly. For a moment—just a flicker—his irises changed. From their usual dull dark hue to a light, almost glowing blue, like the color of arcane flames seen through frost.
Most in the room didn't notice.
Donavan did.
Zai leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, eyes locked on Donavan's chest—not in a confrontational way, but focused. Studying.
"That's... impossible," Zai said, voice low. "Those enhancements… That layering… You're running a triple-core reinforcement spell nested in a recursive mana loop—without collapsing your circuits. That kind of precision should take decades of training, and you're not even breaking a sweat..." He trailed off, his voice darkening. "Who taught you to do this?"
Donavan grinned.
A slow, confident grin.
"You did."He leaned back, folding his arms. "Believe it or not."
Zai froze, stunned into silence. His fingers twitched, instinctively brushing against the wooden table as he traced the implications.
Donavan's smirk widened. "I can tell you all about it..." he said, voice almost teasing."If you come with me."
The tavern, still on edge, had shifted from tension to quiet curiosity. Somewhere in the back, someone whispered, "Are they flirting or forming a murder cult?"
Fir, who had somehow acquired a plate of fried potatoes, glanced between them with a mouthful."…Is this some kind of nerd language? Because I'm not following anything anymore."
Donavan didn't break eye contact with Zai.Zai didn't blink.
Then finally, Zai leaned back in his chair with a sigh."…If I say yes, will you stop showing off?"
Donavan raised an eyebrow. "No promises."
Zai shrugged."Fine. But only because I'm curious. And I want to know how the hell I taught you anything."
Fir raised his hand."Does this mean I get to be the funny guy of the team?"
Donavan and Zai answered in unison.
"No."
______________
"Okay," Zai said, leaning forward, arms crossed on the table. "We agreed to be party members, so—can you tell me now? How did I teach you that?"He flicked his wrist, summoning a small spell—just a simple light glyph—but his eyes glowed faintly as he observed the structure. "That foundation is mine. I'd recognize it anywhere. Did you study under Teacher too? Has she finally taken on another student?"
His tone held genuine curiosity and surprise.
But Donavan's answer wasn't what Zai expected.
"…You made that enhancement spell." Donavan's voice dropped. "Or rather, you will make it. Far into the future. During the War of Three Brothers."
Zai blinked. Fir just stared.
Then slowly, both turned toward Donavan like he'd grown a second head.
Fir leaned toward Zai and subtly pointed his thumb at Donavan behind his back. (I think he's crazy. Should we, like… bail?)
Zai's expression remained neutral, but his brows twitched just enough to reply (No. Not yet, at least. That spell structure—it's insane. I have to know where he learned it.)
No actual words were spoken—just a few glances and barely-there gestures. But Donavan noticed.
And responded.
He didn't speak. Instead, his body shifted slightly—relaxed posture, arms open just a bit more, a calm but knowing gaze. His face said everything:
(You two can stop talking behind my back. Speak out loud if you want. I really don't care.)
That alone wasn't what made them freeze.
It was how in sync he was with them. Like he knew exactly what they were going to say before they even thought it. Like he'd traveled alongside them for years. Fought with them. Laughed with them. Buried friends with them.
Zai felt it.
Fir noticed it too—though his brain defaulted to a single word:
"Creepy."
"…You know us," Zai finally said, eyes narrowing.
Donavan smiled faintly.
"Better than you know yourselves."
Fir looked between Donavan and Zai, expression unreadable. Then, he leaned back in his chair, arms behind his head.
"Looks like you've got a stalker, Zai… A really strong, really creepy stalker."He paused, then added with mock horror, "Please don't tell me you two were, like, dating or something. I am not emotionally prepared for that."
Zai nearly choked on his drink. His face twisted into a mix of confusion and rage.
"What?! Him? That guy? NO! Not in a million years!" He stood up halfway from his seat, hands gesturing wildly. "Wait—why would you even think I like men?!"
Fir just shrugged casually, not missing a beat."Look at you."
Zai stopped, one eye twitching.
"…What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"You've got the vibe." Fir sipped from his drink. "Soft voice, mysterious loner, spends way too much time brooding under trees… plus, the hair."
Zai grabbed a strand of his unkempt black hair. "What about my hair?!"
"It screams 'I write poetry about death and heartbreak.'"
Donavan, still seated with a faint smirk, muttered under his breath, "…You kind of do, though."
"OH MY GODS—" Zai sat down hard, face in hands. "I'm surrounded by idiots."
Fir grinned wide. "Yeah, but we're your idiots now. Party of three."
Donavan raised his cup. "To destiny, then."
Zai groaned. "To regret…"
"To… uhh… uhh—hold on, I've got it! I've got it!"Fir raised his drink triumphantly.
But by the time he managed to think of something, Zai and Donavan had already left the table and were halfway to the guild hall door. Around them, groans echoed from other patrons as coins and betting slips were angrily swept off tables.
"Aw, c'mon! That was it? I had five silver on the short one throwing a fireball!"
"This isn't even worth the drink tab I paid!"
Fir downed the rest of his mug and stretched."Rude crowd," he muttered, before jogging after the other two.
A few hours later…
"Okay… haha… okay, hold on—holy—how are you not tired?!"Zai nearly collapsed face-first into the dirt."We've been walking for hours... Haaaah…"
He bent over, gasping, sweat dripping from his brow like he'd run a marathon through a volcano. Fir and Donavan, several steps ahead, turned around, both looking almost too comfortable.
Fir raised an eyebrow."Seriously, Zai… how are you this unhealthy?"
He walked back and poked the wizard with a stick.Zai flinched and grumbled."It's because—"
"He's a wizard," Donavan cut in smoothly, hands behind his back as he walked."All magically-inclined people like him tend to have weak bodies. Casting magic doesn't just cost mana or knowledge. It takes a toll—draws from the body, the mind, sometimes even the soul. Especially if they specialize in abstract or mental spells."
Fir looked at Zai, then at Donavan."You just called him weak in, like, five different poetic ways."
"I prefer 'efficient with my effort,' thank you very much," Zai said from the ground, still trying to catch his breath.
"Sure, buddy," Fir said, tapping the stick on Zai's forehead."You keep telling yourself that while we carry your dramatic little corpse up this hill."
Zai groaned, half-dying for effect."I hate both of you."
"You say that," Donavan said, smirking."But you agreed to this party."
"Because I was threatened with overwhelming magical power and mild emotional manipulation."
"Exactly," Fir added."That's how all the great friendships start."
"Haah... so what exactly are we doing here, Mr. Knows-It-All?" Zai asked, still dangling over Fir's shoulder, arms limp like a sack of potatoes.
Donavan didn't spare him a glance as he walked ahead. His voice was calm, almost too casual."Undead."He paused for a moment, casting a brief glance back. "There's a cemetery far out from the town. Abandoned for years. Now it's being used by cultists to raise the dead. It's crawling with undead now—dangerous... for you, at least."
Zai's eyes narrowed, suspicion evident in the slight twitch of his brow. "And you know this how?" His tone wasn't casual; he was fishing for information, feeling out Donavan's story. There was something off about this whole situation.
Donavan didn't flinch, his steps steady as ever. He was like a man who had already seen all the worst the world could offer. He gave no hint that Zai's question had even registered."I've been there." His voice was matter-of-fact. "I know the area, know the cultists. I've had… run-ins."
Zai raised an eyebrow."And yet... you walk into this with no fear? What exactly do you plan to do?"
Donavan smirked slightly, but it wasn't a reassuring smile. It was a smirk that carried too much weight—like someone who had danced with death too many times to care anymore."You'll see. I wouldn't worry about it. It's not my first undead-filled cemetery."
Zai didn't let up. "Are you working with them? What's the deal with the cultists? What are they after?" His voice was sharper now, his earlier exhaustion forgotten. Whatever the truth was, it was tied to the why behind Donavan's knowledge—and Zai was determined to find out.
Fir, carrying Zai like a sack of grain, glanced over at him with a slight smirk."You know, I can't tell if you're interrogating him or just really tired of being carried."
Zai groaned in frustration. "I'm trying to make sense of this. And I wasn't the one who decided to wander off on a random cultist-killing trip."
"You agreed to come along, didn't you?" Donavan's voice didn't even break as he spoke, his eyes never straying from the horizon.
Zai sighed, realizing that getting straight answers out of Donavan was like trying to catch smoke with his bare hands. He didn't get a sense of deceit—just a layer of mystery
__________
Several hours later — Noon.
"We're here," Donavan said, stopping in the middle of a seemingly random clearing. All that could be seen around them was endless, lush green grass stretching out in every direction. There were no landmarks, no sign of danger, just calm serenity.
Zai stood up, stretching, his body sore from being carried for hours by Fir. He looked around and sighed. "...It's underground, isn't it?" His eyes scanned the area for any hint of an entrance.
Donavan didn't respond immediately. Instead, he gave Zai a quick glance and then looked at the ground beneath them, almost as if he were measuring it with his mind. "Yeah," he finally said, his voice flat and disinterested. "Somewhere beneath the grass."
Zai huffed, a mix of frustration and exhaustion pulling at his words. "I washed yesterday... Can't we, like... just blow it up? You know, blow up the entire cemetery and be done with it?" He kicked at the dirt beneath him, clearly ready for a shortcut. After all, explosions solved most problems, right?
Fir, still a little tired from his "Zai-carrying duty," sat down on a nearby rock, running a hand through his hair and letting out a long breath. "I dunno, man. You'd blow yourself up first. You always forget how big your spells get." He shook his head with a grin. "Plus, we have no idea what's under there. Might be worse than just some undead and cultists."
Zai rolled his eyes, rubbing his temple as he considered Fir's point. It was always the same. Whenever things got inconvenient, Fir found a way to add more layers to the problem. It was impressive, really.
Donavan, standing off to the side, simply watched them bicker for a moment before he spoke again. His tone was calm, but there was something about it that didn't quite feel right. "If you can, then go ahead."
Zai blinked, caught off guard. "...What?"
Donavan didn't seem to have any urgency in his voice, no challenge in his tone, just a statement of fact, almost like he was inviting Zai to try. His gaze was distant, unreadable. "If you think blowing it up will work, do it."
Zai looked at him, confusion spreading across his face. This wasn't the response he'd expected, and it definitely wasn't the typical "I'm better than you" challenge he was used to. Donavan seemed too calm, too indifferent.
Zai grumbled, finally speaking again, albeit begrudgingly. "...I can't. I was hoping you could." His eyes shifted to Donavan, trying to figure out why he was even asking in the first place. If anyone could blow something up, it was Donavan. Zai had seen the man use magic in ways that didn't make sense—his raw control over mana was terrifying.
Fir snorted behind them. "You know, you two are way too much alike. Both too proud to just admit you need each other."
Donavan's response was immediate and without hesitation. "I'm not here to solve your problems." He glanced at Zai, his eyes unblinking. "I told you about the undead. You decide what to do with it."
Zai let out a deep sigh, the weight of the situation finally hitting him. "Alright, fine. We're doing this the hard way." He looked down at the grass beneath his feet again, considering his options. His mind raced through spells, analyzing every possibility.
"So... what's the plan then?" Zai asked, half to himself and half to Donavan, his voice quieter now. He needed a way to break in without wasting too much energy. He didn't want to risk it failing, but at the same time, he was starting to feel like the answers were slipping further and further out of his grasp.
______________
Donavan stood silently, his gaze fixed on Zai, studying every subtle movement. He was searching for even the faintest hint of that monster he'd once known—the Star Eater that haunted his memories, the monster that would strike without mercy, without hesitation, a force of destruction beyond comprehension.
Is he really the same person? Donavan thought, eyes narrowing. No... this Zai, he's too controlled. Too... different. But that doesn't mean he's harmless. If he shows even the smallest sign of that insanity, I won't hesitate.
The thought weighed heavily on him as he watched Zai stand up. The younger wizard stretched, a slight groan escaping him as he did. His body was still sore from the hours of walking, but that didn't stop him from preparing for whatever was ahead. There was a determination in his eyes, an almost reckless energy that Donavan couldn't ignore. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to change.
Without warning, Zai raised his hand, muttering incantations under his breath. His eyes flickered from their usual color to a faint glow, the mana around him crackling in the air. Donavan's sharp eyes widened for a fraction of a second. He recognized the spell—or so he thought. He had seen nearly every spell Zai ever cast over the years, each one etched into his memory, but this one... this one was new.
What is he doing? Donavan's thoughts raced, his body tensing, ready to intervene at any moment. Don't tell me... he's not planning to blow it up... is he? He felt a rush of panic surge through him, not because of the spell itself, but because Zai was too unpredictable. Donavan hadn't known this side of him, not yet. He wasn't sure what this version of Zai was capable of.
Before Donavan could make a move to stop him, the spell detonated. A burst of force shot outward from Zai, slamming into Donavan. He barely felt it—his magic-sensitive senses tingled, and he staggered back slightly, but it was nothing compared to the full force of some of the blasts Zai was capable of.
"What was that?" Donavan asked, raising an eyebrow, his voice low with suspicion.
Zai, standing with a smug grin plastered on his face, shrugged casually. "Sonar," he said, his voice light and almost amused. "Well, not really. But it's like sonar, so I'm calling it sonar." He flicked his hand in a fluid motion, and suddenly, a glowing map appeared in the air between them, showing the area beneath the ground. The map was filled with dots indicating the positions of the cultists and undead, their numbers staggering.
Zai pointed to the diagram. "I know where the cultists are and how many undead are down there. It's a pretty big chasm, too. We could head back and get the guild to help us out, maybe set up a quest. That way, we could..." He trailed off, glancing toward Donavan, who had stepped forward, his gaze burning with intensity.
"Or we can handle it on our own," Donavan interrupted, his voice low, tinged with something dangerous. His eyes didn't leave Zai, and for a moment, the air around them grew thick with tension.
Zai blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in Donavan's tone. "What?" His brow furrowed. "What's your problem? Why are you—"
Donavan's expression twisted with a mixture of anger and... something else. There was an edge to his words, a hint of frustration that seemed to come out of nowhere. "I'm not here for the guild's help, Zai," he said, his voice barely controlled. "We don't need their interference. We can do this ourselves. You can do this. If you think you can keep it under control, then prove it."
Zai stared at him, confusion flooding his expression. Was Donavan angry? It didn't make sense. He was usually so calm, so collected. The tension between them was palpable now, and for the first time, Zai felt like he was looking at someone completely different. What the hell is going on with him?
Fir, who had been silent through the entire exchange, leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed. His gaze flickered between the two, sensing the shift in the air. He could feel the animosity building up, but he couldn't quite tell where it was coming from. The whole situation was starting to get... uncomfortable.
"So," Fir drawled, breaking the silence. "What's the deal, guys? You two fighting already? Just chill. We're here for the undead, not for some drama." He yawned, stretching his arms out. "If we're going to kill something, let's get on with it."
Zai turned his attention to Fir, his mind racing. He wanted to brush it off, to keep moving forward, but Donavan's words were like a weight around his chest. What's his problem? What's his history with me?
He finally sighed, exasperated. "Fine. If you want to go in with just us three, then let's do it your way. But don't expect me to go easy on these undead just because you've got some weird issue with the guild." He turned toward the glowing map again, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. The undead weren't going to wait.
Donavan didn't respond immediately, but his gaze softened ever so slightly, his expression unreadable. He turned and began walking toward the edge of the clearing, his pace purposeful. "I'm not worried about the guild."
Zai exchanged another look with Fir, who just shrugged. They didn't know what had just happened, but they could tell it was something important.
The trio set off toward the cemetery, the tension hanging heavy in the air as they prepared for the battle ahead. The map still glowed faintly in Zai's hand, and he couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get much more complicated.
.....
"I stand corrected… this… this is just a massacre."Zai's voice was cold as he loosed another crackling bolt of arcane energy. The undead warrior in front of him crumpled, its bones clattering to the flagstone floor—and then stilled.
He glanced over his shoulder at Donavan, who stood a few paces ahead, cloak swirling and staff held ready. "This is what you were worried about?" Zai asked, voice echoing in the torchlit corridor.
After several minutes of relentless, repeating slaughter—skeletons shattering beneath Zai's magic, zombies collapsing under Fir's well-placed strikes—the trio finally reached the last chamber. According to Zai's spectral map, this was where the cultists would be gathered.
With a shared breath, Donavan pushed the heavy oaken door open.
Inside lay a tableau of carnage: multiple corpses, bodies torn and strewn about in ritualistic patterns. The stench of old blood and rotting flesh clung to the air. In the center of the room writhed a grotesque mass of bone and sinew, all slick with a deep black miasma that pulsed as if it had a heartbeat. It lifted what passed for a head and turned toward them, spine-chilling whispers emanating from the tangled bone.
A high, keening screech sliced through the silence.
Donavan reacted instantly—his staff arcing in a wide sweep of raw mana. A wave of shimmering energy crashed into the bone-beast, but it barely recoiled.
Fir and Zai were frozen for a heart-beat too long, mouths open in shock.
Then, from behind them, came the clatter of rattling bones. Turning, they saw the hallway lined once more with undead—skeletons that had fallen moments before, now upright, eyes glowing with renewed malice.
Zai fired off another magic bolt. It struck a skeleton squarely in the chest, but the bone fractured and re-knit itself almost instantly. "Ahh, fuck," Fir growled, gripping his axe as the new wave charged forward.
Donavan met the Beast of Malice blade to spine.
The creature's makeshift weapon—an arm-length jagged spinal column wrapped in necrotic sinew—clashed against Donavan's short sword with a deafening crack. Sparks and bone dust erupted with every blow, each impact reverberating up Donavan's arms like lightning in his bones.
They were evenly matched—at least in raw strength.
(What the hell is this thing?! It shouldn't be this strong… Zai killed it, didn't he? Alone. No backup. No enhancements. Just raw talent and willpower… Come on, Donavan—THINK! If he figured it out, so can you.)
A bone spike shattered the air beside him, ripping through the stone floor and narrowly missing his ribs. Several more followed—bladed fragments of rib and femur hurled at near-sonic speed. His magically-enhanced reflexes kicked in, and he darted through the barrage. Even if they hit, the damage would be minimal—at least to someone prepared. But he wasn't.
(I don't have my sword. No proper magic core yet. My mana lines are still forming… curse this weak, underdeveloped body!)
"ZAI—switch with me! I'll back up Fir. You deal with this thing!" he shouted, parrying a flurry of brutal, machine-precise strikes. Each blow sent up shrieking notes of metal against bone.
Zai, already flanked by two lesser ghouls, barely had time to blink."What!? What do you mean 'deal with it'? I'm not a melee fighter!" he yelled, panic breaking through his voice—but his feet were already moving.
Some part of him had accepted the reality. No one else was coming.
He raised his arms and summoned a shimmering dual-layered mana shield, compressed so tightly it flickered like liquid glass. As the beast hurled a massive barbed bone spear at him, it impacted hard enough to rattle his brain—but the shield held, just barely. Zai staggered, sweat pouring down his face.
(Think! What would Teacher do? What would she scream at me for missing? The shield needs... rotation!)
He reworked the outer shield, setting it to spin rapidly like a buzzsaw of mana. The next strike glanced off with a screech, missing his chest by inches. He smiled through gritted teeth.
Research mode: engaged.
Zai's mind was already unfolding spell layers and theoretical bindings. He summoned his signature attack—a dense mass of raw mana shaped into a compressed, jagged boulder, glowing like a dying star.
He called it "Meteor"—not for size, but for speed and devastation. Fused with a gravity array, the spell created an implosion force on impact, mimicking a meteor strike in reverse—crushing inward rather than out.
He launched it.
The air trembled as the compressed sphere tore through the chamber, gravity distorting behind it. Bone spikes met it mid-flight—and shattered like glass under a hammer. The Meteor struck the Beast of Malice dead-on, causing the entire chamber to tremble.
The creature reeled, pieces of its writhing body splintering. But it didn't die. It roared—a noise not from lungs but from the abyss itself, a layered, grating sound that vibrated in the bones and echoed in the soul.
Zai's enhanced vision activated, his irises glowing with threads of cobalt light. He scanned the writhing abomination, looking not for organs—but for its magic cores.
(There! One—no, three—wait, seven?!...Shit, it has too many. Not physical. They're in the interstitial layer—an overlapping magical dimension… That's where it's pulling from. That's where it lives.)
In theory, destabilizing those cores would unmake it. In practice? That was suicide.
Zai grit his teeth. "Fuck it. I'm doing this my way."
He clapped his palms together, igniting a dangerous cascade of unstable mana between them. With a roar, he thrust both hands forward in a double-palm strike. What came out wasn't a bolt, or a beam—but a hailstorm of razor-thin, high-speed mana shards. Hundreds of projectiles screamed through the air like magical buckshot.
Magic Shotgun.
Blue light filled the chamber, each shard seeking, splitting, tearing. Several of the creature's outer magical nodes flickered, flared, and popped, disintegrating in bursts of violet-black fire. The Beast shrieked, its form glitching—phasing between the physical and magical planes like a broken illusion.
Zai fell to one knee, coughing blood. "That... got some of them…"
Donavan, from the side, was already moving to flank the thing. Fir roared from behind, breaking through a knot of undead with his axe.
And the Beast of Malice, now half-phased and screeching like a broken god, turned all of its many, burning eyes on Zai.
ChatGPT said:
Zai's eyes flickered with a sharp, calculating focus as he wiped the blood from his lips. His breath was ragged, and his limbs ached from the strain of the battle, but his mind never stopped working. He studied the Beast of Malice, eyes glowing with the eerie blue hue that marked his focus. It was clear now—the creature wasn't alive, and it wasn't just undead either. The massive creature had become nothing more than a conduit, a physical vessel manipulated by something much darker, something even stronger. Zai's thoughts raced.
(How many cores is it housing? It's not just a simple undead creature anymore. Something else is pulling the strings. I can feel it. But if I can gain control over the cores—if I can hijack the flow of magic—maybe I can turn this thing against whatever's using it.)
The pieces clicked together, and an unsettling realization crept through his mind. It wasn't just controlling undead—it was controlling all of them. Everything was connected. He needed to sever that link, but it was going to take time.
"By me time!" Zai shouted over the chaos, his voice tinged with desperation.
With a sudden burst of energy, he began to gather his magic, weaving it into a complex spell that hummed with raw power. Each incantation was precise, like threading needles with lightning. His eyes darted between the Beast and the growing mass of undead around them, ensuring nothing would slip past him. He fired off bolt after bolt of magic, picking off smaller undead as they came too close, while still focusing on the massive creature that was now crashing towards them.
(Fir is still handling himself… He's tough, tougher than I gave him credit for. I can't believe he's still standing.)
Meanwhile, Donavan, ever vigilant and fueled by his own instincts, was facing off against the Beast again. His senses were pushed to their limits. The magic-infused body he now inhabited was nowhere near as refined as the one he once had, but it was enough to let him survive. He had pushed his physicality past its limits, enhancing his senses and his speed to the absolute maximum.
(If I push myself any further, I'll tear my body apart. I need to keep it together—but I can't let that thing get close to Zai again.)
With swift, fluid movements, Donavan stabbed the Beast in its grotesque face, the blade sinking deep into its skull with a sickening grind of bone. He followed up with a brutal punch that cracked the thing's face open, making it flinch. But it wasn't enough. The Beast hissed and recoiled, and before Donavan could react, a dozen bone-spikes shot out from its body, twisting and spiraling in every direction like a storm of jagged needles.
He leaped backward just in time, narrowly dodging the first wave. But he could feel it—something was different. The bone spikes were slower now, almost sluggish. He could see the magic flickering in the air, distorted, like a veil had been pulled over it.
(Wait… the magic's destabilizing? It's weaker, more fragmented… Is Zai doing that?)
Donavan quickly recalibrated his movements, sensing the change in the air. He moved with precision, his body an extension of his focus, weaving through the bone whips and spears as they struck the earth and splintered against his enhanced form. His swords came out in a blur, slashing and parrying, cutting through the beast's mass of bone and sinew with deadly accuracy.
Zai, still holding the line against the ever-growing horde of undead, could feel the pulse of magic in the air. The Beast's power was diminishing, its magic flickering with every spell he cast. He was breaking it apart piece by piece. But it wasn't fast enough.
"Come on... come on..." Zai muttered under his breath as he completed the final components of his spell. The air around him thickened with magic, and the ground beneath his feet began to tremble as he prepared to strike at the heart of the magic network controlling the beast.
He raised his hands and wove the final incantation. A barrier of energy formed around him, a glowing web of interlocking symbols that pulsed with intense power. The Song of Binding—a spell he had never fully learned but had to adapt to this moment. Zai's mouth moved quickly, his voice a near whisper.
"Let the bindings sever, let the threads snap and—"
He thrust his hands forward, sending the pulse of binding energy out into the Beast. The air around it vibrated violently, and a deep, resounding crack echoed throughout the chamber.
The beast recoiled, its form spasming as its body began to break apart—the magic around it destabilized further, the multiple cores within it pulsing erratically.
Zai's breath was ragged, but he held his ground. The pulse of magic surged forward, and the Beast collapsed to its knees, its bones and sinew unraveling like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Donavan watched, his sword still poised in the air, as the massive creature staggered, crumbling under the weight of its own magic.
(Zai… You did it.)
But Zai wasn't finished yet. He still had to handle the undead, now frenzied and uncontrollable, crawling toward them with new fervor.
(One more push...) Zai thought, gathering the last of his strength.
He raised his hands again, his blue eyes glowing with the pure energy of desperation.
"Stay down!" Zai roared.
A shockwave of magical force erupted from him, knocking back the undead, as Zai's power over the magic core began to take full effect.
______________
Zai's steps were slow, but steady, the weight of the battle still heavy in his bones. His expression was tired, but there was something different in his eyes—something that hinted at a deeper understanding of the power he wielded, and the cost of it. As they made their way back to town, the head of the Beast of Malice slung across their backs, and the bones of the cultists secured as proof, Zai couldn't help but feel the quiet hum of his own magic, still buzzing in his veins. It felt almost like an aftershock, a reminder of how close he had come to losing control.
"Are you ok? Need anything? Water?" Fir's voice broke through the silence, his usual teasing tone replaced with genuine concern. Fir was still sore from carrying Zai earlier, his muscles aching, but he was used to long walks like this. Zai offered a small, almost grateful smile.
"I'm fine, just… tired," Zai responded, his voice rough from the exertion. He didn't want to admit it, but the battle had drained him more than he expected. The strain of using that much magic, combined with his lack of stamina, was starting to catch up with him. But there was no time to dwell on it. He needed to focus on the road ahead, on the task they had completed, and the dangerous unknowns still lingering in the shadows.
As the trio walked, Donavan kept his eyes fixed ahead, though his thoughts were far away, drifting into the past. His gaze occasionally flickered toward Zai, but he quickly looked away, as though trying to avoid something. Zai, ever observant, noticed the shift in Donavan's demeanor. His posture was stiffer than usual, his jaw clenched, as though carrying an invisible weight.
What's eating him? Zai wondered, though he didn't voice the thought. He had enough to think about as it was, but a nagging curiosity tugged at the back of his mind.
Donavan's thoughts, meanwhile, were a tangled mess of doubt and confusion. He couldn't shake the memory of that first encounter with Zai—the sight of him, standing amidst blood and chaos, his body radiating with an unsettling energy. His eyes glowed with a ferocity that Donavan had never seen before. The raw, unrestrained power that Zai had back then was the reason Donavan had been sent to stop him.
I don't even know anymore… Donavan thought bitterly, his gaze flickering over to Zai, who was now speaking with Fir about something trivial, his words lighthearted. Back then, it was clear. He was a threat. He was the monster I needed to stop. But now...
Now, Zai seemed different. Not just physically, though that was obvious—he was younger, more vulnerable, but Donavan could see the shadows of something darker in his eyes, something that reminded him of the power Zai once wielded. Yet there was also a control, a calmness that hadn't been there before. He had changed. And Donavan wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or a dangerous one.
Did I change the future? Did I prevent him from becoming the monster he was destined to be? Or… Donavan's thoughts flickered with doubt. Maybe it was my interference that brought it about in the first place. What if he still becomes the Star Eater, but now with all of us involved?
He glanced at Zai again, his brow furrowing. The younger mage had no idea of the weight that had been placed on his shoulders in Donavan's mind. He only saw the casual, slightly naïve attitude of someone still figuring out their path. But Donavan knew better. He had seen what power like Zai's could do when left unchecked.
He almost wanted to talk to him—ask him, demand to know what had happened. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not yet.
Zai, ever perceptive, caught the change in Donavan's gaze. He raised an eyebrow, sensing something was off. But instead of asking, he simply shrugged it off, too exhausted to bother digging for answers. The thought that there was a deeper question looming between them didn't quite register.
"Hey, Donavan, you okay?" Zai asked, his tone casual, but his eyes still sharp as they scanned his companion. "You've been awfully quiet."
Donavan paused, meeting Zai's gaze for a moment. There was something in Zai's eyes that made him hesitate. That childlike curiosity. That determination. He felt that, maybe, there was something in Zai that still wasn't like the monster he feared. But Donavan couldn't ignore the weight of the knowledge he carried—what if Zai becomes that monster, no matter what I do?
"I'm fine," Donavan replied curtly, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
Zai didn't buy it, but he decided not to press. For now, they had more pressing matters to focus on—getting back to town, reporting their success, and figuring out what came next.
But even as the trio made their way back to the familiar sights of the guild, the question lingered in the back of Donavan's mind.
Was it really the right decision?