Renegade's Dominion

The battle was over, won, but at a price steep enough to sour the victory. Kaiden, Rhoda, and several of the wounded Goblins lay sprawled on the ground, their bodies limp, breathing shallow. Each hovered dangerously close to the thin boundary between life and death, their survival uncertain with every passing moment.

"They have been marked by the undead, oh Great One. There is nothing we can do for them here."

The Elder Goblin's voice was grim, his weathered face shadowed by the weight of his words. He had come to this conclusion after performing an ancient form of diagnosis handed down through generations. It wasn't merely a matter of tending wounds. You could call it a ritualistic examination, studying not just the injuries themselves but the unnatural energy seeping from them.

This world thrummed with supernatural forces, each governing a different aspect of life and power. The Elder began to explain, his tone both reverent and heavy with history.

First came Aura, the energy of warriors, the lifeblood of those who lived and fought by physical might. It was the raw essence that amplified strength, speed, and resilience.

Then Mana, the spark that fed magic itself, bending reality to manifest the impossible, giving shape to dreams and will.

There was Holy Power, a sacred blessing believed to flow only from a single divine source: Goddess Lyssera. To many, she was the highest being in all of ERETRAIA, the eternal wellspring of life and abundance.

And last… Miasma, the cursed energy of the undead. Said to be the essence of death itself, it corrupted and destroyed all that it touched.

It was this last energy, the foul taint of Miasma that had claimed Kaiden, Rhoda, and the fallen Goblins. The Elder's words confirmed what Ty had already suspected: the Bear they had fought was no mere beast. It had once been alive, but through the dark arts, it had been twisted into an undead monstrosity, reanimated and empowered by Miasma.

Every strike from its claws or teeth had carried that deathly corruption deep into the blood of its victims. Now, that poisonous essence coursed through their veins, destroying cells, rotting flesh from within. It would not stop until it had devoured all that was living.

"And there's nothing we can do to stop it?" Ty's voice was sharp with disbelief.

Was this how it ended for them? For Kaiden, for Rhoda, for the Goblins who had fought at his side? The Bear was dead, shouldn't the nightmare have ended with it?

The Elder lowered his gaze. "I am afraid not." His words landed like a sentence.

Ty's jaw clenched hard enough to ache. His fists curled until his nails bit into his palms. The frustration was a hot, burning knot in his chest. He had been too relaxed, too slow to consider what came after the fight. Now his own companions were paying the price.

"There is… one way," the Elder said at last.

Ty's head snapped toward him. "What? Tell me!"

"The only force known to counter Miasma is Holy Power, Great One. If we could obtain Holy Water, their wounds could be purified before the corruption claims them."

It was the sliver of hope he needed, fragile,? Yes, but real. Relief seeped into his taut muscles, though it was tempered by urgency. "Then tell me how to get it."

The Elder's face hardened, a shadow of dread crossing it. Ty felt the prickle of foreboding even before the old Goblin spoke.

"Holy Water is water blessed by Holy Power… and such a blessing can only be obtained within Human lands."

Ty exhaled slowly, the truth settling over him like a leaden shroud. Of course. Holy Power, the very antithesis of Miasma, belonged to the domain of Lyssera's chosen, Humans. Where Miasma symbolized death, Holy Power embodied life, the divine light said to nurture all creation. The two were natural opposites, constantly at odds.

Holy Water was the result of a priest channeling this sacred power into pure water, infusing it with life's essence. A single drop could cleanse the foulest corruption. But priests, and thus the Holy Water they created, existed solely within Human society.

"How long before the Miasma kills them?" Ty asked, his voice low and tight.

The Elder hesitated. "Thirty moonfalls… perhaps less."

Ty's head lifted sharply. "Perhaps less?"

"I cannot say for certain, Great One. Their survival depends entirely on their will to cling to life. But once that will falters…" The Elder trailed off. He didn't need to finish.

The answer was far from satisfying, but it was all Ty had. There was no time to debate, no time to waste. His course was clear. He would have to venture into Human territory, a risk he had hoped to avoid until he was better prepared, but the lives of his companions outweighed his caution.

"Elder," Ty said, "tell me where I can find a winged beast nearby. I don't care how far. Just give me the direction, north, south, east, or west."

The Goblin studied him for a moment, perhaps weighing the gravity in Ty's tone. "East of here, Great One. Head east, and you will find what you seek."

"East… I see."

Originally, Ty had no intention of stepping into Human lands any time soon. He had wanted to bide his time, to grow stronger, to be certain he could withstand whatever dangers lay there. But now Kaiden, Rhoda, and the Goblins lay at death's threshold. Waiting was no longer an option.

He turned back to the Elder. "I leave them in your hands."

Without another word, Ty strode out of the tent. Outside, Bertha and Braham were already waiting, faces taut with unspoken questions.

"Protect the settlement," Ty ordered. "See that no harm comes to it."

They both nodded, his command clear in their eyes.

Ty moved past them, each step steady, controlled. "Skill—Form of Elder Blumund," he murmured.

Bones shifted and lengthened beneath his skin, reshaping themselves in seamless precision. Fur rippled outward, coating his limbs in silver sheen. His stance lowered, his muscles coiled with raw power. The air around him thickened, pressing in with the quiet promise of violence.

The man was gone. In his place stood the wolf, Tyberius, radiating a menace that promised swift and final ruin to whatever dared cross his path.

He had wasted enough time.

Now… he hunted.