The samurans fight back viciously, and my heart rises into my mouth when Bastet stumbles backwards, her wing and front left leg limp from where the Warrior has just slammed his mace into them. An arrow pierces the Warrior’s head before he can follow up on his attack, but I can tell that Bastet is in significant pain. When I move towards her, she sends me a wave of negation.

  Kill enemies first. Heal later, she reprimands me. My teeth gritted, I nod once and then continue shooting. I watch out of my peripheral vision as she limps out of direct attack range.

  Hers isn’t the only injury, but it is the most serious one – the armour that covers most of them proves itself over and over as weapons are deflected and stopped. But it’s not perfect and every time I see a new slice or stab break through its barrier, I wince.

  Finally, the Warriors are whittled down to only three.

  One tries to run away, and is taken down as Storm and Ninja leap at him from behind. Another throws himself down on the ground, his hands and chin raised.

  “I surrender!” he cries and Hades stops his strike mid-movement, his jaws pausing around the samuran’s throat.

  Seeing the stillness, the final Warrior does the same and my companions come to a stop. Whether or not they understand the samuran language at all, they’ve been with me long enough to recognise a surrender – and know that I usually accept it.

  I sigh, releasing the tension on my bow. Once more, I don’t want to, but at the same time, I can’t bring myself to order them dead. I hope that this won’t bite me in the butt since I don’t have the time to properly take them prisoner.

  “Lie on the ground on your fronts, with your hands on your spikes,” I order them, walking towards them. We all watch vigilantly as they awkwardly lie down on the blood-soaked mud that has become the battle-ground. Not the most comfortable position, I know, but I don’t care. They can breathe and they can’t attack anyone from this position – that’s enough for me.

  “Hades, Persephone, watch them,” I command – they are the worst injured of the group from what I can see with a cursory glance, evidence if I need any more that the armour has really made a difference. “If they move, even to take their hands away from their heads, kill them. The rest of you, let’s finish this.”

  It turns out that we’re not needed for the battle with Kalanthia; as I look towards it, I see it turn decidedly in the giant nunda’s favour. The Air-Shaper has miscalculated and is just not quite fast enough to avoid Kalanthia’s swipe. The sword-like claws catch her and dash her to the ground. There, the earth acts almost like water, rising above the Pathwalker in a wave and then crashing down on her. The samuran has enough time for a brief shriek, and then she disappears from view, either crushed to paste or entombed within the ground.

  Even as the earth is neutralising the Air-Shaper, Kalanthia has turned her attention to Tree-whisperer. Now with nothing impeding her movement through the air, she leaps forwards almost quicker than I can follow. Her body spears through the branches between her and her target as if they aren’t even there. Tree-whisperer has no time to dodge.

  “Kalanthia-” I call as I realise that the nunda has the Pathwalker in her mouth. Then I fall silent as the nunda bites down, Tree-whisperer's head popping off her neck to fall to the ground with a thump. I sigh. Even if she were one of my Bound, I wouldn’t be able to save Tree-whisperer. Not that I want to for her sake, but it’s possible that if I Bound her, I’d be able to force the rest of her army to stand down through her orders. The announcement of her death might cause that, but it might also just make her army more fervent to avenge her death and defend the honour of their tribe. Plus, it would mean I would be able to kill her myself, something which I suddenly realise I actually wanted.

  My bloodlust almost surprises me – I don’t tend to want people dead. If anything, it’s usually the opposite – I’d rather give them a chance to change. But in this case, with all the death and destruction this one Pathwalker has caused – Honey, the samurans in the ambush sites and the village, even arguably the victims of Flying-blades invasion since she probably wouldn’t have attacked if not encouraged and supported by Tree-whisperer – I definitely want this one dead. And preferably at my hands. But since Kalanthia’s seen to it, I guess I’ll just have to be satisfied that she’s been kicked off her mortal coil.

  With her death, another issue is abruptly solved too. Perhaps her influence on the trees was helping them resist Aingeal’s fire even more than the other group we dealt with as the whole grove suddenly goes up in flames, starting with the one it’s buried in and then spreading outwards until a conflagration is raging once more.

  Kalanthia leaps away with an indignant yowl, her gaze resting on me accusingly.

  “I didn’t realise it was going to do that!” I tell her defensively. Then my gaze moves past her and to the mouth of the den. My stomach drops – the fire is too close to it! Running forwards, I put myself at the entrance to my home, disregarding the intense heat which surpasses even what immunity my fire affinity offers me. It’s merely the consequence of being this close to the inferno that is raging through the remnants of the vine-stranglers.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Closing my eyes, I focus on the air flow, reaching into the den and purposefully increasing the air coming in from the small ventilation tubes. I pull more through, feeling the many draws on it as it passes through the large cave below, and then dragging the exhalations and the rest of the fresh air through the entrance, allowing it to feed the fire only once my people have already had what they need.

  Fortunately, like with the other vine-stranglers, Aingeal doesn’t take too long to do what it needs to do once the centremost tree is in flames. Once again, it rises above the carbonised trees and sucks the flames and the life out of them.

  This time, the pulsing and brightness increase even further. In fact, they just keep increasing, to the point that I’m suddenly convinced that Aingeal is about to explode.

  “Everyone down!” I cry, following my own advice.

  A wave of heat and pressure ruffles my hair a moment later, though it doesn’t hurt in the way that I was expecting. When I dare to look up, I see that the charcoal of the vine-stranglers has been scattered everywhere, but nothing else seems to be damaged, fortunately.

  Pushing myself to my feet warily, I see Aingeal. At least, I think it’s Aingeal. It’s a ball of fire bobbing about in the air, but this time, it’s bigger. A basketball rather than a golf-ball, and burning a bright yellow, almost white.

  I can’t take my eyes off it as it flies down towards me, but I know that it means no harm. Aingeal is joyful and excited – there is no anger or desire to hurt that I can feel.

  Aingeal stops a short distance in front of my face – close enough that I can feel its heat like a sunburn. I take a moment to access the notification that I can feel waiting for me. It’s both what I was expecting and not.

  “So, you’re a big, bad Lesser elemental now, are you?” I remark to Aingeal, closing the screen. “Was it the vine-stranglers specifically that helped you Evolve or were you just close to Evolution from everything else?” I wonder, not really expecting an answer.

  To my surprise, I actually get one. Not in words; instead, the ball of fire starts changing. Not colour, size, or intensity as it has before. This time, it’s changing its actual shape. It shifts to form something that I recognise as a tree. The tree sprouts flames and starts to visibly burn down even as it then forms a small ball connected to the tree by a single thread. The tree then reforms, bigger than before, sprouts more flames, and starts to burn down while forming a ball that ends up as the size of Aingeal.

  “It’s to do with the trees then,” I conclude. Aingeal sends me a sense of affirmation. I pause, narrowing my eyes at it. “Wait, you understand my words properly now?” I ask, realising that I haven’t been using the normal way of communicating with the fire elemental. Once more, Aingeal sends me a sense of affirmation. “Huh,” I comment eloquently, my gaze going unfocussed as I consider the implications. That will make communicating with the elemental so much easier. Is it just me Aingeal understands or will it understand others too?

  Markus? Catch’s quiet address reminds me that now is not the time to be musing about the new and unexpected changes to my fire elemental companion. Not only do we need to deal with the remnants of this battle, but there’s the other one still raging in the village.

  “We’ll talk more later,” I promise Aingeal, feeling the need to do so now that it’s more capable of understanding me. Then I turn to take in what was the battlefield until very recently.

  The two Warriors who surrendered don’t seem to have moved an inch. And no more of my companions have died. Those are the main bits of good news. The bad side of things is that I have to say ‘no more’ rather than ‘none’ due to Honey’s…loss, and most of my party members are injured, several seriously so. Kalanthia isn’t looking too good either – whatever the poison is that the Air-Shaper was hitting her with has obviously started having an effect. Though she’s still on her feet, she’s looking increasingly unsteady. Even if the situation in the village is going badly, we need to recuperate a bit before going down or we’ll just get ourselves killed.

  “Alright, those with serious injuries come to me first,” I order, striding forwards to a patch of earth that isn’t soaked in blood or covered in spikes. “Yes Pride, that includes you,” I tell him pointedly. He grumbles audibly with a hissing sound, but limps forwards. Hades, Persephone, and Bastet all join him. “Catch, can you go and check on the villagers inside the den, please?” I ask the Warrior even as I start infusing the injured with my flesh-magic. He’s only lightly injured as far as I can see and is a samuran, so is the best choice right now. “Lathani, are you recovered?” I check with the young nunda.

  Yes, she agrees easily, turning her head and ears towards me. Do you need me to do something?

  “Guard the prisoners, please. Make sure they don’t get any ideas.” The nunda pushes herself to her feet fluidly and pads over to the Warriors in question. I see one of the Warriors discreetly turn his head to look around, evidently having heard something. When he spots the large feline glaring at him as she pads closer, I see his spikes flush with yellow fear and he quickly lowers his head into the dirt again.

  Still busy infusing my Bound with magic in preparation for healing, I turn my head to Kalanthia. She’s looking almost drunk by this point, swaying from side to side. I eye her with concern. “Kalanthia, do you need healing or is it something that you can overcome by yourself?” I ask. I know that she has an impressive health pool, and that she was able to ride out the effects of the stamina-inhibitor before, given enough time. Hopefully this will be the same.

  I…I am unsure, she admits, sounding just as drunk as she looks. I can’t feel my paws, she murmurs. Then, a moment later, she collapses.

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