Two coyotes went off to patrol the perimeter while another stuck by him, keeping a respectful distance. Cedric guessed his scent must be strange to it, or maybe it was just being mindful of its master. It wasn't like he could speak to them, anyway.
Then, a lightbulb went off in his head.
“Hold on, can I speak to them?” he asked, excitement bleeding into his tone as he turned to Lisa.
“Yes, you can. It’s an active spell called Beast Tongue,” she explained. “It costs thirty mana to cast, but keeping it active drains another thirty mana every two minutes. It’s useful, but only in short bursts.” She also mentioned that the spell could be overwhelming if too many wild animals were nearby, as it filled the user’s head with a form of telepathy.
Cedric nodded. Useful, but limited. He didn’t bother activating it now, but the conversation prompted him to look back into the Grimoire. He had yet to see his mana pool, and pulling it up now revealed exactly how he had been able to use so much magic so quickly.
Status
- Cedric’s Mana Pool: 895/1000
- Cedric’s Mana Storage: 0
- Cedric’s Mana Regen: 5 mana per minute
- Tamed Creatures: 0
- Summoned Creatures: 0
- Created Creatures: 3
He was shocked. A thousand mana was a massive reservoir. He could make several more coyotes if he wanted, but he saw the foresight in waiting after checking a section called “Logs.”
Logs:
- Created three Coyotes: Total mana cost 105
- Used spell Dragon Wings: Base cost 50 mana; additional cost for prolonged use: 220 mana
“Ah, okay, so that’s how much I used for the wings. I could’ve stayed up longer, but I can see why that’d be a problem. Plus, it ripped up my jacket and shirt.”
He didn’t want to admit it yet, but he was badly sunburned. He needed more water and real food. He looked over at the coyote nearby and was about to give a verbal order when Lisa stopped him.
“Try using mental commands, Master. You will need them when they are off doing your bidding. It is best to learn now.” Speaking in her typical teacher voice, she positioned him so he was facing the coyote directly.
She told him to relax and focus on the creature's eyes. The coyote wasn’t looking at him initially, busy sniffing the air and surveying the grass. When Cedric’s gaze finally locked onto its left eye, the animal suddenly pivoted toward him, its head shifting as if to say, “Yes, Master?”
The heat on his back persisted, but he maintained his focus. As if it were second nature, he felt a connection form. He tried his first mental command.
I need food. Find me some.
The order pulsed through the coyote's mind. It yipped in reply, then turned and began sniffing its way through a particularly large patch of waist-high grass. In that direction, Cedric spotted a massive outcropping of stones he mentally dubbed “Pride Rock.”
Cedric followed, his hand trailing through the grass. It was an odd sight—vegetation half his height—but he’d seen weeds taller than this back home. His hand stopped for a moment to pick up a uniquely shaped stone.
“Obsidian?” He flipped it over, noticing the deep black and purple hues catching the sun.
“Yes, you are right, Master,” Lisa chimed in. Her sudden exclamation made him jump, his back tensing.
“Ugh… I genuinely forgot you were there. Silent as a gravestone.” He eyed her with annoyance, but he knew she was just excited. He shook his head and turned back to the coyote, which was now fifteen feet away, sitting in an open area and waiting patiently for him.
They were roughly a half-mile from the rock outcropping. Cedric pocketed the stone and began a light jog. The Grimoire shifted in his right hand as he stayed nimble. When he nearly caught up to his beast, it quickly turned and matched his pace.
“Keep going, bud,” he encouraged. The coyote seemed to nod, picking up speed. Cedric wondered if it was his imagination or if the creature was already developing a personality.
With his legs pumping, he could feel the sweat pouring down his chest and back. He was basically water-bending with how much moisture coated his body; he was surprised his pants weren't soaked through.
Every step brought him closer to the massive rock formation. He wondered how a place like this ended up in the middle of a savanna. He wasn’t a geologist, but the geography felt... off.
Just as he was about to slow down, the coyote ahead of him started yipping and growling at a thick patch of brush—a tangled mess of branches, grass, and a large dead tree.
“Did you find a rat or something?”
Lisa tensed behind him, but Cedric didn't see it. She opened her mouth to warn him, but it was too late.
A black blur lashed out. All Cedric felt was a light pricking sensation, like needles being driven into his calf.
“SNAKE!” Lisa screamed as the coyote lunged.
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The coyote’s jaws snapped sharply around the snake’s head. It shook the reptile violently, slamming it into the dead tree and then the ground. Adrenaline flooded Cedric’s system, causing his heart to race. He realized what had happened—the coyote had flushed the snake out, and in its attempt to defend itself, the snake had tagged Cedric's leg.
“Fuck me…” he growled, clutching his leg. Two deep fang wounds were visible in the back of his right calf.
The coyote continued to mangle the snake.
“Enough! Drop it!” Cedric commanded, his voice deadly serious.
The coyote looked at him, almost offended, but dropped the carcass when Cedric glared. What hit the ground made his blood run cold. A black mamba.
“No, no, no…” He scrambled for the Grimoire. “Tell me now—can I cure venom?”
“Yes, but it takes a significant amount of mana to cleanse it fully,” Lisa said nervously. “It will take more if you wait.”
Cedric didn’t hesitate. He pulled on his Draconic Vitality.
Golden energy flooded his system, but he felt a strange resistance, as if the venom were fighting back against the magic. He forced more mana into the effort; there was no way he was going to die here because of a rookie mistake. He gritted his teeth as he watched the wound close, but the underlying poison remained. He didn't know how he knew, but he felt it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He searched the Grimoire for the word “cleanse.” He felt dizzy, his body overreacting to the toxin and the heat.
Lisa manipulated the pages, guiding him to a healing creature called a Life Wisp. Cedric didn't waste a second, summoning one for sixty mana.
A small rift opened in the air, softball-sized and shimmering. A ball of golden light floated through.
“Whatever—heal me, now!”
The Life Wisp hesitated for a fraction of a second—a slight pull on Cedric’s psyche—and then a brilliant golden light enveloped him. The venom vanished in an instant.
“Holy... you work fast. Thank you.” He went to pat the wisp, but his fingers phased through it like watery silk.
He stood up and thanked the creature again. This time, the pull on his mind felt different—not resistance, but a gentle sense of contentment.
“Can I send him back?”
Lisa nodded. “Yes, all summons can be returned, but you don’t gain the mana back. So take care.”
“Return,” Cedric ordered. When nothing happened, he heard Lisa chuckling.
“Sorry, Master, but it doesn’t work like that. Open the Grimoire and will it with your mind.”
He rolled his eyes, opened the book, and issued the mental command. A few seconds later, the Life Wisp flickered and flew back into the portal within the pages.
“Simple enough.”
He closed the book and grabbed the dead snake. Its head was nearly gone, mangled by the coyote's teeth. The body twitched in his hand, making him drop it in a momentary panic before he realized it was just post-mortem nerves. He picked it back up.
“Let’s make camp. Go get your buddies.”
The coyote dashed off into the grass, and Cedric walked the final distance to the rocks. He found a western overhang that provided a decent amount of shade. He plopped down, leaning against the stone, and tried to relax.
First, he needed to skin the snake. Using a vaguely sharp rock, he stripped the scaly hide from the flesh. As he finished, he heard his coyotes returning, their soft yips putting him at ease.
He skewered the snake on a stick and propped it up in the loose earth. He set the Grimoire against a large rock, Lisa hovering beside it, and went to gather firewood. There weren’t many trees, but the dry branches of a dead bush and a dust-caked tree nearby would suffice.
He stripped five branches and stuffed some dried leaves into his pocket. Carrying the wood back under his arm, he wiped the sweat from his blonde hair. It reminded him of weight training back home.
He sighed. He missed home so much. He clenched his right fist, wanting to punch something, but Lisa snapped him out of the dark thought.
“Hey, Master, did you check how much mana you gained from the mamba?”
“Gained?”
“Yes. Your Draconic Indulgence ability absorbs mana. You gained twenty mana from your coyote’s kill. You would have gained more if you’d killed it yourself.”
Cedric smiled. He was glad he had her to guide him. “Thank you. Well, enough mechanics. I need food.”
He set up the campfire, using the hand-drill method. Sweat dripped from his nose onto the sparks, infuriating him. He wiped his hands in the dirt and tried again. Finally, a beautiful ember formed. He breathed it into life and fed it into a small teepee of twigs.
“This should work. Now for the food. Hopefully, it’s not too gamey.”
The sizzle of snake meat soon filled the air. A sense of calm finally settled over him. Lisa sat by the book, and the coyotes patrolled the rocks. For the first time in this dry, hostile place, Cedric breathed.
But the relaxation came with a cost: thoughts of home. He thought of the "Mad Mage" who had sent him here and the man's final, violent moments. He turned his mind toward kinder memories. Camping with his parents in their South Dakota trailer. The road trips. Being the "weird nerd" at school didn't matter when he was with them.
“Why do I miss it? Things were simpler then…”
He stared blankly into the distance. Anger and sadness gnawed at him—the feeling of being cheated out of his life. A tear rolled down his cheek, washing away a streak of grime. He ignored it and kept turning the skewer.
He missed the sound of traffic. He missed his grandfather’s stories. He missed roughhousing with his cousins. He wanted home, but home was gone.
Cedric stared into the dying embers, the last of the snake meat sitting heavy in his stomach. The silence of the savanna was absolute, broken only by the dry rustle of grass and the rhythmic panting of his guardians.
He glanced at the sky. When he’d first tumbled into this world, the morning air had been cool—Archibald’s prison had felt like a bubble of 7:00 AM chill. But the sun was a different beast here.
“Lisa,” he croaked, his throat like sandpaper. “What time is it?”
“By the sun's position... I would say it is just past one in the afternoon, Master.”
Cedric wiped his face, feeling the grit of sand and the sting of his sunburn. Four hours. It had only been four hours since he was sitting on a bus in South Dakota. In that time, he had fallen from the sky, sprouted wings, fought a black mamba, and become a master of monsters.
The weight was suffocating. He wanted to curl up in the dirt and wait for the world to make sense, but the Grimoire sat beside him—a constant reminder that the 'old' Cedric was dead.
“Only one o'clock,” he muttered. He stood up, his muscles protestingly stiff, and looked toward the shimmering southern horizon. “The day is barely half over. If I’m going to survive until sunset, I need more than a snack and a rock for a pillow.”
He scooped up the Grimoire, feeling the familiar hum of the soul bond vibrate through his palm. The grief was still there, a cold knot in his chest, but the heat of the savanna was hotter.
“Alright, Lisa,” he said, his voice regaining a shard of that 'light tyrant' edge. “Wake up the others. We’re moving.”
As he stepped out from the shade of Pride Rock, the 1:00 PM sun hit him like a physical blow. He didn't look back at the remains of his fire. He had a world to conquer—or at the very least, a place to call his own.
Will Cedric find water and civilization?