Mix & Magic

A wave of mud, taller than the wolves, surged up behind the pack and crashed forward, sweeping most of them away. Only the leader of the pack remained standing. Its blue fur caked with mud, snarling and baring its saber-like fangs, eyes burning with a killing glare.

The others rolled and tumbled with the wave until it broke apart across the clearing.

“Go for the leader. You got this!” Berig shouted, bursting from the bushes.

He charged headlong into the fray, swinging his mace into a wolf’s ribs. The enormous animal whined and crashed into another wolf that was getting up.

Berig didn’t pause and rushed to the muddy couple. He blocked a bite with his shield. The wolf’s massive fangs screeched against the steel in a shower of sparks.

As the other wolf lunged from the side, Berig shoved the biting wolf back with his shield and dragged his mace along the ground while turning. The weapon carved a blazing orange trail on the soil—a smoking, bubbling trail.

Berig lifted his mace in a wide arc, flinging molten droplets that splattered both wolves. The sizzling liquid burned through their blue fur, steam hissing into the air.

Was that… lava?

Duran was already moving toward the pack leader, his eyes wide, his jaw hanging open.

Mud and lava.

Awesome!

So, in this world, the elements could blend. Not just earth and fire, but mud and lava. It wasn’t that surprising, really—he’d already seen ice magic back at the cabin, wielded by one of the Ars Goetia members.

Duran could already see limitations in those kinds of magic, but as he had learned, every magic has its limitations.

He wondered again what magic he could have inside? Or if he had any magic at all.

God, he wished with all his heart that he wouldn’t be one of those who were the only ones in the world without magic and still had to defeat Baal.

Solphie shot a puddle of mud with her staff at one of the wolves' eyes. She followed it up with a swift side kick to the snout. Something cracked—neck, jaw, maybe both—tumbled lifeless across the clearing.

She then turned as another wolf lunged for her. Jaws wide, its fangs dripped with blood from earlier hits, confident that they would rip some skin this time.

Solphie didn’t flinch. She raised the tip of her staff, letting the cavernous maw close around it. The wolf’s jaw clasped the wood as Solphie shouted.

A muffled, drowning noise echoed from deep inside the indigo wolf—then a torrent of mud burst between its bloody fangs. Its eyes rolled back, and it collapsed with a heavy, hollow thud.

The leader’s howl split the air. It growled deep, drool streaming from its snout as it crouched low, rage burning in its eyes.

With long, quick strides, it was behind Solphie before she could notice. The horn gleamed, aiming directly at Solphie’s back.

Duran wasn’t going to make it.

He pushed off the ground with his right foot mid-run and leapt.

It still felt strange—his body moved with an instinct his mind didn’t trust. How could it? He had no idea what he was capable of. Back in his other life, in his other world, a jump like this would’ve been unthinkable. Three car-lengths in a single bound? Impossible.

But here, in this world—

He soared through the air, teeth gritted, his rusty sword held high. And it felt so natural. So… right.

He wouldn’t doubt his capacities anymore. If he wanted to help, to survive, he must accept his new self. Embrace it. He didn’t ask for this new role, but it didn’t bother him. Terrifying, yes. But also thrilling. And he would enjoy it.

His fingers clenched around the cracked handle. Something crawled up his throat—hot, eager, unstoppable. Adrenaline. A war cry tore out of him as his body went down. As his arms. As his sword.

The blade clashed against the wolf’s horn.

It was like a laser beam. A bright green ray of energy shot from the horn. Slicing through every tree trunk that crossed its way. Clouds of dust and wood cracking splintered in a thunderous arc.

The pack leader lashed out, a paw the size of a cushion swiping with brutal force. Duran barely blocked it, the sword jarring against the blow as he skidded backwards across the dirt. His stance held.

“Thanks! That was close,” Solphie said, stepping back to give him space.

Berig moved to her side, both watching closely. Waiting.

“Its horn is still active!” Berig warned.

Sure enough, the thing still pulsed with a greenish glow. The wolf prowled sideways, never breaking its killing stare. Duran mirrored it, blade raised tight before his face.

How could he beat this beast?

Did he need a special strategy?

Did he even have the strength?

No time to think. Only act.

Come on, body. Do your thing. I’ll follow.

He lunged, sword upfront. The wolf met it head-on, horn clashing against iron. Sparks. A furious bark. The beast shoved the blade aside and snapped, fangs closing inches from Duran’s face. He twisted away, stepping back—too slow.

The wolf slammed its full weight into him. Air burst from his lungs. His balance wavered.

The blue fur zigzagged and charged.

“Watch out!” Solphie shouted.

But Duran had already seen it coming. He threw himself forward, sliding beneath the monster as his sword carved upward like a flagpole.

The wolf’s abdomen ran all over the blade. The beast yelped. Howled with pain and fury. The horn’s glow flared dangerously bright.

A sphere of light swelled at its tip—aimed right at Duran as he rose.

Not the time to think.

Come on, do it. Do it!

He seized the horn with his left hand. It burned, as if fire seared his palm. The beast thrashed, crazy strong, but Duran roared back, shoving it upward with every ounce of strength.

The green beam fired, zipping over his head, ripping a line of light across the treetops. The magic ray climbed skyward, cutting through clouds until it was vertical in the darkened sky.

Hot foul breath on Duran’s cheek. Massive fangs grazed his chest, pricking skin. But beneath them—his right hand. His sword.

Duran lifted the blade toward the wolf’s gigantic snout.

The green ray vanished from the sky.

Duran collapsed under the indigo wolf’s head weight. He had beaten the pack leader. But it might still kill him. He couldn’t breathe.

“I would never do that,” Berig said, while lifting the head of the wolf with one hand. “But hey—it worked.”

Duran dragged himself out.

“It was very reckless. You need to be more careful.” Solphie crouched beside him, not amused in the slightest. “How’s your hand?”

“It burns a little,” Duran admitted, shaking it out. “But I think I’m fine.”

“Nano will take care of this once we come back.” Solphie was holding and examining his hand. Her finger trailed down to the wound across his chest, where fresh blood dripped steadily. “You aren’t indestructible, you know? We need you.”

“It’s… just a scratch,” Duran muttered, blinking at the wound. He didn’t notice when that happened.

She was concerned. And upset.

Her face besought him to listen, to understand what she was implying. It wasn’t a selfish request. A true fear of losing all hope gleamed in her eyes.

“I know. Sorry,” Duran said, lowering his head.

“You did it, and that’s what matters,” Beig said, handing back Duran’s sword. “And without magic and a rusty sword. Lathan will be very impressed.”

Duran sighed. “Yeah… no magic.” He looked at his hands, at the strange symbols on his body. “Speaking of which—how do you cast spells without some kind of enchantment or something?”

Sholpie helped Duran to get on his feet. “We don’t need to. If you can visualize it and you have enough mana to do it, your weapon will reproduce the spell.”

“Your weapon?” Duran frowned, tilting his head.

“It also depends on the weapon’s quality.” Berig raised his giant mace, grinning. “For example, the crappy sword you have probably couldn’t even spit a spark of magic. No matter how much mana you’d have.”

Duran stared at his sword, disappointed.

“I see,” he muttered. “And why mud and lava? Why not water and fire, or earth, or light?”

“Some people use basic elemental magic,” Solphie explained, her tone softening into pride. “But others, like us, wield combined magic. Lathan’s affinity is tempest—though I’ve never actually seen her use it. And I’ve been with her since the very beginning of the society.”

“Same here,” Berig said, brows furrowed as he searched his memories. “But I’m sure its evolution is powerful enough to take down the entire Ars Goetia.”

“Evolution?” Duran shook his head.

“Yep.” Solphie nodded, raising her staff like she was about to give a lecture. She pointed at the air as if a chalkboard were hanging there. “First, mana plus weapon quality plus visualization.” She tapped an invisible point. “Second, elemental magic.” Another tap. “Third, combined magic.” Tap. “And finally, evolution.”

There sure was a lot to learn. Duran wasn’t confused per se, but he didn’t quite understand how it worked. He’d need practice with that too. And a proper weapon. Assuming he had sufficient mana and some kind of magic running through his veins.

Berig looked toward the horizon, where the last traces of sunlight were fading.

“Night’s already here. Let’s regroup. You need Nano’s healing magic.”

“Don’t tell me—only talking animals can use healing magic, right?” Duran said.

“Ha! It’s like you’ve been here before,” Solphie answered, patting him on the back.

“Go on ahead, I’ll fetch the pack’s leader horn. Lathan will want it,” Berig said.

The glow of the campfire light guided their final steps.

“I knew you could do it,” Lathan said with a grin as they returned.

Nano took care of Duran’s wounds while Solphie told Lathan all the specifics of the battle. She placed special emphasis on how Duran saved her life and burned his hand to save his own. Lathan nodded happily throughout the story.

Berig reappeared, holding the massive horn in his hand. He gave it to Lathan.

“Thanks.”

As soon as she thanked him, a marching sound came from the road. Everyone froze, tense like statues, attentive. The marching footsteps became louder.

“More demons?” Duran whispered.

“Hush,” Lathan said.

With a flick of her arm, Lathan snapped her sleeve through the air. The fire snuffed out instantly.

“Let’s move.”