Alistair ran like the wind.

  Or at least, a very judgmental vampire trying to catch up with two emotionally-driven lunatics before they got themselves ritual-sacrificed by psychos in the woods.

  His feet whispered over the moss and leaves, every step silent. He moved with speed, eyes fixed ahead. The bond helped. Not a homing beacon exactly, but something tugged at him, faint and insistent. His companions weren’t far.

  He found Brimma crouched low behind a fallen log, her knobby fingers clenched tight around her staff. She didn’t notice him at first, too focused on the clearing ahead.

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  She jumped.

  Spun around.

  Her expression did a full tour of the emotional map, anger, suspicion… and maybe, just maybe, a flash of something dangerously close to relief.

  “So,” she muttered, “you decided to join us?”

  Alistair shrugged like it was nothing. “What can I say? Everyone knows I’m the heart of every party. Without me, people get bored after five seconds and leave.”

  Before Brimma could respond with something scathing, a wet gurgling cry split the air.

  They both turned.

  A man, a champion, was being dragged from the ritual circle, neck sliced wide open. His body twitched once. Then stilled.

  Brimma’s jaw tightened. Her eyes didn’t blink.

  Alistair looked past the horror to the broader picture.

  The clearing was bigger than he expected. And it wasn’t chaos, it was organized. Efficient. Dangerous.

  A camp.

  Fourteen champions, by his count.

  Fourteen.

  And they were settling in for the night.

  Some had pitched tents already. A central firepit crackled in the distance, surrounded by seated figures passing a bottle. Others sorted gear, checked weapons, or dragged supplies from packs. Laughter rose now and then, easy, comfortable.

  “They must all have medallions,” Alistair whispered. “No one wastes time making camp unless they’re safe from the cleansing.”

  Brimma nodded once. “Looks that way.”

  He pointed subtly. “That one. The ritualist.”

  She followed his gesture.

  The woman was thin. Impossibly thin, like someone had tried to stretch a human form across a skeleton. Her clothes were little more than rags stitched with talisman, bone, and thread, and her fingers moved constantly as she worked a circle of shimmering dust into the dirt.

  Two assistants, maybe apprentices, maybe thralls, moved around her, laying out ingredients: jars, feathers, bits of animal bone. Possibly worse.

  Three bodies already lay discarded near the circle.

  A fourth, a woman, was being dragged in.

  Across from the ritualist, a dwarf sat cross-legged, watching. His face held a sick sort of anticipation.

  And the third group?

  Alistair’s stomach turned.

  A small cluster had broken off, stationed at the far edge of the clearing. There, four tied-up women sat on the ground, blindfolded and bound.

  As Alistair watched, one of the men, tall, armored, lazy swagger, grabbed one of the women by the hair and yanked her up. He dragged her behind the trees.

  A few seconds later, the screaming began.

  Alistair looked away.

  Brimma didn’t.

  “Animals,” she hissed.

  “Let’s go,” Brimma whispered.

  She started to move.

  Alistair grabbed her arm, fingers cold around her wrist. “Wait!”

  She glared at him like he’d insulted her soup.

  “We can’t just charge in,” he hissed. “We need a plan.”

  Brimma tilted her head. “We have a plan.”

  “Oh, do tell.”

  “Hit fast. Hit hard. Take out as many as we can before they know what’s happening.”

  Alistair blinked. Then laughed. “Brilliant. Grandma’s been studying war manuals written in crayon. Glad to know the centuries have made you wiser.”

  She whacked him with her staff.

  “Ow,” he muttered, rubbing his shoulder. “Violence solves everything. Message received.”

  “Where’s Kael?” he asked, still rubbing.

  “I can feel him,” Alistair muttered, tapping his chest, “but I don’t see him.”

  Brimma didn’t answer right away. Then her lips curled into a crooked smirk.

  “He’s in position,” she said. “Waiting for the signal.”

  Alistair narrowed his eyes. “And what kind of signal is this?”

  “A huge spider.”

  “…What.”

  “To cause some chaos.”

  Alistair exhaled through his nose. “Okay. Right. Spider chaos. Totally normal sentence.”

  He paced in place once, twice. His brain raced through possibilities, none of them good.

  “Alright, listen,” he said. “There are fourteen of them, that we know of. If we’re actually doing this, we need every asset we can get. Something big. A miracle.”

  Brimma scoffed. “Pray to your gods then.”

  He shot her a look. “We’re in here because of them, remember?”

  Her smirk faded.

  He looked at her. Really looked.

  Small. Wrinkled. Cranky. But powerful. She had proven that, again and again. Her spells, her transformations, her endless supply of insults.

  She was already part of this.

  Just not officially.

  Yet.

  “What?” she snapped, catching him staring.

  “I have an idea,” he said.

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “No.”

  “You haven’t even heard it yet.”

  “I don’t need to. If you’re looking at me like that, it’s stupid.”

  He leaned closer. “Brimma, we need to bond.”

  She recoiled. “Excuse me?”

  “You know what I mean,” he said, rolling his eyes. “The Soulbond. I’ve already bonded with Kael. If you join, we’ll all get boosts. Abilities. Coordination. Maybe even miracles, if we’re lucky.”

  “I don’t like vampires,” she muttered.

  “You like giant spiders.”

  “That’s different.”

  Alistair dropped the sarcasm. Just for a second.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  “This will help us,” he said, honestly. “It’s the right move.”

  Brimma looked at him for a long moment.

  Then looked at the clearing. At the ritualist. At the tied-up prisoners. At the blood being spilled for power.

  Then back at him.

  Her jaw worked silently.

  “Fine,” she said.

  Alistair blinked.

  “What?”

  “I said fine, damn you.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, he was halfway ready for a full tantrum but found himself speechless instead.

  She sighed. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

  Alistair grinned. Big. Fangs and all.

  Brimma pointed a crooked finger at him. “Put those unsettling things away.”

  “Can’t,” he said, still smiling.

  [Soulbinder Trait – Activation Triggered]

  A soul of rare resonance has entered your sphere. This essence is linked by fate, not proximity.

  Traits Compatible: Yes

  Role Potential: Unknown

  Warning: Souls connected in this way often share intertwined destinies. Once formed, this link cannot be easily broken.

  [Ability: Soul Insight – Passive Activated]

  You sense that this soul will play a pivotal role in your future.

  Current Target: Significance – High

  Alignment – Unknown

  Effect – Undetermined

  [Ability: Soul Bond]

  You may now initiate a bond between your soul and another.

  Bond effects at current level:

  ? Passive awareness of partner’s general location

  ? Limited sharing of attributes, skills, and resistances

  ? Permanent, unbreakable tether

  [Do you wish to initiate a Soulbond with this individual?]

  [Yes] / [No]

  Alistair didn’t hesitate. He pressed [Yes] with his mind and the world lit up.

  A golden thread unraveled from his chest. Another from Brimma’s.

  They met in midair, entwining.

  Then, snap.

  Something ancient and deep inside him clicked into place.

  He felt it, the weight of someone else’s destiny, tangled with his. The burden of being known. Of being seen. Of not being alone anymore.

  You are now bound to: [Brimma Rootgleam – Level 21]

  Effects Active:

  ? Vague sense of partner’s direction and condition

  ? Partial skill resonance enabled

  ? Attribute resonance (low level) established

  Warning: This bond is unbreakable.

  “Well,” Brimma said dryly, flexing her fingers, “that felt like chewing on lightning and hugging a cactus at the same time.”

  Alistair smirked. “Aw. That’s how I feel every time you compliment me.”

  “When have I ever complimented you?!” She took a calming breath, “now…” she tapped her foot, “where are these promised abilities, oh mighty soulhugger?”

  “Wait for it,” Alistair said, grinning again.

  [Soulbond Update – Resonance Established]

  You have gained access to a shared attribute channel.

  [New Skill Acquired: Earth Magic – Level 1]

  You have inherited this skill through your bond with [Brimma].

  Passive Link Established: +10% to [Willpower] (highest attribute match)

  Additional perks and deeper connections can be unlocked by:

  ? Increasing your Soulbond level

  ? Strengthening mutual trust

  Alistair blinked. “Earth magic?”

  Brimma snorted. “Good luck making rocks dance, fangboy.”

  He rolled his shoulders, feeling the low hum of grounded strength settle into his bones.

  It wasn’t much, but it was something.

  Something real.

  Something shared.

  [New Spell Acquired: Stonecoil Grasp]

  Cost: 10 Mana

  Cooldown: 12 seconds

  Effect: Summon a thin root or stone coil from the ground to wrap around a target’s foot for 2 seconds, briefly rooting them in place.

  Bonus: If the target is already slowed, the root also applies -10% movement speed for 4 additional seconds.

  Lore: “Even the earth can trip you when it doesn’t like your face.”

  Brimma scowled at her notification like it had insulted her bread.

  “Of course I got dark magic,” she muttered, waving the message away. “What else should I expect from a vampire? Blood, bats, and bad decisions.”

  Alistair raised a brow. “You forgot the charming smile.”

  She ignored him. “Still… this spell isn’t useless. That shroud effect, it’ll be handy soon.”

  She tapped her staff thoughtfully, then glanced sideways at him.

  “I feel... funny,” she admitted. “This bond. Can’t tell if it’s for better or worse.”

  Alistair blinked. Brimma wasn’t the kind to open up.

  “The future will tell,” she added. “But I’ll say this, it’s not what I expected.”

  She turned to look at him fully now, eyes brighter than usual.

  “I’m not bound. I’m bonded.”

  She said the word like it was something sacred. Or maybe dangerous.

  “I’m still free.”

  Alistair felt something tighten in his chest. Not his heart. That thing was long dead.

  But something else.

  He opened his mouth to answer...

  [Trait Gained – Verdant Surge]

  Bond with Brimma Rootgleam enhances connection to primal magic.

  Effects:

  ? +2 Constitution

  ? +2% Stamina Regeneration per 10 s on natural terrain

  Lore: “The earth rises for those who walk with it.”

  Alistair’s lips curled into a smug smile. “Well, well. Looks like I got a bonus.”

  Brimma turned toward him, suspicious. “What kind of bonus?”

  “A new trait,” he said, flashing the notification. “[Verdant Surge]. Constitution boost, stamina regen… nature loves me.”

  “Unfair!” Brimma huffed. “I get a fear cloud and you get a nap in the grass?”

  He grinned wider. “You know what this means, right?”

  Brimma narrowed her eyes.

  “We’re inseparable now. Forever. Soulbound.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “Good thing I like hugs.”

  “If you touch me, I turn into a badger.”

  “I’m counting on it,” he said with a wink.

  But the moment shattered with another round of screaming.

  They both went still. Faces falling. The glow of magic and mischief replaced by the hard edge of purpose.

  “I’m going,” Alistair said, turning toward the camp. “I’ll be waiting for the spider.”

  He stepped forward, but Brimma’s hand caught his wrist.

  He turned back, surprised.

  She stared at him, serious now.

  “Do you know why I decided to bond with you?”

  He shook his head slowly.

  “Because you let him go,” she said quietly.

  “Kael. You could’ve looked for a new ally. A safer choice. A desperate champion to manipulate. That would’ve been the smart play.”

  She smiled. Just barely.

  “But instead, you followed him.”

  She let go.

  “You’re not so bad, vampire.”

  Alistair returned her smile. “Back at you, old lady.”

  And then he was gone, vanishing into the trees.

  Alistair crouched beneath a gnarled tree, half-shadowed by moss and root. His eyes flicked across the clearing.

  Fourteen enemy champions.

  He saw them clearly now.

  A massive orc sharpening a jagged axe with sparks flying off the stone.

  A lizardkin sprawled on a rock, absently flicking knives into the dirt.

  A pair of smug-looking drow twins, one sipping from a jug, the other humming something off-key.

  A gnome with too many rings and too little muscle.

  A towering minotaur near the fire, idly flexing.

  And more.

  Too many.

  His gaze locked onto one, an armored human, maybe mid-thirties, scars across his face and a thick shield on his back.

  [Enemy Champion Identified: Garos of Redmarch – Level 18 – Class: Sentinel of the Burning Line]

  Health: 630/630

  Armor: High

  Status: Uninjured

  Traits Detected: Defensive Stance, Flameward, Battle-Born

  “Well, that stinks.” Alistair muttered, eyes narrowing.

  He slid a hand into his pouch.

  Not to pull something out, yet.

  Instead, he summoned the grid.

  A lattice of glowing squares unfolded in the air before him, flickering through everything he’d gathered over the past two days.

  Loot. So much loot.

  Coins. Trinkets. Vials he still hadn’t dared open. A dagger that hummed. Scrolls in ancient tongues. Half a dozen things he couldn’t identify even if his life depended on it. (Which, to be fair, it currently did.)

  He already knew what he needed.

  But still… maybe something would jump out.

  And then... ugh.

  His eyes landed on a small paper-wrapped bundle in the corner of the grid.

  Alistair groaned. “Damn it.”

  [Consumable Acquired – Trollheart Jerky] ×12

  Type: Food

  Effect: +5 Strength for 10 minutes

  Taste: Regret

  With a reluctant sigh, he summoned one piece into his hand.

  It looked like meat. Technically. A jagged strip of something fibrous, grayish, and faintly… damp.

  “I hope this doesn’t cause indigestion,” he muttered, staring at it.

  Vampires weren’t exactly known for their cuisine. They could eat, barely, but only certain enchanted foods, and even then, it felt like forcing a corpse to enjoy steak.

  Still, he needed the boost.

  He chewed. Mechanically. Grimacing with every bite.

  The texture was wrong. The taste was worse.

  It was like gnawing on dried regret, aged in swampwater and lies.

  [Effect Applied – Strength +5]

  Duration: 10 min

  The moment it hit his stomach, he felt it, something sharp in his limbs, weight in his shoulders, his grip tightening without thought.

  Alistair grimaced. “Let’s hope this doesn’t have side effects. I’d hate to be a party pooper.”

  Back to the grid.

  One square pulsed with faint violet.

  The one he’d been hovering over all along.

  [Item Acquired: Token – Shade of the Forgotten Duelist]

  Classification: Epic

  Durability: 3/3

  Effect: Summon legendary Arena duelist for 60s

  Warning: Token shatters after 3 uses. Cannot be repaired. Cannot be traded.

  Lore: Target does not speak. Target does not miss.

  Alistair pulled it free.

  Octagonal. Cold. Ancient. Like holding history in his palm.

  He hesitated.

  Just for a breath.

  Then he nodded.

  “This is what you’re for, isn’t it?” he whispered. “Not to be hoarded. Not to be wasted.”

  He pressed mana into the token.

  It flared, light lancing through the cracks, shadows dancing backward.

  A figure began to form beside him, piece by piece.

  First a ghostly outline.

  Then muscle. Armor. Blade.

  A lean warrior, masked and silent, dressed in dark dueling leathers stitched with sigils from another age.

  [Summon Activated – Shade of the Forgotten Duelist]

  Remaining Uses: 2

  Duration: 60 seconds

  Alistair looked up at the clearing.

  Then to the silent figure beside him.

  He smiled. “Nice to meet you, buddy.”

  He rose to his feet, sword in one hand, token’s glow fading in the other.

  “Let’s go kill some assholes.”

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