Chapter 41: Who Calls Whom Master Here

  Pow-Pow began to move, slowly, with that effortless, almost provocative arrogance he always radiated whenever he knew he had dominated, and each of his heavy steps left a deep mark in the mud as he walked straight toward Darek without the slightest detour, fixing him with a demanding, almost challenging look, as if he expected confirmation, a verdict, perhaps even recognition.

  Before Darek could deal with that silent demand, however, he forced himself to assess the situation in full once more, because his heart was still beating faster than usual and the tension lingered in the air like a thin remnant of mist.

  His gaze moved first to Iris, who floated calmly, her single eye attentive and alert, then on to Votaria, whose posture was still tense, before it settled on Ursula, who was barely managing to remain on his feet, his massive body visibly shaken despite the symbiosis from the last brutal impacts Pow-Pow had indirectly forced upon him, and in that brief moment Darek realized just how narrow the line they had been walking truly was.

  At last, his gaze shifted to Seraphis.

  The change was impossible to miss.

  Larger, broader, his flowing silver scales more radiant than before, as if an inner light were now shining through him more strongly, his presence denser, heavier, and despite the nerve-racking fight Darek could not suppress a proud smile, because he had not only survived, but won, because Seraphis had grown, had become stronger, and because he could feel that this development was only the beginning.

  “Seraphis,” Darek said calmly, without taking his eyes off Pow-Pow, “check on Ursula again and see if there’s anything you can do for him.”

  A quiet hiss of agreement answered him, not loud, not conspicuous, but with a new depth that Darek noticed immediately.

  Pow-Pow’s gaze remained fixed on him.

  The unspoken question still stood between them.

  “Okay,” Darek finally said calmly, even though his pulse had not yet fully returned to normal, “let’s talk about the contract.”

  Pow-Pow stopped, slowly folded his arms across his chest, and looked down at him without giving the slightest impression that he felt pressured in any way.

  “Your powers are truly incredible,” Darek continued, his voice controlled, matter-of-fact, but with genuine recognition. “And with my ability, they can unfold their full potential. You noticed that burst of rage, didn’t you?”

  Pow-Pow raised only a single eyebrow, barely.

  “We’d make one hell of a team,” Darek added.

  Pow-Pow’s face remained still, no pride, no mockery, no visible reaction, only that quiet listening that was almost more intimidating than any growl.

  “But…”

  Pow-Pow’s gaze narrowed instantly.

  “But?”

  “If I borrow your powers, they probably won’t benefit me even half as much as they benefit you,” Darek explained openly. “I can only transfer status changes, not carry them myself. I instinctively heal myself against unusual status changes.”

  Silence.

  The swamp suddenly felt more present again.

  “So here’s my suggestion,” Darek continued, without backing down. “I agree to your condition of full materialization once our connection reaches the third stage.”

  Pow-Pow said nothing, but his posture became more attentive.

  “But the moment I notice you causing trouble or creating unnecessary problems, I reserve the right to revoke that materialization immediately. No discussion.”

  Pow-Pow snorted quietly. “You think I’d cause trouble?”

  “I think you enjoy it,” Darek replied dryly.

  A brief twitch touched the corner of Pow-Pow’s mouth. Almost a grin.

  “And if I borrow your powers,” Darek went on, “you’ll have to come up with a price. It can’t be anything that binds me in the long term or limits my flexibility. I need to stay mobile. Especially if I can only use your ability situationally and not to its full extent anyway.”

  By now Pow-Pow had shrunk back to his original size again, his fur lying flatter, though his eyes glittered with amusement.

  He nodded once. Briefly.

  “Agreed.”

  Then he grinned openly. “And I already have an idea for the price.”

  Darek’s heart skipped a beat.

  “Until our connection reaches the third stage,” Pow-Pow continued, “I’ll probably be unbearably bored in your soul mirror.”

  Darek said nothing.

  He did not want to show it, but in truth he had already taken Pow-Pow to heart, more than he wanted to admit, especially after this fight, after that dominance, after that raw power he himself would never be able to achieve that way because he could not use the dust on himself.

  “So,” Pow-Pow finally said calmly, almost casually, “here is my price.”

  Darek tensed inwardly.

  “Your voice.”

  Darek blinked. “My… what?”

  “Every time you borrow my powers,” Pow-Pow explained with deliberate calm, “and it gets too boring for me in your soul mirror, I get to borrow your voice for one or two sentences.”

  Silence.

  Darek stared at him.

  He had not expected something like that. No blood, no pain, no restriction, no binding oath.

  Flexible.

  Easy to carry out.

  And he would not even have to pay in advance.

  With his arrogant attitude, he could get me into trouble…

  But honestly… how much damage can one or two sentences really cause?

  Darek slowly exhaled.

  “Deal.”

  Pow-Pow’s grin widened.

  “Very good.”

  And in that moment, Darek was not entirely sure whether he had just made an excellent deal or laid the foundation for a future problem.

  Pow-Pow nodded slowly, closed his eyes, and in that moment no longer seemed like the dominant, arrogant being from before, but like something primal, something ancient, taking a step into a deeper layer.

  Darek returned the gesture without hesitation, closed his eyes as well, and deliberately let himself sink down into his soul mirror, not groping, not uncertain, but with a natural ease that would have been impossible for him only a few weeks ago.

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  The endless vastness welcomed him once more, that boundless, silent realm of shimmering mist and floating fragments, and immediately he noticed that the silver in the air pulsed more strongly than before, denser, more alive, as if Seraphis’s evolution had permeated the entire space and given it new substance.

  A fine pull ran through his innermost self, barely noticeable and yet unmistakable, like the quiet tension of a string waiting to be struck, and Darek reached for it with focus, not with hands, but with awareness, with intuition, with that growing understanding of souls that was developing in him faster than he himself could comprehend.

  By now, it had become disturbingly easy for him to sense connections, recognize their direction, guess at their nature, and he did not even need to sink into a meditative state, because this layer had long since become a part of him, as familiar as his own breath.

  There it was.

  The connection.

  As in Iris’s case, it felt like a bridge trying to make its way toward him, like an invisible structure stretching over from the other side, merely waiting for him to stabilize it.

  Darek let energy flow into it, cautiously at first, then more decisively, more and more, until the silver glow around him grew stronger, as if it were reacting to that exchange.

  The bridge became firmer.

  More tangible.

  Denser.

  And then, suddenly, without warning, without resistance, a dull inner impulse, not truly a sound, but a deep, rich BUUF in his consciousness, a feeling of absolute, detached stability, as if something had clicked into place, as if a mechanism had found its final position.

  The pact was sealed.

  Darek felt it at once.

  Not as pressure or a foreign body, but as closeness.

  When he opened his eyes again, Pow-Pow felt different, not strange, not merely more connected, but familiar in a way that was almost impossible to put into words, as if they had grown closer, as if they were brothers who had found each other again after a long time, or comrades who had already endured countless battles side by side, bound by something deeper than a mere agreement.

  And for the first time since the beginning of this fight, Darek did not just feel stronger.

  He felt more complete.

  Pow-Pow grinned broadly at Darek, that self-satisfied, almost overbearing grin that left no doubt whatsoever that he considered himself the clear winner, and slowly raised his paw toward Darek.

  Darek did not hesitate for even a second. He raised his hand as well and slapped it against Pow-Pow’s, and the impact of their hands meeting rang out through the swamp with a strong, dry crack, so loud that even the mist seemed to vibrate for a heartbeat.

  Almost at the same time, something happened in the sky.

  As if staged by a higher hand, the moon slowly began to separate from the sun, the darkness receded at a measured, dignified pace, and the first golden rays broke through the blackness, spilling over the marsh, making the still water shimmer and bathing the dreamscape once more in a pale, but living light.

  Pow-Pow let go of Darek’s hand, tilted his head slightly, and said in a voice that sounded as if he were bestowing a great honor upon him:

  “From now on, you may call me Master.”

  Darek opened his mouth, ready to fire back, ready to object, ready to make some sarcastic comment, but in that same moment a thought flashed through his mind that stopped him unexpectedly.

  If I’m being honest…

  In the fight itself, I barely contributed anything.

  He felt a brief, unpleasant pull in his chest, not out of envy, but out of sober realization, and had to admit to himself that Pow-Pow had, at the very least, backed up his arrogance with raw, undeniable strength.

  I’ll give him this much… he delivered.

  He cleared his throat lightly.

  “We’ll see who ends up calling whom Master around here,” Darek finally said casually, a crooked smile on his lips.

  Pow-Pow’s gaze changed instantly.

  The playful self-assurance from moments ago gave way to an intense gleam, as if Darek had just touched an invisible boundary, and for a brief moment there was no humor between them anymore, only a silent, electric contest of strength that was neither hostile nor friendly, but simply inevitable.

  The pact was sealed.

  “Okay, Seraphis, how’s it looking?” Darek called over to the other three as he had already started moving.

  A short, satisfied hiss was enough of an answer.

  Darek nodded. “Good. Then I suggest we head back to the dwelling cave, treat the remaining wounds properly, and rest for a night before we set out toward the city tomorrow.”

  Votaria looked over at him and nodded in agreement. “I was about to suggest exactly that.”

  Seraphis had already positioned himself beside Ursula, his now clearly larger, stronger body gliding close along his side and supporting him with gentle but steady pressure, while Ursula, despite his increased size, still swayed slightly. Even with the symbiosis, the last blows had left their mark.

  On the other side, Votaria held a sturdy vine wrapped around Ursula’s arm, almost like a helping hand, and together they moved slowly through the still-wet swamp.

  Behind them walked Darek, Iris, and Pow-Pow.

  And as so often, it was Darek of all people, the outwardly completely normal boy without fur, without vines, without shimmering scales, who looked the most conspicuous in that unusual group.

  “Darek, how did you do that, I mean the symbiosis with Ursula? I’ve never seen anything like it or even heard of it,” Votaria asked curiously while continuing to walk beside the heavily breathing Ursula, barely able to take her eyes off him.

  Darek threw her a brief sideways glance before a self-satisfied smile tugged at his lips.

  “You have to understand, Aria,” he began in a deliberately calm voice, “Seraphis and I have, how should I put it… quite a refined touch for alchemy.”

  Seraphis let out a quiet hiss of agreement.

  “For us, it was more or less a piece of cake,” Darek added, shrugging lightly, as if he were talking about an ordinary little thing.

  Votaria stopped for a moment, her eyes visibly widening.

  “Woow…” she breathed with unmistakable amazement, her gaze moving back and forth between Seraphis and Darek as if she were trying to comprehend that those two had actually accomplished something that even to her felt like a small miracle.

  After about twenty minutes of marching through the swamp, which was slowly growing brighter again, they finally reached the dwelling cave, its entrance hidden between old roots and appearing almost peaceful in the warm moonlight, as though the fight had never happened.

  Seraphis lifted his head slightly and hissed something to Darek.

  Darek nodded. “Okay, good idea, Seraphis.”

  Without another word, the silver snake glided off, silently slipping between ferns and low bushes to gather herbs for Ursula’s recovery process while the others slowly entered the cave.

  Inside, it was surprisingly warm, the ground dry, the air calm.

  “I’ll take care of the fire,” Pow-Pow grumbled and already knelt down beside a small pile of dry wood and brush.

  With practiced movements, he rearranged it, struck sparks, shielded them from the draft with his fur, and within moments a stable, strong fire was feeding its way through the wood as if it had never been any other way.

  You could see the experience in him. The wilderness was no unfamiliar place to him.

  Soon they were all sitting in a circle around the flames, each on an improvised cushion of straw and leaves that Votaria had quickly drawn together with a few movements of her hands, while the fire cast warm shadows on the walls of the cave.

  Ursula lay stretched out on the ground, still badly battered, his breathing heavy, his movements slow, and Votaria knelt beside him, cleaning wounds, applying herbs, and murmuring soothing words.

  It was quieter than before, but not tense.

  More… familiar.

  The group began talking casually, the crackling of the fire accompanying their voices, Darek and Votaria occasionally exchanging a few words about the route to the city, about possible dangers, about supplies, while Pow-Pow and Iris were having a more intense conversation a little apart from them.

  “This is my fourth dream by now,” Pow-Pow explained, stretching his paws toward the fire as if enjoying the warmth. “And so far, I like this one the best. I always try to take as much knowledge with me as possible and move on once it starts getting boring.”

  Darek listened with half an ear while staring into the fire.

  I get the feeling the only one Pow-Pow doesn’t look down on arrogantly is Iris… or maybe everyone else too? Actually, he’s only like that with me… now that I think about it more closely.

  “So far, I’ve only been in one,” Iris said calmly. “A forgotten dream. So I didn’t really get the chance to explore others.”

  Pow-Pow’s head whipped around. His mouth hung open.

  “Really?! A forgotten dream?”

  He leaned forward, suddenly genuinely interested.

  “I’ve heard of them. They’re extremely rare. Some say they only exist as legend. And even if you find one, they say you can never leave it again.”

  He stared at Iris.

  “Wow… you’re one crazy eye, Iris.”

  Iris was silent for a moment. Then she said calmly, “Actually, Darek got me out of there.”

  Pow-Pow let out a short laugh, amused, because he thought she was making a joke at Darek’s expense.

  But Iris’s expression remained completely serious.

  The laughter died.

  “Are you serious?”

  His gaze shifted slowly toward Darek.

  And Darek could have sworn that for one fleeting moment, something was missing in that look that was otherwise always there.

  A trace of arrogance.

  Just as the conversation settled down again and the fire crackled steadily, Seraphis slithered back into the cave, his silver body gleaming in the firelight as he let out a satisfied hiss.

  Darek looked up.

  “Okay, Aria,” he said casually, “looks like Seraphis found some excellent plants and ingredients and could begin the healing process.”

  Votaria blinked. “Where are they?”

  She looked around.

  “And… how exactly is he planning to brew a potion out of them?”

  Darek smiled, relaxed, almost proud.

  “Don’t worry,” he said with a casual wave of his hand. “He just eats the herbs and produces the end product himself.”

  Silence.

  Votaria looked at him.

  “…He what?”

  “He eats them,” Darek repeated calmly. “Far more efficient than mortar and kettle.”

  “Okay…” Votaria said slowly, her brow furrowing slightly, “that sounds… biologically questionable.”

  Pow-Pow snorted quietly into the fire.

  “Then go ahead, Seraphis,” Darek said proudly, folding his arms.

  Seraphis nodded lightly, his body tensing.

  Wait a second…

  Hmm… how is he actually going to administer the potion to him?

  Darek frowned.

  At that exact moment, Seraphis shot forward.

  With his still slightly dripping fangs spread wide, he leapt straight at Ursula.

  A wet, crushing bite echoed through the cave.

  Ursula twitched only slightly.

  He already knew the process.

  Darek froze.

  He had never really thought about how exactly that part worked.

  Votaria, on the other hand, clearly had.

  “AAAAAAHHHHH!”