Chapter 59: Weird Roll Call

Chapter 59: Chapter 59: Weird Roll Call

Patrols existed because of dungeon breaks.

Everyone knew the term, but few people understood what it really meant. A gate left uncleared for too long would begin to leak. Beasts would slip through the edges, one at a time, then in packs, then in floods, spilling into the streets and the subways. Those were breaks.

Patrols were what happened after, or better still, what happened to prevent it.

Some beasts did not run wild after a break. Some of them were clever. High tier creatures, ranked A and above, capable of hiding in plain sight. Capable of shedding their forms and taking on human ones. They slipped into the city, quiet and patient, and lived among people like ordinary neighbors. They shopped in markets. They rode the buses. They sat beside you at the movies. And they waited.

They had favorite places. Abandoned districts. Condemned apartment blocks. Dead malls, empty subway lines, old factory yards where the streetlights had burned out years ago. Places where nobody asked questions.

These beasts were still an issue, and someone had to deal with them.

But you couldn’t send a squad. You couldn’t storm in with sirens and banners and a thunderous army of gems. A big team meant noise, and noise meant panic, and panic meant a dozen disguised monsters vanishing into the crowd.

So the guilds sent one or two beast masters instead. It was a kind of spy job. It required discretion, patience, and an eye for details. It required a certain temperament.

Only the best were sent in.

Jared spent the next day doing nothing but watching TV.

The day after that, he did the same.

This time he didn’t bother wondering why Zoey hadn’t shown up.

He’d have liked to. A small, worried part of him still wanted to. But he knew better. She wasn’t just on a regular mission anymore. She was on patrol. She was with Julius, in some abandoned corner of the city, doing the very thing a handful of the strongest masters in the country were trusted to do.

’That’s literally what Mom and Dad were doing.’

His parents, great beast masters, the famous couple who’d left him with a house and a rooftop and a sister. They’d been on patrol for almost two months. That was where they were, somewhere out there, in the dark, in the ruins, hunting monsters that wore human faces.

’I guess they’d be proud of her.’

It was a nice thought, and an unsettling one.

’I don’t think I’d do well, though.’

He frowned at the ceiling.

’I kind of only have flashy beasts.’

It was true. Look at them. If he were sent on patrol, he’d probably bring down an entire city block before he found a single disguised beast.

’That’s not a spy. That’s a demolition crew.’

The following morning, something changed.

He woke up and stretched, and his arm moved.

It was a small thing. A twitch. He lifted a hand, curled his fingers, and watched them close into a fist. Then the other. Then his legs. He wiggled his toes. He rolled his shoulders. A faint, dull ache ran through every muscle, but they obeyed. He could move.

He could move.

It had come much earlier than expected. The doctor had said a week. It had been barely 4 days. Jared lay there, stunned, flexing his hands over and over, as if afraid they’d vanish.

He rang the bell.

The doctor appeared a minute later, glasses askew, a stack of charts under his arm.

"Hm."

"I can move," Jared said.

"I can see that."

"I’m better."

"No."

"What?"

"Just because you can move," the doctor said firmly, "doesn’t mean you’re fine. It doesn’t mean you’re healed. The body is deceptive. You can walk on a broken leg for a mile before the pain catches up."

"But I feel fine."

"That’s what worries me."

Jared sat up. His head spun a little, but he gritted his teeth and kept his eyes steady.

"Can I at least train?" he asked.

The doctor stared at him.

"Train?"

"Just a little. Nothing heavy. I have beasts that need attention. They’re starting to..." He stopped. "They’re slipping."

The doctor was silent for a long time. He looked at the chart, then at the window, then at Jared. His face was tired and kind and carefully neutral. He lowered the clipboard.

"I’m hesitant," he said at last.

"I know."

"I really should say no."

"I know."

"But." He sighed. "I understand."

Jared held his breath.

"You may train," the doctor said. "Under supervision. In moderation. For a few hours a day, no more." He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "But I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t at least tell you something first."

"Okay."

"I know that for a beast master, their beast is everything."

Jared said nothing.

"I’m not telling you to be idle," the doctor said. "I’m not telling you to sit in bed and let your gems decay. That would be foolish. You have a responsibility. They depend on you." He put his glasses back on. "But I’m also telling you to not lose your life to beast taming."

"They rarely talk about how the beast influences the tamer," the doctor went on. "It’s always the other way around. The master commands the beast. The master shapes the beast. The master grows the beast. But it goes both ways. A bond is a road with two lanes."

He lowered his voice.

"Be careful."

Jared looked at him for a long moment.

Then he nodded, slowly.

"Thank you," he said.

The doctor gave a short nod, scribbled something on his chart, and left.

[He’s got a point.]

’I know.’

[A bond is a road with two lanes.]

* * *

The guild’s training hall was enormous.

It occupied the whole second sublevel, a vast, echoing chamber with a ceiling so high the lights were just pinpricks.

Jared stood in the middle of it.

He wore a plain gray shirt and loose pants. His boots were laced tight. His pouch was clipped to his belt, humming faintly against his hip. A nurse had walked him down, set a folded towel on a bench, and told him she’d be back in 3 hours.

He took a deep breath.

"System," he said. "Mana."

[Mana: 31,000]

He blinked.

"That’s much higher than I expected."

He has previously depleted his amount. The fact that it had replenished to this much meant he wasn’t like the other Jared. It meant he was capable of improving his mana amount with vial consumption.

[It’s your cap. After the vial wore off, and after you burned through it, your cap has been shrinking. It’s lower with every refill. Remember what I told you?]

"The boost isn’t permanent."

[It’s fading. At this rate, you’ll be back to 100 in a few more rounds.]

"So I have to use it while I can."

[Exactly. Spend it well.]

He looked down at the pouch.

"All right," he said. "Let’s see who’s still in good shape."

He opened the flap and drew out the first gem.

It cracked against the earth.

Light flared, pale and cold, and a huge shape rose from the glow. A wolf. An upright wolf, tall as he was, with shaggy silver gray fur and thick, corded muscles.

[PowerWolf (SS Rank).]

"I know," Jared said. "I’m sorry."

The wolf let out a low growl.

"It won’t happen again."

The wolf tipped back its head and howled.

It wasn’t loud, not yet. It was a thin, wavering sound, almost shy. But it rang in his ribs, and a faint tremor ran through the floor. Jared grinned and held out a hand. The wolf sat, panting, tail swishing, and he patted its massive head.

He unsummoned it with a touch, and the gem dropped into his palm.

The next was a small gold stone, bright as a coin.

He dropped it. A tiny shape appeared, upright, whiskered, and impossibly smug. The Dungeon Cat looked around the hall, yawned, and stretched. It sauntered over to his boot, rubbed against his ankle, and sat down to wash its face.

"Hey, little guy," Jared said.

The cat flicked one ear.

"Remember me?"

It blinked slowly.

[It remembers alright. ]

[It’s choosing not to respond.]

"That’s fair."

He picked up the cat, tucked it into his palm, and watched it fold back into a gem.

The third was a tiny speck of white light.

Starfire bobbed into the air, buzzing like a mosquito. It circled his head twice, darted at his ear, and hovered in front of his nose, glowing faintly. He swatted at it. It dodged. He swatted again.

"Stop that."

BZZZZ.

"I mean it."

BZZZZ.

He let it circle a while longer, grinning, before cupping his hand around it.

The fourth was a muddy green stone, vibrating faintly.

He dropped it. A creaky, smug voice cut across the hall before the light had even faded.

"Finally!"

A squat, round, warty toad blinked into being in the dirt, perched on an imaginary lily pad. It looked around, bulging eyes rolling.

"Do you have any idea,"the Godtoad said, "how long I’ve been in that stone? In the dark? With no company? With no conversation? No one to talk to but the wolf, who only howls?"

"Hi," Jared said.

"Hi? Hi? That’s all you’ve got?"

"I’m sorry."

"I have wishes to grant! I have missions to assign!"

"Maybe later."

"Later!" The toad swelled up indignantly. "Later! Hear that? He says later!"

Jared picked it up, still croaking, and shoved it back in the pouch.

[It’s very dramatic,] the system observed.

’It’s going to be a long career.’

The fifth gem was deep, dark blue, and cool as a pond.

He dropped it, and the air went damp. A faint sound of waves rolled through the hall, soft and distant. The floor rippled. A shimmering silver blue light flooded the room, and before he could step back, it swallowed him whole.

He found himself standing in an endless, glittering sea.

Water pressed in on every side. Pale light filtered down from above. Silver bubbles drifted past.The Dragonfish turned its head, studied him with one calm, ancient eye, and opened its mouth.

It swallowed him.

For a moment, there was darkness, warm and quiet, like being tucked inside a giant lung. Then the gem dropped into his palm, and he was standing in the training hall, dripping, spitting out a mouthful of seawater.

"Okay," he coughed. "That works."

[It’s very effective, don’t you think?]

"It’s also a little rude."

[It’s a fish.]

The sixth was a coiling, black green stone.

He dropped it. A rustle of scales swept the room. The MountainSnake rose from the floor in thick, glistening coils, slow and enormous. It was a range of hills made of muscle, a sea of slate colored scales that stretched from wall to wall. A great, blunt head lifted toward the ceiling. A forked tongue flickered.

It fit, barely. The hall had been built for creatures like this.

"System," Jared whispered. "It’s a lot smaller than I expected."

[The snake adjusts its size to its surroundings,]

[When it has room, it grows. In here, it’s compressed. A mountain in miniature. You’d need an open field to see the real thing.]

"That’s convenient."

The snake lowered its head, studied him, and hissed softly.

"Hi," Jared said. "I’m not going to ask you to do much today."

It seemed satisfied.

The seventh was a damp, mossy stone.

The SwampGorilla stood up in a rush of green light and scratched its chest.

The eighth was a rusty gem.

The AntBeast popped into being at about knee height, antennae waving. It looked up at him, wiggled its mandibles, and gave a tiny, cheerful bow. A faint smell of metal and ozone drifted off it.

"Hey, buddy," Jared said. "Hungry?"

The ant nodded vigorously.

"Later."

It drooped.

That left one gem.

He drew it out of the pouch. It was big, heavy, and smooth.

’The turtle.’

He looked around the hall.

It was big. The PositionTurtle was the size of a skyscraper. If he dropped it here, it would burst through the ceiling, crush the floor, and flatten the building above.

[There’s no space,]

’I know.’

[It’s not like the snake. It doesn’t shrink. It arrives at full size, every time.]

’I didn’t even know that. The snake could have.... I guess I was lucky. ’

[You’ll have to find somewhere else. An open field. A quarry. A lake.]

He put the gem back in the pouch, gently, as one would a sleeping child.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Soon."

He stood in the middle of the training hall.

Around him, the beasts had gathered. Even those he had unssummoned got summoned back. The wolf lay on its side, snoring. The cat was curled in the crook of the gorilla’s arm. The toad was muttering complaints to the ant. The snake lay coiled along the wall like a hill of black stone. Starfire buzzed idly overhead. The dragon fish in a dimension of its own. No where to be seen but Jared could feel it.

Eight of them. Eight of his beasts, in one room.

He took a long, slow breath.

"Let’s begin," he said.