Chapter 38: New Pact

  Darek was still not fully clear about the situation.

  The monster lay split in two at his feet. Its massive body stretched through the mud like a shattered wall, flesh and fibers torn apart, yet despite the brutal division it did not seem definitively dead. It lay there, enormous and unnaturally long, in an eerie silence that threatened more than it soothed.

  Still bewildered, Darek looked toward Seraphis, who rose close beside him. The serpent hissed softly, her voice sliding like cold wind through Darek’s thoughts.

  Darek’s irritation instantly gave way to stark disbelief.

  What? A potion to promote symbiosis? That’s intense… unbelievable…

  Seraphis answered with a sharp, confirming hiss.

  Darek’s gaze shifted to Ursula. Her massive figure appeared changed, more taut, as if a new power were pulsing beneath her fur.

  Enhanced symbiosis then. Seraphis has attuned you more strongly to each other. If I remember correctly, something like this normally only happens in adulthood…

  Darek swallowed.

  Involuntarily, he imagined how powerful fully grown silvaric bears must be. Beings who had complete control over their bud. The thought made even him shudder for a moment.

  Then he struck his temple with the flat of his hand and forced his thoughts back into the here and now.

  We don’t have time for that.

  A faint, disgusting sound drew his attention back to the monster.

  The first particles began to move. Strands of flesh pulled together like living threads. Dark fragments, tissue, and slimy pieces crawled back toward their origin, as if invisible hands were stitching them together.

  It’s regenerating…

  Darek’s gaze hardened.

  “Ursula. Seraphis. Get ready.”

  “Ursula!”

  The voice cut through the swamp’s rotten haze like a desperate scream against drowning.

  From the far end of the morass, a silhouette emerged. Small, hurried, staggering. Votaria. Behind her, Iris and another figure, but at this distance and through the heavy, greenish vapors they were little more than shadows in the mist.

  “URSULAA!”

  Her voice nearly broke as she ran.

  Tears streamed down her face, mixing with sweat and fine moor dust. The swamp swallowed her legs almost to the knees. Every step was a struggle. The morass pulled at her, tugged at her feet, wanted to hold her, wanted to drag her down. But she tore herself free again and again, with raw desperation, with panicked strength.

  She stumbled, caught herself, kept running.

  Mud splashed upward, clinging to her legs and hands. Her breathing came in bursts.

  Then she was close enough.

  And froze.

  Before her no longer stood the Ursula she remembered.

  Not the sweet, over two-meter-tall, shy teddy bear with the cautious gaze and clumsy movements that had always made her smile.

  No.

  Something else rose before her.

  Ursula stood upright on two legs. Massive. Unnaturally large. His limbs looked distorted, as if bones beneath the skin had been broken and reassembled. In several places skin was missing. Raw flesh was visible, yet even that seemed overgrown with living vines.

  This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

  Dark, thick roots had wound around his body like an abstract armor of wood and thorns. They pierced his fur, merged with it, grew out of him. Through the rampant vines he had grown to nearly three meters.

  He looked like a bear recreated by the forest itself. Brutal. Archaic. Unstoppable.

  Votaria’s heart dropped.

  Fear shot through her as she saw the vines. A single thought burned within her.

  The bud has taken him over.

  Maybe he had used it too often. Maybe it had reacted out of self-preservation. Maybe he had died and it had turned his body into its vessel.

  But then Ursula slowly lifted his head.

  His eyes met hers.

  And they were not empty.

  No madness. No foreignness.

  His gaze was steady. Grim. Clear. Full of character.

  Votaria inhaled sharply.

  Ursula is still there.

  The greatest fear fell from her chest like a stone. For a moment, her hands trembled only from relief.

  But then another expression settled over her face. Doubt. Reflection.

  Mhm… This doesn’t look like a takeover…

  Her eyes moved over the intertwined vines, over the way they wrapped around him not hostilely, but structurally.

  This is complete symbiosis…

  How can that be?

  At thirty-five one begins cultivation. Full symbiosis usually concludes between thirty-nine and forty-five years.

  Her gaze shifted to Darek.

  She now stood directly beside Ursula, facing him. Between them still lay the monstrous, split creature in the swamp, yet Votaria’s attention barely brushed it. As if it were secondary.

  As if something else were far more significant.

  “Darek…”

  Her voice was hoarse, exhausted, stunned.

  “What happened here?”

  “He’s becoming himself again. Seraphis took care of him. I told you, there’s no one better at his side than him.”

  Darek’s voice was firm.

  Behind them, something cracked.

  A revolting, wet sound spread through the swamp.

  The split corpse was reassembling faster. Strands of flesh shot like living threads across the gaping wound. Bones shifted with dull grinding. Dark mass flowed back into its original place, as if an invisible force were violently stitching the body back together.

  The morass vibrated slightly under the growing weight.

  “I’ll explain the details later. Our monster will soon be back on its feet.”

  Darek spoke calmly, but his eyes were not on Votaria.

  They were fixed on Iris.

  Darek’s gaze did not waver.

  Not even once.

  While behind him flesh ground back together and bones slid into place with dull sounds, his eyes rested solely on Iris’ companion.

  He saw the faint glow within its core. The slight pulsing. The barely visible vibrations in the air around it.

  A new dream being, then. A new equal pact.

  One with offensive power.

  His heart beat heavier.

  Now I’m curious.

  I didn’t need defense. No tricks. No more experiments.

  I needed power.

  Raw, penetrating power.

  Power to finally defeat this thing.

  Power to secure dream essence.

  Power to not have to watch something simply… refuse to die again.

  Behind him, with a wet sound, one of the monster’s arms pulled itself back into shape. Mud dripped from freshly sealed skin. A dull vibration moved through the ground.

  Darek did not react.

  His gaze remained tense, fixed on Iris.

  I don’t even know if I can kill this monster at all.

  So far nothing had indicated that it was mortal. It had been split apart. Torn to pieces. Pierced through.

  And every time it had returned.

  Sometimes faster.

  Sometimes slower.

  But always… certainly.

  As if there were no doubt about its own return.

  Darek’s jaw tightened slightly.

  If this new being truly possesses offensive power… then now.

  Beside him, Seraphis was an entirely different presence.

  While Darek’s attention focused expectantly on Iris, the serpent had not taken her eyes off the monster for a single heartbeat.

  Her body was stretched flat. The muscles beneath her scales worked minimally, prepared for a movement not yet executed. Her pupils were narrow, motionless.

  She observed.

  Not the obvious movements.

  Not the twitching of newly formed limbs.

  But the structure.

  She sensed how her master was reaching inwardly for a solution, for something that would finally bring superiority.

  And so she searched as well.

  Calmly. Analytically.

  Then her gaze shifted slightly.

  The regeneration appeared chaotic.

  Scraps of skin crawled through the mud. Bone fragments were drawn up from the moor. Dark pieces of tissue moved seemingly at random back toward the body.

  But that was only surface.

  Seraphis looked closer.

  Every piece.

  Every smallest splinter.

  Every single fiber.

  They all crossed the same point.

  Always the same one.

  An inconspicuous spot in the air, barely visible, just in front of the monster’s chest area.

  Not directly into it.

  But through it.

  As if, for a fraction of a second, they were being drawn through something invisible before reintegrating into the body.

  That was no coincidence.

  That was a center.

  A core.

  A convergence point.

  Seraphis’ tongue flicked out briefly, testing.

  And through the rising gases of the swamp, the figure at Iris’ side stepped further forward. At first only a shadow, distorted by the mist. Then clearer. Step by step she emerged from the vapors, as if the swamp itself were releasing her.

  Darek felt it before he could clearly recognize the face.

  He focused.

  His fingers closed around the compass.

  He channeled energy into it, calm, precise. The familiar pull set in. The needle reacted immediately.

  The line appeared again before his inner eye.

  It was no longer flickering.

  No longer weak.

  It was firm. Burned deep. Its red darker than before, almost blood-soaked.

  Unmistakable.

  It led directly toward the figure beside Iris.

  Darek’s breathing slowed.

  So this is him.