The ritual was complete. Darian felt the surge of energy as the bond between him and Vaelistra solidified, a connection so profound it felt like an extension of his very soul. The air still crackled with residual magic as the notifications chimed in his mind.
[Congratulations! Host has bonded with a beast.]
[Host can now proceed to complete a raid.]
A smirk spread across Darian's face as he read the notifications. He felt invincible—an A-rank tamer who had bound a King-grade beast. It was unheard of, almost absurd. As the crowd in the bonding arena thinned out, he sent Vaelistra back to her Taming Space, the shadowy dragon vanishing into an ethereal wisp.
"I must say, young man," came a gravelly voice, halting Darian's departure. He turned to find an elderly sorcerer approaching, his robes adorned with intricate runes that shimmered faintly. "You have a remarkable beast. If I may ask, how did you manage to tame such a creature?"
Darian hesitated, weighing his words. Revealing the truth would raise far too many questions—questions he wasn't ready to answer.
"It was… a gift," he replied nonchalantly, forcing an air of indifference.
The sorcerer's eyes narrowed, his curiosity far from sated. "A gift, you say? Then you must have powerful allies. Few would part with such a beast willingly."
Darian shrugged, feigning ignorance. The man's piercing gaze lingered, as if trying to unravel the mystery before him. Finally, he sighed.
"Well, young man, you would do well to grow stronger. A White Drake is a rare companion, known for its ability to evolve over time. But beware—if your power does not match hers, the consequences could be dire."
Darian's eyes gleamed with interest. Evolve over time? He had suspected Vaelistra's potential but hearing it confirmed by an expert filled him with pride.
"So she'll get stronger than she already is," he mused inwardly, a cocky grin spreading across his face. "Good. I'll make sure I'm always stronger."
He turned to leave, his confidence soaring, but the sorcerer called after him.
"Wait!"
Darian stopped, irritation flashing across his features. "What now?"
"You'll need a Beast Mark," the man said gravely.
Darian frowned. The term sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.
"A Beast Mark?" he asked, his curiosity piqued.
The sorcerer stepped closer, his expression serious. "Your beast is extraordinary, far from ordinary creatures most tamers bond with. While the blood bond ties you together, it doesn't guarantee loyalty as she evolves. Dragons, even Drakes, are beings of immense pride. Their nature often drives them to challenge their masters."
Darian's jaw tightened. He thought back to his initial encounter with Vaelistra—the sheer arrogance in her eyes, the way she tested his resolve before submitting. It seemed inevitable now, given her draconic lineage.
"As your Drake grows in power, her pride will grow too," the sorcerer continued. "Unchecked, it could lead to rebellion. A Beast Mark would prevent that."
Darian's brows furrowed. "What exactly is a Beast Mark?"
The sorcerer's tone grew solemn. "An ancient rune placed upon the tamer's body, binding the beast's will to yours. It serves as a reminder of your dominance, ensuring that even the most prideful creatures know their place. Without it, taming a beast like yours would be nearly impossible as she evolves."
The explanation intrigued and unsettled Darian. The idea of forcibly asserting dominance over Vaelistra didn't sit well with him, but he recognized the necessity. If he intended to tame more powerful creatures in the future, a Beast Mark would be invaluable.
"So, how do I get one?" he asked.
Before the sorcerer could reply, a woman's voice interrupted. "Would you like to purchase a Beast Mark?"
Darian turned, startled to see Vera, the guild assistant, standing nearby. She must have been listening in.
"How much?" he asked warily.
"Five thousand Beast Points," Vera replied smoothly, her tone businesslike.
Darian's gaze shifted between her and the sorcerer. Something about this felt off, as though they were trying to scam him. He clenched his fists, an unsettling thought crossing his mind. If they try anything, I'll just kill them.
He shook the thought away, unnerved by its viciousness. Sighing inwardly, he handed over the points.
"Thank you. Follow me," Vera said, gesturing for him to follow.
The sorcerer led the way through the guild, deeper into its labyrinthine halls. They arrived at a chamber that felt more like a shrine than an office. The walls were covered in glowing runes and ancient symbols, their meanings lost to time.
The sorcerer motioned for Darian to step forward. "Stretch out your arm," he instructed.
Darian complied, though unease gnawed at him. The sorcerer began drawing intricate runes along his forearm with a glowing quill, the symbols radiating a golden light.
"Azurite, Ynade, Foriyte, Sqrithsk," the sorcerer chanted, his voice resonating with arcane power.
The golden light intensified, wrapping around Darian's arm like a living thing. But then, something changed. The light darkened, shifting to an ominous crimson hue. The air grew heavy, crackling with energy that sent shivers down his spine.
"What's happening?" Darian demanded, his voice edged with panic.
The sorcerer faltered, his eyes widening in shock. "This… this isn't normal."
Outside the chamber, Vera watched through the doorway, her expression shifting from curiosity to alarm.
When the ritual ended, the glow subsided, leaving behind a mark that burned into Darian's forearm. It was a three-headed dragon, each head snarling as though alive.
"A Hydra Mark," the sorcerer whispered, his voice trembling.
Darian stared at the mark, his chest tightening with unease. He could feel the bond with Vaelistra shift—a connection that had once been mutual now felt commanding, almost oppressive. Vaelistra would obey, but at what cost?
Without waiting for further explanation, Darian left the chamber, his thoughts a whirlwind of doubt and unease.
---
Back at the Guild
In a secluded office, a man cloaked in black sat behind a massive desk. His face was hidden in shadows, but the symbol on his cloak radiated authority.
"What symbol did you see?" the man asked, his voice cold and measured.
The sorcerer stood before him, still shaken. "Hydra," he replied.
The woman beside him gasped. "Isn't that—"
"Yes," the man interrupted. "A mark of ancient power. That boy… we must keep an eye on him."
---
On the Way Back
As Darian walked back to his dorm, he couldn't shake the feeling of dread. The mark on his arm seemed to pulse faintly, a constant reminder of the ritual's unsettling outcome.
"What have I gotten myself into?" he muttered, glancing at the three-headed dragon etched into his skin.
For the first time, he wondered if his ambition to tame Vaelistra—and every powerful beast after her—might bring him more harm than good.
But it was too late to turn back now.