Chapter 4: The First Test
Greg's heart raced, each beat thundering in his chest as the massive creature with glowing red eyes slowly stalked closer. He barely dared to breathe, his feet frozen in place as the predator's gaze locked onto him. Every instinct screamed for him to run, to flee into the dense forest, but he was trapped. The creature was too close, and there was nowhere to hide.
He swallowed hard, trying to steady his pulse. "Why is this happening to me?" he muttered under his breath, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. The griffin was still high above him, flapping its wings with an almost unnatural grace, while the fox crouched low to the ground beside him, its glowing eyes focused intently on the approaching danger.
Okay, think, Greg. Think. He cursed under his breath again, trying to come up with a plan. He wasn't equipped for this. He wasn't trained to deal with massive beasts or dangerous situations. He was just a guy who wanted to nap on his couch, not get dragged into some magical world where he was expected to be some sort of beast whisperer.
But no matter how much he tried to deny it, the world had other plans. And he wasn't sure how much longer he could ignore the fact that he had power—powers he hadn't asked for but had nonetheless acquired.
The growling beast took another step forward, its massive paws sending shockwaves through the ground beneath him. Greg took a shaky step back, his legs wobbling as the adrenaline surged.
Suddenly, the griffin dove down in a flash of motion, its sharp talons extended. With a screech, it raked across the creature's face, and the beast howled in pain. The fox took the cue and leapt into action, darting forward with surprising speed, its fur glowing like a beacon in the dimming light. It let out a series of high-pitched, shrill noises, distracting the creature further as it lashed out with clawed paws.
Greg stood there, dumbfounded. His heart was pounding, but it wasn't from fear anymore—it was from sheer disbelief at the turn of events. His accidental companions had just taken on the dangerous creature without so much as a command from him. They were handling it. They were protecting him, in ways he hadn't even known they could.
The griffin's tiny form darted back and forth in the air, using its wings to create gusts of wind that battered the creature's face. Meanwhile, the fox circled around the beast, its eyes gleaming with an unsettling intelligence as it carefully avoided the predator's attacks and stayed just out of reach.
Greg blinked, still trying to comprehend what was happening. He hadn't asked for this—hadn't even wanted it—but now, it seemed, he was the focal point of an impromptu battle between two massive, powerful creatures. His creatures. The fear he'd felt earlier was still there, but now it was mixing with a new emotion—something like awe, or maybe dread of just how much control he did have.
The fox darted in once more, its glowing tail flashing like a streak of lightning, and with a sharp yelp, it grabbed hold of the creature's ear, pulling it back with surprising strength. The griffin swooped in immediately, delivering a powerful blow to the creature's chest, forcing it to stumble back.
It roared in frustration, then turned and bolted into the trees, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared.
Greg stood still for a few moments, staring after the retreating beast, his mind struggling to process everything that had just happened. He had been saved. Not by his own hand, but by the very creatures he had never wanted.
The griffin circled once above him, letting out a small chirp, and the fox padded over to him, its glowing eyes looking up at him with an almost knowing gaze. It was as if they were waiting for some kind of acknowledgment.
Greg blinked. "You did it. You actually did it." His voice was a mixture of awe and disbelief. He hadn't expected them to actually fight and win, let alone protect him. But they had.
He didn't know whether to feel grateful or terrified. This wasn't the peaceful life he had envisioned. The beasts weren't the problem—they were his responsibility now. He didn't ask for this role, and yet he was stuck with it.
A sharp pang of frustration welled up inside him, and he threw his hands up in the air. "I didn't sign up for this!" he shouted into the empty space, his voice carrying across the clearing.
The fox tilted its head, and the griffin chirped softly, as if to say, tough luck, buddy.
Greg slumped onto a nearby rock, rubbing his forehead. He let out a heavy sigh. "I didn't ask for this adventure. I just wanted to nap."
The griffin flapped its wings and landed beside him, curling up next to his legs, and the fox sat down at his side, curling its tail around its body. They seemed content, as if waiting for him to decide what to do next. It was almost like they were waiting for him to acknowledge their presence, to accept that he was now their leader by default.
He didn't want to be their leader. He didn't even want to be in this world. He wasn't the hero type. But the world didn't seem to care about his reluctance. It had given him powers, it had given him beasts to tame, and now it seemed it was giving him no choice but to face this reality.
"Okay, fine," Greg muttered under his breath, half to himself. "If I can't get rid of you two, then I guess I'll have to figure this out. But no more fighting. No more beast taming crap. I'm not going to be your knight in shining armor."
The griffin let out a soft coo, and the fox just blinked at him.
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You're not going anywhere." Greg stood up and dusted himself off. "Alright, let's just get out of here. I need a nap."
With his two new, ridiculously powerful companions in tow, Greg began to walk deeper into the forest, hoping that somewhere along the way, he could finally find some semblance of peace. But as the sound of distant growls and the rustling of creatures in the trees reminded him, he wasn't going to find that peace so easily.
Greg walked on, his eyes scanning the dense forest around him, but his thoughts were elsewhere. The events from just moments ago played over and over in his mind. He had never imagined that his first real "test" in this new world would involve battling a massive, dangerous beast with the help of a couple of creatures that he was still, in every way, terrified of.
The griffin hatchling waddled beside him, its wings still fluttering nervously, as if it couldn't quite figure out whether it should fly or stay grounded. The fox trotted just ahead, its glowing tail swaying like a shimmering beacon in the dusk.
Greg let out a frustrated sigh, but it was softer this time—more resigned. "So, what now?" he muttered under his breath. "Is this how it's going to be? Me, stuck with two powerful animals who seem to think I'm their king or something?"
The fox glanced up at him, its eyes reflecting the faint glow of the setting sun. For a moment, Greg swore it almost smiled at him.
"Great, now they're smiling at me," he grumbled.
The forest around them was tranquil again, the sounds of distant roars and rustling winds a mere memory. Greg tried to shake off the lingering tension, but a deep unease gnawed at the back of his mind. That battle—if you could call it that—had left him unsettled. The sheer power he now wielded, despite not asking for it, had turned his world upside down in the span of a few hours.
And it was obvious now that he wasn't going to get out of this without facing more challenges. It was one thing to deal with a cute, baby griffin that loved him for reasons beyond his understanding. It was another entirely to be forced into combat with the creatures of this world.
A rustling noise broke through his thoughts. It wasn't the wind, nor was it the peaceful chirp of forest insects. Greg froze, his heart leaping into his throat. It was the unmistakable sound of something large and moving quickly through the underbrush. His hand went instinctively to his side, where a sword might have been if he had been prepared for any of this.
"What is it now?" he whispered, but no answer came. His griffin let out a soft chirp, its head jerking to the side. The fox's ears pricked up, and its tail swished in quick movements. Both of them were on high alert, and Greg's instincts screamed at him to run.
But as much as he wanted to bolt, he couldn't—not without knowing what was out there.
Suddenly, from the thicket ahead, a set of glowing eyes emerged, locking onto Greg's with an unnerving stillness. It wasn't the same creature they'd just faced, but it was equally large, its form barely visible in the thick shadows of the forest. It was dark, almost blending into the landscape, except for the gleam of its eyes.
Another predator. Another threat.
"Great," Greg muttered, slumping his shoulders. He wanted to scream, to ask the universe why he couldn't just take a nap for once without being attacked by things that could easily tear him apart. He wanted to tell the griffin and the fox to handle it, to do what they did best, but the fear of being completely useless gnawed at him.
The creature in front of him growled low in its throat, a menacing sound that carried through the trees like a warning. Its sleek, muscular form was almost catlike, its fur a dark, mottled shade that helped it blend into the shadows. The eyes, however, were unmistakable—shining with hunger and intelligence.
The griffin let out a fierce cry, its wings flapping as it launched itself into the air, circling above the beast. The fox darted forward, positioning itself between Greg and the approaching creature, its glowing tail flicking like a flame.
Greg swallowed, his heart pounding harder now. This wasn't just a random encounter. The creatures were here to protect him, and he knew it, but that didn't mean he had any idea what to do next.
"Okay," he muttered under his breath, trying to steel himself. "If I can't get out of this, I might as well try to help."
He took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. The griffin dive-bombed from above, swiping at the creature with its talons. The fox, swift as ever, distracted the beast with a series of high-pitched, warbling noises, running circles around it.
But it wasn't enough.
The beast lashed out, its claws tearing through the air with deadly precision, slashing at the griffin. The smaller creature screeched, avoiding the worst of the attack, but it was clear that it was struggling.
Greg's stomach twisted. He had to do something. Anything.
His hand shot out, as if guided by instinct, and he shouted, "Stay back!"
To his surprise, the words seemed to have some effect. The beast froze for a moment, its eyes flashing with an odd recognition. The griffin, hovering above, took the cue and swooped down again, but this time, its talons hit their mark. With a powerful screech, the creature staggered back, visibly wounded.
It took one last, defiant glance at Greg before turning and fleeing into the shadows of the forest, leaving nothing but the echoes of its retreating footsteps.
Greg stood there, wide-eyed and breathing heavily, his legs shaking beneath him. The forest, once again, fell into an uneasy silence.
"I… I did that?" His voice barely rose above a whisper, disbelief flooding his thoughts.
The griffin fluttered down to land next to him, its eyes bright with something resembling approval, while the fox gave a sharp bark, its tail flicking in contentment.
Greg blinked in confusion, still processing what had just happened. He hadn't known what he was doing. He hadn't even understood why he'd shouted. But somehow, it had worked. It had made the beast hesitate, even just for a moment.
"You really do follow me, huh?" Greg muttered, rubbing his temples. "I didn't want any of this, but it seems like I've got no choice now."
The griffin chirped again, nudging his leg with its head, while the fox circled around his feet, as if to remind him of their presence.
Greg sighed deeply. This was his new reality—beast-tamer, whether he liked it or not.
"Alright," he muttered, wiping his brow. "Let's get moving, I guess. I need that nap more than ever now."
But as he continued walking, flanked by his newly acquired, loyal companions, Greg knew deep down that there was no escaping this world. He wasn't just some passive observer anymore. He was the tamer—whether he was ready for it or not.